- Is that yours, sir? - I think so.
- And the name is? - Royce.
Sign here, please.
Motorcar, is it?
Yes.
(Grinding)
(Engine clatters to life)
(Engine stops)
(Engine starts)
(Engine stops)
Holy Moses!
(Engine starts)
(Engine stops)
Well, come on. Let's give him a push.
(Bellowing) Never in my life have I seen a more disgraceful contraption
masquerading as a piece of engineering!
Look at it! It's an absolute damn scandal
how such a thing could be allowed out by so-called mechanicians.
They should be boiled alive in it! The back axles grind. The gears howl.
Sounds like an avalanche of tea trays coming along.
- But you're all right? - Yes.
Right. Back to work, everyone. It's not eight o'clock yet.
Come along. Back to work.
- It's second-hand. What do you expect? - Second-hand and French.
Look at this in here. How could people sell such junk to the public?
- You bought it. - More fool me.
- Listen. Something important. - Well, I can do something...
- Don't take on any more. - No, just get it right.
The doctor said you were to have a motorcar to get you out, to relax.
- It will get me out, but I must get it right. - Fred, we do not make motorcars.
We make electrical goods. At least, we're trying to.
And you're too valuable to crack up again. Have you eaten today?
- I can't remember. - Oh, my goodness!
Look how this flywheel's fixed. That's appalling.
Er... Mr Claremont, sir...
- Yes? - It's er... it's eight o'clock, sir.
That's fast. Now, come on, everybody. Back to it.
Now we've agreed to a 70-hour week, you must play fair with us.
Look at this! Holy Moses!
Right!
- Good night, Mr Claremont, sir. - Good night.
Fred, listen. It's urgent. I must talk to you.
RO YCE: Oh, my godfathers! Criminal!
But what did Ernest Claremont say?
That we're going to have to lay off three more lads on Friday.
- Oh, that's terrible. What will they do? - In this depression, who knows?
It's the South African war - it's affected everyone. And all the undercutting.
Oh, please, eat something, dear.
People are buying these damn-cheap dynamos from America.
Ours may be expensive, but they last longer, and they're far better. Quality.
Now, you mustn't worry, dear.
- It will all come right in the end. I feel sure. - Yes...
- How did you get it to go again, Uncle? - The motor?
Changed the commutator around. Put a new one in. Made it myself.
- Could you take me to school in it? - What?
- Oh, please, Uncle! - Violet, you shall do no such thing.
And it's past your bed time. Now, run along.
- Oh, Auntie... - Straight upstairs.
Go along, Vi.
Good night, Uncle. Good night, Auntie... Good night, Aunt.
And don't forget your prayers, child.
- I suppose it is safe out there, dear. - Hm?
Well, one hears such dreadful things about motors.
It couldn't explode or anything?
- What are you doing? - Mending the Sunday-school hymn books, dear.
Oh.
- How bad is it? - The firm?
I can't see what's to do. Ernest wants me to turn out a cheaper product.
- Ah, but you won't? - Well, what's the damn point?
I have a great love for you, Frederick, but...
- But? - Strong language is unnecessary.
I'm sorry.
(Engine puts and stops)
- You'll kill yourself. - That's my lookout.
Not with us depending on you. Six in the morning. How long have you been at that?
- I'm going to make one of these. - You what?
- These things. - A motorcar? But you detest them.
We've got to do something to avoid the workhouse.
Oh, no, Fred. You can't. The articles of the company, for one thing, don't allow it.
- And for another? - What about the shareholders?
- What about them? - We must consult them.
And what do you know about motorcars?
If I can't do better than that... Eric, drop what you're on and help me here.
Stand there. Take this pad and head it with the date. What is the date?
- The fourth. - Write, "4 January, 1903.
Decauville motorcar."
Now, as I take each piece out, number it and sketch it.
And measurements. Write down the measurements as I call them.
We're taking this to bits, piece by piece. All right?
Right, sir.
One automatic inlet valve. Two and two-fifth inches.
And if you do make one, how do you propose to sell it?
Mr Rolls? Mr Rolls?
- Have you seen him? - He's under the Panhard, sir.
Rolls, what on earth are you doing? Lady Wharton's here for her driving lesson.
Oh, Lord! I'd forgotten.
We've got to stop selling these machines, you know.
Two years ago, they were at least reliable.
Now look. Panhards are out of date, anyway. They will not march with the times.
- We know that. - We should drop the agency.
And sell what instead? Sales are falling badly enough, without that.
Well, we can't sell these any more. Find something else.
Firms are springing up all over Europe, now people see the possibilities of the motorcar.
One of them must come up with something.
Sheer unreliability's the trouble. All those breakdowns. This week's complaints.
Oh, people will not learn about motorcars!
What do they do when our machine breaks down, they ask. Pathetic.
- What do you tell them? - "Wire us and walk."
They think I'm being funny.
(Laughs raucously)
Oh, it's a sobering thought, though, that we're the most reliable garage in London.
There's an automobile general meeting on Wednesday, to discuss police persecution.
- Can't make it. Racing. - And the Self-Propelled Traffic Association
are holding a motor gymkhana in Richmond Park on May the 14th. They ask if you'll speak.
- Preaching to the converted. - Will you?
- If I'm free. - Are you in town this weekend?
- I'm ballooning at Hurlingham. - Oh, pity.
My wife wondered if you might er... Iook in for luncheon on Sunday.
Well, if I balloon over your house, tell her I'll look down.
(Laughs raucously)
Yes, yes, I'll drop your little girl some humbugs.
12 driving lessons every time one sells a car is going to send me to an early grave.
I shall buy a new balloon. That'll cheer me.
You don't seem to realise how critical our finances are.
We'd survive, but for your ballooning and motor racing.
Do you know what your tyre bill alone was last month? L120.
