All language subtitles for The Fantas

(strong music)

(birds chirping)
(suspenseful music)

(sirens blaring)

(phone ringing)

- Hello?

Who is it?

- [The Voice] I'm the
one who's supposed to do

the heavy breathing, Kathy,
not you,

my divinely tall enchantress.

Is your peerless bosom heaving?

Did I make you run up
all those stairs?

- Oh, it's you, didn't
I make myself clear?A

I'm not gonna go on
listening to you

if you won't tell me
who you are.

- [The Voice] Who I am?

But I keep telling you,
I'm the light

in your jade green eyes
when the sun bursts through

and turns our stone gray
city into gold.

I am the lilt in your voice

when you're ashamed with joy,

the bounce in your instep
when you stride out,

flaunting a brand new dress.

I am the melting
feeling in your tummy

when you hear music so
sublimely beautiful,

you want to cry.

I am the secret paramour
of your dreams.

Did you get my card?

- Yes, I got it.

Is that what you
think I look like?

- [The Voice] I know what
you look like.

And now I think it's only
fair for you to learn

what I look like.

You are alone, aren't you?

(dramatic music increases)

- Yes, you bastard.

(phone rings)

Hello?

Hello?

(traffic roaring)

(phone rings)

(suspenseful music)

(knocking on the door)

- I'm coming, I'm coming!

What was the hurry, I had to
feed the chickens, haven't I?

(gentle acoustic music)

(sheep bleating)

- When Patricia was 10,

I taught her to drive a tractor.

When she was 12, she was
strong enough to milk a cow,

better than I could myself.

Now she's gone and got herself
a degree in agriculture.

The first in the family
ever to do such a thing.

Let's all drink to her
health and to her happiness,

because happiness is
what she brings us all.

To Patricia.

(dramatic ominous music)

- Why don't you have a
real drink, Lar?

You used to be able to
drink like a man.

They made a terrible, solemn
pisser of you in America, Lar.

- No, I'll be 63 next birthday.

And though I'm good
and healthy, thank God,

still, I suppose I need
a little bit more rest

than what I used to.

So, I've a little
proposal to make.

I would like you, Patricia,
to come and live here,

because I decided to leave
this house and farm to you.

- Uncle Lar.
- Welcome, Patricia.

- It's good of you to
think so highly of me.

There's nothing I'd rather do
than help you run the farm.

But not yet.

I feel I'm not yet quite
ready for the farming life.

I've accepted a teaching
job in Dublin.

- That cess pit?

- It's the sort of place I
hope where I might wake up

with new thoughts every day.

Just a year, Uncle Lar.

- Well, Patricia,

I suppose you must
follow your nose.

Or you'll live
forevermore with regrets.

We'll do without you for
a year, but no longer.

And we don't want you picking
up those city ways up there.

We want the girl we know.

(dramatic music)

(gentle Irish music)

- An unusual position
to find the body

in a crime of this sort.

- Yes.

It seems unlikely
that the murderer

is a missionary.

- Radioactivity, then, is
probably as familiar to you all

as nuclear power or
the atomic bomb.

I'll have that lipstick,
thank you, Fiona.

With your pretty complexion,
I should've thought

you could use something pinker.

Tomorrow we'll start by
defining exactly

what an isotope is.

(bell ringing)

Alright, dismissed.

Fiona, don't do it again.

- Thank you.

(boys yelling)

- Cannibals before a feast,
following a long hunger.

Miss Teeling, my name is Robert
Foxley, the English master.

The headmaster would like
you to join us

for his beginning of
term pep talk.

Perhaps you'd be free for
a drink after?

- Oh, I'd like that.

Please call me Patricia.

- Where do you live, Patricia?

- I've clean forgotten,
I've got an appointment

to go see a place in
Liza Park at six o'clock.

Been all over town for
the last week

without seeing anything I can
afford or bear to live in.

♪ Don't know what you want

♪ Look me in the eye
and tell me something ♪

♪ I wanna hear

♪ You say you wanna
take a drive ♪

♪ Over the bridge to
the other side ♪

- I needed that.

- Here, take this home,
blow it up at your leisure.

- Now, why should I do that?

- Try it and see.

It can be very relaxing
after a grueling day.

But you've got to give
it a big puff

to start it off, remember?

- Thank you, bye-bye.
- Bye.

(gently dramatic music)

(suspenseful music)

- Mrs. O'Malley.

