Time for another recap of Netflix’s royal soap, The Crown! Today, we’ve got a look at the history and jewelry presented in episode six, “Tywysog Cymru.” (Missed any of my previous recaps? You’ll find them all here!)

We begin at Cambridge. Prince Charles, now played by Josh O’Connor, is doing vocal exercises before performing in a play. That puts us around the autumn of 1968, when Charles joined the Footlights, the dramatic club at Cambridge.

In London, Harold Wilson and other government leaders are meeting with the committee tasked with planning Charles’s investiture as Prince of Wales. There’s a predictable clash between the old guard and the new order in terms of the plans. The Duke of Norfolk argues that the investiture should be planned exactly as the previous one was done in 1911, which earns some smirks.

But there’s one central figure from the planning committee who is missing here: Lord Snowdon! Tony was one of the principle members of the committee, even serving as constable of Caernarvon Castle starting in 1965 as the event was prepared. He is mysteriously completely absent from this episode.

After the meeting, Harold Wilson has an audience with the Queen, who wears a little invented leaf brooch. He comes to her with an idea: because tensions over nationalism in Wales are on the rise, wouldn’t it be a good idea to send Prince Charles to study there, learning some of the language before the investiture? The Queen demurs, telling Wilson that Charles is finally settled and happy at Cambridge, but he presses the issue.

In reality, the plan for Charles to spend a summer term studying at Aberystwyth was settled back in 1967, before he even started his studies at Cambridge. It was always part of his full university education plan, not an idea proposed in the midst of his studies. There was even a committee formed to discuss his education, which included the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, the Archbishop of Canterbury … and Harold Wilson.

But in the world of The Crown, the Welsh education idea is a complete and unwelcome surprise to Charles, who is confronted by the entire family (and Michael Adeane) with the new plan.

The Queen, frustratingly sans brooch, impresses upon Charles that he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. The Duke of Edinburgh tells Charles that some things are more important than other “frivolous” pursuits, like his passion for acting at Cambridge. (Perhaps in real life Philip was less dismissive of Charles’s love for acting, given that he actually started appearing in plays back at Philip’s beloved Gordonstoun?)

Charles is frustrated with his “vile” mother and her edicts, and he vents to Princess Anne about it. She’s envious — she says that she wishes she were relevant enough to receive such negative attention. Charles offers to swap places in the succession with her — a favorite trope for this show where royal siblings are concerned — but she declines.

In Aberystwyth, Thomas Parry, head of the university, informs Edward Millward that he’ll be tutoring Prince Charles in the Welsh language ahead of the investiture speech. Millward, a Welsh nationalist politician, is less than pleased with the assignment. In 1968, nearly a year before Charles arrived in Aberystwyth, the real Tedi Millward gave an interview to the press, stating that he was “slightly suspicious” of the political motivations behind the plan to send Charles to Wales, but that he was “glad to have the opportunity of explaining what is going on in Wales and why there is unrest about the prince.”

Charles arrives at Aberystwyth amid some cheers, but also lots of protests. This scene takes place on Sunday, April 20, 1969. Press reports from the day note that Charles received a “loud Welsh welcome” on his arrival.

Political demonstrations by Welsh nationalists did take place in the months and weeks before his studies began. In 1967, a bomb exploded at the Temple of Peace in Cardiff just before Lord Snowdon and Cledwyn Hughes attended a meeting about the coming investiture. Charles himself had confronted a group of extremists that threw a smoke bomb at his car during a visit to Cardiff in June 1968. Some press outlets even tried to stoke the flames, with one German magazine offering $25,000 for the first photo showing a Welsh student either kissing — or slapping — Charles’s face.

More than a 100 additional police offers were stationed at Aberystwyth to try to stave off violent conflict, and an army bomb disposal expert was also housed nearby. Charles gave an interview in 1969 addressing the possibility of an incident: “It would be unnatural, I think, if one didn’t feel any apprehension about it. One always wonders what’s going to happen in this sort of thing. But I think if one takes this as it comes, it’ll be much easier. I expect at Aberystwyth there may be one or two demonstrations and as long as I don’t get covered too much in egg and tomato, I’ll be all right.” (I will never understand why this show ignores real historical drama in favor of invented conflict.)

