All language subtitles for In.The.Land.Of.Saints.And.Sinners.2023.1080p.BluRay.x264.AAC5.1-HD by oncle l@ mort

Here they come.

Let's go now, boys.

Oh, fucking kids...

Stop bothering him, Patrick.

That's all we need...

Why'd you do something like that?

Pick that up.
Apologise to your brother.

This is not the time...

- No I didn't!
- We're late as it is.

Fucking come on!

Just leave it!

Fucking move it!

Get in the car!

- Fucking drive!
- Go, go, go!

Jesus! Slow the fuck down!

- You're a devious old shite, Finbar.
- You what, Vinny?

I can see what you're up to, right?

How can I blast them
if I can't frigging see them?

- Move them to the top.
- The wind, I can't hear.

Aye, sure...

If you're implying that I'm cheating,
Guard O'Shea, I'll take it very thick.

Where there's a wager, it has to be fair.

Are you going to whinge all day

or are you going to take your shot
and lose, like you always do?

Up your hole.

Come on with you.

Deceitful old bastard...

- Thank you.
- Robbing me blind, you whore.

So what has the day brought?

Apart from feeding your cat
and pondering human reason

with Gulliver and the little folk?

I finished Gulliver's Travels.

I'm onto Mr. Dostoyevsky now.
Russian writer.

Jesus, I know nothing of him.

Agatha Christie's more my cup of tea.

Where are we going?

I've got official business.

Mrs. Bailey come up and said

the welcome sign to the town
out this way has gone missing.

Now you'll see what real work entails.

God, that's a bit of a mess.

Maroon.

- Burgundy.
- Burgundy?

Burgundy.

Some madcap, acting the eejit,
must have lost control of the car.

- Or drunk.
- Aye.

Probably thick in the head.

So you'll be looking for
some mental case in town then?

Aye, should nail them by teatime so.

I can feel your eyes
on the back of my head.

Rita...

I have no doubt...

Adam would have traded his Eve for you...

...If he saw this place.

Well, it's best to have a hobby.

Oh, those'll brighten up a home.

For the table setting.

Which you would know if you'd ever
accepted my invitation to dinner.

How's Brendan holding up?

He's far too worse to be getting better.

With a fine young woman like yourself,
he's going to want to hang around.

The explosion left six dead,
including three children.

The IRA is believed
to be behind the bombing,

though they've yet
to claim responsibility.

Anyone with information
is encouraged to come forward.

Alright, quieten down.

I can't say enough about this next person.

He's done more for this town
than we deserve.

A man of many talents, and in fact,

with a little encouragement,
perhaps he'll treat us here tonight.

Bart McGuiness,
will you honour us with a song?

Go on now, you kind of folk
don't want to hear an old fella sing.

My own flesh and kin wear earmuffs.

I wish I was

In Carrickfergus

Only for nights

In Ballygran

I would swim over

The deepest ocean

The deepest ocean, for my love to find...

Right, out you come.

Can you not just shoot me here
to save us both this exercise?

Keep walking. To the left.

Here'll be fine.

No, no... Two steps to your right.

Start digging.

Where are we?

If I'm going to spend eternity here,
I'd like to know where I am.

Donegal.

In Donegal, the other end of the country.

The forgotten county...

Seems fitting.

And this is how you earn a living?

She's deep enough, out you get.

On your knees.

Jesus.

All these trees...

You've been busy.

On your knees.

Hands behind the old head there.

You have one minute.
Say what you will.

Plead if you want, makes no odds.

No pleading necessary.

I knew this day was coming.

Mind you, took longer than I thought.

It was a lifetime ago.

I had a fierce temper as a lad.

Did my share of killing.

I knew that there was no going back...

...After what I'd done.

But one day, I decided that...

...Whatever was left of my withering soul

shouldn't be wasted, so...

Somehow, I...

I blew that black cloud away.

Became part of the community.

Did what I could for those around me.

You know, this is where it ends
for people like us.

In some windswept, boggy patch.

Try and do some good,
before you find yourself here.

You've only so much time.

Ah, but my days are numbered

Come, all you young men

And lay me down

- So, any hiccups then, Kev?
- No, nothing.

You queer, Robert?

- Your music suggests you're queer.
- You slow, Kev?

Your boots suggest you're slow.

