All language subtitles for Anemone.2025.1080p.TS.EN-RGB

Father in heaven, I kneel before you
today

to

ask that you grant me

strength, the strength to power through
all the tasks today, whether little

or big.

I know it is by your will that I live, O
Lord.

And I know it is also by your will that
I will not go weak today.

I will not go lazy.

Nor will I fail to do the things that
are set before me.

Thank you for your everlasting presence,
Lord.

And in Jesus' name I pray.

away for a few days longer.

How long? Your mother's here, isn't she?

I just thought to let you know.

... ...

...

... ... ...

Southwesterly, clearing westerly, 7 to
clearing 9, decreasing 6 in Humber

Rain, then showers, moderate or cool.

10 over White, Portland, Plymouth.

My future is shrouded in the wilderness.

Sunshine is far away, clouds linger on.

you

inheritance.

Oh Lord, at least I guess we could have
had three feet.

We could.

Thank you.

20 years.

Bless you, brother.

Fuck off.

Brian Love.

Where's he gone?

Dad.

Has he gone to see you?

But what the fuck has he got to do with
it, Mum?

What has he got to do with it?
Everything.

What?

Why'd you hurt that lad, eh? He was
fucking asking for it, Mum.

Did he say something about your dad?

Jerry's my dad.

Well, he said something about Ray.

Gosh, you know so much, so why are you
asking me?

Don't be so cheeky.

I'm just trying to talk to you.

You nearly murdered that lad.

Do you hear me? Well, what killing
family? Who's counting?

Ray's going to kill her.

And even if it was one, does it mean you
have to be?

Dear Ray, I'm not sure you'll even get
this letter or read it even.

So I'm a fact of hope and I'm surprised
you'll be reading this one. I want to

start by asking how you are.

The silent still burns after all the
years and I often wonder if you think

me, us.

Give strong drink unto him that is ready
to perish.

Wine unto the bitter in soul.

Amen.

The majesty of the queen.

What happened to, for what we are about
to receive?

No, it's only before eating that you say
grace.

You don't mind if you have a few fucking
berries without a word?

to wipe your arse this morning. There's
all this shit in your pants.

No, that was from yesterday.

You dirty bastard.

Is cleanliness next to godliness, would
you say?

How do you know he's not filthy?

There's many evidence in Bibles that God
takes a bath three times a week.

Changes his undies every day.

God doesn't need undies because he's not
full of shit like you are. Is that so?

He's got an endless supply up there.

But he never has to wear the same pair
twice.

Does he like a nice snug fit?

Or does he like plenty of room for his
big fucking God balls to swing around

Like massive fucking church bells, then.

Bet it's like Canterbury Cathedral down
below, Dex.

You're going to hell, brother.

Family reunion.

Father Ripper died last week. Saw it in
the paper.

Did you see him again?

Is that a question?

Did you hear he was carted off to the
nuthouse a few years ago?

Please read that letter.

We're back on leave after a third tour
of the province.

Lost two of our lads on that one.

So I had to think about him, really.

The more I thought about him, the more I
wanted to pay him a visit, have a catch

-up.

A debrief about the good old days.

Anyway, when I got home, I looked him
up.

Weren't easy to find.

Of course, they'd moved him around a
bit, business as usual.

Tracked him down in Huddersfield.

Should have seen you all tugged out my
number twos.

Someone that we're in shit order most
days of the week. I smartened up well.

Cacks under the mattress the night
before.

Razor sharp creases front and back.

I was pulling the boots all morning like
mirrors they were.

It's from parade ground standard, Jim.

Could have done ceremonial duty and put
power up that good.

Number two dress and medals.

That well turned out.

I could hear our dear mother's voice
saying, come home, son.

For what is forgiven.

Number one.

The what? Number one dress at the
palace.

Right, right. That's what I'm saying.
Oh, that's smart. You wouldn't have

the difference.

I suppose not. I feel pretty ignorant.

So, go round his house.

Lovely little grace and favour cottage.

Paid for by Saul in a smud out.

Window boxes.

Perfect little lawn.

Edges trimmed.

Knock on the door and there he is.

All scrubbed up. Pink and shiny.

Seemed so old.