Charles is escorted by Thomas Parry to Tedi Millward’s office, where the two meet for the first time. Millward refuses to address him by his royal title and style, calling him “Charles” and shaking his hand instead. (Charles’s tutors at Aberystwyth all called him simply “Mr. Windsor,” and his fellow students just used “Charles.”) They talk briefly about how Millward’s politics inform his teaching. (This depiction seems basically correct. Millward gave a press interview in 1969 in which he noted, “I will try to resist the temptation to preach at the son of an English monarch. But he will have to learn that nationalism is a crucial issue here. Apart from any narrow aims, it is essential that the prince should know all about Welsh nationalism, its basis and its roots.”)

Next, Millward takes Charles to the language learning lab, where Charles puts on headphones and dives in. This language lab is almost exactly like the ones described as being used by the Welsh language department at the university.

Charles finds the language difficult and his fellow students downright unfriendly, so he calls home.

It’s not his parents he turns too — it’s Princess Anne, who is hanging out at her room in the palace, listening to Aretha Franklin records. She essentially tells him to suck it up and deal with the situation in a very Anne-like tone.

Although he’s supposed to be just another student, Charles is welcomed to the university with a grand dinner. Parry expresses his hope that one day Charles will even become patron of the institution. And then Charles embarrasses himself totally with his lack of knowledge about the university and Welsh history in general.

His next tutorial with Millward goes badly. When Millward tries to get him to mimic the sounds of the Welsh language, Charles begins showing off the tongue-twisters he uses to get ready for plays at Cambridge. Millward isn’t amused — he thinks Charles isn’t taking any of this seriously, and his lack of interest in Welsh history is offensive.

Charles reacts by putting in some hard work at the library, learning about Wales and the history of the title he has inherited.

Meanwhile, back at the palace, the broochless Queen (UGH) talks with Philip about Charles’s investiture speech. Neither of them are convinced that he’s mature enough to take on big responsibilities yet.

In Aberystwyth, though, Charles impresses Millward with the work he’s done to try to learn a little about Wales and its history. When Millward realizes how socially isolated Charles really is at the university, he invites him home for dinner.

Millward’s son, Andras, talks with Charles, teaching him to count in Welsh.

Over dinner, Charles talks with Millward and his wife, Silvia, learning about the history of their relationship and their joint passion for the nationalist cause. They find themselves warming up to the prince, while Charles is clearly fascinated by such a close, loving family.

Charles decides to make some changes to his investiture speech. With Millward’s help, he translates the new passages into Welsh.

The day of the investiture arrives: July 1, 1969. Royals, dignitaries, and onlookers gather at Caernarvon Castle.

As Charles prepares to put on his uniform for the ceremony, he receives a visit from a family member who knows military uniforms very well: Lord Mountbatten. He was indeed present for the investiture, as were many members of the extended royal family (including Princess Alice, Duchess of Gloucester; Prince Richard of Gloucester; the Duke and Duchess of Kent; Prince Michael of Kent; Princess Alexandra and Sir Angus Ogilvy).

The immediate family — the Queen, Philip, Margaret, Anne, and the Queen Mother — takes the royal train to Caernarvon ahead of the ceremony.

The modern canopy designed by Lord Snowdon for the event — made of plastic, to allow clear views for those watching on television — was replicated well for the show. It’s just maddening that Snowdon wasn’t included at all. If you’d like some royal family drama, how about the fact that Snowdon and Margaret were already facing divorce rumors at this point — or that Prince Philip laughed in Snowdon’s face when he saw the outfit Tony had designed to wear for the ceremony? (From a UPI report on the day: “Lord Snowdon’s outfit … was supposed to resemble that of a constable of Caernarvon Castle …. It had a Nehru jacket-like top and trouser bottoms that appeared more bell-bottomed than royal. Prince Philip stopped at the castle entrance and gave Snowdon the once-over from head to toe. Philip tilted his head back and laughed. Snowdon grinned back.”)

Scenes featuring Ben Daniels in costume for the investiture were definitely filmed and then cut, which is extra frustrating. Helena Bonham Carter’s scenes were cut, too — she only appears in that scene on the train, and is shown only from the back. The event was a crucial one for Tony especially — one friend told the press that it was like a “bar mitzvah” for the Snowdons. It’s a shame to leave their part out of it completely.

The replicas of the investiture outfits of Princess Anne and the Queen Mum are quite good. Anne, however, wore her diamond floral brooch for the event, not the invented one shown above. The Queen Mother wore the Ladies of North Wales Brooch, which is large, but perhaps not quite so big as the replica created for the show. But hey, at least there was an attempt!