I run this firm to pay for all that. Am I passable?
- Very sharp. - Good.
Well, have you seen the bank balance this week?
♪ Pale hands I loved beside the Shalimar...
The electric brougham, Charles.
People love it. It's quiet, you see, and stately.
The trouble with your petroleum engines is, they are noisy, dirty and unsafe.
- People buy them. - Oh, what people, dear?
Huh. You mean the duchesses.
If you are going to convert England to the motorised auto-car,
then you must first convert the influential and the wealthy.
And they are wedded through long centuries to the grace and beauty of the horse.
- This is what you have to replace. - Yes, Mother. I know.
Well, you're not doing much about it.
The electric brougham can only go at five miles an hour.
Oh, Charlie! That concerns you because you are a great scorcher.
"Charlie Rolls," they say. "He's reached 28 miles an hour."
Well, you must make other people concerned, or ruin will follow.
Yes, yes. Papa's been very decent about that.
How is your overdraft? Five figures?
Yes.
The Prince of Wales keeps weekending with us with his staff of 50.
The King may visit in the spring.
As your father says, we cannot afford to keep CS Rolls & Company
and the Royal Family.
There's a limit, my dear boy.
Yes, Mother.
(Song continues)
You need something that glides, Charles.
Will you consider the electric brougham?
- No future in them. - People wouldn't agree.
Petroleum spirit is for the middle classes.
Think about it.
I was talking to Edmonds at the Automobile Club.
He's got shares in a company in Manchester - Royce Ltd. They're making a car.
- They're electrical. - Oh, are they?
Yes. They make dynamos.
Electric carriage - that's what that would be.
Oh, have you seen this? Look.
"The steam chariot of Chelmsford." What a monster.
Horribilino. Yet you see these every day in Hyde Park, belching out clouds of black smoke.
The chauffeur has to keep stopping to shovel in coal.
- What are they asking for them? - 400.
(Sucks in breath) - (Growls)
Do you know what I want above all else?
It's to sell a really good car with my name on it, so that it would become a household word,
like Broadwood or Steinway on pianos, Chubb on safes.
- Cheddar on cheese. - Absolutely. What?
Huh!
- It's a good idea. - Oh, I know it is.
"The foremost motoring pioneer in England at last gives his blessing to the perfect motor."
- It'd sell by the score. - If we found one.
Assuming that, yes.
(Whirring and clanking)
(Whirring)
"16th of September... 1903.
Mr Royce tests engine number 15196."
Er... Mr Royce, sir, it's...
It's two o'clock in the morning. Can we go home?
Hm?
Do it again!
"14th of December, 1903.
Two and three-quarter hours' time.
110 volts, 30 amps,
raised to 120 volts, 45 amps..."
- Fred... Fred, that was Minnie again. - On the telephone?
- Yes. - Damn waste of money.
She's very worried about you. She says you haven't been home for four nights.
Fred, you'll crack up again.
(Whirring and clanking)
- Eric, are you finished? - Finished, sir.
- Bill? - Water and petrol, sir.
- Right. Fresh page in the log book. - Fresh page, sir.
Head it: "Testing of completed car," and the date. What is the date?
April the 1 st, sir.
Hell! It's not, is it?
Afraid so, sir.
- Put March the 31 st. - (Laughter)
"March the 31 st, 1904."
(Engine starts) - (Cheering)
(Cheering)
(Cheering continues)
Fancy a spin in the country, Eric?
- That'd be marvellous, sir. - Watch them bloody dials, then.
- What about you, Ernest? - I'll follow.
- In your quadricycle? - For when you break down.
Are we going into the motor business, then, sir?
RO YCE: If we can find someone who wants them.
(Engines chugging)
You know that Manchester electrical company that made a car?
- Yeah. - It's a petrol car.
- Oh? - Mm. Sounds interesting.
Shouldn't we send someone to see it?
Oh, tell them to bring it down here.
Had a letter from the Honourable CS Rolls.
- The Noble Scorcher? - From his manager, at any rate.
He wants you to take one of these down for him to have a look at.
I'm too busy.
See the bank statement?
Worth a trip. You never know.
If he wants to see it, let him come up here.
Mr Royce asks if you can come up there.
- Royce? - The Royce car.
- Oh, yes, the electrical one. - Yes.
But it's petrol. Sounds interesting.
- What sort of engine? - His own. A two-cylinder.
Two?
No good. Rattling old bone-shakers.
Edmonds has ridden in it. It's smooth and silent, he says. It glides.
- Mr Rolls? - Mr Royce.
How do you do, sir? Kind of you to make the trip.
Well, I happened to be this way, and you keep writing to us, so...
Come and have something to eat. Or would you like to see the motor first?
- No, thank you. I'm in no hurry. - You motored up?
- Came up by train, actually. - Really?
Lese-majesty?
Hm. What will you have? It's very good food here.
- No, I'm not a great eater. - Nor me.
- Do they have a salad? - The hors d'oeuvre is free.
- Then it. - Two hors d'oeuvres.
- Yes, sir. And to follow? - Nothing to follow.
Oh, just a minute. Something to drink?
- I don't drink. - Oh, me neither. Two glasses of water.
I have a personal dislike of two-cylinder cars.
Mine is a two-cylinder.
- That's why I mention it. - Why's that?
Well, they must, by their nature, rattle and bang, and that's no use to me and my clientele.
Duchesses? Do you have many duchesses?
- Hordes. - And they won't buy the appalling contraptions
for sale at the moment?
- You agree they're appalling? - An absolute scandal.
There are very few motoring men in what is known as a good social position.
- But you are one. - So my contacts are extensive.
I taught the Prince of Wales to drive, you know.
And I have driven the King. What experience of motorcars have you had?
Oh, none, compared with you, though I've followed your battle for the cause for years.
