Original subtitles

Downloaded from YTS.MX

Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX

'If we're going in, cobra three, what are we waiting for? Let's go, pal.'

'Get out of there, cobra four!'

'I got one, I got one! Do you see him? Do you see him?'

Come on, come on, for Christ's sake.

Get everyone out, there's a bomb.

Sure, there's nobody here, everybody's out.

Come on, you have to evacuate the house.

It's pissing down with rain. Where's the bomb anyhow?

It's in a car in the next street.

- You have to get everyone out. - Ah, for Jesus' sake!

All right, mate, get in the back and stay there.

"My dear Maeve.

"I just thought I would take this opportunity

"to write to you."

Hello. Dave, this is Maeve sweeney.

What about you, fellas?

You only coming from the pub at this time of the night?

- What about ye? - All right, Martin?

Have they cleared that auld bomb yet?

The bomb? It was more than a good hour ago.

Ages ago, Martin.

- You're joking. - Aye.

And the bastards never come back to tell me,

and I'm sitting in there in the scullery freezing.

Were you stuck in there all that time?

- Aye. Now the fucking fire's gone out. - Holy god.

Isn't that a stone circle?

I wonder which one it is.

I'm doing a tour of the megalithic sites.

I see that circle every time I come back.

I don't know which one it is either.

- Is this your first time in Ireland? - Yes.

I'm writing an article on stone rings for "the journal of lost knowledge".

Final call, at the information desk.

Will you be staying long in northern Ireland?

I don't know. Maybe two weeks.

Ok.

Hi.

I've hired a car, can I give you a lift somewhere?

Yeah. I'm going to the city centre.

Oh, I'm not going anywhere near belfast at all.

That's ok, sure, I can get the bus.

Well... goodbye.

Enjoy the megalithic sites.

What do you want?

Does Liam Doyle live here?

He does. But I don't know if he's in.

Sorry, mrs mcllroy, I didn't hear the door.

That's all right. We hadn't started yet.

You didn't tell me you were gonna live over a church.

Aye, well, it's not a church exactly. They're, uh... spiritualists.

Mrs mcllroy is a medium.

- Aye, she looked a bit sinister. - She's harmless enough.

I was talking to her the other day when I was down paying the rent.

We're in good hands here, you know.

She and her friends are finding 3 solution to the troubles

by invoking the spiritual forces.

How long can you stay?

Till about five. They think I'm at the library.

Well? What do you think of it?

Jesus, I don't know.

It's damp and it's cold.

Just sick of places that are full of other people's smells and dirt.

I'm sorry.

That's all right.

- You all right? - Yeah.

Are you?

Aye.

Hold on a minute. I've got a bottle of wine.

What's wrong?

Just thinking about those people downstairs.

Oh, aye. The spiritualists.

Yeah.

Rituals for peace.

It sounds a bit like those nuns who sleep in their coffins

doing penance for the sins of the world.

Aye.

It's all kind of innocent somehow.

Sometimes I think it's just as useful

to do something so totally contradictory

as to do something like...

Political work.

- What do you mean? - I don't know.

Take this situation here.

I always thought making love would be perfect and glamorous.

And somewhere else.

- Somewhere else? - Yeah.

Like a beach. Or a hotel.

It's really corny, but you can't help fantasising that way.

- Wasn't it all right? - Yes.

But that's the thing, don't you see?

Your fantasy gets acted out in a shape

that fits itself round your surroundings.

Like, there's wine and there's firelight.

And those are the basic romantic needs.

If someone were to write about this,

the description would fit the magazines.

And we know we've barricaded ourselves in.

That's it.

Ah, you're doing great.

What happened to you?

Wee mcquade thumped her.

Called her a fenian bitch.

- He nearly took her eye out! - No, she's not too bad.

What do you want?

Leave my sister alone, do you hear me?

You'd better watch it, wee doll. I know your face.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph, what's that?

Don't open the door.

What are you after doing now?

It's mcquade's mother.

I thumped him for hitting roisin.

You were always too bloody free with your hands!

Now what are we gonna do?

Your father not home till god knows when.

Jesus, I can hear her coming round the back!

Anyway, I don't see why you couldn't have stayed in your own garden!

Oh, my god!

Jesus Christ, what was that?

Look, it'll be all right.

Colm and Joe have fixed it so we can move back into our own street.

There's a protestant family moving in here.

Here, put that away, right down the front of the Van there, will you?

I want to make room for this chair.

All right, Martin?

What about you, Martin?

I can't get around here.

Take the next on the right and then you get in round the back.

Christ, it's the brits.

Bastards.

- All right, all right. - Come on, out!

All right. Ok.

- Move yourself. - What's happening?

There's a bomb.

My mother and father live down there!

Well, they're out of there now.

Turn that fucking engine off.

Well, Maeve, what about you? Where've you been?

Come here, come here.

- Where's roisin? - Don't worry about roisin.

She's working late at the pub, she'll be all right.

'Mr Paisley was in powerful form this morning.

'In an hour-long news conference,

'he discussed what he described as the anger and frustration

'of many loyalists in ulster.

'There was, he said, two options open to them.

'That is either to engage or a revolution

'in which there would be bombing and killing

'and violence of the worst form.

'And no-one doubts the fact of the ability of the majority..."