The Queen is shown without a brooch on her yellow silk dress — but this time it’s historically correct. The costume is an excellent replica of the Queen’s real investiture outfit.

And even the show’s replica of Charles’s modern coronet, made by Louis Osman, isn’t a terrible version of the real thing. (You can see the real coronet, complete with its famous ping-pong ball monde, here.)

Millward, who refused an invitation to the investiture, watches the speech on television with his wife and son. He’s clearly pleased with the part Charles added in.

After it’s all over, Charles heads to the Millward house to say thank you — and gives his tutor a copy of a book about British tongue-twisters as a wry farewell present.

Following a tour through Wales, Charles returns to the palace, only to find it empty. He asks to see the Queen, who has already retired for the evening.

When he finally sees her, she’s livid with him. She has read a translation of the parts of the speech he added, which included lines comparing his personal suffering with that of the Welsh people. She’s offended, and they have a very soapy argument about it all.

And then Charles heads back to Cambridge, where he goes right back to the theater, performing in Shakespeare’s Richard II.

Charles plays Richard II, delivering part of the famous “hollow crown” speech — which, of course, takes place during a scene set in a Welsh castle on the coast. It’s a convenient invention on the part of the writers to have Charles star in the play; it wasn’t one of his roles at university. Oh, well — it’s definitely more dramatic than a Goons-style comedy revue, I suppose.

We begin in the offices of the Daily Mirror. Cecil King, chairman of the paper (and several other publishing groups, as well as a director of the Bank of England) is unhappy with headlines criticizing Prime Minister Harold Wilson — because he thinks they need to be even more critical.

Meanwhile, over at Downing Street, Wilson and his colleagues are despairing over continual bad press. They need a distraction, and once again, the group decides that it’s time to shift the attention over to a member of the royal family. They spin their imaginary wheel, and it lands on … Lord Mountbatten!

We cut to Mountbatten, who is now being played by venerable British actor Charles Dance. He’s in full military dress uniforms, with medals everywhere, taking a salute. The events depicted in these scenes took place around the summer of 1965. Mountbatten, who was 65, was serving as Chief of the Defence Staff, one of the highest military posts in Britain. He’d held the job since 1959.

Wilson’s staff decides that, because Mountbatten has been resistant to cuts to defense spending, he’s got to go. There’s a grain of truth under all of this. In reality, Mountbatten’s appointment as CDS was up for renewal at the time the Wilson government came to power in 1964. The new Defence Secretary, Denis Healey, surveyed senior officials, who almost unanimously recommended that Mountbatten not be reappointed. It was Healey who informed Mountbatten of this decision, not Wilson. Mountbatten retired with a grand salute in July 1965, and the Queen gave him two parting gifts: the Order of Merit and an appointment as the new Governor of the Isle of Wight.

The show’s version of Mountbatten leaves Whitehall in civilian clothes, with a cake and a portrait trailing behind. He’s serenaded with “Auld Lang Syne.” In reality, the song was played by a military band as he inspected a guard of honor one last time outside the building, in a grand ceremony also attended by his daughters and sons-in-law. He gave a final salute to mark the end of a half century of military service.

And then, the Crown version of Mountbatten heads back to the solitude of Broadlands, where he broods in the bath alongside his dog, his monogrammed towels, and his whiskey.

We finally catch up with the Queen, who is working on state papers aboard the royal train. (Pearls, no brooch. Sigh.) Adeane informs her that they’re almost to their destination, so she packs up and changes into more casual clothes…

…because the destination in question is Newmarket, where she’s visiting her horses. The trainer focuses on one in particular, Apprentice, who has recovered sufficiently from an injury to race again.

We cut to Royal Ascot, where the Queen is watching Apprentice run in the Queen Alexandra Stakes. (That really happened in June 1966.) She’s joined in the royal box by her childhood friend, Lord Porchester, as well as the Queen Mother and Lord Mountbatten. (The Queen Mum commiserates with Mountbatten about his retirement — a full year later?) The Queen Mother appears to be wearing some sort of (invented) floral brooch pinned to the neckline of her dress.

The Queen, blasphemously, is pictured without a brooch at Ascot. (She really did wear a similar outfit in 1966, but she wore the Cullinan V Brooch with it.) Apprentice loses, and she’s downtrodden. She wishes she could spend more time upgrading her horse racing operation, and Porchey wonders why she doesn’t just take some time off and do a little foreign research. She’s intrigued.