- Oh, yes, the cause. - Against the stupidity of the law.
And the conservatism of the influential classes. Quite so.
But don't think of me as the Noble Scorcher.
Do they call you that?
We're an incredible country, you know.
France has taken the motorcar to her heart and benefited from it, but England...
A disgrace.
I was once prosecuted for not having a man with a red flag in front of me. And for furious driving.
- How fast was that? - 13 miles an hour.
- That's England. - A nation of horse-worshippers.
- Absolutely. - I mean, you can't control them.
A motor at 20 is under better control than a hansom at ten.
And do you know 240 tonnes of horse manure
has to be cleaned up in the West End alone every day of the year?
And the cruelty those poor beasts have to suffer, to force them to 15 miles an hour.
I'm a member of the Church of England Society for the Promotion of Kindness to Animals.
At least they allow motors to go at 20 nowadays.
- Not if they can help it. - England needs changing.
- Yes. - Are you sure you won't have anything else?
- No, no. People eat far too much. - Oh, I do agree.
Two light salads a day is more than sufficient.
I'm a member of the Food Reform Association, you know.
There is nothing more appalling than those great breakfasts that go on in our homes.
Those great, groaning breakfasts of porridge, cream, eggs, ham, bacon, sausages,
kidneys, kedgeree, cold ptarmigan.
Often, I had only one slice of bread in warm milk the whole day.
Yes, yes, quite so.
My wife allows me two slices now, though.
Well, now you're up here, will you see the car?
Now I'm up here.
I don't think we owe them anything, do we?
- Is this it? - This is it.
It's a Gladiator.
It's a Royce.
- Funny little thing. - That's what my wife says.
- Shall I start her? - If you please.
(Engine purring softly)
- What's the matter? - What?
- Won't she start? - She's going.
(Engine purring)
Shall we petrolise?
- How did you achieve the quiet? - Horse sense.
An inappropriate term, if I may say so.
- How many of these could you make? - Well, how many do you want?
Say, 20.
I think we might manage that.
You build the chassis. We'll add the bodywork.
We may suggest some modifications.
Of course.
One point.
You're unknown. I'm known. I think we should call the motor by both our names.
- How do you mean? - Hyphenated.
It's a sales point. You'd have no objection?
No, I don't think so. And Royce-Rolls sounds rather good.
Actually, I was thinking of a different arrangement.
Royce-Rolls is nice on the tongue.
Not so easy as Rolls-Royce.
I'll toss you for it.
Better still, we'll compromise.
Alphabetical order, what?
(Engine slows and stops)
I'll send my manager to discuss details.
- I shall look forward to it, Mr Rolls. - I hope we can come to some agreement.
I feel sure of it.
Johnson!
I have found the greatest motor engineer in the world!
(Honking and clucking)
(Car horn honking)
♪ There was an old man of Darjeeling
♪ Who travelled from London to Ealing
♪ A note on the door said, "Don't spit on the floor"
♪ So, he carefully spat on the ceiling
(Horn) - (Laughs)
I won't hide the fact that we see our financial salvation in you.
And it appears you may go to the wall, but for us.
That's very blunt. What do you know of our affairs?
Empty benches, and the Americans are undercutting everyone.
- You're after something. - Correct.
- Speak up, then. - We've sold every car you've supplied. All 14.
- Hot cakes. - As Mr Rolls says, it's a brilliant car.
But unless we have a lot more, it's not worth it commercially.
- Not worth what? - Undertaking a major sales campaign.
We've half-killed ourselves producing those.
It's only been a few weeks, and we're working 18-hour days.
Mr Royce's health broke down totally last year.
- Couldn't you delegate? - No.
Well, that's it, you see. If you insist on testing every single part of every car yourself,
running each bit on the bench for days, how can you be commercial?
- That's my worry. - Ours too now.
- We haven't the room or staff. - Transfer them off your electrical work.
What? That's what we started with - what we've done for 14 years.
All the more reason. Couldn't you chuck the electrical side in favour of cars?
- No, we could not. - There's no future in electricity, you know.
- What? - That's just my opinion.
- What do you mean, no future? - Gentlemen...
We're getting off the point.
Have you any further requests?
- Oh, yes. - We need some 15-horsepower three-cylinders,
20-horsepower four-cylinders and 30-horsepower six-cylinders.
In addition to an increased output on what you're already taking?
Yes. Standardise the parts, and you can make three-, four- and six-cylinders from one design.
We also want some motors for the Paris Salon.
- What sort? - Four- and six-cylinders.
- You've only just asked for them! - That's right.
- When is the Paris Salon? - December.
- Moses! - Four months? Design, build and deliver?
The best car in the world.
- All right. - You'll delegate?
- You'll have your cars. - Thank you.
- But it's still only a sideline to you. - What?
- The Royce car. - Rolls-Royce.
The Rolls-Royce. It's only one of half a dozen brands you sell.
- Correct. - Well, you must make it more prominent.
- We intend to. - We've entered two motors...
for the 1905 Tourist Trophy event on the Isle Of Man.
I'll drive one. Captain Northey of our staff will drive the other.
I'm the best racing driver in the world... and I'll win it in a Rolls-Royce car.
- I see. - It's likely to be a most publicised event.
Well, that... seems satisfactory. Why the Isle Of Man?
The only place where you can close the roads without special Act of Parliament.
We'd like you to prepare a light version of the 20-horsepower motor. Two models.
- Nothing else, I suppose? - No, not at present.
Good.
I have here a copy of the draft agreement between us.
I like this new Grecian radiator.
Yes. I've included the other points you wanted, as well. The decorations.
- No. Style is a better word. - The style's in the engine.
Yes, and we must reflect it in the exterior.
Spit and polish.
Those points also.
Number-14 nozzle onto the carburettor?
