Original subtitles

I am a man of the North.

Names like Altamuskin, Sixmilecross and Ballygawley

roll off my tongue like water over in mill wheel.

I am made of rain, nettles and thick moss,

trees and wind.

I am stories handed down like heirlooms.

Cu Chulainn, Aine, Maeve,

war, church, famine, fairies.

I could be an Irishman anywhere in the world,

but somehow I have been delivered back to this place, home.

Home, what does it mean?

Home.

Do you remember who used to live here?

It's old Mrs. Rodgers house, isn't it?

Was.

Dead as a doornail at Winnyhaw.

But don't worry, I checked the place for ghosts.

Come on, let's get you settled.

There's not much in here, as you can see.

Got it stocked up earlier, got a few of the basics,

teabags, milk, sugar, bread, peanut butter.

There's a kettle.

Do you want me to light a bit of a fire for ya?

No.

You know where to find me, okay?

St. Anthony and St Jude,

they're a big help to me.

Dear God, Matt, look at yourself.

What is going on with you?

You're a great writer, Matt,

or at least you were.

But that was 10 years ago.

10 years and not even an essay or a review.

You're a writer,

writers write, that's what they do.

You need to stop running.

When was the last time you were back in Ireland?

10, 20 years ago?

- 26. - 26 years, whoa.

What the fuck did they do to you back there?

When I was a boy,

my best friend Declan and I built a dam

to mark the beginning of summer.

Every year,

we went to the same bend in the river

at the bottom of Packie McKenna's meadow.

There was a spot there right next to an old apple orchard,

where the river yawned against the deep mossy bank,

creating a wide, crescential well

that was just perfect for a swimming hole.

We'd strip down to our shorts and wade into the river,

dragging big clots of mucky sod

that we'd dug from the bank,

slapping them down in a row on the river bed,

embracing them with large stones and thick stubby branches,

the water rising about our ankles,

until at last we could take a run from the field and leap,

knowing it was deep enough to catch us when we fell.

A lovely fur coat he was wearing too, I can tell you.

Fox, I think it was. I don't understand.

Was it a man or a woman? Oh, for God's shake.

It was a man,

as far as I can tell, wearing a fur coat

and a head scarf of an indeterminant fabric.

We exchanged pleasantries and I went on my way.

Simple as that.

I'm not about to cast aspersions

on his or her or its gender, it's no business of mine,

and nor should it be any of yours.

- Morning, Joe. - Good morning, Katie.

What's all the excitement this morning?

Seems Pat had a bit of a fright this morning.

Pat's only after seeing some stranger

coming out of old Mrs. Rodgers's turf shed like a ghost.

Scared the life out of him.

He was wearing a fur coat and a fur scarf.

Anyway, I wanna head on home here.

I need to lay down for a bit.

Two stamps, please, Joe.

And if you would put those in the box for me.

- Oh, surely. - Big day, Pat?

Oh, no, nothing new to me.

Sure if we were in New York,

nobody would pass about remarks.

Was he good looking?

Sure, don't you know him?

Me, how would I know him?

Father Donnelly's brother,

the lad that went away to America about 25 years ago,

the writer, sure wasn't they a neighbor of yours?

Matt, I think his name was.

Will that be everything for today, Katie?

Katie?

Yes, Joe, thank you.

Yes, all the best. All the best, Katie.

I see we still haven't mastered them bastards out.

Gerry, could you slow down a bit?

Gerry, please?

Jesus Christ.

Who in the fuck was that with Father Donnelly?

He looked a bit like Matt.

When did that fucker get back here?

Hey, come on, we can head to the Cross for a pint.

He better not think he's moving back home around here.

I can tell you that.

You, Donnelly, who told you to sit down?

Stand up.

Fuck.

There we go, there we go.

All right, here we go, come on.