During her next audience with Wilson, the Queen (again, pearls no brooch — argggghhhhh) is so distracted by her horse plans that she can barely concentrate when he tells her about plans to devalue the pound. (This places us in the autumn of 1967.) The Queen’s only response is to tell him that she’s going on vacation, which a) is not at all what really happened, and b) totally out of character for the Queen.

Wilson goes on television to speak to the nation about the currency devaluation. This really happened on November 19, 1967. The Queen was in the country; she had just returned from a four-day official visit to Malta with the Duke of Edinburgh. They celebrated their 20th wedding anniversary the following day.

But in the fictional world of The Crown, the Queen has jetted off for her horse vacation. She wears the little invented pearly flower brooch as she, Porchey, and Charteris fly to France.

They spend some time visiting Le Quesnay, Alec Head’s thoroughbred farm in Normandy.

She and Porchey talk shop over a meal afterward, deciding how to change her entire operation. He thinks she needs to go to America to continue her on-the-ground research. It’s going to be more time away, but she’s fine with it — the Queen Mother is taking care of palace business. (This is all fictional, so whatever, but why are we not seeing any of that???)

Back in Britain, many people are not taking the devaluation well at all, especially a group of men headed by Cecil King. They invite Mountbatten to a secret meeting, where they basically outline plans to overthrow the Wilson government and install Mountbatten in his stead. It’s complicated, but some version of this meeting allegedly did happen in May 1968. According to Peter Wright, a former intelligence officer, Mountbatten was reportedly approached, heard the plan, declared it treasonous, and that was that. Biographer Andrew Lownie, however, believes that Mountbatten took the offer more seriously.

Meanwhile, the Queen is continuing her fictional horse vacation with a visit to Kentucky. (Except the Queen’s first visit to Kentucky took place in … October 1984!) We get a date check in these scenes — it’s supposed to by 1967. She and Porchey have lunch, and she asks him to be the new manager of her stables. (He really did take over the job in 1969.)

The Crown is following along with the Andrew Lownie narrative of the attempted Wilson coup, so we see Mountbatten invite the whole gang to Broadlands, where he explains why none of this could ever possibly work — unless they could convince the Queen to go along with it. And, hm, which one of them just happens to be a cousin/uncle to Her Majesty? He says he’ll talk to her about it.

But the Queen’s not even aware of any of these developments. She and Porchey are dining privately in Kentucky, and she pours her heart out to him about the fact that she knows she was just born to work with horses, not to be a monarch. She really wishes that were her life.

They’re interrupted by a phone call. She thinks it’s going to be Mountbatten on the other end of the line (he called earlier), but it’s really Wilson, informing her that he knows there’s an attempt to oust him, and Mountbatten is involved. She promises that she’ll take care of it, and tells Porchey they’re headed back to Britain.

Back at the palace, the Queen tears into Mountbatten. (Lownie’s biography claims that the Queen did have to talk Mountbatten out of the whole coup business.)

Wearing a little invented gold brooch, she reminds him of his place in the family — as a mentor to Charles, especially. She also asks if he’s even bothered to visit his sister, Princess Alice, since her arrival from Greece.

He does just that, and the two of them talk about their family and her lack of a clear sense of home. They both feel like they’re now watching the world from the outside, not participating in it.

Philip comes home and finds the Queen at work. They have a little back-and-forth about her extended (fictional) vacation, he expresses some mild jealousy about Porchey, and then they canoodle. And that’s how we leave things.

It’s time again for another look at the invented history and jewels behind this season of The Crown, everybody! Buckle up — “Bubbikins” takes a bumpy ride through the “history” of the royals in the late ’60s.

We begin in Athens in 1967. Prince Philip’s mother, Princess Andrew of Greece and Denmark — generally called by her birth name/title, “Princess Alice,” in the episode — is dressed in her customary gray habit inside the walls of the nursing order she founded, the Christian Sisterhood of Martha and Mary. She’s informed that the order needs more money. (Alice wasn’t living with the sisterhood at this point — she had her own flat, and she even lived briefly in the Royal Palace after the 1967 coup. But more on that in a minute.)