Crankshaft... bolted on balance weights?
Huh. Your ideas?
Don't mistake my dilettante manner.
My God, you've got a nerve.
(Both chuckle)
(Laughs raucously)
Number-ten nozzle you'll need, though.
- If you say so! - Are you up for the weekend?
- Yes. - Come to tea Sunday.
- Thank you. - I shall be working, of course.
ROLLS: Society is shallow.
Self-indulgent. Stupid.
Not worth a thousandth part of the money it spends trying to amuse itself.
Men change their clothes too many times, women wear too many jewels,
and everyone eats far too much.
No intelligent person could survive the dreary round of weekending house parties.
Even the King. The King grows bored.
I thought he loved the fast set.
Drums his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Boredom.
All that must change.
I have turned my back on it all, to explore the unknown.
The limits.
I met the Wright brothers once. The airplane pioneers - you know.
Oh, that's bunk.
- What? - Flying. It's just not possible.
- But they've done it. They've flown. - A 30-yard hop?
Great Scott! It's a start!
I've spent half my life ballooning, and I...
But we shall stick to one thing, won't we? I know you're a famous balloonist, but...
We cannot divide it up. We are all part of the whole thing.
Ballooning, bicycling, motoring, flying...
RO YCE: (Angrily) Look...
We're hanging on by our fingernails.
And scores of men depending on us, with no other income.
And there's a slump. You've never known what it's like to have to...
What God gives and what we take, 'tis a gift for Jesus' sake.
Be the meal of beans or peas, God be thanked for those and these.
Have we flesh or have we fish, all are fragments from His dish.
He His church save and the King, and make them ever flourishing.
- Amen. ALL: Amen.
(Gasps)
Oh, I do wish you wouldn't bring these things into the parlour, Fred.
Oh, sorry. Yes.
It's bad enough you're spending the entire weekend under the car, without...
You've achieved a miracle, Mr Rolls - getting him to go for a walk.
Normally, he works the entire weekend.
- No relaxation at all? - Oh, gardening, in the middle of the night.
I fixed an electrical lamp on a pole out in the garden. I garden while the rest of you sleep.
- When do you sleep? - I don't.
- Oh, you do, Uncle. - Well, sometimes, perhaps.
(Clicking) - Frederick, stop it. Sunday tea!
Oh, sorry. Yes, of course.
Oh, do sit down, Mr Rolls.
And have some Battenburg.
Yes. Yes, thank you.
Oh, I'm that hungry, I could eat a boiled baby with the measles.
(Royce chuckles) - (Violet giggles raucously)
All right, Violet. That's enough.
And just look at your hands. Go and wash them.
Yes, Auntie.
- (Softly) Have you seen this trembler coil? - No.
You live in London, Mr Rolls?
Er... yes.
Yes, yes, we have a house in Kensington.
And a place near Monmouth with some land for weekends.
- How much land? - Oh, about 5,000 acres, I believe.
- Servants? - Fred...
I want to show you something on the way back.
This is it.
What?
Well, get out.
I'd run along there.
I don't understand.
(Roars)
(Bellowing)
Bird scaring.
Sixpence a week. I'd no coat.
And I was ten.
(Whirring and clanking)
- Eh? - Emptying the tea leaves, sir.
- How many times have you used them? - Twice.
Use them again! And be careful with that petrol - it's almost a shilling a gallon.
Do it again.
- What's that, Eric? - Oh, it's for Mr Claremont's dashboard, sir.
He says you've used his car so much for experiments that...
he gets embarrassed whenever he's with a client and it breaks down.
"If the car breaks down, please don't ask a lot of silly questions."
(Chuckles)
- Make it lighter. - Haven't got an alloy, sir.
Invent one.
What do you make of Royce?
What about him?
- He's brilliant, isn't he? - Yes.
He came up from nothing, you know.
Did it all himself.
Father a drunk.
Selling newspapers on street corners at the age of nine - that sort of thing.
Careful of this bend.
You took it too fast.
We're rehearsing for a motor trial.
So far, your score's been three chickens...
two dogs...
a governess cart and a sucking pig.
They got in the way.
England will not accept the car if you go around slaughtering the English.
Worse still, their dogs.
(Gears crunching) ROLLS: The gear ratio's wrong.
Wire Royce.
We'll make the gearing...
14 and three-quarters, 26 and a half, 36, 50.4.
- You don't deserve it. - Baker.
- You don't deserve it. - Cox.
- You don't deserve it. - Apprentices.
It beats me what they want Saturday afternoon off for.
- Football. - Football? Waste of time.
They have Christmas Day off, after all.
- Ah, thank you. - Oh, just a minute!
Wait a moment, you!
- From Mr Rolls. - (Groaning)
Right. Back to your benches. There's work to be done.
Speed is what'll hit the headlines.
A chance to excel, with everyone watching.
Reliability, performance - far more important.
You're dull.
Dull like Royce. No spirit of adventure.
I hope to God I never reach 40.
- Why do you do it? ROLLS: Racing?
Cars. Motorcars.
I love them.
- You can't love an inanimate object. - (Chuckles)
- Can't you? - Not love.
Perhaps obsession.
Things have got to be changed.
My mother's been on at me about marriage.
- Don't. - No?
"Marry in haste..."
Royce's marriage must have looked like the Promised Land once, too.
He loves children.
He'd have loved a son.
Didn't he have any?
No children at all? I mean, even born.
Nothing.
- Why are you not working? - I am.
You're simply idling about. Mr Rolls doesn't pay you for that. Where is he?
- He's not here. - I can see that. He has not been home for days.
- Lady Llangattock? - Yes.
- My name's Royce. - Oh, yes. The mechanician.
My son has mentioned you.
He's in the Isle Of Man, taking part in the Tourist Trophy. I'm here fixing this for him.