♪ Where legends remain ♪

♪ Where glories of old fill the heart ♪

♪ And they may yet call again ♪

♪ Where the past has been lost ♪

♪ And the future has still to be won ♪

♪ And the cares of tomorrow must wait ♪

♪ 'Til this day is done ♪

Sorry.

Katie.

- You didn't recognize me? - No, I did.

Liar.

Still as beautiful as ever.

I'm sorry, that's terrible, I just got back.

It's been weird.

Oh, were you away?

How are you getting on at the cottage on your own?

How do you know where I'm staying?

Oh, you have been away too long

if you think the yank can land back here

without everybody for a 20 mile radius

having an opinion about it.

The mailman?

I was in the post office yesterday when he'd come in.

He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

Just glad to see you're not doing your shopping

in a skirt and a pair of high heels.

It was cold, I didn't have a jacket.

You don't have to convince me you're not gay.

I remember.

You two know each other?

Declan.

I'm sorry I missed your call, after the beep.

Sorry I missed your call.

Please leave a message after the beep.

At the tone,

please record your message.

When you are finished recording,

you may hang up or press one for more options.

Been a while since you've been

in one of these, I suppose.

25 years, give or take a wedding or two.

Did scare you that badly?

I never much believes in fairytales.

That's not true.

I remember when you were little.

You believed in all kinds of magic.

Then I grew up.

- That was a pity. - It is a pity.

I saw Katie at the store. A wee word of advice,

my American brother, steer clear of Katie.

And a further piece of advice,

stay well clear of Declan Hughes.

He's a dangerous man, Matt.

Bet he's in here every Sunday on his knees

with his tongue out, waiting for the sacrament.

Not New York now, Matt.

People around here have a way of doing things.

Come on.

Come with me.

I can see you now,

pegging the white flapping sheets in the breeze,

and in the scullery,

your hands at a bowl of dough, kneading,

a trace of flour in your hair, like age.

It was said you made the best loaf

of bread in all of Altamuskin,

folded secrets into the dough, fed them to us.

Pain, love, loss,

the flour of all that went unsaid,

the salt on the tongue like a mystery

bloomed in my heart like a rose.

What madness drove you to the river?

What might I have done to save you

from that cold, wet grave?

Mother, I am so sorry I didn't come home.

You have got

to get your heads out of the clouds with this clown.

Jesus, he walked out on you 20 years ago.

- 26. - 26 years ago.

Seriously, was he that good in the sack?

Maggie, I loved him.

He's a fantasy, for God's sake.

Would you rather I stayed with Declan?

I'd rather you stay alive.

Do you seriously think Declan Hughes

is gonna sit back and let you walk off into the sunset

with this loser?

Two packets of cigarettes, please?

Yeah, what kind would you like?

Doesn't matter.

What's the damage?

That's 24.70, please.

Are you American? Almost.

24.70, wow, I have been gone too long.

What part were you in, New York?

- How'd you guess? - You sure don't look

like no heck. Very good.

It's where I'm headed as soon as I get my act together.

What, you don't like it here?

- Pfft, this hole? - Surely it can't

be that bad. Tell you what,

why don't you take my job in here,

and I go out to your cottage and do your writing for you,

how does that sound? Wow,

word does travel fast around here.

And I heard about those women's clothes bit too.

Pretty sure you've got a damned good excuse for that outfit.

I do, it's called "cold".

Well, if you ever need warming up...

♪ One, two, three, four ♪

♪ My love is colder than black marble by the sea ♪

♪ My heart is older than the cold ♪

♪ I am the flash ♪

♪ Of silver in the sun ♪

♪ If you see me coming you had better ♪

♪ Run, run, run ♪

Jesus, Gerry, you scared the shite out of me.

♪ From Dearg Doom ♪

What are you doing, checking up on me?

Well, the last person that lived in this house

had we carried out feet first.

I'm taking no chances, here.

- What's this? - It's an old photo album.

It was our mother's, you should have it.

You're the one who wanted to rummage through the past.