Can't imagine what kind of mess
you left out there.

That's a brilliant
Moody Blues forty-five.

I'm going to borrow this.

"Indulgence draws the weak
to an early grave."

Who's that? Yeats?

Me mother.

- Who's that?
- Only me, Mrs. McQue.

Finbar, how are you?

Robbie said you were coming,
so I made your favourite scones

Ooh, cherry?

Raisin, I thought it was raisin...

Raisin it is.
You know me better than I know myself.

I thought so, I thought so.
You'll take them with you, then?

- I will.
- You've never not taken them.

Ah, good-fucking-morning, you beauts.

Those hot?

Hey, hey, hey. Manners.

Here he is.
"The Fastest Hand in the West"!

Oh, you'd know that was a Dublin boyo.

- Kids nowadays.
- Oh God...

- How are you?
- Oh, yourself?

- Thanks.
- Oh, a new addition?

I took it as payment
from the O'Reilly clan.

Some Mexican fella painted it.

Quite in vogue in America, apparently.

Worth a lot more than I was owed.

Too bad you can't sell it back
to its rightful owner.

Oh, I'd keep an eye out.
I'll have something in a week or so.

Give it to him.

The job. Give it to him.
All of them.

Been thinking quite a bit lately.

Been a lifetime of poor choices, Robert.
Ever since Margaret died, you know?

I mean, there's more to me than this.
I'd like folks to see it.

Oh, and...

What is it you're so anxious
to show the world?

I mean, this is all you know.

I could plant a garden.

- A garden?
- Aye.

So, you're just going to jilt me?

Leave me with that gombeen?

Thanks.

You going to miss me?

Aye... Like a hole in the head.

It's seeds you want?

Aye, Pat. Seeds.

You're not one for seeds, Finbar.

No, not before.

Are you sure now? Seeds?

- Christ, have you got any or not?
- Alright...

I have...

Broad beans, cabbage...

Some of carrots,
some other stuff there too.

So I was thinking,
I could start a garden of my own.

Bit of popple, maybe some goldenrod.

Like that yellow wave
you've got going out there.

Goldenrod is a weed, Finbar.

Didn't know that.

Might need a teacher so...

Is it okay?

I don't know what I'm enjoying more.
The food or the company.

Was your wife a good cook?
Margaret, was it?

- Oh, Finbar, I'm sorry. I didn't...
- Oh, no. You're fine.

It's just been so long
since I've heard her name spoken.

Margaret...

Always experimenting.

She baked this brick...
This was a long time ago.

Put apples and nuts into the mix.

Wee bit of cinnamon thrown in there.

- Never tasted the like of it.
- Oh, sounds gorgeous.

Jesus, no, it was awful.

It's like I said,
I never tasted the like of it.

And thankfully, I never did again.

Was this in Dublin?

Aye, sure.

Passed the bookshop
where she worked every day,

walking to the factory, you know?

God, she loved those books.

Got me hooked.

I wish I could've met her.

She was too good for me, that woman.
Same as yourself.

I'll just be a wee minute.

How's Moya?

If you hook a Rudd, be careful.

That line could cut
into your hand, darling.

Here.

Use that.

There you go. Good girl.

What are you hoping to catch?

A goldfish?

Take him home, call him Goldie?

A fish wouldn't care for you.

Me dead daddy used to say

you shouldn't care for those
that don't care for you.

That's fair enough.

I was told to get a fish for dinner.

You're on.

Put some line out, put some line out...

Oh no...

Moya, it's okay. Moya...

Hey, Pat.

Okay, Sinéad?

Finbar, surprised to see you
on a busy night like this.

- Catherine.
- Finbar. He's grumpy tonight.

That old bastard? Never.

Aye, and it's my one night out.

A pint of plain for the grumpy bollocks.

And a Babycham
for his long-suffering wife.

I'll have a wee Black Bush, please.

Flashing the cash, aye?

How trading books earns you a living,
I'll never know.

As long as I keep winning money off you,
I'll do just fine.

Any luck catching your Evel Knievel boy?

Ah, not a bit of it, no.
Hasn't been the most fruitful of days.

But I'll get him.

I'm sure you will.

Oh, lovely!

A water, please.

- Fine fiddling there, son.
- Thank you, my friend.