Huh. A competition? What is that?
It's the clutch assembly of the Light 20, the type of car he's using.
Charles understands these things.
His father, Lord Llangattock, had a lot of trouble with the clutch and gears on his motors.
They are the parts that are used for climbing hills?
- That's right, yes. - We had a steep hill outside our country house.
Our motors could not negotiate it.
Seemingly, it was too steep for our gears.
- Did you solve the problem? - Oh, yes. We had the hill flattened.
Ask Mr Rolls to telephone me when he gets back.
Our telephone was installed today. The number is Knightsbridge 3.
Do you think he drives too fast?
Yes.
There was a motor accident in Knightsbridge this morning. A man was killed.
Four people were killed in Colchester last week.
A motor went out of control, straight into a crowd - two of them children.
- Do you have children? - An adopted daughter. My wife's niece.
Let us both try to restrain him, Royce. I fear for him.
Yes.
Well, at least Captain Northey came second in one of our cars.
- That is not the point. - It is in terms of our publicity.
I should have come first!
And I would have done, if I hadn't broken down after 100 yards.
And whose fault was that?
There were loose nuts at the bottom of the gearbox,
which must have been put in through the hole at the top.
Snapped the gear wheels.
Sabotage! This sort of thing happens often enough in France,
but I hardly thought it could occur here.
- And you issued a public statement about it? - Which the judge won't accept.
I did read in one of the newspapers that you attacked the winner.
Well... he cheated.
His silencer came adrift during the race and he drove round, dragging it behind him.
- Oh... - That's against regulations.
Biased. Those judges are biased. What do they know about the motorcar?
- You can't get loose nuts into that gearbox. - Well, then, it must have been the gearbox itself.
No, it wasn't. It's the way you handle it.
Don't you tell me how to change gears!
I have owned a motorcar since I was an undergraduate, ten years ago.
And that was one of the first four motorcars in England.
I won the Thousand-Miles Trial in 1900 and I've won more awards than any driver in the world,
gentleman or professional, for ten years,
while you... huh!
You, you've been barely at it a 12-month.
The way you change gears is something chronic.
I think we should concentrate on deciding what publicity we should seek next.
Yes, yes, yes. Well, I've already entered for next year's TT.
But not with that model.
There's nothing so adventurous as a new model on the way, is there?
As you well know, there are two more on the way - the V8 and the Legalimit.
(Laughs) The Legal Limit? The Legal Limit?
Oh, there's a dull, miserable concession to the Mrs Grundys!
A car which can't exceed the speed limit of 20 miles an hour. There's pandering to the bigots.
Can we decide if there's anything else we can do?
Nothing. I've done what I can - let down by a mechanism.
Mr Rolls, how do you suggest we should celebrate Captain Northey's success?
A public presentation? A champagne dinner?
(Door slams) - That's better.
- He's a rotten sport. - You can't talk business with him like this.
But we must bring up Mr Briggs' idea of amalgamating the two companies. Put it to him.
I'm not amalgamating with that arrogant bastard! The little Kaiser, they call him. I can see why.
But Mr Briggs' financial sense is impeccable. We'd be fools to ignore him.
- If you think I'll celebrate one of my cars... - Our cars.
- My cars! It was a Rolls. - I designed it.
You wouldn't have got anywhere, but for me. You used my ideas.
- Who made it in the first place? - They call them Rollses. They call them Rollses!
Our biggest shareholder wants us to amalgamate our companies.
Form a new one - Rolls-Royce Ltd. What do you think of that?
- It's a hideous idea. - I entirely agree.
- He must be mad. - That's what I told him.
I think I ought to give up the agency for these cars of yours.
Good. I've been approached by others.
- What? Who? - Ah-ha!
- We have the sole selling rights. My company. - I thought you were giving them up.
- I'll sell them. - Give me ten per cent, then, and I'll tell you.
Well, why did Briggs suggest amalgamation, anyway?
You've got to realise that we're on the verge of bankruptcy.
And I have the distinct impression that you're not far behind.
Mr Briggs says: Go public. Raise capital on the grounds of amalgamation.
Your... fiasco on the Isle Of Man cost us both a fortune.
Fiasco?
Well, what else would you call it? We were a laughing stock.
(Doors banging)
Well, I...
I suppose we let ourselves out.
A cold place, this.
Each member of the family has his own flat in it, you know.
- Cold family. - To each other, as well.
Two parents, four children. No real warmth to 'em.
There is to Charlie.
- Not really. - Hm.
Disgusting sherry.
It's watered.
Well...
We've got to do something, Fred.
You've read about this Mr Ford and his "people's car".
If he floods us, we're done for.
I know you think that the aristocracy will always reign,
quality will always win through and all that.
But it didn't with the dynamos, Fred, and that was the Americans, as well.
Fred?
Mr Rolls is here to see you, Uncle.
- Oh, my poor fellow. - It's nothing. It's nothing.
- How are you feeling? - Fine. I'm all right.
It was a warning sign, apparently.
I've got to rest and eat - both terrible wastes of time.
- Heart? - Not enough petrol getting to the carburettor.
- Huh. Overwork? - No, no, no. Nothing like that.
Oh, tell Eric Platford there was nowt wrong with this but a loose spring.
Hide it under your coat, eh, on the way out? Mrs Royce doesn't come in here.
She can't bear illness or anything unpleasant.
CJ has drawn up some amalgamation papers, I believe.
Yes. Yes, good.
- Oh, I brought you this. - A flute?
It's a sort of recorder. I made it.
Did you really?
Well, try it, if it won't strain your heart.
(Plays one note twice)
Bloody disgrace! Absolutely bleedin' scandalous! Bugger off.
Go on - sod off! Get your money and bugger off out of my works!
"Work - back to normal."
Amalgamation papers for the Board Of Trade.