I remember him as a big strong bugger.
And there he were.

Scrawny little old man with a pot belly.
I was surprised at how small he looked.

I said, Father Ripon, it's him.

I'm collecting for the Veterans
Association. Would you mind if I stepped

for a moment?

I tell him we're impressed.

Oh, do come in, do come in, young man.

You're very welcome, son, do come in.

It's all fluffed up, bustling about.

The kettle's on, fine china, biscuits,
the whole works. You'll take a cup,

you, son?

Oh, we sit down.

We sit down in this tidy little parlor,
chatting about this and that. I say,

this is your Paris, is it, father?

He said, oh.

Currently between parishes, semi
-retired, you know.

I said, oh, that must be difficult after
all the years of service.

We talk about, talking about the state
of things, the ungovernable, godless

youth. He asked me, are you of the
faith, son?

Faith runs very deep in our family,
Father.

He says, of course, what I miss most of
all is working with young people.

And then he choked on me custard cream.

Anyway, so there's a lull in the
conversation.

He said, oh, don't make a pardon call.
Perhaps you'd like something stronger.

I just looked at him for a long time.

Would you like something stronger,
Father?

I could see the thrill of it coursing
through me, didn't I believe?

His face darkened, his eyes all
glittery.

He said, why, what if you were to start
to get up? I say, I'm very strong,

Father Ripon.

He sits back down as if his legs went
from under him, I say.

Would you like to have a look?

I started to unbutton my trousers. I
thought it might have heart attacks.

I couldn't believe it. It's like
Christmas come early.

So I stood myself up, teasing open the
buttons like a rent boy.

Dropped the cax, dropped me undies.

I say, there it is.

I lie down on the floor.

He lies down, eager to accommodate.

Sitting in a crucifix, that'll make me
nice and hard.

Bottled four with a few steps, I've
stood right over him. Oh, there's one

I forgot to mention, Jim.

For a few days before I went round, I
was on a diet of Guinness and curry.

And then the afternoon of, I took a
handful of laxatives.

But I had to get the timing right. I was
sat in my car outside his house for a

couple of hours and nothing was
shifting.

As soon as I felt that stirring within,
I knocked on his door.

As I'm sitting there, it's welling up
inside me and now I swear I'm coming

at the seams.

Rivets are popping out of me.

The army teachers just grin and bear it,
I'm teaching them.

We do love the exquisite agony of self
-denial.

So, stood over him.

I said, don't recognize me, do you?

him a good few moments. His eyes
flicking this way and that.

And the penny drops.

Fear runs through him like electricity.

And the stinking sweat poured out with
it.

Oh, please don't help me. Please don't
help me. I said, don't move.

If you move an inch, I'll cut off your
meat and potatoes and shove them down

your fucking throat.

You can suck yourself off for a change.

Oh, come to think of it, Seymour didn't
learn to do that a few years ago and

must have been self -sufficient.

Shuffle forwards, about turn, very
awkward.

Heels on his stringy little arms, he
flinched. I could tell it hurt him, but

didn't move.

Now, look up the sluice pipe, father.

And I squatted down.

And I manured him.

This evacuation was in three distinct
phases.

First I sprayed, sprayed him.

Pebble -fashed him.

Make a flock of pigeons take him.

waves of hot lava.

Finally, one big,

one

big patty cake, like Weston had,

flopped out of me.

And he's resting and spitting it in air,
breathing, but he has to breathe.

And I'm laughing that much I fear I
might topple over into my own hill.

And that's it.

Stood up.

Little packet of wet wipes in my pocket.

Cleaved myself up.

And walked out of there light as a
feather.

Did you believe that?

Did you do you know?

I bet he didn't.

Even though that's it, he was scared of
you.

Where were you when he was fucking me up
the hole?

Didn't have much luck with fathers, did
we?

What are you doing that for?

Huh?

What are you doing that for?

What? Just chuck him in your mouth.

Don't get ahead of yourself. We're only
going to train me, Nessa.

It looks good on you, though.

Even the cleaners get white clothes in
the chemist.

Have you finished yielding?

Fine, I'm coming up with years. My
workplace training.

Right. I'm glad I ran into you, Nessa.
I'm not heard from Brian for an inch

Is he all right?