That's an old tune, old as the hills,
but it always has a place.

You say that here? "Old as the hills"?

- We'd call it "a jig".
- Of course.

- Thank you.
- So what brought you over here?

Long ago, an Irishman came to my village...

...Playing the most beautiful song
I'd ever heard.

He left before I could learn it,
so I just had to come.

Do you not miss it, home?

I do not miss the fighting.
I do not miss the blood.

Sinéad, I saw your Moya
out by the bridge, fishing for dinner.

Sounds like my child alright.
She's her own woman.

We're like ships passing in the night,
me working here all the hours God sends.

- Don't give her too much grief.
- What's that?

The box of grub,
it tumbled into the river.

- What?
- That's on me. I was distracting her.

Right, well
Thanks for the heads-up.

- Mind my feet!
- It's been ages!

Calm yourself!

I know that look.

Where you off to?

Surely, you're not fleeing
over the spilt food, are you?

I told your ma it was all my doing.

She's going to miss you
something shocking,

stuck out here alone,
and you off riding the plains.

You're a brave one, Moya,

seeing as horses hate the dark.

Scared stiff of the rabbit holes,
and the rabbits.

Best to run away during the day.

So you don't, you know,
run into anything unexpected.

But it's up to you, I suppose.
You're the boss.

- You're not still in the caravan?
- Aye.

Mam says the bungalow will never be done.

You can go now.

- What?
- You can go now.

No, a gentleman
always leaves a lady to the door.

- I'm fine...
- Moya, what the fuck?

Where've you been?
I'm fucking starving.

- Who's this?
- A gentleman.

Just like your wee Uncle Curtis then?

You're not my uncle.

Here, you watch your back-talk.
Do you hear me?

Women, eh? Fucking nightmares.

If it isn't the wanderer,
back from travelling.

About time.

I came straight away.
I've just been waiting.

What the fuck is this?

- Apples?
- It's just what they gave me.

Two hours, and you come back with apples?

- Is there something wrong with you?
- Hey! Shut the fuck up!

How is this eejit your brother?
Yous don't even sound the same.

It's none of your business.

What were you doing, all this time?

- Waiting down at the caravan.
- No need to be hanging around there.

Get what we need and come back.
Do you understand?

Knock, knock.

Oh, Jesus, Finbar. I mean...

Thank you.

Watch it, it's heavy.

- Will you take a cup of tea?
- No, thanks. I'm grand.

How's Moya?

- What have you got there?
- Not got anything.

- Maybe I should ask your mother?
- No, please!

Don't say anything to her.

Show me.

Come on, show me.

Where did you get this?

- Did your uncle give you this?
- He's not my uncle.

Why did he give this to you, Moya?

Has it got something
to do with these bruises on you?

Moya?

Did something happen...

...That you don't want to tell me about?

Yo, Moya?

So, the gentleman caller returns.

Morning, Sinéad. Morning, Moya!

Hope you're not making
a move on our Sinéad?

- She's a wee bit young for you, I'd say.
- Shut your hole, Curtis.

Don't mind him, Finbar.
He's an arsehole.

I can't even have
a chit-chat with the locals?

Me and him are sweet.
Ain't that right, big man?

Ah, here we go.

Nothing like skinny dipping
to work up an appetite.

Just take it and go.

I'll bring more tonight, after work.

I'm going off my fucking nut up there.

Can't blame me for wanting
a bit of new company.

Fuck. Catch you later, princess!

- Old friend?
- You can pick your friends.

You don't get to choose
your bloody in-laws.

My, um...

My brother married his sister
and promptly got himself killed.

I can't wait to see the back of him.

Thought you were leaving
this business behind?

Give it to that wee bollocks, Kevin.
I'll pay.

Are you wise? Here...

A local fella?

You want the boys in blue at your door?

This clown isn't from here.
A blow-in by the name of Curtis June.

I don't care.
Not on our doorstep.

Besides, he could be IRA.

Good luck staying away from them fellas.

So we just let him keep on hurting her?

- You don't even know what he's done.
- I know.

I can see it in her eyes.

And that's his message,
for her to keep quiet.

Jesus, she's a child, Robert!

Shop him to the guards.
An anonymous tip-off.

- Conscience clean.
- She'll never tell them.