CS Rolls & Company and Royce Ltd are to be wound up,
and their assets will be taken over by the new company.
I see Mr Ford's coming over from the States for a visit.
- Doesn't worry us. - Hm?
And Charlie Jarrett has set up a new record from Monte Carlo to London.
- Speed record. - I see you've raised Owen's wages.
He couldn't cope. Four pounds a week isn't much...
He gets three pounds twelve and sixpence. What was Jarrett's time?
About 36 hours, I believe.
Would that suit you? I mean, publicity?
You mean, if you were to?
(Engine roaring)
Mr Royce?
Fred...
Yes?
- You're a fool, man. - What do you want?
Your wife to see you.
Eh?
(Door opens)
- Oh, Fred, I've been so worried. - There's no need.
- Three nights now. - I've been here.
You'll kill yourself.
You should never have gone back to work so soon.
And Ernest Claremont says he comes in here at 5.30 in the morning to unlock,
and there you'll be, lying asleep over some piece of machinery.
I'm sorry I haven't sent you word, but if you'd wanted me...
Well, of course I want you. Of course I want you at home with me.
A lot of good it does me when I am.
I have a great love for you, Frederick.
I've grown used to the terrible hours you work, after ten years,
but at least you came home sometimes.
What is it that's so absorbing this time?
Oh, it's... a new chassis.
Something special.
Shall I... Would you like the telephone put in?
- Oh, Fred... - Well, we can cope.
And then you could phone me from home.
You won't have to walk to the post office or...
What's been happening at home?
Jim Sanderson's won the choirboys' competition.
Oh, good.
Violet was very disobedient. I had to stand her in the corner with her dolls.
A girl of 18?
As a punishment, Fred. Do you think I did wrong? Well...
(Wearily) No, no.
(Tearfully) You see, I'm so afraid you'll leave me.
You will leave me, just like Ernest Claremont left my sister.
And that Mr Johnson, whom I thought was so nice, left his wife and...
Don't be foolish.
Well, I'm not much good to you, am I? What's the point?
- Now, Minnie... - (Gasps)
You see, what...
What good is that to a man?
It's your hands - they're always dirty.
- If I was sick again... - Oh, no.
Oh, don't talk about that.
You must go to see Dr Campbell-Thompson.
- But I don't want to know what he says. - If I was sick again, would you look after me?
You know I'd do anything for you, Fred. I'd do anything, except...
...that sort of thing. Please don't ask.
Three years my firm's been living hand to mouth.
If we don't win out now, you're going to see one hell of a lot of me.
Well, I pray to God that may be so, Frederick.
You see, the dreadful thing about all this...
...is that these motorcars seem honestly to matter to you
more than anything else in the world.
Even your own happiness.
Look at you all. All broken marriages, all of you, including ours.
- Oh... - No, including us, Fred. Please...
Please, let's be honest, for once.
But what is it?
Is it really so important?
It is to me.
I'm sorry. I... I must get the works book.
It's all right. We'd finished.
Excuse me.
I'II... try and come home tonight.
Thanks.
Why did you leave your wife, Ernest?
- She couldn't make toast. - Toast?
She always burnt it.
Used to drive me mad.
(Door opens and closes)
(Engine roaring)
(Engine quietens)
(Engine roaring)
You know what Mr Johnson wants to call this?
- What? - The six-cylinder.
He's having all the bodywork done in silver and calling it the Silver Ghost.
- Those sales lot are as mad as hatters! - (Hammering)
Don't do that!
- What's this? - Well, I had to make it up in alloy, sir.
We couldn't afford nickel-steel. I thought Mr Claremont told you.
(Angrily) Oh, what's the point?
Why should I slave my guts out? Go on - get out.
- Yeah, but... - Did I tell you to make it up in alloy?
Well, get your money and get out of my bloody works.
Fred, look - he's done it. Clipped two minutes off Charlie Jarrett's record.
- And how much did that cost? - What? L300.
300? He pours money away like water, while we...
And his ballooning must cost a fortune.
Oh, it does - L3,000 a year.
And he's always crying poor. Whenever I talk to him, he's...
Oh, that's not his personal money. I thought you realised that.
That's his company's money.
Is it? Is it the company's money?
My company's. I fail to see your interest.
RO YCE: I can't afford the proper tools for the job.
I can't afford the materials for the new model or security for my men.
- Your company can't. - We're totally dependent on each other.
- Nonsense. - If you go bust, we do too. Claremont knows it.
It's my money. I've sunk my income into this - why shouldn't I do what I think necessary?
Because too many people depend on you. Because you do it for a lark.
It's all the rage among your set - the Balloonatics.
You can't even control the things.
I do it because our future is up there.
- Balloons? - Aircraft of some sort. Something in the air.
Your set think nothing of taking a whole gasometer to fill one of those things.
You deprive an entire town of its lighting for half the weekend.
Have you seen... have you read what the Wright brothers have done in the United States?
After four years of experiment, they have built a flying machine
40 feet wide with two wings and an engine.
And they fly in it and control it.
They catapult it along a wooden rail, up into the air.
They can make it circle back, make figures of eight...
fly for half an hour at almost 40 miles an hour.
Think of it!
That's our future. That's the next logical step.
Aircraft. And that means meticulous preparation now, in balloons.
We must find our way about the skies as we've already done on land.
These - these will be obsolete in a few years. People will be going to work by flying machine.
But we haven't perfected these yet.
The whole world is buckling and changing its shape, while we look at it.
We've got to keep abreast of what's happening.
There's no time to perfect everything any more, before you pass on. That's Victorian.
Victorian? What's that supposed to mean?
Don't you realise?
They have petrol engines.
- Eh? - The flying machines work on petrol.
And the problem that held them up for so long
was getting an engine light enough to be practicable.