Meanwhile, across the ocean in America, Prince Philip makes an appearance on American television’s Meet the Press. He talks about the need for more funding to support the monarchy. This appearance is real, but it didn’t happen in 1967 — it happened in November 1969. Some of the Crown dialogue is taken directly from his actual comments on the program, including his note that “very considerable corners that have had to be cut” because of the budget shortage. He also stated that the royals “had a small yacht which we have had to sell.”

A fictional British reporter (from Northern Ireland, judging by the accent), John Armstrong, happens to catch the show while working abroad and telephones his editors at the Guardian, asking for space to report on Philip’s statements. As Philip’s appearance was reported weeks in advance — it coincided with the 22nd anniversary of Meet the Press, which is the longest-running show on American television — surely the British papers were more than aware it was happening?

Harold Wilson meets with the Queen, who is wearing a little invented gold and pearl brooch and oddly-placed pearl clip earrings, after Armstrong’s article is published. Wilson notes that there’s a growing feeling that the royals shouldn’t be asking for more money at the moment.

Phil and Liz talk at the table after her audience about the funding issues. The Queen notes that there’s been discussion about the cost of Margaret’s “recent holiday in America” — which is, of course, doubly ridiculous, as it was in reality an official trip — and it happened in 1965, which is either two or four years before this scene is set. Anyway, Philip says that she should let him find a way to convince the public that the monarchy is worth the money.

Back in Athens, Alice takes a bus to a shop. You’ll note the tanks and soldiers in the background. Greece was ruled by a military dictatorship following a coup in April 1967. King Constantine II — the very one you’ll see sometimes on the blog today — made a major error of judgment when he recognized the legitimacy of new dictators, thus nominally remaining in power (at least for a short time).

She unwraps a handkerchief containing a spectacular diamond brooch set with a large Ceylon sapphire. (It appears to be based on the design of this real royal brooch.) The dealer scoffs, telling her that there’s no way it’s real — sapphires that large are just too rare. She barks back that he should test it to be sure. (To be fair, the production’s brooch really doesn’t look particularly like a real antique royal heirloom, but I think it’s mostly because it’s far too clean and sparkly. A little more tarnish would seem much more realistic, don’t you think?)

Once he realizes it’s real, the dealer assumes that Alice must have stolen it. He sends the police to the building where Alice’s sisterhood is housed and tries to have her arrested. They inform him that the woman in question is a genuine princess — and the mother-in-law of the Queen of England. Oops.

(Side note: there weren’t many princesses left in the area by 1967. Hugo Vickers notes in his excellent biography of Alice that the royal numbers had significantly dwindled as the family came under more and more political pressure. Along with Alice, only King Constantine, Queen Anne-Marie, Princess Alexia, Crown Prince Pavlos, Queen Friederike, and Princess Irene were left in Athens.)

Back in London, the Duke is using a newfangled intercom system to broadcast a call for “sweetie” to come to his office. His signet ring is featured in close-up. The Crown usually uses signet rings to represent positions of power, often in conflict with marriage and family. But in this case, the two are intersecting for Philip.

As Philip’s call booms over speakers throughout the palace, Michael Adeane stops in to make sure the “sweetie” Philip is looking for isn’t the Queen. In her pearls, the Queen drawls that she’s not “sweetie,” only “darling or cabbage.”

“Sweetie,” it turns out, is Princess Anne. Philip explains that they’re working on the public image of the family, and asks her to participate in a documentary. He guilts her a little by reminding her of his own childhood royal exile. She brusquely and reluctantly agrees. Just to place us in history here, the plans for Royal Family were put in motion in the spring of 1968, with filming beginning in June.

Next, he presents the documentary plan to the rest of the family. While it’s true that Philip chaired an advisory committee for the film, The Crown has left out two key figures in its conception and promotion. William Heseltine, the Queen’s Australian press secretary, dreamed up the project with Lord Braborne, the film producer who just so happened to be married to Patricia Mountbatten, daughter of Lord Mountbatten. (Where in the world is he in this episode, huh? His sister is a major part of half the plot, and his son-in-law was a major part of the other half.)

Tony Snowdon, who is sitting with the Kents and the Gloucesters, explains what a documentary is, that it’s basically like a wildlife film.

The Queen Mother, sitting with the Queen, Princess Anne, and Princess Margaret, reacts enthusiastically to the “wildlife film” bit. The writing of her character this season is so vapid that it’s bordering on cartoonish, honestly. There’s not even the tiniest bit of depth involved, and it’s disappointing.