There you are, now. That wasn't too bad, maevey.

They only kept us out an hour.

See the fire's still on anyroad.

It's a good job I stoked it up well before the night.

- Is that yours, Maeve? - Oh, yeah.

Mrs Donnelly found it lying in the street

after you got out of the taxi.

Put the kettle on. I'm sure you could do with a cup of tea.

"There are signs of considerable opposition..."

Do you mind if we turn this off?

For Jesus' sake, can't you let us see the news?

I swear to god, that's the same speech your man was making the day I left.

Did you hear what happened to Dan linehan?

No. What happened?

Did you not hear? It was in all the newspapers.

I don't read the papers.

Well, about a month ago, there was a party across the street there.

Dan got dead drunk, insisted on driving home to rathcoole.

Sure, you know what Dan's like...

He was going up the antrim road.

He wouldn't listen to any of us!

And there was a saracen right behind him.

He was going up the antrim road.

And what did he do?

Well, he drove out to one of them big saracens.

I mean, you knew the way the them boys operate.

One drives along at the front with the headlights full-on

as a sort of a decoy.

And the other one comes behind in the darkness,

keeping the first one covered in case it's attacked, like, you know?

Well, Dan knew he was in no fit state to explain to the brits,

like, how it was their fault.

And before they knew what hit them,

Dan was away down a side street and home.

Now, he wasn't in the house more than, oh, five minutes

when the brits and the ruc arrived at the front door.

They battered it down, and dragged Dan off to the barrack.

Well, the wife, she ran and got the priest.

Now, I don't know what they done,

but they were able to convince the brits that Dan wasn't a terrorist.

Got him off on a drunken driving charge.

- Christ! - Ah, but that's not it all.

Sure it isn't?

The week before Dan's case was due to come up,

he was working in larne.

Now...

Wasn't there a bank robbery in larne?

And didn't the robbers use Dan's car as a getaway car?

They found it abandoned down there on corporation street.

Well, this time there was no way they would believe him.

We led on not to believe him either.

Used to keep him going.

I was never gonna loan him money.

You see thon bit of land there?

They wouldn't level that off because they were afear'd

that their families'd be cursed

by the wee people living under thon hill.

Couldn't be up to them.

But you said people had seen things.

What about the man who saw the lights?

Oh, well... you know the way these things are exaggerated.

Man sees a light in a field or the movement of a rat in a ditch,

the next thing, he's swearing he's seen the virgin Mary.

And then the next fella telling the story,

he'll not only have seen the virgin Mary,

but the baby Jesus as well.

And then st Joseph will be dragged into it.

And before you know where you are,

you'll have half of the heavenly host out there,

along there in the field.

Nah. Come on.

We'll have to sell these cakes

to a woman whose dog is so old it's lost its bark.

Thanks.

Hey, you! Stay where you are!

Stop!

- Stand still. - Right, what's your name?

Roisin sweeney.

Roisin? How do you spell that?

N.

Address?

48 Conroy street.

- Echo Charlie delta... - 1d?

- P-check roisin sweeney. - I don't need any. I know who I am.

Oh, yeah?

Address, figures 4-8, Conway street.

Charlie, Oscar, November, whisky, Alpha, yankee. Over.

'Stand by, echo Charlie delta.

'P-check, negative trace.

- 'Repeat, negative.' - Roger.

Ok, love, you don't live there. Now what do you say?

- I do live there! - I'm telling you, you don't.

It's just around the corner.

I do live there!

Look, you've made a mistake, I said Conroy, not Conway.

Echo Charlie delta, re previous p-check.

Try new address.

I hope you're not telling lies.

What are you doing this time of night, anyway?

I was working.

I work in a bar.

"Echo Charlie delta, repetition of p-check, positive."

Roger.

- We'll wait across the street, ok? - Right, sir.

What's roisin Irish for, anyway?

It's not Irish for anything, it's just Irish.

What are you fighting for? Nobody's gonna hurt you.

Come on!

What's so bloody funny?

Right, you're coming with us.

Who's there?

Who is it?

Open this fucking door! Security forces.

Do you know this one? Says she lives here.

She does live here, she's my sister.

She's only been working late.

And who else lives in this house?

My mother and father. They're asleep.

According to our records, there's only three people living here.

That's right.

I live in London, I'm visiting for a week.

Identification?

Ok, miss, enjoy your holiday.

Are you all right? What did they do to you?

Nothing.

They did nothing to me.

Leave me for alone, for Christ's sake. Fucking bastards.

Did I tell you what happened the night of Mary connelly's 21st birthday party?

No. What happened?

You know the way she lives in dunmurry?

Well, mummy said I could stay overnight.

So we were both a bit pissed and, about three o'clock,

decided to go up to bed.

We'd just settled ourselves into bed, and the door opens.

And in walks this fucking soldier.

Who proceeds to take his boots off and get into bed between us.

- You're joking! - I'm not.

- How did he get into the house? - Ach, you know how it is.

Front door was open most of the night. People were coming and going.

Anyway, he says to us,

"I haven't seen my wife in six months, and I'm dying for a fuck.

"So make up your mind which one of yous it's gonna be."

Why didn't you run out?

Because he had his rifle in bed with him.

He kept clicking the safety catch on and off while he was talking.