There's some of it there.

What would you call this?

Trouble.

- Father. - Katie.

- Matt. - Lovely to see you.

It's a fine day.

Yeah, it's a lovely day.

It would be nice to see a bit of sun.

Oh, it'd be great to see a bit of sun, great.

Break the clouds, it'd be nice, yeah, nice.

Right, well, I'll be off.

I have things to do, good to see ya.

I'm not interrupting anything?

Oh, no, not at all, was just on me way anyway.

I have to see a man about a dog.

Jesus, my timing's impeccable.

What must he think of me, showing up here like this?

Well, look at the bright side, he'll never tell a soul.

I hope not, Declan would kill me if he knew I was here.

I was just bringing you a bit of food.

- Thanks, tea? - Hmm?

Tea, we still do that in this country, don't we?

Make the visitor a cup of tea?

She kept

a tidy wee house. She did,

she did keep a tidy wee house.

But it's strange, everything's still in the same place.

It's like I've landed back in the past.

And now you're back,

or are you just on a fly-in visit?

I don't think I could make it around here anymore.

You've been Americanized?

Well, it has been my home for over 20 years.

I'm sorry. Don't, please don't.

I should have written to you.

You have nothing to apologize for.

It was a long time ago.

We were just kids, for God's sake.

But I think that you should have this back.

Look, when I got there, it's hard to explain.

I mean, it was crazy,

right from the moment the lads collected me

from the airport.

And it all comes at you so fast, the newness.

A month has gone by, and then two months.

Then, in the blink of an eye, a year's gone by.

I see the Statue of Liberty one morning

through the window of the van on my way to work,

and I remembered how much you wanted to see it.

And it fucking killed me.

But not enough for you to write to me even then.

Don't worry about it, I saw it.

Wasn't that impressed, as it happens.

I have to go.

You broke our mother's heart

when you left, you know?

She idolized you, that woman.

Her son, the writer, wow.

And there was a story she could take to the shop everyday.

I'm not saying you killed her.

You didn't.

She had health issues in the end.

Depression, terrible, terrible depression, God love her.

But you didn't fucking help it, Matt.

You didn't fucking help it one bit.

What did I ever do to you, brother?

What did we ever do to you?

God, you scared the life out of me.

Sorry about that.

I suppose you're gonna go

and put that in one of your books now, too, are you?

How did you know I'm a writer?

My God, you've been gone a long time.

And you don't remember your neighbors.

Didn't you come down and build a dam every year

at the bottom of my field?

Packie?

I'd have to come down at the end of the summer

and tumble it meself, of course.

I thought you were dead years ago.

That would explain the lack of a Christmas card.

Reason out here, hiding behind hedges,

scaring people half to death?

People must think you're mad.

They'd be right, I'm getting madder by the day.

I'm patching holes in these hedges to keep the sheep in.

You got yourself a nice wee house

for your situation, I see. It is a nice wee house.

Poor old Mary, dead a week in there

before the mailman got a sniff of her.

If she'd been on the Facebook, they'd have found her sooner.

The whole country's gone mad, if you ask me.

They've disappeared, they're all indoors now,

lost in their own little screens.

You never see a child outside anymore.

They wouldn't know their way down to the river

if you led them by the ear.

I have one wee word of advice for you, though.

Watch that girl's husband doesn't catch her up here,

sniffing around your undergarments while he's out at work.

I don't know how you operate these things over there

in America, but around here,

you mess with a man like Declan Hughes,

you better brace yourself for a storm.

There's skeletons out here in these fields, you know,

skeletons of men ever bit as smart as you or me,

men who didn't see the storm coming.

A lot's changed since I've been gone.

At least there's peace now that the troubles have ended.

Peace me hole.

Where'd you read that shite?

The trouble's not over in this country, boy.

Not as long

as there's still an Englishman wearing a uniform.

Don't kid yourself about that.