Filming begins, which puts us in June 1968. The Queen, in pearls and no brooch, talks to Harold Wilson about the documentary. She’s not excited about any of it, but she essentially says she’s doing it for Philip. On that topic, Wilson tells her that it’s time to really start worrying about the political situation in Greece, which puts us between April and October 1967. (The timeline of this episode is completely shuffled.) He says Princess Andrew is now in some danger.

We finally get another royal replica on Olivia Colman in the following scene. She and Philip are both in gala dress for a dinner. (There weren’t any incoming state visits during the filming of Royal Family, so I’m not sure what this is supposed to represent.) Anyway, the Queen wears the replica of Queen Mary’s Fringe Tiara and production-invented diamonds as she warns Philip about his mother’s current situation abroad. There’s one big problem with use of this tiara, of course — the Queen didn’t own it in the 1960s. It was owned by the Queen Mother, who lent it to Princess Anne for her wedding in 1973 and then bequeathed it to the Queen in 2002. I guess we should just be glad they’re trying? Sigh.

The Queen wants to bring Alice to live with them at the palace. Philip, wearing all his medals along with the sash of the Order of the Garter and the neck badge of the Order of the British Empire, thinks she shouldn’t come at all — not while they’re in the middle of making the film.

(Worth interjecting here that this is completely untrue, and yet another bad characterization of Philip. Hugo Vickers notes that Philip “made immediate enquiries” about his mother when the coup began in April 1967. Philip and Alice were in regular contact by mail, and soon he sent his sister, Sophie, with an invitation from the Queen to come and live with them at Buckingham Palace. As soon as she heard that it was HM herself who had sent the invite, Alice decided to leave. She sold her belongings and left, arriving in Britain only a few weeks after the coup began. Philip was the one who did the convincing — not the one who had to be convinced. There are many legitimate criticisms that can be lobbed at the Duke. Morgan and his writing staff didn’t need to invent ahistorical ones.)

In the fictional world of The Crown, the Queen decides to override Philip and send for Alice anyway.

Alice arrives, and she’s a little overwhelmed by the palace.

This is also complete silliness. Alice was not a stranger to the royal family or to Buckingham Palace; she made frequent visits to family members, including Elizabeth and Philip, throughout the 1950s and 1960s. Hugo Vickers writes that Alice “was often in the country, her arrivals and departures discreetly noted in the Court Circular,” adding that while in London, she liked to spend time with her grandchildren and relatives, as well as making trips to department stores like Selfridge’s. She even spent time with the family aboard the Britannia.

Alice was present for many major family events in Britain and abroad during the ’60s, including the burial of Edwina Mountbatten (1960), the wedding of King Constantine and Queen Anne-Marie (1964), and Princess Anne’s confirmation (1966), as well as more than one of Prince Andrew’s birthday parties. She even visited Charles in the hospital after his appendix was removed in 1962. Elizabeth and Philip’s children called Alice “Yaya,” a Greek nickname for grandmother.

Elizabeth and Anne meet Alice as she arrives, and Alice is disappointed that “Bubbikins” isn’t there. Anne can hardly hold back her glee at learning her father’s pet name. (Of all things, this is what the writers got right: the Vickers book excerpts a 1965 letter from Alice to Philip that begins “Dear Bubby-kins.” Even more delightfully, the same book reveals Alice’s joint nickname for Philip and Elizabeth: “the Filibets.”)

While Real Philip helped his mother relocate from Greece to England, Show Philip is livid that she’s arrived in the middle of his pet film project.

But the show within the show must go on, and the family is filmed sitting around together in the palace watching television. You’ll note that one important person is missing: Prince Charles. He was featured extensively in Royal Family, but he’s totally absent here.

Everyone sits around with the corgis, complaining that they’re bored by the television show they’re supposed to be enjoying. Margaret points out that they can’t act naturally, because they really watch television alone in their separate palaces. The Queen Mother smiles vacantly.

Meanwhile, Alice — who really was a constant smoker — is desperate for a light, so she runs down and asks one of the BBC staff to help her out. He kindly obliges, but Philip sees the entire exchange and goes bananas.

He takes it out on the Queen, lambasting her for bringing his mother there in the first place and accusing her of meddling. He says Alice “was never a mother,” which is definitely not how their relationship actually evolved during his adulthood! Ugh, this show.

