Original subtitles

♪♪

(phone line ringing)

(cell phone ringing)

-FRANK: Hello, Aine. -Hi.

Frank, why are you ringin' me?

-Gotta man up and be straight with ya, Aine.

I've totally forgotten why I've called you.

-Are you calling because I've got a new boyfriend maybe?

-No, there's no way that's why I called.

-PETER-BRIAN: Aine!

-AINE: I have to go.

-I'm back writing songs again.

-Oh, my God.

You haven't finished a song since--

-We broke up. I know.

Maybe I lost my mu-- -Oh, Frank.

-Don't interrupt. I was saying

maybe I lost my musical cojones.

-Oh. -FRANK: Wanna know why?

It's livin' with my fuckin' mam, that's why.

You ever seen the film "Misery"? -No.

-Jimmy Caan plays a genius writer

imprisoned by an overbearing bitch-slash-MILF

who strangles his creativity.

Let's just say, I can relate.

-Don't call Mary a MILF, Frank.

-FRANK: Why not? -PETER-BRIAN: Aine!

-FRANK: She's not just a mother-- -I better go.

Unless...

Unless you want to play me one of your new songs.

-Look, I haven't actually finished one yet, okay?

God, I'm so trapped here.

-Why aren't you up? There's squalls forecast for 2:00, we need to go.

Come on, let's go.

-FRANK: How's life with fancy pants?

-Yeah. Good.

Sometimes I wonder if we--

-Oh! Just remembered why I called.

-AINE: Yeah, what is it?

-Mary fell over. She hasn't moved in a while.

-AINE: What? Jesus Christ!

-Yeah, I know. Get nothin' done today.

♪♪

(strums chord)

-(gasping) I came as quick as I could, buddy.

How's Mare-Mare?

-Yeah, she's okay, she's sleepin'.

Aine's on her way over but she's taking ages.

Thought I might lash out a song while I had some peace but--

(doorbell rings)

(sighs)

See what I mean?

(pounding on door)

-Aine. Good to see ya.

-PETER-BRIAN: Oh, my God!

-What's he doin' here? -What's she doing here?

-She's... sleeping.

-She's unconscious.

-They say you're not supposed to move them.

-Mary? -(scoffs)

-Mary?

Okay, Mary, the bad news is

your ankle is sprained and you've got a concussion.

You need medication and total bed rest

for the next 24 hours, okay?

-Oh, no, no, no, darlin', I've a date tonight,

and I hate spending all day in bed unless--

-Dah! Don't say something horrible.

-Unless it's a Sunday. -That's fine.

-And I'm friggin' the gee off myself.

-That's absolutely abhorrent!

-Who's the date?

-A musician I met on Tinder.

-A musician? -Yeah. His songs are great.

And he's gorgeous.

Look, Aine.

-Is he good lookin'?

-Well, it's just a photo of his penis.

-Is it big? -It is, yeah.

-I'm afraid there'll be no date tonight, Mary,

you need to stay in bed and get someone to look after you, okay?

-But who? Could you do it?

You have lovely hands. -Uh, sorry, Mary,

but we're actually cycling Howth Head.

-You're such a fuckin' drag, Aine.

-Well, there must be someone. -(sighs)

-AINE: My dad?

-(scoffs) He's clingier than you.

It's a pity all my family are dead.

-What about Frank?

-(scoffs) -(chuckles)

-I would, unfortunately,

I'm working on new material, so--

-Not havin' that dipshit lookin' after me.

I'd be dead by morning.

-What on God's green earth are you talking about?

-You're not very practical, Frank.

I mean, you'd have to look after the house as well.

-I'm perfectly practical in every way.

Fuck it! The next 24 hours

are gonna be the best of your entire life, Mary.

Myself and Doofus will lovingly nurse you back to health.

-No, there's no way I can do that, Frank.

-Will lovingly nurse you back to health--

-I have to start making money, or Dad says I'm gonna be

kicked out of the house. -And look out for the house.

-I'll be homeless, Frank. -And all we require

as compensation is a float for some expenses.

-Fine. I'll make a checklist,

and give you 100 euro for the day.

God help me.

-Might I suggest an addition?

-(chuckles) Yeah.

He can't finish anything. I'd be very impressed

if he even gets halfway through that.

-That's a piece of piss.

Aine, Billy-Barry, fuck off! I have a mother to spoil.

♪♪

-Cheek of them.