He's put the fear of God in her.

He'll never stop.
He'll go on tormenting others.

Robert, I know what I said
about killing, but this is different.

I want no part of it, Finbar.

Count me out.

- Taking your brogues for a walk?
- So, you actually can talk?

Only when I'm done listening.

I'm passing by Sinéad's.
I'll give you a lift.

Aye.

So, you're on holiday, eh?

Aye, "holiday". Fuck-up...

Could've nipped to Majorca,
fixed my farmer's tan, but nah.

Let's all squat in the back arse
of bleedin' fucking nowhere.

There's cigarettes in the front.
Help yourself.

The matches are on the floor.

Funny road.
Never looks the same the way back.

That's because giants made these hills.

Aye, is that right?

This land was once ruled by Fomorians.

God-like seafarers, they were.

Enslaved the land,
ate children, so the story goes.

And to think,
I just use them for shooting.

- Are you a hunter?
- Well...

If you call shooting bean cans
and the odd jack rabbit "hunting",

then yes, I'm a stupendous hunter.

- What do you use?
- A smooth-bore.

A.H. Fox.

Teddy Roosevelt called it
the finest gun ever made.

You wanna see it?

I had a Remington 17 Model,
before I got this little baby.

Wasn't as nifty.

Didn't have the same busty qualities.

Beautiful, isn't she?

You want to hold her?

Jesus...

Fuck...

What did I do?

Wee Moya, you bastard.

Jesus fucking Christ!

I'll leave!
You'll never fucking see me again!

Jesus fucking Christ!

You're fucking dead!

You ballbag...

Some ginger Jesse Owens he was.

Why'd he have a knife?
Is that something all young ones carry?

Ah, I wouldn't consider myself
in tune with modern youth, to be fair.

What are you doing here?

Robert asked me to check up on you.

He did, did he?

Yeah.

Well, in that case...

I like bingo, yeah?

Wright's has a session on tonight.
You'll pay for me books.

And a cheeky pint or two!

I won't tell you no more

So, get down, get down, get down...

Christ...

I'm starting to understand
why they whinge so much.

This yahoo one time...

Digging away, so he was.
But he knew...

...That when he stopped,
that was that, yeah?

The end of the line.

So he just didn't stop!

Must've been something like nine feet
when he was done it.

Blisters the size of plums!

Who knows, he could've hit
fecking Fiji or someplace?

I just stood and laughed.
It was something else.

It's all a big joke to you, isn't it?

This line of work.

Ah, well...

As my da always used to say...

"Do a job you love."

And the next one up is...
"Stuck in a tree, fifty-three".

There, Finbar.

- On me, for yesterday.
- Oh, Sinéad. There's no need.

Here, love, can I have one?

Ain't you barred, Kevin?

She's a feisty one.

Reminds me of one
I left in the forest...

"Ask for more, thirty-four!"

- A woman?
- Mm.

They're more collected than the fellas,
don't you think?

More dignity before dying.

- Jesus...
- What?

- You never...
- No, there's enough cruel men.

She was cruel alright.

- Cruel-looking.
- "Clickety-click, sixty-six!"

- Oh, but the crying took the edge off.
- Bingo!

Fuck's sake!

You're a bit messed up in the head,
aren't you?

Says the one!

Just a bit of money in my pocket.

But a body count like yours?
Now that's psychotic!

Listen, you wee shite,

killing is no joking matter to me,
and I'm done with it for good.

But if I ever hear of you having a laugh
at someone else's dying tears...

...I'll beat you with my old man hands.

How many people have you killed,
altogether?

Curtis, come on...

Conan's mouthing off in there.

The day they murdered our father,

Curtis was playing football
in the under-twelves.

Little bollocks wasn't half bad.

I'll never forget picking him up,
telling him what happened.

He just sat there, just looking at me.
He couldn't make sense of it.

Him growing up in Belfast,
and me down South with Mam...

His whole world turned upside down.

And I made him a promise.
I said I'd always look out for him.

Conan says, we should clear out.

- Make tracks to France or somewhere.
- Not without my brother.

He probably just had a lock-in, drinking.

You know what he's like.

Unless he developed
the power of invisibility,

of course he didn't spend the night
in a fucking lock-in!

Think I'm fucking thick?

We're not going without Curtis.