I don't know.

I don't actually know.

I just, I couldn't stop myself.

What did he say to you?

I can't even remember how to.

Well, I can.

The usual stupid shit.

About him?

You're in East Tyrone, right?

Oh, let me just cast my mind back for a
moment.

Wrong.

You know exactly where I were.

Cross McGlynn.

Found it, couldn't I?

IRA, active service unit operating in
the area doing all sorts.

They were very good, very skillful,
cunning, ghosting back and

forth across the border.

They were cat and mouse, sometimes we
were the cat, sometimes they weren't.

It was often so you weren't even sure
which.

You could have them in your sights with
the safety catch off.

Meantime, they'd have a high -velocity
round merrily winging its way toward the

back of your head.

Just in a week before we dug in, we
found and defused three

massive IEDs of theirs.

They shot and killed one of our dog
handlers and the dog.

And they shot down a fucking helicopter.

One week's work.

Provo Army Council expected results and
they weren't disappointed.

Incendiaries, IEDs, grenades, mortars,
sniper rifles, heavy

machine guns are better equipped than we
were.

But they're the flowers I did used to
grow.

Anemones.

I'll write as if you've read all my
other letters.

The desire to talk to you and share
everything is strong. However, this

about me.

This is about Brian.

Brian needs you.

Never before have I asked you in this
way.

He's in trouble.

You leaving?

Accommodation not good enough for you?

When you liked it, every day Nessa wrote
to you. How long was it?

When you went limping off into the
woods, she didn't want to interfere with

decision.

For a couple of years, we thought you'd
turn up one day.

She had no idea if you got her letters,
let alone if you had them.

You knew she were pregnant.

You never answered her once.

You've been going through many things.

Fuck off back to Toy Town, you fucking
ape.

Got me girl, got me son, got me life.

What more do you fucking want?

It was you that left you.

Get over yourselves, lad.

It's not about you.

Fact.

It's about Brian.

Poor only child of a deranged fugitive.

You want to give him some brothers and
sisters to play with.

You're a big lump of a lad.

Don't tell me you were firing blanks.

She prayed for you every night, Rick.

She still prays for you. Tell her to
shave her fucking breath.

My dad prayed for you too.

Every day for the rest of his life.
You've gone soft.

That miserable bastard.

Oh, he prayed. He prayed, didn't he?

He prayed every time he took his belt
off. Didn't he pray again afterwards?

Wet under the arms from the efforts of
his labour. Or he prayed regular.

We learnt our violence from the number
one regional champion.

And he had some stiff competition.

Who knows, maybe at the British Legion
Dominoes Championship.

His life and soul blaze about regimental
tie, chest out frontiers, the long

range desert patrol, now that will war.

Signed for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
If Rommel didn't get you the fly, soon

he would. He didn't talk like that.
That's right, he didn't fucking talk at

did he?

I've had plenty of fucking time to fill
in the fucking silence for him.

What do you want from me, brother?

You know if you read the letter. I've
read the fucking letter.

I've read the fucking letter. What the
fuck?

What do you want?

I'm beyond your reach, Jen.

I'm well beyond her reach. There'll be
no epiphany.

So fuck off back to your little family
and sort it out.

You don't want me to leave, do you? Why
in God's name did you let that boy join

army in first fucking place?

It had nothing to do with me. This is on
you, mate. Look, though I've raised the

boy, you think he's not a pig -headed
little bastard like you are?

You were up to no with me.

I said my piece.

I didn't think you should do it,
following our footsteps.

I thought you were just chasing after...

Anyway, regardless of what I think or
don't think, do you honestly believe

your son wouldn't do a thing just
because somebody told him not to?

He's currently absent without leave.

And as much as they like him, you know
as well as I do, there's no warm, fuzzy

feeling in the MRD.

There's only so long to turn a blind
eye.

Maybe a week, if we're lucky.

And then the MPs will come knocking and
take him away.

But that's the least of it.

I've seen my share of lost souls, Ray.

And at this moment, your son is in the
dark.

Believer or non -believer, there are
forces at work.

Fact.

I don't want anything from you, Ray. I
don't want anything.

Nessa.

Nessa believes it.

If you met him and talked to him...