Anyway, we started screaming.

And he jumped up and grabbed his boots and left.

We ran down the stairs still screaming.

Mary's brother and his friends were in the kitchen drinking.

They hadn't heard us.

Does mummy know about this?

What do you think I am?

Roisin.

- Roisin. - Mm?

Waken up.

What's the matter with you?

It's only ten, I'm not getting up yet.

Well, I want to get up and I can't without walking on you.

Is it a hangover?

No, I'm just stiff from sleeping on this bloody floor.

You get in here, and I'll go down and make a cup of tea.

What are you doing today?

Going downtown to look in the shops.

And then tonight I'm going out with Joan and Niamh and carmel.

Well, thanks very much.

My first night home for a year and you're away out with your friends.

Today's the only day I have off.

Tomorrow's Sunday and everything's closed.

Anyway, I thought you'd be going out with your own friends.

I don't have friends here any more.

Well, who's fault's that?

Maeve, what's the matter?

Joe and colm are there.

Come on, we'll go somewhere else.

Here, never worry about it.

Come on, listen to some good music. Huh?

Get a few jars in you.

- Pint of harp? - There you go, sir. These drinks are...

What's this?

Come on now, bring them down to the table.

Colm's down there waiting on us.

Come on.

Come on.

Jeez, you're buying well tonight.

I was up at the dogs last night, guess how much I lost.

- Goon. - 45 quid.

Colm!

See them dogs, my cat could run faster.

But there's people in the graveyard would love to back 'em.

Frank, when's that son of yours going to get off his arse?

For Jesus' sake, I don't know what he's up to at all.

You see, when I was his age,

I'd already done time for shooting up a border post.

I know his trouble.

He's one of those revolutionaries that don't want to get shot.

I never wanted to make colm involved in the movement.

But I never realised how much he wanted to forget who he was

and put us all behind him until he got married.

Dead respectable she was. From up the antrim road.

- A right bitch. - Bloody puke.

She made him move

to a housing estate in the back of beyond.

I'll give him his due, mind you.

Used to bring the wee daughters around after mass on a Sunday

to see their mummy, give her a few Bob on Christmas, you know.

- Aye, fair play to you, lad. - Yeah, yeah.

All that stopped when she died.

I never saw him from one end of the year to the next.

I know.

Anyway... in the middle of the '50s campaign

one time I had a box of gelignite in the house.

And the peelers made a search of the area.

Colm, he had a great idea.

- Remember that? - That was magic.

We drove out to glengormley.

We buried the box under a flowerbed in your man's house.

Like, with him being respectable and all, who'd suspect him?

But then the neighbour looks out the window and gets suspicious.

Two fellas gardening in the middle of the night.

She called the peelers, but by this time we were well away.

Nobody believed Martin. He got a year in the crumlin road.

And the wife, she nearly left him.

She must've thought he was up to something!

That's my father you're talking about.

Ach, sit down, will you? It's only a bloody story.

You did that to your own brother, and he never told on you.

She's right, you know.

He could've turned his back on us all.

Martin never was an informer.

She might've told them.

Only she was so scared.

It was her that kept us together when he was in prison.

Shit!

You fucking bastard!

- Come here, come here. - Leave me alone!

Fucking bastards!

I have to get away from here.

All right. Yes, we will.

We have to go now!

Uh...

Well, I'll leave my dad's house. I'll get a flat tomorrow.

Come on.

Listen.

Don't let them get to you.

Huh?

You have to forget the past, you know?

See that gap up there in the mountains?

Well, that's where your cousin cass maclochlainn lives.

Way up there, in a high hollow.

See, and my father was killed during the '20s.

All us kids were shipped out of belfast, you know, till the troubles were over.

And I was sent to live with cass macllochlainn.

Oh, oh, she was a fierce young woman in them days.

I had to work hard all day.

And then at night, I used to lie up in the rafters awake,

listening to her downstairs with the neighbours,

planning to blow up police stations and customs posts.

Loved her mass on a Sunday.

She used to line up jam jars and bottles on the wall

and make me shoot them all.

Then one time she came up to belfast.

It was when your mother and me were married.

And she ate the face off me because I was working

for an english supermarket company.

And then she met a wee man at the pub,

and he told her that he had fought at the somme

and he wanted to know had she seen the picture at the coronation.

"Uh-hum," says she,

"and I'm very pleased to be able to tell you

"that I had a hand in blowing up that particular picture house."

This one night, me and mummy were coming home from work,

you know, in one of the staff taxis?

We were coming down the road,

and suddenly the driver slams on the brakes.

I didn't know what was going on at first.

And then the driver rolls down the window

and here's this face, you know, with a mask on it,

and it was a wee lad's voice, says,

"right, everybody out of the car."

So me and the driver got out.

And when I looked behind,

mummy was still sitting in the back seat,

staring straight ahead of her.

I didn't know what was wrong with her, you know?

And the next thing, the wee lad went to the door,

and he opened the door, and he says to her, "are you deaf or what, missus?

"I says out of the fucking car!”

Mummy just sat there, staring straight ahead of her.

God, I started to feel really sick, you know?

I didn't know what was gonna happen.

And the wee lad was holding the door with one hand,

and in his other hand he had a gun.