He's left us, Doireann.
He's probably away on home.

No, he's dead if he goes back.
We all are.

Yeah, I know.

"Curtis June and Doireann McCann."

You're the reason we're in this mess.
I knew you'd fuck it up.

We got the bastards.
That's what matters.

And what about the kids?

You know rightly
I couldn't have predicted that!

You made yourself known.
Me and Séamus were in the clear.

They only saw the back of our heads.

I saw the back of her head last night.

The fuck! I'm only easing the tension!

Where are you going?

I'm going out to find the sad bastard,
who's only job was to lay low.

He's doing that only too well.

If you cunts want to leave, that's grand.

Just don't expect big fucking hugs
when you get back to Belfast.

Curtis!

Jesus...
What are you doing out of the bungalow?

Did Curtis say where he was heading?

I didn't see him.

So he's missing?

Oh, thank God...

I should never have let yous
back in my life.

Pack your shit. I want yous gone.

Don't you dare speak to me like that.

I'll fucking rip that tongue
from your throat!

Maybe the peelers got him?

Probably closing in
on you sorry bastards...

Ma!

I'm fighting for a free Ireland.
And that includes you, you cunt!

So you'd better start showing
some fucking respect!

What did he tell you?

Ma!

He said nothing!

But I'm not stupid, Doireann.
I read the papers.

I'm okay, love. I'm okay.

He swam most days.
Maybe he fucking drowned?

Jesus, are you ever going
to let age get to you?

I suppose the frontline would make
a decent shot out of any man.

What's your excuse?

Ah, I was about the last to arrive.
Never knew the hell of war that you did.

For me, the liberation of France was...

It was a load of faffing about,
if I'm perfectly honest.

Did they mock you when you came back?

They certainly weren't up
to make me feel good.

I was determined
to help fight those Nazi bastards,

even if it meant siding with the English.

That's why I wear the uniform, you know?
I know right, I know wrong.

And you need the black and white,

what with the state of the North
at the minute.

I've seen enough fighting for a lifetime.

There you go!

Did anyone come out here? - Not one soul.

So he could be back in Belfast?

If he is,
I'll kick him back to you myself.

What if Special Branch is
onto us? - They're not...

Ah, fuck off! Just give me something.

Local intel, any names round here.
Someone who'd know.

Where are you again?
"Glencol", or something?

That's the spot. Best hiding spots
are those you can't fucking pronounce.

There's an old contact close by,
a freelance bone man.

- Have you got a pen?
- Yeah, yeah...

Shit...

No. Stay back.

Robert McQue?

No knock?

Force of habit.

Your "colleague"...

...Wasn't specific
about the nature of your visit.

Afraid his phone was tapped
by the big fellas, I suppose?

Oh, bloody paranoiacs.

Trying to find a friend.

None know the shadows better
than those under the rocks.

Oh, I like that.

And this friend... What's the name?

Curtis.

Curtis June.

That's a funny old name. June?

Aye. June.

Is it short for something?

- What is?
- June.

Is June fucking short for something?

It's June, like the month. June!

I've never in my life
met anyone called June.

Redhead, tall, skinny fella.

Ah, doesn't ring a bell.

You know, those bandits out by Inishwest,

they might have heard something...

Now, I have to clear up this mess.

If you'll please, find your own way out.

It fits.

- I said...
- I heard you.

You're only three foot away from me.

Is he dead?

Without a doubt.

- It had nothing to do with me!
- Who, then?

Tell me,
or I'll blow your fucking head off!

Put it away, will you?

I'm not staking my life for him.

- I told him not to do it...
- Who?

Finbar.

Finbar Murphy.

But we parted ways.

He's no longer in my employ.

- Who called the hit?
- You'd have to ask him.

- Where does he live?
- I don't know.

Now if you don't mind, I would be
very grateful if you would get...

Robbie?

Robbie?

- Robbie's not here anymore.
- Where he is?

I shot him.

Believe me, he had it coming.
I'm not trying to be disrespectful.

What's your name, love?

Josie.

You've a sweet voice, Josie.

I'm sure you've done nothing wrong.

But I can't let you
go seeing my face now, can I?

- No.
- No.

Why don't you go into your bedroom,
lock your door,

and don't come out until I'm gone?

