Margot

1

This film contains some strong language

and some scenes of a sexual nature.

WOMAN SINGS ON THE RADIO

DOG BARKS OUTSIDE

FOOTSTEPS APPROACH, KEYS JANGLE

RADIO IS TURNED OFF

SHE SIGHS:

BELL RINGS:

Have you spoken to Tito? On the telephone. He

knew you were coming straight from the airport.

Madam kept a seat back for him. How did

he sound to you? Fit as a fiddle. As usual.

The authorities would've shot him if they caught

him in Panama. It's a rum do all round! Jail!

Oh, I don't know. They were even

saying His Nibs used you as a decoy

to get away, when he knew

the whole coup was a damp squib.

Oh, the press will say anything. It's

a wonderful story for them, isn't it?

I don't know, guns, boats... Madam was

ready to make an announcement, you know.

Look, Lynne has already got the costume on.

Mummy, you know how I hate letting people down.

And I had a lovely sleep

on the plane.

The show must go on.

And on and bloody on.

MUSIC:
"Swan Lake" by Tchaikovsky

Tito! Oh, it's been torture.

No news for six days. And then,

when they said you were safe...

Next time, definitely more guns.

Goodness. I'm not sure I like

the idea of a next time.

Really?

We always knew there was a risk

the Guardia would be tipped off.

Margot...

This is my life, you know that.

And it's infinitely more exciting

than tripping around on your toes

with Nancy boys. Admit it.

Oh, God, I must pack, for the tour.

Tell me about it.

The land in Panama.

It's on the coast.

When we build the house, you'll be able to

walk to the cove from the bottom of the garden.

Green everywhere.

We'll breed cattle -

Argentinean stock.

A simple building, no stairs.

Cool inside, from the heat.

Tiled floors.

No more class...

No class, no performance,

just the two of us.

One day, my love.

I must telephone Harmodio.

Nunez could be the weak link,

now I think about it.

There has been a coup of sorts.

Tito...was it Moreno? Did he manage

to get through to the Colombians?

At Covent Garden. Nobody told you?

Madam, Mummy and I were wondering...

Cadburys are keen on doing these for Christmas,

what do you think? Are they? I don't know...

How's the dreaded foot? Going to survive

Australia? Of course! But Mummy and I were...

Margot and I were wondering

about her becoming...

Yes, what is it, dear?

Well, it was in the press.

"Dame Margot Fonteyn has become a

guest artist with the Royal Ballet."

It was in The Times. Yes, lovely.

Perhaps it would have been nice to have been

consulted. After all she's done for the company.

You were off in Panama, darling.

Shenanigans!

The Board and I just thought

it was fairer all round.

To the audiences, you see.

They can't expect to see you

as a regular prima, can they?

Not with you dotting around the world gracing

so many other companies with your presence.

Quite right, too. Flies the flag

for the Royal Ballet, after all.

I see. Splendid! Oh, Lord, yes,

I see exactly what you mean.

Couldn't you just get rid of this?

Make it a bit less Ali Baba?

Oh...

That's so much nicer

than the toffees, look.

They gave you that awful squint.

I have to get to the airport.

Prima ballerina to guest artist.

What am I honestly supposed to think?

I think you're supposed

to thank us for the promotion.

Darling, you are the bedrock

of the company, you know that.

Aw, little Peggy Hookham's

pats of butter.

Oh, God, this takes me back

to the old days.

Coppelia in Wigan.

Mind you, the weather's better.

Have you seen the digs yet? No.

Not yet. Morning, all!

Morning!

Anyway, it frees you up,

doesn't it?

To pursue Dr Arias round the globe,

being the lady ambassador.

God, Margot, that's what you

famously want, isn't it?

Well, yes, of course.

But the timing has to be right.

You know that.

I can't just leave the company

in the lurch, can I?

No, of course not.

You know, Margot, there's a little chap who

gives the most fabulous injections. Belgian.

Office in Olympia. I'll give you the number when

we get back. That's sweet, Michael, thank you.

Tell me, Tito - is it really

bigger than Michael's?

You'll never know, thank God.

Oh... I like a challenge.

SHE LAUGHS Of course, you sewed

yourself up again before the marriage?

But remember, darling, I know

where all the bodies are buried.

And their c*cks.

SHE GIGGLES:

I even remember what you sounded

like before the elocution lessons.

NASAL VOICE:

"Lord, make me good, but not yet."

THEY LAUGH:

MUSIC:
"Swan Lake"

SHE PANTS:

APPLAUSE:

22 and a half. Worst yet.

MUSIC ENDS:

So you've decided to say

farewell to Swan Lake, eh?

Probably for the best, dear. It's a beast to dance

and it's never exactly been your finest hour.

Now, this wretched gala, you're

absolutely top of the bill,

especially now our marvellous

Russian's a no-go. Ulanova?

The commies won't let her go. It's tit for tat since

they lost the boy. The one who ran away in Paris.

They're hanging on to our marvellous Russian

in case she gets the same idea, I suppose.

In fact, he's supposed to be rather marvellous,

too, so I thought we'd better get him instead.

Nureyev? Yes, the Russian boy.

He's said he'll do it as long

as he can dance with you.

That's rather cheeky

of him, isn't it?

Darling, there's no end of gossip.

Everyone's in love with him.

They've gone dotty for him in Paris.

He has the nostrils.

Sign of genius.

Madam, I can't possibly... If you're worried

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