His hand was really shaking, you know, it was dead scary.

I could see the taxi driver looking really scared, too.

And mummy just stared straight ahead of her.

And the wee lad was really getting angry and he says,

"do you want your head full of lead, missus?

"Cos if you don't get out of this fucking car,

"I'm gonna blow your head off."

And with that, mummy just leapt at him.

She really jumped out of the car

and just stuck her face right up against his.

And she just started screaming at him.

"You should be in bed, you're only out of nappies!

"And if I were your mother, I'd pull down your pants

"and I'd smack your backside till it was raw!"

Jesus, it was really scary.

And your wee man didn't know what to do, you know?

And she really kept screaming at him.

And then he got himself together

and he went and made a lunge at her, you know?

And the next thing is his mate came running over and grabbed him

and started shouting, "ok, calm down, calm down."

Cos he was really drawing attention to himself.

And he pulled him off and some other wee lad grabbed him.

Mummy was really screaming, and the wee guy came over and says,

"right, get back into the car and get out of here."

And me and the taxi driver got mummy by each arm

and put her into the back of the car,

and the wee lad banged the door,

and he says, "count yourselves lucky, now get out of here."

So we just drove off.

Mummy never said a word.

She never said anything about it again.

Did you drive up from the free state today?

No, from belfast.

You've got free state license plates on your Van.

It was bought in cork, but we're from belfast.

- Whereabouts in belfast? - Do you know belfast?

I wouldn't set foot in the place!

Well, then you wouldn't know where we live.

Would it be the falls road?

Well, you'll not sell your free state cakes here, I'll tell you.

Charlie 10 in position.

All right, jump.

Right.

A centre.

A landmark.

Laying a foundation.

Giving her ground.

Grounding ourselves.

Clarity.

About what happens.

About what's supposed to happen.

A space for things to happen.

A technique.

A way in. A way out.

A celebration.

A guide.

A release.

A lie.

A truth.

A lie that tells the truth.

A projection.

A memory.

A way of thinking.

A way of not thinking.

There's times I wish I could be the way he wants.

To be... close to him, like, by believing those things.

You heard him the other night.

When he was my age, he was blowing up border posts.

Sometimes I envy that ability to grow up inside all that.

And not question it.

I'm not talking about the beliefs themselves.

There has to be some value in that, to maintain that strength.

All his life.

You might think he's just caught up in it,

but look at the way it's kept him going.

Years, in and out of crumlin road, out of work, oppressed.

Right, we're all oppressed, like, but he's been able to...

To keep that image together.

Through all this madness.

You have to respect that.

It must have some value for him to feed off it like that.

Well, like, it's not like it is with women, you know.

He can't extend himself through his body.

Only through his beliefs.

I mean, those legends didn't come out of nowhere.

They expressed the desires of a people.

What desires?

For purity?

For death?

For the kind of reality that is only possible when you're dead?

This is something real.

It goes on inside us whether we know it or not.

I know that.

The ideas are basic. Fixed.

If you deny them, you repress part of yourself.

Your mistake is just to look at it in terms of whether it's true or false.

When it's really about whether it's useful or not.

I understand that.

I know you have to bring up the past and look at it

so you can understand the present, but I don't see...

But the strength that comes out of that is not a reverse into the past.

It's a way of acting on the present.

You can't do that.

You can't.

It's more powerful than you think.

You can't just go back and organise real events that happened,

that had their own reality in their own time,

and then arrange them into some pattern that suits you.

But the work is to take hold of the myth...

And move forward.

To... appropriate it.

And not be used by it like our fathers were.

You're wrong.

The past has its own power.

It feeds off people believing in it.

The more you focus on it, the more reality it gains.

What are you saying?

That people should live in some kind of vacuum without memory?

That our whole history be cast aside

just because you happen to find it irrelevant?

That is not what I said!

What I said was the past is a way of reading the present,

but it's only liberating if it opens you...

Well, then there's no argument. What are we arguing about?

You're talking about a false memory!

About remembering it a certain way.

Say what you mean.

The way you remember, the way you want to remember,

excludes Mel

oh, come on, for Jesus' sake.

I get remembered out of existence!

There's just no space for me!

"There was once a well.

'Into whose depths it was forbidden to look.

'A woman nevertheless looked into it.

"The water surged up from the well.

'It pursued the woman and drowned her.

'At the same time,

'giving birth to a stream which fertilised the country.'

Come on with us if you want, Maeve.

I just thought you might feel a bit old, that's alll.

Carmel noonan keeps asking me when you're getting married.

Big sister was in a class with you, do you remember?

Aye.

Three kids.

What?

Well, nearly.

One's walking,

one's in a pram, and she's pregnant again.

Saw her at mass last Sunday.

She was just down in the mater with a pelvic infection.

I told her she should stop having kids and she said, "aye."

You wouldn't throw me that towel, would you?

Anyway, mummy's gonna go and tell her man to lay off of her for a while.

What are you smiling at?

Women often ask her to do things for them.

What about that time she arranged for Mary McKenna

to go to London to have her baby?

After her own mother threw her out.

Yeah, and Mary McKenna arrived on my doorstep

with a letter from mummy asking me to fix her.

Then when I tried talking to mummy about it, she shut me up.

She let on she didn't know anything.

