Original subtitles

"In requesting a lady to dance,

you stand at the proper distance,

bend the body gracefully,

accompanied by a slight motion of the right hand in front."

-You look at her with complacence. -What?

"And then you respectfully say, 'You will be pleased…'

or 'Will you favor me with the next dance?'"

Are you listening to me?

Otherwise, you'll make a complete arse of it.

The lady is smart enough to know

the dance you're requesting is a means to an end

and a way of making an introduction on behalf of someone else.

If she thought you were asking on your own behalf,

she would, without doubt, tell you to fuck right off.

Completely, totally sober, yes?

I've been like a kestrel hovering over a field mouse.

I want this dance, Ben.

And so, go and introduce the Guinness family with amused dignity.

Hmm.

Oh, for God's sake.

Mr. Benjamin Guinness, are you looking for me?

Will you be pleased, sir,

or will you favor me, sir, with this next dance?

Well?

All right.

So, why have you chosen me as your dance partner, Mr. Guinness?

There are so many women here, younger and prettier.

Prettiness is opinion.

And what is your opinion of me?

My opinion is that I wish I had a very large glass of whiskey right now.

You seem quite nervous.

-Not much of a dancer. -So why do it?

Anyway, Benjamin, as you may know,

I'm a single woman, and you are a single man.

Look, it might be helpful to point out

that I am rather a leaf in the wind in all of this.

You are a single man.

-And in the words of Jane Austen… -Who?

"The single man in possession of a good fortune

must be in want of a wife."

Is that why you asked me to dance? You are in need of a wife?

First, in truth, I… I'm not in possession of great fortune.

Your brother's got all the money?

Can we at least move around a bit?

And perhaps you were instructed by one of those brothers

to approach me as a kind of calling card.

Since your older brother got married today, I assume

you're here on behalf of the next brother in line.

Look, when the inevitable happens

and Edward tells me that I completely fucked this up,

tell him it wasn't my fault.

Tell your brother, from me, that I am not a name on a list.

I am not in search of a husband.

And the porter that he brews in his brewery tastes to me

like bitter, bitter ashes.

Bitter ashes.

Fuck.

Look, I know this is wildly wrong,

and never done, and everyone is staring,

but you look a little lost. I wondered if I might rescue you.

Of course.

Fuck!

When I looked into her eyes…

I, um… couldn't help noticing the two of you on the dance floor,

and I must say, you looked completely natural to me--

-Really? -Mm.

That's odd.

Because Benjamin was just telling me about a girl he met in London

with reflective eyes,

and with whom he is apparently falling in love.

Excuse me.

Yes, well, it was out of the blue.

A chambermaid.

Your name is Guinness.

That is not who you are.

It is what you are.

Now, you can have all the chambermaids you want…

-I'm rather busy with the one I have. -…but you will marry within this room.

Obviously not Lady Christine O'Madden,

who is penniless and a lunatic.

I'm a man in love.

However,

if you really want me to fall out of love,

then I suggest the family do something about my income.

There is no chambermaid, is there?

Four thousand per annum. That's all I ask.

And a house in Chelsea for myself and my bride,

who will be chosen within this room, and who will be very, very suitable.

You are indeed a Guinness.

Do we have a deal, Aunt Agnes?

Leave it.

Of course there was a plan. Benjamin was to make the request

so Edward could save face in case of rejection.

Well, if he has been rejected,

the second-most important man in Ireland should move on.

Mm-mm. No, no. No, no.

He is Edward.

If she refused him, he would pursue her and this rejection…

If he has chosen Adelaide, he will pursue her…

pursue her with all his wit and energy,

possibly forever,

until she gives in.

People always want what they can't have.

Mr. Plunket.

Mrs. Plunket.

I hear you need a carriage.

My wife stumbled in the dance.

I hope you're not hurt, madam.

William, I didn't give our wedding gift to my brother.

Would you go and make sure he gets it before we leave?

You may have heard that I was taken ill on the road to Cloonboo.

I did not hear that, madam.

On the road

and in a carriage,

I lost a baby.

Will you be needing a carriage home straightaway, madam?

Nothing in this room is as it seems.

There should be cards on which there is a list

of who you will fuck and then move on from.

You have no affection for me.

We came together briefly,

and then we came apart.

And now we both continue on.

Now I can barely stand, let alone dance.

Of all idiotic fucking things,

what I would like most of all now,

and whenever I fall…

is for someone to hold me.

I've allocated the gift and arranged the carriage.