Precisely the problem you solved with the Light 20.
You're not... you're not suggesting?
Think of it - to be able to reach almost any part of the Empire in hours.
The King'll be cock-a-hoop!
You seriously think we should go in for these string-and-paper contraptions?
We should do more than that. We should plan to drop these altogether.
- It's lucky I know you. - I was never more serious in my life.
As you were with the bicycle. Then the motorcar. Then ballooning.
Now aircraft! None of them mastered. Just hop-hop, from one to the next.
Amateur. Dilettante. It'll be the same when you tire of flying machines. What then? Rockets?
- Rockets... - No. Forget that. I didn't say that.
What about my men, and all the others depending on you, eh?
We've got to expand, terrifying gamble though it is.
I know that!
God knows where we'll get the money, but we've got to open the new factory at Derby.
(Angrily) New factory! New factory!
We're bursting. We can't output fast enough,
and you're taking off all the working capital, and for what?
Always the plodder, aren't you?
The copier.
Just look at the features on these machines of yours.
They're dull. They're dull. They're safe and they're dull!
I design cars that are robust, long-lived, smooth and silent, and I'm not ashamed of that.
- Not one of these features is original. They're... - Adapted.
- (Angrily) Adapted? - And improved upon. I've claimed nothing else.
You've no flair! You've no real style!
What's the matter?
(Panting) It's nothing. It's nothing.
You ought to be at home in bed.
You heard about Johnson?
- And his wife? Yes, I have. - I came in here and he was crying.
I'm all right.
Let me take you up in a balloon.
Never in a thousand years! Up in the sky, out of control...
- The only fatality ever recorded... - Aye, fatality, yes.
The only fatality ever recorded was when a balloon came down in the Pyrenees
and the balloonists were eaten by wolves.
Well, yes, that would be it.
Well, you don't get wolves with a motorcar.
You must drop all that, if we're to survive.
I mean the ballooning and the flying. And the racing - the racing's not important.
Concentrate everything on the car. You and I.
You've heard of Mr Ford's success.
Mass production. Everything we abhor.
You don't make the finest car in the world by dabbling at it.
We're not there yet, but we could do it.
Drop all that other stuff.
No.
Fred...
What are you carrying that thing around for? Put the electrical light on.
- I'm so glad you've come back. - Did I wake you?
No, I just felt you here.
How's Vi?
She's been very disobedient.
What is it?
You didn't want me to tell you.
- You've been to see the doctor? - Oh, it doesn't matter.
Anyhow, it's not that.
Ernest Claremont came to see you. They've got Mr Briggs to put up the rest of the money.
The money you needed for the move to Derby. Mr Briggs has written a cheque.
- Doesn't that cheer you? - No.
It's three o'clock.
Are you coming upstairs?
- No. - What?
I'll stay down here tonight.
(Yelling)
They start at Douglas. Then to Peel,
Ballaugh, Sulby, Ramsey, over Snaefell, back to Douglas.
161 miles, and they do it four times round.
Fuel is rationed to one gallon per 22.54 miles,
and the course goes up to 1,365 feet and down to sea-level.
The gradient goes up to one in seven.
(Engine roaring)
(Footsteps)
End of first lap. Captain Northey has abandoned the race with a broken spring.
"Spring broken. Heart broken."
Mr Rolls is lying second.
Lap time - one hour, two seconds, the fastest recorded.
(Cheering)
(Singing cheerfully)
- I wish you wouldn't do that, sir. - Do what?
Singing, sir.
I'm not singing.
(Resumes singing)
- "End lap two. Rolls in the lead." - (Cheering)
One hour, 57 seconds - lap time.
"End of lap three. Rolls 20 minutes in the lead."
(Cheering and talking)
If he brings this off, we're made.
- He's going to run out of petrol. - Or break a spring too.
- Can I have a cigarette? - Of course... You don't smoke.
- I do now. - Oh. Here you are.
(Chatter)
WOMAN: Just think of that - 20 minutes!
CLAREMONT: Hey! Hey!
Another.
- He's won. - (Cheering)
27 minutes ahead of anyone else.
- Well done, sir! Well done, sir. Terrific! - (Cheering and applause)
Well, that's cars.
(Cheering and applause)
- Put me down! - (Cheering)
Do what you like, but, for God's sake, put me on terra firma!
Speech! Speech!
Speech!
Speech! Come on. Come on - say something.
I... I can't make speeches.
(Chuckling) - But I will say this.
You can have the rest of the day off.
(Cheering)
- With pay. - (Cheering)
Wait a minute! There's another telegram!
Wait a minute!
(Sighs)
Here.
Oh, it's from Charlie. "Am leaving celebrations to you.
Off to Paris for the Gordon Bennett... balloon race."
Nearly done?
Aye.
Best car in the world.
- Unlike you. - Eh?
Oh, I'm not boasting. I say it as a fact.
Will you be moving to Derby to be near the new works?
Aye.
But not Min.
No?
No, she'll be staying here.
ROLLS: ♪ There was a young girl in the choir
♪ Whose voice rose higher and higher
♪ Till one Sunday night
♪ It rose quite out of sight
♪ And they found it next day on a spire
How's the 40/50 getting on, Fred?
- Ready for trial in a fortnight. - Are you pleased?
No. Fancy title you thought up for it.
- The King liked it. - Who?
The King, when I mentioned it to him.
You know he's agreed to become patron of the Automobile Club?
Gentlemen...
Unfortunately, Mr Rolls is unable to be with us at this first meeting
of the board of Rolls-Royce Ltd...
...which is now registered at the Board Of Trade.
However, he has written to me as Chairman.
He asks if the board would lighten some of his duties.
- He's not resigning? - No.
- Couldn't give up his salary. - Still wants his seat?
He wishes to be relieved of demonstrations, lessons and dealing with the press,
but to remain Technical Managing Director.