And all that after telling me not to come home when I got pregnant.

Ach, she says exactly the same to me.

Must be different with your own.

She lives on in us.

If we get hurt, she feels it.

So she's frightened for us.

She wants to be involved with marriages and children,

and all of us living in the same neighbourhood.

Now you've left, she's afraid I'll go as well.

Listen.

If anything does happen to you, roisin, I'll help you get away.

You can come and live with me.

I mean, itd be awful if you had to get married.

I mean, you don't have to do that.

Thanks.

It's hard enough trying to find someone to sleep with round here,

never mind getting pregnant.

I just get frightened for you, because you don't seem fo...

In case you end up giving in.

Giving in to what?

Ach, roisin, you're just like your mother.

What good does that kind of solidarity do?

In the end, it only keeps women down.

What are you talking about?

I don't have any problems getting on with women, ok?

I went to some of your meetings.

They were no help to me.

They just ended up sounding like mummy does sometimes

about men being the enemy or to take advantage of you.

I don't need to close my eyes,

I know it's what I've been hearing since I was five.

Well, you must've heard wrong!

I ook.

The confusion is in this place.

A woman's sexuality is so abused

that it's almost an act of liberation to turn yourself into a sex object.

You take on a woman's role to get out of your childhood.

And then you have to find a way of getting out of that.

Transcending that role.

You'd better get ready if you're coming with us.

Go on by yourself.

Look, you'd be better off coming with us.

Otherwise, you're only gonna spend the night here

arguing with mummy and daddy about god knows what.

She won't go on at you because she's afraid

you won't come back, I'm the one she'll go on at.

And I already have to lie in bed at night listening to her crying.

We're on our way out now.

Where are you going?

Only as far as Kelly's.

I'll be glad to be finished today.

So will I.

Out tomorrow for a couple of pints.

- Doing anything yourself? - No, I am not, Jim. I am not.

- You have a day off tomorrow, no? - No.

I'll be here, because they have already asked me to work overtime.

There's nothing but overtime in this friggin' job.

No, there's not.

There you are, love.

- Hi, Maeve. Are you just back? - Yes. Came back last night.

Here, give us a smile, come on.

Coochie-coochie-coo! Coochie-coo!

- Come on. - Oh, mister, she's just shy.

Now, you can't keep a straight face like that all the time.

Mister, sure, she's good when she gets started, honestly.

Sure, I'm only pissed, love. Nothing to worry about.

I mean, a drunk man will do you no harm.

That wee girl's very shy. Ach, mister, leave her alone.

Ach, I'm only foolin' about, for Christ's sake.

She's not, honest to god, mister.

If she'd her microscope with her, honest to god...

Her what?

Her microscope?

Jeez, I think she'd need a bloody periscope.

Least you're honest, mister.

- More than most Irish men are. - Sing us a wee song, go on.

- Och, Maeve, go on. - Sing him a wee song.

Och, Maeve, go on.

Mister, I think if you gave her a wee kiss she would sing.

Do you reckon? Well, it would be my pleasure, darlin'.

- Will you fuck off? - What's wrong with you?

How did you get my address?

Roisin gave it to me.

Well, now, you needn't say anything to her.

It's not her fault. She doesn't know.

- Is this yours? - No.

Well, like, you don't give much away, now, do you?

Whose is it?

It belongs to someone who's away for six months.

I'm kind of house-sitting.

I see.

Frank McCaffrey just got out of the kesh, did you know?

No, I didn't.

How is he?

Well, like, he's pretty bad.

People say he'll not live.

Was the crossing bad?

Have you not had any sleep?

Ah, Jesus, it was fierce.

Full of brits going home on leave.

Dead drunk and bokin' all over the place.

You know what it's like.

And then hitching down in the dark.

You don't know where you're going.

A light comes up, and all these roads just heading for London.

Like there's no choice. You know what I mean?

It was winter when I came.

Everything was focused. Glittering.

Traffic was just beginning.

I'd memorised the maps before I came so I wouldn't get lost.

And I remember being amazed,

just knowing that if I turned right I'd see the thames.

Always surprised me it was there and not somewhere else.

Belfast frightens me.

You turn corners there and see houses missing

and derelict streets.

Gaps in your memory.

Is that why you came here?

I don't know why here.

What did it matter as long as I was away?

Don't even know if it had to do with belfast particularly.

Do you think that every person who moves from a small place

to a big city is denying their heritage or something?

Well, why did you come, then?

Because I wanted to be part of this.

This centre of energy.

London's made up of people from different cultures

and that's why it's possible for me to be here.

What, you feel more at home here?

England is so turned in on itself.

People can grow up here without being imprisoned by the history.

They've disconnected themselves from their country's neurosis.

Well, maybe they have.

But we're still suffering from the colonial aftermath.

Jesus, you've got some funny ideas about centres of energy.

This place can afford to be a centre of energy

on the backs of places like belfast.

Sucks people in.

I ike a leech.

They're not here because they want to be, you know.

With all its luxuries.

Free speech.

Courts of law. Right of appeal.

They can hand all that stuff out, you know,

because if it comes down to it they'll turn this place

into a heap of rubble just like they've done with belfast.

- Now, that's a centre of energy. - Not one I can relate to.

People struggling for some kind of real freedom.