-Medication, meals, laundry. This seems doable.

Whatcha doin'?

-I'm being responsible.

I'm gonna knock Mary out while we do a shop.

Can't have her wreckin' the gaff while we're out.

This way, she gets some rest, we get some peace of mind.

-Whoa. That looks like a lot of--

-Check medication off the list, Doofs.

Done in one. -Whoo!

-Look at me. I'm totally trapped here.

It's exactly like "Misery."

I'm exactly like James Caan.

♪♪

-Heavens to Betsy. Who are you texting?

-My date.

Gets some food, will ya? I'm starving.

There's pizzettes in the-- -No junk food.

That's why you've brittle bones in the first place.

I'm gonna cook you a nutritious meal from scratch.

Just have to nip out for a quick shop.

-Well, how long with that-- -Then I have to roast a chicken,

scrap the meat,

use the bones and giblets as a base for a stock,

roast another chicken for the meat itself,

make gravy, fix a salad.

I'd say we'll plate up around 11:30 tonight.

-Forget it. I'll order take away.

-How's that for take away? -Give it back.

-This thing is rotting your brain.

-I'll put it on flight mode.

-How's that for flight mode? -(gasps)

-See what you made me do?

-Go and get it right now.

I have a date tonight and I'm not missing it.

-No more phones. No more boys.

When you're under my roof, you'll live by my rules.

I'll be back with dinner soon.

This is for emergencies only.

Drink your wine, sugarplum.

(keys jangling)

(lock clicks)

(Doofus grunting)

Why couldn't we get a taxi to the shops?

-I'm being responsible with the float. That'll show her.

-Why didn't we wash the clothes in the house, then, to save money?

-Get out of my head, Doofus, you have it melted.

-Sorry.

(grunting)

-Dry clean the lot, please. -Dry clean?

You sure you just don't want a wash n' fold?

-I don't want to half-ass it, do I?

What should I do? What do you think I should do?

-They're just normal clothes.

Cost you 200 quid to dry clean that lot.

-I already spent 60 on the dog.

-DOOFUS: What's that?

-I bought him on the hill when you were taking a breather.

It's a cross between a Cocker Spaniel and a Poodle.

It's a Cockadoodle?

-It's not on the list, Frank.

-They boost morale for the infirmed, Doofus.

His name's Frank.

Well, I named him Frank. I regret it now.

Fuck it! Sorry. Dry clean 'em.

You only live once, we'll pay tomorrow.

Do you deliver?

-For 200 quid we deliver, yeah.

-Oh! Oh! Oh! -Oh, no,

he's widdling on me, Frank. -Goddammit, Frank, just stop it!

-You should rub his nose in it.

-BOTH: Really?

-(groaning)

Can I switch this for something that's unwiddled, please?

I should have... -BOTH: found stuff first and then changed.

-You look the same.

-Cool!

What's next?

-Make dinner. -Oh.

-FRANK: Thank you.

-(dog whimpers) -You embarrassed me.

-Sit, Frank. Sit!

I'm the boss here, Frank, do what you're told.

Ey! That took a while. Is that everything?

-I needed to streamline the whole nutrition process.

-It's just eggs.

-Eggs are nature's super food.

We've actually saved a few bob here.

Let's snarf a sneaky coffee before we go home.

Nothin' too fancy.

♪♪

-I like how I feel in these clothes.

Confident. Like you. -(dog whimpers)

-I am Frank.

-Yeah. How close are we to finishing the list?

-Eh, all that's left is

feed Mary and clean the house.

And Peter-Brian's thing.

-Remind me.

Smug fucker.

We're way ahead of schedule here.

I might actually have time to write a song now.

Wanna help? -I'd love to.

What are we gonna write a song about, Frank?

-(dog barks) -Um...

-Ohh! Oh, ooh, that's hot. -I dunno.

Can't really think with this fella at me.

Fuckin' get it together, Frank.

(dog whimpers)

-Let's go home, cook, tick dinner off the list.

Can't finish anything.

Watch me finish this Americano.

-(gasps) -(groans)

-It's too hot? -No. (groans)

-Garçon!

Check, please.

Bah.

-(spoon clatters) -(Frank belches)

-That was delicious. -Yeah. Was heavy.

Is it just eggs?

-Eggs and strawberry flavored protein powder.

Everything the body needs. -Ooh, it's challenging.

-Get used to it, buddy. Made a batch-cook for the next six meals.