Robbie isn't going anywhere.

Put that away.

Take a look at this.

Blood money.

A fucking massacre.

Well, thanks again, Rita.

Wait a minute.

I'll teach you bits, whenever you start,
but I can't remember everything.

Books help.

- You've done good.
- It's a start.

- Good night.
- Good night.

It's Robert.

- Finbar...
- Oh, Mrs. McQue.

- Thank you for coming.
- Finbar!

- Finbar...
- No, no, Mrs. McQue.

- Don't.
- Robbie was a good man.

- Course he fucking wasn't...
- Oi!

For what he was, he was a good man.

- Did you see who he was?
- It was a her.

And no, I didn't.
But she was talking to Robbie though.

She was looking for someone named Curtis.

The ginger Jesse?

She'll need a shovel.

We can't stay here.

Good, I fucking hate wakes.

Go and syphon some petrol.
Mrs. McQue, go in the kitchen, please.

- Alright.
- I'll sort this out.

Everyone knows each other
in these small towns.

- They'll know him.
- Why does it have to be me?

Because you always look lost. Now, go!

Good evening.

I'm up for the weekend, visiting my uncle.

We got a bit turned around.
You wouldn't know a Finbar Murphy?

Finbar?

I know him alright.

Lives out the road there.

Oh, for fuck's sake!

- Evening, garda.
- Evening...

- Do you want me to fill her up?
- Yeah.

You ever see that fella
around here before?

Never have.

Says he's up to see his Uncle Finbar.

- Finbar?
- Mm.

The old dunce never said he had a nephew.

- Finbar...
- I am so sorry.

I can't believe this.

Call the police, once we're gone, okay?

Right, I will.

Aye, look at this.

Beautiful.

How do you suppose they found him?

Maybe he asked his network
about this Curtis fella,

checking him out after you spoke to him?

I'll wait for you outside, then.

- How long will you be?
- Pull over there.

Did something spook you?

Somebody's in my house.

That's me unemployed then, I suppose?

Old Robert took advantage,
but treated me right.

Would you say yous were friends?

We had things in common.

Things to keep hidden.

Were you a runaway?

If your home is an old pile of shite,
I'd hardly call it running away.

Escaping's more like it.

One night...

I got myself into
a fierce bust-up in a pub,

but I came out of it on top.

And there Robert was.

Buying me as many pints as I wanted

and offering me 30 quid
to push some fella off a pier.

Didn't know he was getting 130,
but that was Robert, the old bastard.

It was easy money.

Oh, I lost track long ago...

...How many I've killed.

The war, it turned me
into somebody I didn't recognise.

And when I came home
and learned my Margaret had died...

Whatever was left of my old self,

it seemed to disappear into a black hole.

And then Robert came calling.

As you said, it was too easy.

Fucking seniors and their raisins...

If he's not here by now...

He's probably out there, watching us.

Well, if he is,
let's give him something to watch.

Oh, Jesus.

Go back inside, Rita.

Please.

You must be
the nosey fucking neighbour, huh?

You should be minding your own business,
if you know what's best.

You know Finbar?

Never had the pleasure.
But I will.

Mr. Murphy has done something.

Something unforgivable.

- What are you doing?
- I'm going to kill her.

We've got no advantage.

"Advantage"?
What's that, war talk?

Put it down. I don't want Rita
getting caught in the crossfire.

God, it's lonely out here...

Especially for a frail,
old one, like yourself.

If you see your friend,
you can give him a message.

I'll tell him a mouthy bitch sent it.

Do.

Talk about a cruel woman.

Conan!

Come on!

Oh, God...

Grab her legs.

You go first.

Two cottages down from the crossroads.
The one with the flowers.

- Who is this again?
- For God's sake, it doesn't matter.

Look, you're a doctor.
Just go to her, alright? Please!

Here we are.

Home sweet home.

There you go... Good boy.

There's some money's worth here.

No wonder you need someone
to buy your bingo books.

Maybe I just wanted the conversation?

Do you play this thing?

Just a chord or two.

No training or nothing,
just teaching myself.

I'll make my own record someday.

Maybe over there in California,

if I can save enough for the journey.

The people over there just seem...

...Free, or something.

Enjoying life, you know what I mean?

I don't recall you
buying the paper before.

I don't recall you being sober.