And if its streets are rubble that's their responsibility.

They're the root cause of it all.

Centuries of blood have built their "culture".

And you call it "energy".

I didn't make the rules or create this structure.

All'l can do is withdraw from it.

Well, wasn't that a very convenient decision for you to have made?

Whenever anything happens, you just pull out,

saying, "it doesn't apply to me."

Don't tell me how I'm supposed to be.

Why did you come?

Why did you come?

'Il tell you why you came.

I remember the exact moment you made up your mind.

Do you remember that night we were coming home from the club?

Standing in the rain waiting for that black taxi

and that load of brits came along?

And started whistling and shouting. Do you remember?

Then they pulled up in their truck. Speak when you're spoken to.

And then they start in with the questions:

Where you're from, where you're going to, what's your name?

You were scared in case I'd do something.

I could feel your shame.

Cos at the same time, you wanted me to stand up for myself.

Not to take it from them.

And they drew me into the truck. "Right, you, fuck in."

And what did you do then? Huh?

What did you do then?

You went and got my fucking mother.

Not my da, my mother.

You could have gone either way there.

But you decided to get out.

What are you going to do here?

I'm going to go to college.

There's a darkroom here I can use.

Doing photography?

I'm not sure. I've been painting a lot as well.

That's fantastic.

Jesus, I can just see you.

Why don't you try something really useful, like eskimo studies?

Or what about classical mythology?

You think there's only one kind of knowledge.

You make me sick.

Here you are, your mother and father worried stupid about you,

and you don't even seem to know what you're doing here.

You're gonna have to come back, you know.

Whenever you're through this phase, or whatever it is you call it.

You're gonna have to come back.

Look at you. Squatting.

Living on the edges of other people's lives.

You're gonna have to come back, you know.

You don't really know what you're doing here.

I have the right not to know what I'm doing.

The right to that space, at least.

J' a man lay sentenced for to die

j' and on the 2nd of September

j' he goes to meet his god on high

j brave Tom Williams, we salute you

j' and we never shall forget

j those who planned your cruel murder

j we vow we'll make them all regret

j' now, a word you Irish soldiers

j if Tom's path you chance to stray

j keep in memory...

Carmel, isn't that your brother-in-law standing over there by the counter?

It can't be. Sure, he's on the run.

J when Ireland's cross was proudly borne...

- Jesus, you're right, it is. - I didn't know he was here.

Aye, though Christ knows what they want with the likes of him.

Gonna go over and say hello to him?

No! But I'll tell my sister he's all right.

J' a prison grave! J

Did you get off with somebody?

Pack of midgets in there. What do you think I am?

Here, wait till I tell you what happened. See at the end there,

I was dancing away with myself when the music ended,

and this wee fella came up to me and says,

"hey, do you want to come outside with me?"

Here's me to him, "who are you?"

He says, "sure, do you not know me? I was the one you were dancing with."

Jesus, I near died.

Cos I realised he'd been this wee fella who was gyrating away to himself

about 12 feet away from me!

He was about this size and about this breadth.

Oh, no, roisin, I was next.

J that's all I'm asking of you

j just give me the strength

j to do every day what I've got to do

j yesterday's gone, sweet Jesus

j' and tomorrow may never be mine

j' so for my sake, help me today

j one day at a time... j

Ach, Jesus Christ!

- I can't walk the whole way home. - No, it's all right.

We'll hitch a lift, right?

And then we'll only have to walk as far as castle street.

What?

Look, she has this brilliant technique, look.

You see, if you get down as far as castle street, you walk really slowly

and then you run like fuck when you get onto the shankill.

Oh, Jesus Christ!

Fuck! Run!

- Are you all right? - Fuck!

Who are they fuckin' shooting?

Is there anything broke?

Jesus. We're gonna be here all night.

They're not firing at us.

Look, we'll probably be able to go in a minute.

Take your shoes off and we'll get home quicker.

I am, I am.

That's a good idea, be quieter, too.

Yeah, come on, we'll all take our shoes off.

Come on.

Come on, sneak out there. Come on, roisin.

Oh, there's glass on this...

Fuck this!

Jesus Christ!

It's fierce cold in here.

Do you want me to light a fire for you?

Och, no.

I only come in here on a Sunday.

Tidy up and dust.

I see you got some new things.

That cabinet.

Sure, I had to get something to put the anniversary presents in.

They'll only get destroyed or broken otherwise.

I hope you didn't think I forgot.

I was just waiting to see what it was you really needed.

See, cass was feeding the wee calf, like it was ailing...

I heard someone at the door, and then I heard someone come in.

I looked over the edge of the rafters

and I sees him settling himself down beside the fire.

"Is it my cousin you want?" Says I.

"Nah." says he.

"Well, can I do anything for you?” says I.

"Nah." says he.

Now, I knew it was winter, like,

because of the frost on the ground and the dark.

Me legs dug into the pony's coat.

I don't know when it happened, with the pony leaping forward,

but suddenly...

There was no noise from the pony's hooves.

Just the two of us galloping along the road in the dark.

Dead silence.

And then cass shouted at me, you know, to go and fetch water.

Well... I was a bit scared of going across the bog

in the middle of the night, you know, in the dark,

but I couldn't tell her that.