Give him some answers.

It just might make a difference, it
might.

For it's too late.

Brian savaged this lad. He fucking
savaged him.

He's convinced himself if they hadn't
pulled him off, he'd have killed him.

And this has been following Brian since
primary school. Your father's this, your

father's that.

Is he in the nuts house?

Is he banged up?

The invisible man, Ray Stoker.

I'm going to get out of here double
time.

I'm going to see a baby.

Do not move him madam and do not remove
his helmet.

You're doing so well.

I know there's a lot of blood.

well you were all over me at that stage
like a bloody octopus and i was like

whipping my head back and forth just
trying to catch a clean breath but you

have thought i was an ecstasy because
that mini wet goblin just kept reaching

for me oh it wasn't going back down but
i'm not lying his breath smelled

like shit have you ever had that

Cheers, mate.

Some crisps, you know. You like them.

Cheese and onion.

This is our juice, mate. I won't be
long.

I won't be long.

He's beautiful, kind, funny, loyal.

He's so like you in so many ways.

Funny that, eh?

Anyway, I implore you, for the sake of
Brian, to

please, please come home and talk to
him.

him meet you are waste.

And maybe, just maybe he can move
forward and let go of whatever demon

holding him so tight.

I pray you are well and he fit to
answer.

God bless.

What? What?

What? What the fuck?

Spit an image.

What?

Spit an image.

Spit an image who?

Fuck off.

Fuck right off.

Our father ruled us in heaven. Fuck off.

Fuck, I'm a bit... Fuck, I'm a bit of a
shadow bugger.

The boy, Brian, was doing well, very
well.

They think he's a real prospect.

Can't help himself, the other lad's just
falling behind him.

All right.

You remember what it's like when you're
cold and hungry and slept in three

nights. It's every man for himself.

With Brian, he's got strength to spare.

He may be at the end of his rope, but
he's still looking out for the others.

I'm gonna pay attention to that.

When you did selection and were badged
into the regiment, I was so proud.

I thought, I want that.

I want some of that.

I suppose volunteering for 14 inns would
have a way of getting closer, you know.

Training in Bradbury lines with the old
lads and all. I thought it would have

within reach.

It doesn't mean that it's all I know.

Even with all the shit that he put up
with over the years, there was some idea

he had of the space where he should have
been, that he was chasing after, that

he was fascinated by.

Right into his own shadow.

He doesn't know who you are.

He knows nothing about you.

Except for the old stories when we were
youngsters, you know, the short fuse,

street fights, vandalism. You and me
both were both liabilities then.

But now he... I don't know, he loves his
hands, I suppose.

It belonged to somebody else.

What?

Romus, mate, Romus.

So he's told me what happened, that's
all we've got.

I realise I've never properly spoken to
you about your father.

And that was a fault of me, Brian.

Me and Gem thought we could make a nice
life for you, and I think in some ways

we have.

But it can't have been easier for you.

All these years.

You know, looming over everything.

Every family dinner.

Every birthday, every Christmas, every
special occasion.

And I suppose by not talking to you
about it.

What did you know about the other
troubles in Northern Ireland?

We'll sleep outside tonight.

I lost him in stages.

I lost him in stages.

After the first few tours in Northern
Ireland, he was already quite hard to

reach.

And then when he... volunteered for some
special assignment the minute he raised

his hand he seemed to disappear into
another world it wasn't just that he

it he would have a lot of eager he said

goodbye well before he left and when he
came back he couldn't reach him he sat

at a kitchen table with him he'd be
looking at you like you were the other

of a football pitch

You're an acquaintance, you know, maybe,
and you were trying to figure out who

you were.

I was pregnant with you.

I was getting bigger by the day, and you
seemed to be shrinking. I felt like a

big lumbering giant living with a
miniature person, afraid I was going to

him underfoot.

I must have been waiting for it.

Ray never spoke to me about what
happened over there.

I tried to get in touch with a few of
the lads that he served with, you know,

that were with him, but they said
nothing.

They're on a warning from the MOD. They
must have been on a warning.

So all I have is what I'm telling you
now.

But I knew Ray.

I knew Ray better than I knew myself.

And as I said, those lads, they couldn't
stay out.