Turns out, I'm a natural when it comes to runnin' a home.

-Time to feed Mary. -Oh! She'll be a hungry hippo, all right.

Hope she's compos mentis.

Those pills looked hardcore.

You know, I'm actually quite fond of her.

When she's quiet. Maybe I should

write the song for her, show her I care.

-Ah, Frank. -You clean up, I'll feed her,

we'll crack that song and finish the list with half a day to spare.

-Woo!

-Mary. Question. Which came first,

the chicken or the scrambled eggs?

Mary.

Why aren't you laughing? (gasps)

-"Have you ever seen 'Misery,' Doofus?"

"I'm a songwriter, Doofus."

"I did her up the bum, Doofus."

-FRANK: Doofus! -Uh, yeah.

-Mary's escaped.

♪♪

(screams)

-FRANK: Mary! -DOOFUS: Mary!

-Mary! -Goddammit, Mary!

-Mary! -Mary!

-Mary! -(dog barks)

-Oh! Wait.

Got the scent? Yeah? Got the scent?

Okay. Go. Go find Mary, Frank!

Stop wasting time, Frank, and go find Mary!

-(whimpers)

-If she dies, it's all your fault, Frank. You idiot!

-She drank all the drugged wine.

What if she's passed out somewhere alone?

-Well, maybe it's good I drugged her,

It means she can't have gone far.

Did you roll your eyes at me?

Where's this attitude coming from?

-Wait. Maybe to find Mary...

we need to think like Mary.

-Huh.

-(Doofus gasps) -What are you seeing?

-I-- I don't want to say. It's--

-No. Doofus, what do your Mary eyes see?

-Just-- It's just willies, Frank,

it's just loads of willies all at once.

It's like being attacked by a gang of ostriches.

-(gasps) Her date with the musician.

I bet she's gone to meet him.

Her phone. It's outside.

Password protected. Ridiculous.

Let's try my birthday.

Fuck!

What should we try next? -DOOFUS: Her birthday?

-Let's try my birthday again. -That's not gonna work.

-You're not in charge here. I'm in charge here.

-(phone buzzes) -Fuck!

One go left. My birthday again?

-Try 0000. -It's not gonna be 0000.

0000 is a stupid password.

Frank's birthday. Last time's the charm.

-0000. We're in. -(phone chimes)

Okay. She arranged to meet the musician in town after his gig and--

His dick's even bigger than I imagined.

-You're very lucky that worked.

-Will the dog be okay on his own?

-Frank needs to learn to look after himself.

He's becoming dependent.

-Do you want to write that song for Mary,

maybe pass the time?

-Sure. -Okay.

What are the things that you like about Mary?

-Well, she cooks a mean chili.

-All right. Any other good points?

-She's quite good in the sack, apparently.

I've heard that from men at breakfast.

-No, no, Frank. If you had to express

one positive emotion about your mother Mary,

what would that be?

-The chili thing. -No, not the chili thing.

-She makes it from a packet.

-All right. All right, maybe the--

maybe the chili is a metaphor.

(chuckles)

Hey there, chili woman, why are you so cold?

-You know what a metaphor is, right?

It's where you say one thing but it means something else.

-Yeah. -Yeah.

-Like when Mary says it's not from the packet, the chili.

I've seen the packet. -No, no, that's a lie.

A metaphor is like, "The Lord is my shepherd."

-That's a metaphor?

-Did you think it was about a guy who hired the Lord God

as his actual shepherd? -No, that the Lord God

was a shepherd already, and the--

-What, the-- the clouds are sheep?

-No. They're metaphors.

-Yeah.

Let's do a simile. That's easier.

It's where you make a comparison

using "like" or "as".

So what's Mary like to you?

-She's like a metaphor. -No. No.

-As. As! She's not the metaphor. -No, no!

You are never, ever gonna finish a song!

You stupid prick!

-Check the Tinder messages on Mary's phone.

See where she's meeting him after his gig.

-Don't talk to me like you're in charge, Doofus.

-Why not?

-What's goin' on here?

You're turning into a horrible person for some reason.

Which one's Tinder?

-Ooh.

Turns out Tinder's mostly just pictures of titties.

-That's Mary's profile.

-Okay, this is-- Can you get me out of here?

-Sure.

Ooh! Nice jelliers for an old bird.

-Ahh!

♪♪

-We're three hours early.

-Do you want to get a coffee?