The Queen goes to see Alice, who is smoking away with Princess Anne as they write letters trying to raise funds for the sisterhood’s nursing operations.

This is the Queen’s face when Alice and Anne suggest they should auction off a painting or a clock from the palace to fund the convent. (Note another appearance from the little invented pearl flower brooch, too.)

And finally, it’s time to watch the finished documentary. In reality, the Queen viewed and approved the documentary alongside Princess Anne at a TV studio a month before it aired on the BBC and ITV in June 1969. Prince Philip saw the same version a week before it was televised.

But on The Crown, she’s seeing it for the first time. (They’re also showing a color version, when the one initially screened in Britain was in black and white.) In her pearls, she complains about the way her hair looks in one scene.

The Queen Mother makes a “ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille” joke. She’s wearing a brooch that looks era-appropriate for her jewelry collection, but not based on any specific piece that she owned. (Another history check: the family was not all together to watch the initial showing of the documentary on the BBC. According to The People, “The Queen, Prince Philip, and Princess Anne watched the film with Princess George of Hanover, Prince Philip’s youngest sister, in the small private dining room at Windsor Castle. Prince Charles saw the documentary at Aberystwyth, where he has been studying at the University College of Wales. And the Queen Mother watched it at Royal Lodge, Windsor.”)

Princess Margaret’s face tells you how she feels about all of this, and the looming portrait of King George VI appears to agree with her.

One person loving the whole thing? The fictional John Armstrong, who writes a scathing review of the film for The Guardian.

The Queen is stunned by the review in the morning paper. In reality, the documentary earned almost universal praise when it was screened, as well as extremely high ratings. More than 30 million people watched in the United Kingdom alone, breaking the ratings record in the country (previously held by Churchill’s state funeral, watched by 27 million). The Observer, for example, called it a “perfect public relations exercise,” while the Guardian‘s most extended critique was that it was perhaps sometimes a little bit boring.

When alarm bells were rung, they were rung gently, and mostly for fear of what the increased access would mean for the monarchy going forward. One columnist, Milton Shulman, wrote shortly after the documentary aired, “Now that the monarchy has succumbed to the temptation of using TV, there is a danger that it, too, will lose its essential mystique and distance that has been the bulwark of its survival,” adding that “from the monarch’s standpoint the use of TV must be considered as a long-term proposition. If a precedent to reveal the intimate life of kings and queens is established, what will happen one day when a member of the Throne has a private life that is clearly in serious divergence from the image being projected on the box?”

The Queen wears a production-invented brooch that looks like a starfish as she discusses the challenges of media and the failures of the documentary with Harold Wilson. He reminds her that the people don’t want her to be normal, they want her to be “an ideal.”

Philip calls Anne to his office once more, telling her that she’s pretty much their only hope to save their image now that the documentary has flopped. (…okay.) He wants her to agree to be featured in an in-depth profile in the Guardian.

But on the day Anne’s scheduled to be fictionally interviewed by the fictional John Armstrong, she balks. He shows up for the interview anyway, and is quickly distracted by Alice wandering through the palace. (She’s been sent out by Anne as a distraction.)

He sits down with Alice, who is exceptionally open with him about her deafness, her mental illness, and her time spent in a sanitarium.

And the Guardian ends up publishing a (fictional) lengthy profile on Alice, calling her “The Royal Saint.”

The Queen and the Duke read the article over breakfast…

…and then Philip finally goes up to see his mother, reading the article in front of her. He’s moved by many of her statements. (Remember that The Crown is pretending that the two haven’t had a mother-son relationship at all.) Once again, the press teaches the monarchy how to feel in Peter Morgan’s world. Sigh.

They go on a walk in the palace grounds together, all thanks to the Guardian.

Meanwhile, Adeane tells the Queen that overseas broadcasters want to show the royal documentary. The Queen says no. In reality, of course, the film rights were sold even before the documentary aired for the first time in Britain. The film was shown for the first time in color on CBS in America in September 1969 — several weeks before Philip’s Meet the Press appearance — and it would go on to be shown in Canada, Australia, and several other countries. It was also repeated multiple times in the UK. The final showing was on the BBC on February 6, 1972, to mark the 20th anniversary of the Queen’s accession. Scenes from the film have been included in other documentaries, but the entire documentary has not been shown in public since then — not because it was a failure, but, it seems, because it represented a newer, more intrusive attitude about the monarchy and the media.