In a moment that has sent shockwaves through royal watchers and casual observers alike, Prince William, the steadfast heir to the British throne, has laid bare his soul in an unprecedented interview. Conducted for Apple TV+ by the unassuming yet disarmingly charming Eugene Levy—best known for his deadpan genius in Schitt’s Creek—this conversation transcends the polished platitudes of typical royal engagements. It’s raw, it’s revealing, and it’s revolutionary. At 43, William emerges not as the buttoned-up prince we’ve come to expect, but as a man wrestling with the ghosts of his past, the fragility of his present, and a visionary blueprint for the monarchy’s future. Over the course of this extraordinary 90-minute special, airing exclusively on Apple TV+ next month, William doesn’t just speak; he confesses, he dreams, and he dares to imagine a crown unburdened by centuries of tradition.

The interview, filmed in the cozy confines of Kensington Palace’s private drawing room, begins with Levy’s signature awkward humor—a deliberate choice by producers to disarm the future king. “Your Royal Highness,” Levy quips, adjusting his glasses with that trademark fidget, “I’ve interviewed fishmongers in small-town Canada who seemed more relaxed than you right now. What’s the protocol for spilling tea in a palace?” William’s laughter erupts, genuine and unguarded, a sound rarely captured on camera. It’s this levity that sets the tone, allowing the prince to peel back layers he’s kept hidden for decades. But as the conversation deepens, the mirth gives way to something profound: vulnerability.

Central to William’s revelations is his bold, unapologetic plan to reform the monarchy. Long criticized as an anachronistic relic in a modern world, the institution has teetered on the edge of irrelevance amid scandals, public fatigue, and shifting global priorities. William doesn’t mince words. “The monarchy isn’t a museum piece,” he declares, leaning forward with a fire in his eyes that Levy later describes as “electrifying.” “It’s a living, breathing service to people—not the other way around. We’ve got to strip away the pomp if we want to survive. No more endless tours for the sake of optics; instead, real impact on climate, mental health, and inequality. And let’s be honest: the family drama has to end. We’re not the Windsors of old—stiff upper lips and whispered scandals. We’re human, and it’s time the public saw that.”

His vision is audacious. William envisions a “slimmed-down” royal family, not in the reductive sense of fewer working members, but in a reimagined structure where royals act as global ambassadors for causes rather than ceremonial figureheads. He speaks of decentralizing power, empowering regional representatives in the Commonwealth to foster genuine connections rather than token visits. “Imagine a monarchy that’s digital-first,” he says, gesturing animatedly. “Podcasts from palaces, virtual town halls with everyday folks. Why fly halfway around the world when AI and VR can bring the conversation home?” Levy, ever the straight man, interjects with a wry, “So, no more horse-drawn carriages? Or are we trading them for electric ones?” William’s response—a nod and a grin—hints at the practical reforms bubbling beneath: sustainable estates, transparent finances, and a commitment to diversity that would see more non-traditional voices in advisory roles.

But it’s William’s candor about his family life that truly humanizes him, turning the heir into everyman. For the first time, he opens up about Catherine’s cancer battle with a rawness that silences the room. Diagnosed in late 2023, the Princess of Wales’s fight against an undisclosed form of the disease has been a private inferno, shielded from prying eyes even as speculation raged. “Kate’s the strongest person I know,” William says, his voice cracking as Levy hands him a tissue off-camera. “Watching her go through chemo, the endless scans, the days when she couldn’t get out of bed—it broke me. I’d sit there at night, holding her hand, thinking, ‘How do we explain this to the kids? How do I be the rock when I’m crumbling?’” He pauses, eyes glistening. “Cancer doesn’t care about titles. It levels you. And in those dark moments, I realized: privilege doesn’t shield you from pain. It just gives you better doctors.”

Catherine, he reveals, has emerged from treatment not unscathed, but transformed. “She’s fiercer now, more determined to advocate for early detection and support for families. We’ve talked about her going public soon—not for pity, but to say, ‘Hey, this happens, and it’s okay to not be okay.’” William credits her resilience with reigniting his own purpose, weaving her story into his reform agenda. “The monarchy must lead on health equity. No more ivory towers; we need to fund research, destigmatize illness, and make sure every family has access to what we did.” It’s a poignant pivot from personal tragedy to public good, underscoring William’s belief that true royalty lies in empathy, not entitlement.

Parenting, too, emerges as a battleground in this unfiltered exchange. With three young children—George, 12; Charlotte, 10; and Louis, 7—William confesses the “relentless chaos” of raising a future king amid paparazzi flashes and protocol pitfalls. “Bedtime stories? Sure, but they’re interrupted by security briefings. Playdates? Vetted like state dinners.” He chuckles, but there’s an undercurrent of exhaustion. “I grew up in a goldfish bowl, and I swore I’d protect them from that. But it’s harder than I thought. George asks me, ‘Dad, why do people take pictures of us eating ice cream?’ And I don’t have a good answer.” Levy, a father of two himself, nods knowingly, sharing a light anecdote from his own “Schitt’s Creek” days about wrangling child actors. The rapport builds, leading William to a deeper admission: the fear of failing as a father in a lineage of absent or overburdened parents.

“Charles was a good dad in his way,” William says softly, “but the weight of duty pulled him away. And Diana… God, she was magic, but the marriage’s toxicity seeped into everything.” This segues into the interview’s most explosive segment: the enduring scars of Charles and Diana’s divorce. At 15 when the split was announced in 1996, William was thrust into a maelstrom of tabloid frenzy and familial fracture. “It shattered us,” he admits, his tone shifting to one of quiet fury. “Harry and I were pawns in a war we didn’t start. The arguments, the affairs splashed across headlines—it taught me that love can turn poisonous when trapped in expectations. As adults, it haunts us differently. Harry’s off chasing his truth in California, building walls I wish we could tear down. Me? I’m here, trying to glue the pieces back without cutting myself on the edges.”

The princes’ rift, once dismissed as media hype, is laid bare as a profound sibling schism rooted in unresolved grief. “Diana’s death in ’97? That was the real divorce—from normalcy,” William reflects. “Harry and I coped by diverging: he rebelled, I armored up. But lately, we’ve talked—haltingly. Father’s illness sped that up. Life’s too short for grudges.” He doesn’t detail specifics of reconciliation efforts, but the implication is clear: under his future reign, family healing could mirror institutional reform. “The monarchy’s strength is its people,” he insists. “If we can’t fix our own bonds, how do we serve others?”

Levy’s gentle probing—devoid of the gotcha journalism that has plagued royal coverage—elicits these gems without exploitation. “You’re not interviewing a prince,” William jokes midway through. “You’re talking to Will, the bloke who still burns toast.” Yet, beneath the banter lies a man acutely aware of his destiny. As the camera pulls back on their final exchange, Levy asks, “If you could whisper one thing to your younger self, amid the divorce headlines and the loss—what would it be?” William’s answer lingers: “It’s okay to bend the rules. The crown isn’t a cage; it’s a toolkit. Use it to build, not just endure.”

This interview isn’t mere confession; it’s a manifesto. William’s words challenge the status quo, inviting scrutiny and support in equal measure. Will the public embrace a monarchy that’s relatable, responsive, and radically rethought? Or will tradition’s guardians push back? As airing approaches, one thing is certain: Prince William has stepped out of the shadows, not as a reluctant king-in-waiting, but as a leader ready to redefine royalty on his terms. In doing so, he’s reminded us all that even princes bleed—and dream—of a better world.