I tell you this much, they loved him and
they respected him. And they never gave

me, never gave me one hint of a reason
that he'd done something he should be

ashamed of.

We're left.

something to be proud of.

It's what he called a war crime.

A fucking war crime. The war was a
fucking crime.

And we were the phantom soldiers.

Our mission on this one was
surveillance, pure and simple.

We dug in at night time.

Two OPs.

Ours were in a hedgerow at the end of an
unpaved laneway, bordering the farm

buildings.

A structure of interest with a milking
shed no more than 30, 40 feet from us

across the yard.

On the tip -off we'd scarred a few
nights before.

They arrived shortly after sun -up.

The bomb -maker was a player well -known
to us, a young lad with whom we'd never

seen him before.

I didn't tell them we saw it, but for
two days there was no movement. I

to wonder if they somehow slipped away,
if there were a tunnel or concealed

entrance movement when we wrecked the
building.

I was just writing on my report when the
bomb went off.

The explosion was so loud, you couldn't
hear it.

The concussive force ran through every
cell of your body.

Filled you up by the worst. Nothing left
of you.

Chaos.

Entire roof lifted off the shed on a
cloud of black smoke.

Like the cartoon.

Walls swelled outwards.

Opened up.

Debris started to rain down on us. Are
we being attacked? Do they know we're

here? Are they getting rid of it? They
do that sometimes. You know how it were.

If they thought you were onto them.

detonate the ordnance in Scarborough.

We were waiting for the incoming, but so
far, nothing.

Then there was just the sound of this
fellow screaming.

Like I said, we were on surveillance,
nothing more. We weren't equipped for

anything serious.

Sidearms only, couple of longs between
us.

When that Semtex went off, we should
have called it in, handed over to you

that, but I don't know why.

For some reason, we moved in, advanced
to contact.

I suppose it were a right to the sound
of the guns type of madness.

We started to crawl toward the milking
shed. Could have been weapons trained on

us, snipers.

Could have been another bomb waiting in
the building. We didn't know.

We're crawling, heads down, getting
closer, getting closer, all we could.

We only saw him with a screaming.

Obviously, we wanted to get one of the
light we could get to talk.

But that smoke here in the building
could barely see in front of you.

It turned out it were just the two of
them, master and apprentice.

The player must have been stood between
the bomb and the kid.

There were an out left of him.

Except his fucking teeth, buried in the
side of the young fella's head.

Heard over his nephew a few days later.

That was a slip when we went in on some
piece of him that were covered in...

When I picked myself up, they were
covered in his slime.

Kipper on the ground.

Bits of him were even alive, just about,
but bits of him were missing.

His innards were spilled out and he was
crying out for his mother.

One maker's teeth buried inside of his
head.

I was stood right over him. Our three
lads clearing the run left and right.

I'm stood over him.

He would die in this kitchen. He would
die.

You see the fear in his eyes.

Look at hatred.

Look to me with hatred.

Could have been more than 16 or 17 years
old. Younger than Brian is now.

He's screaming at me.

Begging me to shoot him.

So I shot him.

Yes, he was fucking dying.

I didn't fucking kill him. He killed
himself.

Fucking killed himself.

I just nudged him across the line.
Fucking bastard.

Where were they going to put that bomb?
In a pub? In a shopping centre? In a

nightclub? Guaranteed to be innocent
people. But it's how fucking merciful.

how they just killed themselves.

And I'm the fucking murderer.

Wish I had left him to that.

Wish I'd left him to his full measure of
suffering.

Lying there with his guts spilled out,
crying for his mother. I should have

him there.

Should have called an ambulance.

Told him to take the scenic route.

Not fucking thinking how I did him a
favour, but I fucking did. He was

me to do it.

17 years old, shivering on the ground. I
finished him off.

Just to stop the screaming.

That's it. That's all there were.

Yeah, listen, of course, the lads knew.
The lads knew why I'd done it. They

didn't question it.

They knew this fellow was gone and no
one would get anything out of him. No

would have gotten him anywhere. He
wouldn't have survived.

No one said a word. No one questioned
him.

No one said a word.

I called in to self -debt operations
room. That stage our job were done.

over, went back to barracks, had the
debrief.