Perhaps, Mr. Rafferty,

you will tell the bride and groom that we've had to leave.

Rafferty! Mr. Rafferty!

Mr. Rafferty!

Come.

I…

I just described you to my new wife

as my foreman.

Which really is a terribly inadequate word

for what you are. You're more of a…

…linchpin.

Protector.

Weapon of control.

Mmm.

He sounds indispensable.

I have a carriage and four to take you later to St. Anne's Park.

What time do you plan to leave?

Oh, is he your timekeeper too?

Well, perhaps now that Mr. Guinness has a wife to take care of him,

I might be relieved of the more intimate duties.

Such as deciding his bedtime.

Speaking for myself,

I'm not quite ready for bed yet,

Mr. Rafferty.

-Arrange the carriage for midnight. -Yes, madam.

And make the lights dim, so bride and groom can kiss along the way.

Whoop!

So… how goes the rest of the family?

Benjamin is sober. Edward has been refused.

For now, yes.

On both counts.

Your uncle Henry is horrified

that this sexual dancing face-to-face is being allowed.

I told him it is the wicked times that we now live in.

You did?

At least the Fenians are behaving themselves.

What?

What time do you think it'll be acceptable to leave these pigs to their trough?

We are here for a purpose.

Mmm… Oh.

I'm here for a different purpose.

-Wanna know what my purpose is? -What?

To reconnoiter this building with a view to someday returning to plant

a bag of fucking dynamite under their stairs.

My purpose appears to be on his way to see me now.

I want you two to both fucking leave. I want you to leave right now.

-We-- -Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah.

Shh!

I want you to both fucking leave right now,

without any kind of noise, any kind of fuss.

I was told by your brother that we have business.

If you do not leave,

I will have Mr. Rafferty escort you both to a closed window,

which he will throw you both through.

-We are here by invitation. -Oh.

Really?

I thought you didn't wanna make a fuss.

I've been told who you are. Who the fuck is he?

Her brother.

Oh…

I understand it is your way,

you people living down in the docks and ditches of Dublin,

for brother and sister to fuck each other.

-No, don't. Stop! -Fucking man, fuck!

-Fucking dead man. -Stop!

I'm gonna buck you up. You're done.

Go and dance.

-I don't dance. -Go and stand and look awkward, then.

If I see her being led towards any closed windows,

it'll be a different sort of fucking dance that breaks out.

Huh.

-I think your brother should join us. -This is my fucking wedding!

Your brother's joining us anyway.

Ah, fuck.

You pollute the House of Guinness

in front of the whole of society.

We are indeed in front of the whole of society,

so you will sit down, you will sip some whiskey,

and you will smoke your cigar, because here, of all places,

and on this day of all days, you cannot turn over the tables.

Understand? Before your marriage is one week old,

the truth about it could be revealed.

The truth, Arthur, and the future are to be discussed here,

briefly, as a first step.

So… you use my wedding day as a trap.

A trap from which you'll be freed

the second after you engage with this lady.

Fucking "lady"?!

Who I have discovered to be reasonable

and who is someone we must deal with sooner or later.

-I have chosen sooner. -I can't even speak.

Then only listen.

I have no interest in the destruction of your reputation.

I have suggested a gradual movement without deadline…

…towards a position of constructive engagement.

And the House of Guinness, as you call it,

would be a place where both sides of the argument could be put.

And we might move your people towards a position

where the prospect of a united and free Ireland would become

inevitable.

And what about you, hmm?

Do you think it is also inevitable

that everything our father stood for gets destroyed?

My opinion is irrelevant, Arthur.

This is business.

Everything you see in this room is about appearances and propriety.

Mm.

So you invite a blackmailer to the ball?

It does not suit me to do this.

My fucking best man…

…my own brother…

does this to me.

Your brother is doing what is best for you.

Consult your wife. She is a realistic woman.

Arthur, the election is just a few months away.

And to win it, you must be unblemished.

Everything is at stake.

And anger makes poor decisions.

Many workers will be voting for the first time,

including this lady's supporters.

You'll need at least some of their votes to win.

When you are back from your honeymoon,

I'd like to put forward a set of proposals

about how best to represent Fenian interests in Parliament.

Arthur?

Was that progress?

Shouldn't you be out amongst your family finding yourself a wife?

Shouldn't a woman of your age already have found herself a husband?

I'm waiting for someone to take me seriously.

Who invited the fucking Fenians?

I did, Uncle Henry.

"Blessed are the peacemakers,

for they will be called the children of God."

Excuse me!