We are opposed to a united Ireland

and we will not have a united Ireland.

And I say to the Dublin government,

if they don't behave themselves in the South,

it will be shots across the border.

It'll never be over,

not unless we're all one country again,

the way the good Lord intended it.

North to South, East to West, sea to shining sea.

If it was up to me,

there wouldn't even be a wall or a fence on it.

By God, it's some country to look at, just the same

if you take a moment to lift your head

to see past the mess we've made of it.

Oh, so you are alive?

Your son cried himself to sleep again last night.

What do you want me to tell him,

that you're in Ireland writing or thinking?

Is that what you're doing, you're thinking?

I'm sorry, Sarah, you're right.

- Lucas. - Sarah?

I've gotta go, I cannot do this right now.

What the fuck did they do to you back there?

You broke our mother's heart

when you left, you know?

It was a long time ago.

We were just kids, for God's sake.

There's skeletons out here

in these fields, you know,

skeletons of men every bit as smart as you and me.

You okay?

Katie?

Katie, what are you doing here?

Well, I was just driving past and I saw the car.

I did call your name.

Here.

I waited for you, you know, heartbroken?

Everybody talked behind my back.

"Poor wee girl, left behind like that."

They all said you were no good.

But I defended you,

every chance I got, I defended you.

I waited, and I waited,

every day for two whole years

like a dog for the postman.

And I waited.

You shouldn't be here, Katie, you should go.

No, maybe you should go.

Go back to your America before something bad happens.

Fine, I'll leave.

Yes, you leave, go, go back to your America!

I don't even know what you came back here for!

Get the fuck off me!

There's that fucking stray again.

Here doggie, here.

Here.

Put that thing in a bag

and throw it in the boot of the car.

Now, good morning, everybody.

Thank you all very much for coming along today

to land your support.

My first... Tickets for the raffle?

How much are they?

- 10 for fiver. - Ah.

We're already up to 500 pounds

and dinner for two at Kelly's Inn.

So, some lucky duck is going home today a very happy camper,

I can tell you. That's great,

thank you. All right.

Thanks a million.

Father Donnelly, come on down onto the field,

Father Donnelly, there he is.

Good man, come on down onto the field, come on here.

Good man, good man.

Dig deep, Father. I certainly will.

Ah, this is a bit awkward, Matt Donnelly.

Matt, come on down here and get your prize, come on.

Matt Donnelly,

congratulations, just back from America.

- Hex. - Who said that?

Now, now, let's not be sore losers.

Matt won fair and square.

Well done, Matt, dinner for two at Kelly's Inn.

If you don't have a date, I myself am available to eat.

You better watch yourself, yank.

But if I ever hear you near my wife again,

I'm gonna gut you like a fucking pig.

Jesus Christ, you frightened the life out of me.

What are you doing, sitting here in the dark?

- Hello, Katie. - You okay,

'cause you're being a bit weird?

Have you been a good girl?

I don't like this, Declan, and I wanna put...

I said has my wee Katie been a good wee girl?

Because if I find out that you weren't

and doing something really, really fucking stupid,

then Daddy's gonna be so angry with his wee girl.

Are you gonna beat me with that?

No, how did you get here?

I walked.

Let me get you a towel.

I won't be needing a towel.

I like being wet.

Are you working on another book?

I read your last one too, you know?

"Cinder's Landing", I loved that book.

Is this one a love story too?

I don't know.

Am I in it yet?

Please?

Are you nervous about me touching your stuff?

Why?

What do you think I'm gonna do to you?

Relax.

♪ Do you ever feel that time is on your side ♪

♪ Giving you space to learn ♪

♪ And places to hide ♪

♪ Use your time wisely, never say goodbye ♪

♪ 'Cause we will always meet again on the other side ♪

♪ So, please tell me something I don't already know ♪

♪ Please take me far away to a place I do not know ♪

Half the bloody parish is here.

We should say mass in here on a Sunday morning.