That boy's injuries didn't occur to me.
Any questions would be asked.

They were all in a twist.

The Ruperts, the higher -ups.

After the CO had me in his office,

I could tell he was under stress.

His old fat head looked like a boil that
needed lancing.

By all the rules of lawful engagement,
that's a war crime, Sergeant Stoke. And

thought, oh, here we go.

He's looking hard at me. We need to make
this go away.

He presented a threat.

He raised his weapon.

No, he fucking didn't, sir.

This house isn't as fresh now as it
fucking didn't.

His arms were shredded.

I'd love to get out. He can't just put
himself together and nobody think.

Take a couple of days, see the head
doctor, he'll be right as red.

will make this go away.

I stood in front of him, hot tears
squirting out of me. If you'd asked me

my name were, I wouldn't have known.

But it took a couple of days, but it
weren't that long for the shrink

to see that when a crack in the ice, it
wouldn't seal over.

However, as he put it, an unstable
element staged to

myself and others, which in our line of
work meant generally bad for business,

time to go home. So he declared me
unfit, returned to unit, signed me out,

me on a plane back to the regiment.

A short while later, I find myself on
the streets of Sheffield staring at my

front door, a civilian.

A dirty little secret war criminal.

Yeah, well, our coming -up 15 -year
service due out anyway.

Could you save him?

I did save him, Jeff. I did save him.

Saved him from more fucking pain.

I'd have enjoyed watching him suffer a
little bit longer, so I did save him.

Saved him, that.

Why did you shoot him?

We have kept him alive.

But at some time I knew we couldn't. At
the time.

At the time.

to reach your fucking absolution, Jim.

Maybe I could have saved him.

Maybe I could have saved him. Maybe I
enjoyed killing him. Maybe I didn't.

I pitied him. Maybe I fucking hated him.
I don't know, Jim. I don't know.

But I don't reach your fucking
absolution.

I did the crime.

Still serving the time.

Don't tell none to nobody.

Don't turn up to nobody.

Least of all to you.

How many fucking hail bearers do I get
for that?

with us, his eyes searching for the
exit.

Well, there were rumours, as you all may
know too well, that he'd lost his mind

over there, that, you know, he'd gone
psycho, that he'd been involved in some

bad things, even that he'd murdered an
announcer, will you?

Oh, and the shame, the shame of it
seemed to crush him.

I mean, regardless of what happened, the
shame.

It's hard to imagine that, you know,
what shame can do to a person. He was a

very proud man, your father, Brian. He
was very proud.

Proud?

You don't understand.

He put his heart and soul into it, did
he?

Just like your dad, Jim, you know?

So to take that away from somebody, to
take it away from him, it's like taking

his name away.

How can you be so fucking reasonable
about it?

I wasn't reasonable about it at the
time.

You know, and if it...

if it wasn't for knowing that there was
a baby on the way, and if it wasn't for

you.

So yeah, we left it.

I'm sorry.

These are what you think, right over
your door.

I think you're a fucking killer.

And a coward.

Because only a weak, cowardly person can
walk away from the family like that.

Don't talk about him. You don't know
him. No, you're right. I don't know him.

That's the problem, innit? I don't
fucking know him.

I know everything I fucking need to know
about him.

Bastard.

There's a big, giant fucking thing going
on in the middle of our lives.

Don't talk about him like that.

Don't talk about anybody like that in my
presence.

At least of all the men who gave you
life, which is a blessing. Blessed?

Blessed? Why did everything have to be
so fucking blessed in this house, Mum?

You gave me life.

He gave me a fucking... fucking curse.

All these years.

All these years.

All these years fucking what?

How did you?

The winces, I mean. The isolation.

How did that work?

How did that manage without you?

It's not over, Jem.

I'm not making sound as if it... I won't

pretend I don't think about you from
time to time, but this is it, Jem. This

my life.

Does it have to be?

As for man, his days are as grass,

as a flower, a field, so it flourishes.

But wind passeth over it, and it is
gone,

and the place thereof shall know it no
more.

Etc. etc.

Ah, fucking men.

Good night, man.

Ryan?

Ryan?

Hey. We gotta get going.

Can you do it?

Can't help it.

Thank you.

you