Now, going out there, it was only me, like, you know, breathing.

And the squelch of me feet in the mud.

But coming back...

I heard something behind me.

Hooves.

Well, I didn't look round till I got to the door.

It was only the wee calf, following the sound of the buggy.

I picked him up...

Somewhere outside ennis, I think it was.

"Do you know who I am?” says he.

"I am Thomas o'mahoney, the last of the Irish bards."

Of course, I didn't tell him about the night

his voice came into my dream and changed it.

It's not at all the way I thought it would be.

Having daughters.

We moved out of belfast

so that there'd be more space for yous to grow.

Then when we had to move back here...

I fixed this room up for you.

- For me? - Aye.

So that when you started going to dances or courting and that

you'd have some place to bring your boyfriends back to.

Or you could come in here on a Sunday evening.

I'd make tea and sandwiches and...

Come in later for a bit of a chat, like, you know?

The house is so small. You shouldn't waste the space.

You could sit in here of an evening.

It's much more comfortable than the kitchen.

Your father hasn't set foot in here since the windows blew in.

Remember the time mccormack's bar was bombed?

I'll never forget the day I went out to aldergrove to see you off.

There was a bomb scare at the bus station.

We'd no sooner pulled out into the street than we were stopped

and two soldiers got on.

Officer was a real bastard.

Oh, you could see he thought he was meant for better things.

Like shooting tigers out in India.

Anyway, on they get.

Other wee fella couldn't have been more than 17.

Picked on your suitcase to be searched.

It was packed far too tight.

When the wee squaddie opened it...

All the new underwear I'd bought you for going to London

fell out all over the bus.

Everybody roared laughing, called out comments.

God, the officer wasn't a bit pleased.

You could only have seen the blushes of yourself

- and that wee squaddie. - I don't remember that.

No.

Your only worry was getting to the airport on time.

You never looked back once to say goodbye.

Not once.

There was a crowd. I couldn't have seen you.

No, but I could see you.

Watched you all the way till the plane took off.

Begin, please.

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge

my two strong sons that I have seen go out

to break their strength and die; They and a few

in bloody protest for a glorious thing

they shall be spoken of among their people

the generations shall remember them

- and call them blessed... - That'll do. Sit down.

Next, please.

But I will speak their names to my own heart

in the long nights;

the little names that were familiar once

round my dead hearth

lord, thou art hard on mothers:

We suffer in their coming and in their going;

and though I grudge them not, I weary, weary

of the long sorrow - and yet I have my joy:

My sons were faithful, and they fought...

Sit down. Next.

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge

my two strong sons that I have seen go out

to break their strength and die; They and a few

in bloody protest for a glorious thing...

Sit down.

Now, this is last night's homework.

You haven't learned it, so close your books and put them away.

I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge

my two strong sons that I have seen go out

and break their strength and die; They and a few

in a bloody protest for a glorious thing

they shall be spoken of among their people

the generations shall remember them

and call them blessed:

But I will speak their names to my own heart

in the long nights;

the little names that were once so familiar

to my... round my... dead hearth...

Maeve sweeney. Continue.

Where from, sister?

From where Ann Stewart left off.

"Lord, thou art hard on mothers."

Lord, thou art hard on mothers.

"We suffer in their coming and their going."

We suffer in their coming...

- "And in their going.” - And in their going.

And she said it was bad enough finding out that all her girls

were juvenile delinquents,

but seeing us all in full school uniform was more than she could bear.

How the fuck would she know? She wasn't there.

Colour telly in the convent.

Did they show the police beating us up?

What do you think?

Jesus, you missed it.

Half the fifth form turned up covered in bandages and plasters.

Yous were all supposed to be on an end-of-term retreat.

On a vow of silence.

And instead, there yous all were,

screaming your heads off on the six o'clock news.

- Could you get me a drink of water? - Aye.

Maeve sweeney is on the third bed on the right.

Thank you, sister.

- They're coming. - Roisin!

Tell them you've taken a vow of silence and can't talk.

Bitch.

And save me some of them grapes.

Sit up, there, this instant, Maeve sweeney,

and explain yourself.

Wake up, sweetheart.

Wake up.

There.

There's no need for tears. You're all right now.

Did you have a wee pain?

Will I sing you a wee song?

J abide with me

j fast falls the eventide

j the darkness deepens

j lord, with me abide

j when other helpers fail

j and when all comforts flee

j' help of the helpless, lord

j abide with me

j' hold thou thy cross

j' before my closing eyes

j' shine through the gloom

j' and point me to the skies

j heaven's morning breaks

j and earth's vain shadows flee

j in life and death, o lord

j abide with me j

I got these for you. Just put them down the back?

Fair enough.

Just leave them here, put them by author?

Ok.

- Right. - Cheerio.

All right, then, don't speak.

Saw you hiding in there.

Between the James Joyce and the Samuel Beckett.

I went over to botanic Avenue to see you.

The landlady said you'd gone.

Aye, I went home.

Your father must be very proud.

- How long are you staying? - I don't know.

How's your mother and father?

Have you not seen them about?

I suppose they don't go out much.

She goes to work and he stays in most of the time.

They've adapted.

They don't ask for meaning.

They want normality more than meaning.