Hiya, Pat.

- Hiya.
- Give us twenty Gold, will you?

Finbar.

Poor fella must have been a hermit.
I'd never saw him in the town.

Went by the name of Robert McQue.

- Did you know him at all?
- No.

The mother said
it was a woman that did the killing.

I can't make head nor tail of it at all.

I was wondering if the sign
had something to do with it?

You know, maybe the sign was a... sign.
Anyway...

I'll get detectives down from Dublin.
There'll be nothing for me to do.

Oh, you never told me you had a nephew.

Aye, nice lad.
I don't see him that much.

- Do you mind dropping me by Sinéad's?
- Oh, get in.

Well...

Cheers for the ride, Vinny.

Hey, don't be smug about it.
I can't be seen to have favourites.

Get on with it.

Back in!

- Come on!
- Come on, come on!

"Stay low."

"Stay out of sight."
And you come to a football match?

He'd be here.

Rats. All we know is fucking rats.

They didn't get your good side.

This pushes us into a corner.
We'll have to leg it.

- Not yet.
- Anybody could recognise us!

Curtis is dead.
Try to give an ounce of shit.

Burn the fucker's place for Curtis,
then we get out of here.

Get to Amsterdam. France, maybe.
We've got money, we start over.

Have you lost your fucking mind?

Run off and leave Ireland?
So what's the point of all this then?

- If we want to live...
- So they died for nothing?

Just for a while, until things settle.

Am I the only one
who understands what we're fighting for?

We're not fucking leaving.

Someone hired Murphy to kill Curtis.
We need to find out who.

The old lady, the fucking shopkeeper...
Someone knows where he is.

We'll have to pry it from them.

I gotta find the loo.

Maybe the two of you can come up with
just one fucking idea while I'm gone?

Finbar!

Hassan.

- My biggest fan.
- So you stuck around?

What do you think?

They all look so bloodthirsty.
I don't know who to root for.

- Hi, Sinéad.
- What about you, Finbar?

Not too bad. Wee Moya?

She's around here somewhere.
Up to something, I'm sure.

She's grand.

- We're good.
- Good.

Okay, I'll see you.

- See you later tonight?
- Aye.

Finbar Murphy?

Doireann McCann.

It's "Doireann".

I've only seen it printed,
and they've printed a lot about you.

Tell me who ordered the hit
or I'll put you down here to die

in this shit-fed turf.

Look, we've killed each other's friends.

Let's draw the line.

- Walk away, and no-one...
- No, no, no. Fuck you.

I killed a degenerate bottom feeder.
Curtis was my brother.

Then you must've known
about his... tendencies?

Give me the name.

Easy.

Alright, I can bring him to you.
Easier that way.

You're just going to have
this "whoever" turn themselves over?

Convinced your boy into my car, didn't I?

Meet back here, eight o'clock.

It'll be quiet, no-one will see.

No, fuck right off!
Do you think I'm stupid?

We'll meet at that pub.

- Wrights?
- That's it.

Full of merry fucking villagers,

none of who suspect
you're a murdering bastard, I suppose?

So no tricks.

I won't have you hurting
anyone else in this town.

You be there.

Or we leave a special delivery
that'll blow that pub all over Donegal.

If anything happens to us,
people will come looking,

people a lot worse than me,

and they'll tear through
this God forsaken place.

And that quaint little
nosey neighbour lady of yours?

No-one will be safe...

Fucking eejit!

You take my pistol
and nip off without a pip?

- Into your dramatics, aren't you?
- I found the leader.

She didn't take to my ceasefire.

She left me no choice.
I'm going to finish her.

- Finish all of them.
- How do you plan on doing that?

It'll be good and public.

So if anyone comes looking for blood,
they'll come for me,

leave this town out of it.

You can go, I'll be fine on my own.

No way, José.

The great Finbar Murphy's going to war.
I'll be fucked if I'm missing out!

Good boy.

Knock, knock.

Moya...

A wee gift for you.

Will you take him? He's yours.

What's his name?

You know, I never gave him a name.

What do you think?

He looks like a... Seán.

Aye.

Take good care of him, won't you?

It's good to care, even if it hurts.

Keeps you human.

Okay?

Bye, Seán.

You wanted an audience.

We'll meet them inside.