Ay, we could charge for the wine.

What'll it be? ♪ To stay my ground ♪

I'll have a pint. ♪ And save my soul ♪

♪ So, please tell me something I don't already know ♪

♪ Please take me far away to a place I do not know ♪

♪ Allow me to figure out ♪ What'll it be?

- Two pints, please. - Two pints,

got it, Shakespeare. ♪ Stay my ground ♪

♪ And save my soul ♪

♪ To look around, stay my ground and save my soul ♪

Listen, I'd like to propose a toast.

To my wee brother, Matt, the writer,

to his new book and to his safe return

to his family in America.

To your new book.

Are you late for an appointment?

Would you not think about writing one

about growing up in Tyrone?

Like that, what was that called?

"Angela's Ashes", yeah,

Matt, why don't you write us a story

about your miserable Northern Ireland childhood?

Start with the terrible beating you took in primary school.

That's a good one.

He beat me unconscious in a room full of kids.

So, who can tell me something about France?

You, Donnelly, stand up.

What's the first thing that pops into your head

when I say, "France"? Onions.

What in God's name made you think of onions?

I seen it in the television, Sir.

You saw onions on the television.

It was a cartoon about France.

The man had onions around his neck.

Garlic, he had a string of garlic around his neck.

Is that what you saw? I suppose so, Sir.

- Stop mumbling, speak up. - Yes, garlic.

Don't you shout at me.

You yell at me in my classroom?

Stop, leave him alone.

Katie Corrigan, get back to your seat.

- Leave him alone. - Get back

to your seat, Katie Corrigan. Leave him alone.

Get back to your seat.

This is not over, asshole.

It's a nice wee house.

Jesus, what are you doing here?

- Don't be mad at me, Mattie. - Well, you're

in my fucking house. No, Mattie, I'm your friend,

Mattie, Mattie, no, no, Mattie.

What are you doing here, Paudy?

I heard you're telling stories, Mattie.

That's good.

Hey, hey, hey, you remember that time in old Cooney's class

when you got beat up?

Ay, I remember.

Paudy saved, Paudy saved you.

No, I remember it was Katie that saved me.

No, no, no, Paudy saved you, Paudy saved you.

1981, August 26th, two p.m., I had a blue shirt on me.

You remember your blue shirt, Mattie?

You remember your blue shirt?

I remember.

Oh, it's the priest.

Mattie, Declan's mad at you,

Mattie, Declan's very mad at you.

Bye, son.

What did wee Paudy want?

Borrowed some sugar.

Are you all right, Matt?

Look at the state of you.

I'm trying to write.

This place smells like a bloody brewery.

Don't come in here and lecture me, Gerry!

Or what, you'll run away again?

I didn't run away!

For a writer, you're not too fond

of hearing the truth, Mattie.

And for God's sake, will you tidy this place up a bit?

You mother didn't raise you to be a tramp.

I have been torn in two over the Atlantic.

An Irishman in America, an American in Ireland,

betrayed by a brogue on one side,

eternal optimism on the other.

I am native in neither, easily silenced both here and there.

I live now in the parish of memory,

create castles out of my childhood,

fly my Yankee-tinged brogue as my flag.

I have become one

of the ghost Irish, those who moved away,

those with a heart that will never be fully at rest.

Jesus.

What are you doing here?

My idea is it must be nice being you,

mess with their fucking color,

breezing in an out of people's fucking lives,

taking what you want when you want it.

What the fuck you doing here, Declan?

You can't do this.

You can't go around with a gun

in your hand, bullying people.

It's not the fucking 1970s!

Well, that's where you're wrong, asshole,

because as far as I'm concerned,

I can do whatever I like here.

I earned my right to stay in this country!

I stayed and I fought, and what did you do?

You ran away to America

and you left the fighting to the real men.

Please, please, Declan.

You don't think I wanted to run,

you don't think that I wanted to escape?