Sorry, excuse me. I was just looking for Eliza Street.

Where Eliza Street meets First Avenue.

Just landed in New York.

I thought with you being firemen, you'd know the streets.

You Irish?

I am. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am. I'm from Dublin.

You Catholic?

Fuck.

♪ Is anois beidh do ma, like "wha?!" He's not a drug dealer, aingeal mo mhac ♪

♪ He has friends from the Shankill Top of the Rock ♪

♪ And he's constantly Asking me for a tap ♪

♪ Do mháthair bhocht in shock… ♪

Move it!

♪ God love her, her son did suffer ♪

♪ Come next summer She'll still be paying your strap ♪

♪ Two boots to the door Tá muid anois ag do theach ♪

♪ Bainfidh mé an Nike Air Max de do mhac ♪

♪ Van and your toaster We're takin' the lot ♪

♪ I need that for work Cos it's all that I got ♪

♪ Aw fuck, fear bocht ♪

Stop that goddamn Irishman!

♪ And now he's gurning Cos Kneecap are taking all of his stuff… ♪

Stop that papist scum!

Ah fuck!

♪ Is táimid ag glacadh Gafa, ní fótagrafach ♪

♪ Atá ag crochadh insan halla ♪

♪ Fuck it, we might take more ♪

Come back here!

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

You! Hey!

Stop!

Get him!

♪ Stick your mouth down onto the pavement Dul de seo ó bhí mé 'mo dhéaga ♪

♪ 3CAG, pop and drop ya like Jenga ♪

Stop the papist scum!

♪ Cuairt bheag gairid chuig do mham Haló! Casúr is tairne I 'mo lámh ♪

♪ Fíochmhar nuair Nach a bhfuil bhfiacha glan ♪

Wait.

Say a prayer to your papist god, Irishman.

Okay, gentlemen! You have now reached the border.

Permission for entry denied.

Now turn around and get the fuck out of here!

Go on, get!

Get out of here!

Scumbag bullies!

Get out of here!

-Get out! Back! -Go on, get out of there!

Go on, scum!

Get out of here!

Them fuckers.

Come on.

You Irish?

You know, since I got off the ship…

the answer to that question

increasingly depends on who I'm talking to.

Welcome to New York. Come on.

You travel light.

I was obliged to use me suitcase as a weapon.

Dublin's rough, and… Cork has its moments,

but I was just chased like a hare by the fucking New York Fire Brigade.

Yeah, you need to know the rules.

Map of the religions.

See, those men you just encountered, they're the famous Bowery Boys.

Start fires and put them out for money.

Or they take your money so they won't start a fire first.

Fuckers.

Yeah, they hate the Irish, and they burn Catholics.

But these are all things you get used to. Incorporate them into your daily routine.

If that's going to be my routine, I'll buy a pair of lighter-weight shoes.

Or buy a gun.

-William. -All right.

Man here says he's your cousin from Dublin.

Holy fuck!

It's Byron, the bad boy from Ballybuck.

Ah, hey.

Welcome to the revolution, my friend.

I was kinda sure that those letters you sent to me

were written when you were drunk because…

Oh, they seemed kinda crazy.

Yeah. I drink, but I don't get drunk.

So your business here is real?

My last bottle.

I have ten cases being unloaded in The Battery docks to use as samples.

-Pick 'em up from the quay tomorrow. -I seen 'em around.

They sell it like medicine for old ladies.

Here, do you have an opener?

-You fucker. -Sorry.

It's not usually so lively. I've been running.

Here. Go on, try what's left.

Mmm…

You appear to care what I think.

I hear you have influence

among the Irish community in this beautiful city.

I taste the bitterness of Ireland.

I should use that in the advertising posters.

Ha!

And I'm here to tell people it's more than medicine for old ladies.

-It's an elixir for the soul. -So what is this stuff to you?

It's actually not beer for me.

It's me blood.

You and I are cousins through me father. You never met me mother.

I tell you, the Guinness family are wild.

And your mother was one.

Yeah.

So am I.

But they're Protestants.

They walk a tightrope.

And I swear to God…

the man who signed that paper signs all the checks.

His brother Arthur will soon be Dublin's MP.

Edward wants to build bridges with the Fenians. That's why I'm here.

I told him what my plan was. I told him who you were.

He still signed it.

Yeah.

So who am I?

They say in New York, you call the shots for us.

For "us"?

For the Fenian Brotherhood.

And is that "us" for you too?

'Cause my father died for the cause.

And I am my father's son.