Tell them I've got the fella out back.

Where I'll be waiting for them.

Now that's an advantage.

See? I was listening.

No.

I have an advantage of my own.

Go on now, take this.

There's an envelope in the outer pocket.
Give it to Robert's mother for me.

The rest is yours.

- What are you getting at? We agreed...
- We agreed on nothing.

Now, listen.
There's nothing more here for you now.

This is my war.

Take that money.
Let it be my hand-down to you.

You don't have to use that again.

You're young, find something else to do.

Get to California.

I'm not saying you need to be
a saint or anything like that.

Just don't waste your life doing this.

Nobody ever gave me nothing.

My advice has more value
than that money, son.

Trust me on this.

Go on.

- Jumpy tonight, aren't we?
- Jesus, Vincent, I've got an old heart.

But you've a young spirit.
Come on, we're sitting over here.

Back-stabber's in the trees.

He didn't try anything at the pitch.
Not with the crowd.

Right.

I'll peep in first.
Conan, you bring the case in after.

- Why him?
- Because you're shit with a pistol.

Because I went for Curtis,
with no help from you.

Because I organised this trade.

And I because I-fucking-said so!

Fine.

Just keep the car lit.

Any foul play, you set that timer
and we'll get the fuck out, you hear?

- Scorch the bastards.
- Half the village is in there.

And some who can hang
those dead kids round our necks.

I was hoping for a quieter night tonight.

You know, a few stories, a bit of a yarn...

How you getting on with your Russian book?

Not finished it yet.

I daresay you would enjoy it, though.

- A bit of mystery and intrigue, is it?
- Aye.

There's a clever detective
investigating a gruesome murder.

Name of Porfiry.

He's tenacious in his quest for the truth.

Drawing out of the suspect
how much his isolation's destroying him.

Eating away at him...

Making him understand
that the power to end it...

...It's all his.

So keen instincts, this detective?

He reminds me of you, actually.

- Does he get his man in the end?
- I don't know.

Will your nephew be in tonight?

Or has he moved on?

You don't trade books for a living,
do you, Finbar?

What is it that you do?

Vinny...

You don't want to know.

If you need to tell me something,
I could help.

No, Vinny, you can't.

Jesus... Moya!

Come on, you have to scoot on home.

- Where are we going?
- This is no place for children.

- But I'm allowed in the bar!
- Not tonight.

- I need you to go.
- I want Seán to meet Ma.

- Not tonight. Take Séan and go home.
- But...

Séan can meet your ma some other time.
Go home, now!

String us away, lad!

- Quite a crowd.
- Aye.

And your partners-in-crime?
You said no funny business.

They're around, be sure of it.

Now just produce the fucker
and you can get back to your music.

Meet out back,
where we can hear ourselves.

You move from that fucking spot
and I promise you, I'll shoot you dead.

Alright. It was me...

Don't you love how a song
can just fill your heart with joy?

Eh?

The music...

Makes you want to just grab a doll
and kiss the face clean off her.

- This how you cunts court?
- How am I doing?

Aren't I a bit ripe?

I'd target any woman who's up for it...

...Doireann.

Grateful for your charity, Finbar.

But a saint's got to be a sinner first.

- This him?
- Calm down.

- I told you, it was me...
- Course it's me.

Why don't we all go out back, and...

Get down!

Fuck!

Fuck.

That's mine, bastard.

The dumb bitch, she shot me!

Come on.

Just letting you know
I'm still here, Doireann!

Jesus
Why the fuck did you come back?

Hasan, stay down! Stay down!

All your money's in my car.

Guessing you'll get out to California
before me.

Finbar.

Looking for him to save you?

I'm not the one who needs saving.

I've done what I've done.

And I had my reasons.

And the Lord knows them.

I'll take no judgement from you.

I'm not here to judge.

We've all got our reasons.

Just shoot me.

You're at your end.

Make your peace.

My...

My brother...

He's all alone.

I'll make sure you join him.

Those brutes didn't get you.

Rita, I am so sorry.

It's fine, Finbar.

You never asked what I did for a living.

Should I have?

It's a shame, nothing grew.
I should have started it ages ago.

Oh...

No. You keep it.

Maybe somewhere down the road,
you'll try again?

Bye, Rita.

You take care, yeah?