- And he's cutting his salary accordingly? - Oh, I don't think there's any need for that.
Of course not.
Well?
Well, we have to agree, if that's what he wants.
- Apart from the loyalty we owe him... - What?
Apart from that, I'd say he's too valuable an asset. I mean his name.
No-one's indispensable.
I think everyone is for agreeing to this request?
Mr Chairman, before we go any further, I have an important matter to raise.
Lf, after its trials, the promise of the Silver Ghost is realised,
and it proves to be the ultimate refinement
of all that Mr Royce and Mr Rolls have worked at these many years,
then I propose we drop all other models... and make only these.
JOHNSON: Beautiful.
Quite the most elegant motor I've ever seen.
RO YCE: It goes too. - Oh, yes. Yes, naturally.
It's a dickens of a plan - dropping all other models. Biggest gamble so far.
When have we ever played safe?
I've arranged a 15,000-mile test, under observed conditions.
- 15,000? - Longer than ever before, yes.
And we'll do it nonstop. It'll never be switched off. It'll fill the motoring press for weeks.
- Where? - The test?
London to Edinburgh, Edinburgh to London, and so on. A shuttle.
- Who's going to do it? - Only one name will really make the news.
Beneath him now, isn't it?
- Will you ask him? - Me?
It would come better.
All right.
He's at Eastchurch in Kent. Teaching himself to fly.
You must come and see the new tailpiece I put on my short Wright. Works beautifully.
- The what? - My short Wright biplane.
I've flown almost half a mile in it, you know. Once with a pig.
- A what? - A pig.
I took a pig up with me.
You know that old saying about pigs not being able to fly?
They have now. (Laughs)
Wilbur Wright's flown 74 miles, you know.
- With a pig? - He came to stay with me in town.
Monsieur Blériot too. You know?
He flew the Channel last year. Even you must have heard of him.
Yes...
I'm going to fly the Channel myself this summer.
- (Incredulously) What? - Both ways. There and back.
No-one's ever done that before.
Well?
We want to put the Silver Ghost through a 15,000-mile test. Will you drive it?
- I haven't got the time. - Well, share it, then. Do part of it. A rota.
It's the last thing.
"Total cost of replacement parts to bring this motor back to as-new condition...
...two pounds, two shillings and seven pence."
Where's Rolls?
Rolls should be here.
JOHNSON: Well, I think we must all congratulate Rolls on his achievement -
a double crossing of the Channel.
Not every day that one finds oneself on the same board as a national hero,
who receives telegrams from the King.
Yes. Yes, that was jolly decent of him.
I hear you're on display at Madame Tussaud's.
Yes. That's because I'm the only Englishman
who's taken ten gallons of petrol in and out of France
without paying duty on it! (Laughs)
Yes. Actually, it's a terrible likeness. Have you seen it?
- No. - Horribilino.
Can we now take item number three on the agenda?
Mr Rolls' using the Lillie Hall works to manufacture parts of an airship.
- Airship? - Yes, it's in the agenda.
- I didn't get one. - It's still there.
Perhaps Mr Rolls will tell us about it.
Yes, I made drive shaft and casings for Colonel Capper's airship. Why shouldn't I?
- Under contract? He paid you? - Certainly.
You should not accept outside contracts...
without the consent of the board.
(Angrily) Damn it! It's my works!
It's the London service station of Rolls-Royce Limited of Derby.
Perhaps I ought to... resign as Technical Managing Director of this company.
Good idea.
- Gentlemen... - But you'll remain on the board?
Yes.
I think this news should not be made known outside this room - the company's public face.
Quite so. Quite so.
- Well, then, excuse me. - The rest of the meeting?
Oh, there's no point. I have a flying display at Bournemouth.
A great deal of preparation to be done.
(Clears throat)
Sales report.
Since the last board meeting, 53 Silver Ghosts have been sold.
Customers are four members of princely houses,
two dukes, two earls, a viscount, seven British barons, 15 foreign ones,
four baronets and two High Court judges.
- Oh, and Mrs Pankhurst. - (Laughter)
We're now producing four Ghosts a week, retailing at L985.
- I think that is satisfactory. - For our motors, certainly.
RO YCE: Hm?
Mr Ford has also adopted a one-model policy - the Model T.
He's producing 200 a week.
Need that worry us?
It's the beginning of the end, whether you like it or not.
They're aiming to produce 15 million cheap cars.
Motoring will become hell.
That's the thing about golden ages.
They're over before you realise they've started.
And it's all a lark to him.
- Rolls? - What does he care, with his flying?
He's got money, position, looks, the world before him.
And he's got what I envy most and never shall have.
You or I neither, Johnson.
And that's style. I mean real style.
A golden boy of a golden age.
Mean as hell, though.
Fragile. That's what I find about him.
- Eh? - Something fragile.
Oh, it's lovely to see you! I didn't know. What a surprise!
- Auntie not in? - She's in the vestry, but she'll be back for tea.
You are nice. I do love you!
'Ey, that's enough. Good gracious me!
Oh, I forgot. There's a telegram for you.
We were going to send it on, but the boy didn't wait. Here.
LAD Y LLANGATTOCK: The first aviator to be killed flying in England.
He would have appreciated that.
- You weren't there? - I was in London.
(Breezily) His machine fell from only 60 feet up. Concussion of the brain.
It's a good time to die, Royce, even at 32.
With our dear King dead, so much is already changing.
It couldn't have gone on, you know - not with Income Tax at one and tuppence in the pound.
Do you know, there wasn't a mark on him?
My dear man! You're not crying, are you?
- No. - Company shares have dropped threepence.
I must speak to the newspaper reporters before they leave.
I think, as shareholders, we should make it plain
that the affairs of Rolls-Royce Limited will remain unaffected.