But your reason for being here

is this.

You should know, cousin, that, um…

the thing the Guinness family is most famous for

is giving money to good causes

on the behalf of the oppressed and the unjustly used.

So…

you think these dice-rolling Protestants would give money to us?

I think having friends who make good beer can only ever be a good thing.

Mmm.

What?

This is me making a decision, cousin.

Hey.

-Come here. Catch this. -What the fuck?

Take it to The Battery docks. You tell a longshoreman,

any bottle with that label, leave the fuck alone.

You put it on the quay like it was a sleeping baby.

-Just tell him it was me who said so. -Aye, captain.

All right.

Also, Cousin…

Hey. I'm gonna need somewhere to stay.

You…

Don't you say thank you?

Yeah. I'm gonna cut you in on the profits.

So it'll be to your benefit.

You go get your horses out of the rain. I'll help her.

My driver's doing perfectly well, thank you.

Go. See to the horses.

What the hell are you doing here this time of night?

Hell?

You use such blasphemy to the sister of your employer?

Forgive me, madam.

You are forgiven.

The reason the hell I am here this time of night

is to see my brother Edward, who is also here this time of night.

Indeed, he is here at almost any time of night.

As, I imagine, are you.

We are very busy, madam.

Madam?

We are receiving orders in advance of Christmas.

-Some from new places. -Ah, from America. Yes, I hear.

The sooner this expansion continues,

neither you nor Edward will ever go home.

Not that either of you have a home to go to, of course.

Shall I bring your brother down?

And why would you do that?

Anne.

If you fall, I will catch you

and hold you.

You know, Mr. Rafferty,

I'm beginning to suspect you might actually have compassion in your soul…

which makes you even more dangerous than you already are.

Anne? What the hell…

…am I doing here?

My name is Guinness. This is the Guinness Brewery,

and yet everyone appears to be astonished to see me.

Did the doctor give you any news?

It is always I that gives news to the doctor,

telling him of some new thing I can no longer do.

He has no idea why.

The only good piece of news he has given me is that,

in spite of my recent miscarriage,

he sees no reason on earth

why I should not be able to bear another child.

Anne, for God's sakes, it's almost ten o'clock.

There is something that cannot wait.

When was the last time you spoke to Arthur?

I've been busy here. He's been busy with his election campaign.

You've had no involvement in his campaign whatsoever?

No, I've not. He said he didn't need or want me.

And thanks to the work of our representative in New York,

this expansion is taking all my focus.

What's in the envelope?

Proof that he does need you.

Fuck.

In your absence, my husband's brother has been acting as his running mate.

And it seems that Arthur and his team have developed

what they think is a very clever system for rigging the election.

It's a train ticket.

Didn't you want him to get elected to build bridges instead of burning them?

The Tory Party has secretly taken over premises on Capel Street,

supposed to be a printing works.

Whoever casts a postal ballot in advance of the election

in favor of Sir Arthur Edward Guinness

is given a used train ticket.

You take your ticket to the printing press,

and a man hidden behind a wardrobe gives you £5.

That is the brilliant secret strategy that Arthur has come up with

to help win Dublin for the Union.

If this becomes public, the family's reputation will be destroyed.

It is your fault, Edward. You should have been with him.

My fault?

I cleared the fucking path.

I stopped the Fenians from blowing his political career out of the water,

but it seems he is perfectly capable of destroying it himself.

He cannot be left alone, not ever.

I am chained to him.

He…

He chained me to Arthur to stop him

from sinking into his own fucking pit of arrogance,

but he will drag me down with him.

I will not let it happen.

And where are you going, Eddie?

To find my fucking brother!

Open these gates.

Oh, 'tis yourself, Mr. Guinness.

Do you hear that?

That sound?

I'd gamble this whole £5 note

that that's the sound of a brand-new baby being registered by God.

Right here in the stable behind the Guinness yard,

a new life…

for this miserable, dark fucking world.

And in answer to your unspoken question,

I do know where your brother is,

but £5 doesn't get you in the right postal district,

let alone street or street number.

So he's in a private house somewhere.

You've not been responding to your mail, Mr. Guinness.

I wrote to you when the election campaign began,

with your brother shouting so loud about the sins of others.

Silence is getting more and more expensive.

You've already been paid for your silence.

Yeah, but this

is like an ongoing, continuing political situation.

Especially as I'm hearing rumors

about train tickets.

Tell me where my brother is,

and I will address your previous comment as regards train tickets

when I get into my office tomorrow morning.