I think people come to a decision about how they want to live their lives

when they're ready as individuals to do that.

Not when a group from whatever side

comes along and imposes a meaning on them.

If you win, they'll adapt to your circumstances.

If the brits win, to theirs.

They're excluded from meaning.

If they are, it's their own choice.

The republican people in the north of Ireland

have never accepted compromise.

At least when you suffer, you've a reason for it.

You think you're suffering for something.

You can tell yourself it's for the Republic

and that'll help you bear it.

My father doesn't have those stories.

He just suffers.

Look at the south, how we're fictions of their nationalism,

and england acting out its fantasies.

If you get killed, it'll be part of that story.

But what you're proposing is worse than their lies.

No story at all.

You don't seem to understand

that the idea is to break out of their fictions.

Reality isn't given.

You have to take it.

Doesn't matter what you say to me.

Doesn't matter what you call it.

As far as I'm concerned, you're giving in.

You really think I'm doing this

as a way of not thinking things through?

You're the one that's copping out.

People here can't afford the luxury of your ideals.

Can they afford yours?

You know, it's incredible,

the way you centre everything in on yourself.

When women put themselves behind male politics,

the result has not been a recognition of our rights,

but a moderation of our aims.

When you're denied power, or when it's continually co-opted,

the only form of protest you have is through your body.

Our struggle is for autonomy.

For the control of our bodies.

You can't claim that is a form of protest.

What about the blanket men?

Their only form of protest is through their bodies.

Well, instead of claiming it back, couldn't you see a similarity?

No! I couldn't!

It amazes me you could even think like that.

Those are men ready to give up their lives for their country.

Like, I understand what you're saying, but what you're proposing

sounds like some kind of women's nationalism.

You behave as if your struggle is separate.

Like you're part of a different culture. A nation within a nation.

Nationalism is a reaction to attack, to imperialism.

We are like a nation within a nation.

Men's relationship to women

is just like england's relationship to Ireland.

You're in possession of us.

You occupy us like an army.

I ook.

What you're doing is reactionary.

You're splintering us. Bringing us down.

You become just one more faction to contend with.

Women!

You're like anarchists.

When it comes down to it, you just don't want to win.

You maintain yourselves in your defeat

so you can feel world-weary and superior.

You don't want to win,

but by defining your struggle as separate,

you weaken us.

Win what? What is there to win?

When this war is over, will I be free?

Will I be able to do what I want?

Can I have children if and when I want?

An abortion if I need one?

Your revolution is obviously not mine.

And your national liberation won't work

when you exclude half of us.

I belong to a class that's oppressed whatever happens.

See you!

"I want", "I need".

You don't represent the women here.

In fact, you don't represent anyone here.

I represent the women here more than you do.

You rejected it long ago, remember?

You left.

Well, you can leave again.

You don't have to put up with this shit if you don't want to.

Being a woman is a nationality I carry around with me.

The time when women were spectators is long gone.

You are closer to the women here,

because they're fighting for freedom, like you.

They've demanded that the aims of the revolution include them.

And if when this war is over, their position's still the same,

they'll recognise you as the next stage in their struggle.

There's nothing between you...

And the north pole.

Do you know there's over 38,000 stones in this causeway?

I counted them.

And there's only one stone that's octagonal.

All the rest have six or seven sides.

Which is the octagonal one?

I've forgotten now.

I put a Mark on it so's I'd remember.

But the ocean...

Washed the Mark away.

Listen, o isles, unto me,

and hearken, ye people, from afar.

The lord hath called me from the womb,

from the bowels of the mother

hath he made mention of my name.

And he hath made my mouth like a sharp sword.

In the shadow of his hand he hath hid me,

and said unto me...

"If derry's crimson field

"had seen his lifeblood offered up,

"though 'twere on victory's shrine..."

They are gone now, the heroes of royal birth.

Evoke the ancient and the past

and shall that sacred pulse that thrilled

thrill once again to glory's name?

Ulster will fight, and ulster will be right!

With flame reborn, renamed, renewed

and brought out with a clangourous cry of wrath and lamentation

who will walk the heavy, toilsome, perilous furrow?

Walk with those shadows?

Mourn the loss of your brave sons.

I demand not of you your manhoods...

But I take your freedom, for the sake of which freedom's given...

Do your hear that auld shite still mouthin' out of him?

I thought we came up here to get away from all that.

Here, roisin, three to one.

Come on, we'll throw him in the sea.

Och, stop it, you two. He's afflicted.

I desire the flame of battle!

I desire Gore-spouting wounds,

flanks that are gashed, trunks that are headless,

heads that are trunkless in piles and in mounds!

The passenger's door never did close properly anyhow.

That's how he got in in the first place.

Making me drive through traffic lights like that.

Auld Van was going so fast

I didn't even know what streets I was in.

Then the brits, they come up on me right-hand side

and yelled at me through a megaphone

to stop or they'd shoot.

And he was sitting on me left-hand side with a gun in my ribs.

I crashed into a wall.

See, the papers got it all wrong.

Arse about face.

Saying that the Van was being used as a getaway car.

I don't know.

First time they got me into castlereagh...

I thought I'd break.

See...

I used to think these things would never happen to me.

Even when they did.

Cos you see...

Aye.

All the time I'm afear'd it is going to happen.