-The float's expired.

-Uh, make dinner, do laundry.

-Check, check.

-Give medication, clean house.

-Check, check. Pretty good so far.

-You were gonna write that song.

-It's not on the list. Move on.

-All right, then it's just Peter-Brian's one.

-Remind me what that is again?

-Uh, "Don't do anything which leads to Mary's death."

(ring tone plays)

-Unknown number. You got Frank.

-MARY: Frank!

-Oh, my God! Mam? -MARY: You fuckin'...

-Mam! Where are you? Who's phone is this?

Are you okay? -MARY: I'm sleepy.

(phone click, beeps)

-We need to talk to that cowboy.

♪♪

-Uh, it's still sound check, lads.

MAN: ♪ And the lights turned low ♪

♪ While I just cry through sorry eyes ♪

-Let's get him. -No.

♪ Since the day I let you go ♪

♪ Oh, nights go on ♪

♪ The music's gone ♪

♪ But the heartache remains ♪

♪ 'Cause I lost you ♪

♪ And I only have myself ♪

♪ To blame ♪

-MAN: Finished, Eoin?

-Hey, donkey dick!

Tell us everything you know about a woman named Mary.

Oh, my God. He's 12.

-The fuck are yous?

-I'm Mary's son. And that song was...

something I could never do.

-Okay. Thank you. And... Mary.

She was-- I-- -Was that your dick in the photo?

-What? I-- That's-- -Was that your dick in the photograph?

-Hey. Hey! -It doesn't matter, Doofus.

All that matters is that she isn't here.

You don't know where she is, do you?

-No. Sorry, man. And-- And I liked her.

You know? She was...

She was different.

-How old are you? You know what?

Don't tell me.

-Mary! -Mary!

-Mary! -Mary!

♪ I lost you ♪

-Mary! -Mary!

♪ And I only have myself to blame ♪

-Mary!

-Mary! -Mary!

♪ Now the music slows ♪

-Mary! Mary!

♪ And the lights are turned low ♪

-Mary!

♪ While I just cry through sorry eyes ♪

-Mary!

-♪ Since the day I let you go ♪ -Mary! Mary!

♪ Oh, nights go on, the music's gone ♪

-Well, it's official. She's dead.

♪ The heartache remains ♪

-How will we get home?

♪ I lost you ♪

♪ And I only have myself ♪

♪ To blame ♪

-Thanks for the lift, guys. How was the cycle?

-BOTH: Fine.

-I'm gonna call the police.

-Can't believe the only thing I could finish was my mam.

-Who's that? -Oh, that's Frank.

He's a fuckin' waste of space.

You're a liability, Frank! -(dog whimpers)

-What's he pawin' at?

(dog whimpers)

-"I can't write songs, Doofus."

"My life's a mess, Doofus."

"I-- I killed my mam, Doof."

-PETER-BRIAN: Would you keep it down?

-FRANK: Doofus!

-I don't believe it.

-(groans)

What was in that wine?

Which one of you fuckers is Frank?

-I finished the list.

-MARY: (grunts)

I'm gonna--

I'm gonna give you a piece of my mind.

It's long overdue.

And it's not gonna be fuckin' pretty.

-Understood, Mary. Yeah, I'll be back in a sec.

Just wanna say goodbye to the troops.

-Come back. Come back here!

You little fuckin' shit!

-(sighs) I'm wrecked. Can we go out for breakfast?

-I have to go to work, Aine.

-Ooh.

Bye.

I love you, Frank.

-MARY: Get back in here, you little piece of shit!

I'm gonna tell you what I think of you

once and for all!

-Time to face the music, I guess.

-Oh, no. No, no, no. -MARY: There you are.

No mother should have to say these things to a son,

but I'm shitfaced,

and I'm gonna say them once and once only.

From the day you were born--

♪♪

-Ey! That took a while.

All good things, I hope.

-Yeah. I might, uh, take off these clothes now,

I don't feel very nice.

-Oh! One last thing to do.

♪♪

-Now.

Thank you, Frank.

You saved her.

The truth is...

you're more capable now of looking after yourself than I am.

You're all grown up.

Now-- (sighs)

You're free to go, little guy.

♪♪

Is this a metaphor?

-It just might be.

-(thud) -(dog whimpers)

-(horn honks)

-Droppin' off some dry cleaning.

-(sighs)

Hello, you.

Thanks.

♪♪