You work Saturdays?

I work every day.

As do I.

9 Hope Street.

You give the people beer, Mr. Guinness.

I give them babies.

And on Sunday, we rest!

Oh shit!

Fuck.

Fuck.

Shit.

Ah… fuck.

Fucking hell.

What are you doing? Why're you here? This is where I go.

I'm here about this.

I'm told that's how it's done. You do it with tickets instead of writing notes.

Told by who?

I'm half-naked on a doorstep.

If I'm going to sort your fucking mess out,

I need to know. Told by who?

What mess? What mess are you talking about?

I was told by people who have done this before.

They said, "You're doing what the liberals are doing."

-You really don't need to get involved. -Arthur, I really do.

I am told by those who know about these things that I will easily win now.

You fucking perpetual shipwreck!

-You fucking train crash! -Stop!

-You piece of bedlam! -Edward!

Chaos fucking chained to me.

I should put those chains in a fucking furnace.

Shh!

You'll wake the fucking neighbors.

Neighbors?

Yes, neighbors.

Stop playing with that fecking dog!

You must be quiet, you see.

Most people have them.

Two up two down.

No gas. No water.

There's no toilet.

But it's called freedom.

I heard voices. What on earth is going on?

Ah.

Okay, so…

Arty, this is my brother, Edward.

And, Edward,

this is Lord Arthur Pelham Clinton,

godson of the leader of the Liberal Party, William Gladstone.

A friend of a friend rents this place.

We come here when Arty…

when Arty is in Dublin.

We met at Eton.

Very pleased to meet you.

Pleasure.

-Goodness, is it light outside already? -I believe it is.

It's getting rather late. Or early.

I should be getting back.

Arthur, you get dressed. I will wait outside.

Shh… Shut the fuck up.

Shh.

Shh…

Found him.

And I have never, ever seen him look happier.

♪ Brother was a runaway ♪

♪ He ran to Amsterdam ♪

♪ I was nine years old ♪

By the way, please, do not mention train tickets or wardrobes to my wife.

♪ He called out to me ♪

♪ On that day ♪

♪ I was walking in the woods ♪

♪ I didn't realize ♪

♪ When he said goodbye… ♪

We will pour for ourselves, thank you.

♪ He meant goodbye ♪

♪ For good ♪

So,

where did you find him?

-Olivia. -Playing cards with some gentlemen.

I can speak for myself.

And I can also choose not to speak at all if I wish.

That is quite right.

He has no obligations, just as I have no obligations.

I'm just curious as to who it is he's playing cards with.

Oh, don't be alarmed.

Bluebloods. Lords at the very least.

You play with kings and queens, not jacks?

No knaves, my dear. No, no, no.

I went looking for him out of concern, not curiosity.

Concern? About what?

Look, Edward doesn't understand the complex nature of modern politics.

Look at him, he's an idealist.

He wants me to be elected so I can help run the business.

He is concerned I might lose.

Edward, his name is Guinness, and this is Dublin.

Of course he won't lose.

You two are well-matched in your certainty.

Yes, we are. Very well-matched.

And what you see at this breakfast table is a very rare thing.

A marriage based on absolute honesty.

You're too busy doing what you're good at. You two were born for different things.

As the elder brother, Arthur was born to inherit

and enjoy the company of the rulers of the Empire in London.

As the younger brother, you were born to work and to earn.

Your ability is in trade.

Perhaps that's why, on our wedding day, when you asked Miss Adelaide Guinness,

a lady raised among French and Spanish nobility to dance,

she was… suddenly otherwise engaged.

Well, I will leave you to your wardrobes

and your train tickets.

What did you say?

Good day, Lady Olivia.

Please take whatever that factory thing was you were wearing with you.

Arthur…

in company, I will always be your rock.

But… now we are alone.

What fucking train tickets?

What fucking wardrobes?

♪ Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak ♪

♪ Somewhere in this town ♪

♪ See, me and the boys, we don't like it ♪

♪ So we're getting up and going down ♪

♪ Hidin' low, lookin' right to left ♪

♪ If you see us comin' I think it's best ♪

♪ To move away Do you hear what I say? ♪

♪ From under my breath ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak ♪

♪ Somewhere in the town ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak ♪

♪ So don't you be around ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak ♪

♪ Somewhere in the town ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be a jailbreak ♪

♪ So don't you be around ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be trouble ♪

♪ I'm gonna find myself in ♪

♪ Tonight there's gonna be trouble ♪

♪ So woman stay with a friend ♪