You don't deserve to live here and you don't deserve Katie.

Go home, Yank.

Don't start.

I need you to come with me.

Where are we going?

You'll find out when we get there.

Come on, let's go.

Are you visiting someone?

No, you are.

Who am I visiting?

Master Cooney.

I thought he was dead.

That's his house over there.

No way.

There's a power to your past in that house.

Do yourself a favor, go over there,

knock on the door, and face it for once.

It's time to stop running away from it all.

I'm here to see Master Cooney.

Okay, come on, I'll take you to him.

Who told you to sit down?

On your feet.

Oh.

Katlyn?

No, no, no, no, she went downstairs, you're okay.

Donnelly, Matt Donnelly.

Good boy, oh, you were a good boy.

I've carried you around with me my whole life.

And now, look at you.

I'm not much to look at now.

Age, they don't teach you that at school.

They should do.

92 years on this planet, and the only thing I've learned

with complete certainty is you grow old and you die.

I did my best.

You wrote a book, I read it, yes.

We're all proud of ya, I was proud of ya.

And you will write another book.

I don't think I've got another in me.

You will write, you'll write.

Home, home, seen from the window of a plane,

she has a patchwork quilt,

little square fields of green stitched together

by thin rows of thorns, spring green, fern green,

forest green, pine seed, Shamrock green.

From above, she is clean, mystical, magical to behold.

That is her first great act of deceit,

her lush, rolling beauty, the first betrayal of her truth,

for on the ground, and deeper still,

buried beneath that venerate lawn is her pain.

Underneath, there is blood.

What price had the past exacted on each of us?

Mother, Cooney, Katie, Declan?

Where have you been all evening?

Not now, Declan.

Look, they're daffodils.

You used to love daffodils, remember?

Please don't leave me.

What did any of it mean?

Catholic, Protestant, Irish, English,

words designated to keep us apart,

words with borders all their own,

each one of us armed and insulated with a version

of the past we deem to be true,

holding in each other at arm's length over a flag

or some unresolved hurt.

How many lives is a field worth?

No one escaped the wound, each of us carry a scar.

Declan had chosen the gun.

I must honor this pen, invite small miracles

into the incubator of my heart,

come home to the poetry of myself.

It was time for me to let go of the past,

of the wreckage I'd been wearing like a suit of armor.

I too had lost sight of what was in front of me,

family, friends, forests and fern,

daffodils and birdsong, rivers and fields,

nettle, rose and thorn hedge, fog and foxtrot,

mountains, moss and meadows,

a heart haunted by the ghosts of poets in rentals.

Sarah, I love you.

Give Lucas a hug for me.

I'm coming, I'm coming home.

The wild richness of this place,

here was a stranger's smile,

there, a small act of kindness or decency.

This was not the North, South, East or West.

The land was the land wherever you happened to stand on it.

Packie was right, it really was a great country

if only you could lift your head

to see past the mess we've made of it.

It was time to stop running.

It was time to go home.

♪ Come by the hills to the land where fancy is free ♪

♪ And stand where the peaks meet the sky ♪

♪ And the loughs meet the sea ♪

♪ Where the rivers run clear ♪

♪ And the bracken is gold in the sun ♪

♪ And the cares of tomorrow must wait ♪

♪ 'Til this day is done ♪

♪ Come by the hills to the land where life is a song ♪

♪ And stand where the birds fill the air ♪

♪ With their joys all day long ♪

♪ Where the trees sway in time ♪

♪ And even the wind sings in tune ♪

♪ And the cares of tomorrow must wait ♪

♪ 'Til this day is through ♪

♪ Come by the hills to the land where legends remain ♪

♪ Where stories of old fill the heart ♪

♪ And may yet come again ♪

♪ Where the past has been lost ♪

♪ And the future is still to be won ♪

♪ And the cares of tomorrow must wait ♪

♪ 'Til this day is done ♪