- Packing up a young life,
Inspector,

it's terrible hard.

- We've been through the list
of the men your daughter knew.

Did you notice anything
unusual in her behavior lately?

(siren blaring)

(Mrs. O'Malley crying)

- Oh, I like it, it has
great character.

- I call that bed the grand lit.

It looks fit for a
king's mistress.

If you come, we'll
have to share it.

I myself wouldn't share
with just anyone,

and not everyone would
want to share with me.

- It's a tricky business,
I agree.

- Shall I show you the rest?

- Oh please.

- Oh, I'm Monica Quigley,
by the way,

I'm from Molly Shannon.

It's a bit old-fashioned,
I'm afraid.

Do you mind if I ask
you a personal question?

- I'll tell you when I hear it.

- Are you,

are you a virgin?

- Are you?

- Well, yes I am, but
rather defensive about it,

I must say.

The last girl who shared
this flat with me

lost hers when she was here.

The way she'd carried on,
you'd think she'd been elected

Miss Ireland, or won the
prize for best heifer

at the county fair, more likely.

She tried to make me
feel totally inadequate.

So it's not that I expect
you to be one,

but I'd really like to
know how you feel about it.

- Like a good many other girls,

I gave mine away at college
to a man I thought I loved.

I made a mistake.

- The loo.

You said mistake, so it was bad?

- Not at all.

Just discovered that intimate
that men are more passionate

than we are.

There was I, blazing
away like a forest fire,

while he was just a little
candle guttering there

in the dark.

I said to myself they
can't all be like that.

I decided to wait.

- So you're still waiting.

Coffee?
- Thanks.

- The truth is, I've come
to Dublin to look around.

If I find what I'm looking for,

I'm not going up to him
to hit him over the head

with my club and drag him
back to my cave.

But I am going to make damn
sure he knows I'm here.

- Do you think jumping into
his bed is the best way?

Cream?
- A little.

- I just don't know, because
I think we dream of the man

we love before we meet him.

When we finally see him
in the flesh,

he is the dream made real.

- What's he like, the man
in your dream?

- He is a beautiful rock.

- (laughing) A rock, hard then?

- Always hard.

Not only hard, but strong,
reliable, inscrutable.

I mean, where's the
excitement in a man

you can read like a book?

An imaginative rock,
that's all I want.

(laughing)

- If you want to share this
flat with me, you're welcome.

We'll go and tell Mr.
Mulally, our idea landlord.

He's about 109, stone deaf,

and thinks of
nothing but horses.

Mr. Mullally! Mr. Mullally!

This is Patricia Teeling,

who's going to share
the flat with me.

- Welcome, you're very welcome.

Giransole will win at
Dunkirk for tomorrow,

if he'd win from a short
head from Filly.

- Can I get you anything
from the shops tomorrow?

- Last time I rode was at
the (mumbles).

I was only an extra, but he
said I could handle a horse.

- We must leave you.

- He which has no (mumbles).

- Goodbye!

- All those girls need is
a little touch of fairy

in the night.

- The women of Dublin
should be on their guard

against a very
persuasive stranger.

(lively dance music)

- What do you do then?

- I have a very keen nose.

I sniff for a firm of
coffee importers.

- I translate English into
Medieval Irish.

I just finished Irish
The Great Gatsby.

It was terrible hard
finding a publisher for it.

- I'm not surprised, excuse me.

♪ You mean everything to me

♪ Just can't take no more

- I'll be waiting for you.

- It was a wreck tonight, more
dogs than the lot of them.

He wasn't even good-looking.

He was dancing with this
red-faced girl,

and what does he do but
try to relieve himself

against my leg.

I had to tell him this
was a dance hall

and not a pumping station.

- Ah, there you are.

(speaking in a foreign language)

- How about a little,
shall we say,

(speaking in a
foreign language)?

- Thank you very much.

♪ You know those other guys

♪ The things they
really feel inside ♪

♪ If you won't show
your heart to me ♪

♪ Set me free

♪ Now the time has come

♪ To show you how I feel

- Thank you, monsieur, I
enjoyed that immensely.

What do you do when
you're not being crossed

between John
Travolta and Nurian?

- Well, I'm an osteopath.

Albanian osteopaths,
they're very rare, too.

And you?

- I'm a veterinarian,
a lady vet,

just as rare, I should say.

I've got to work tomorrow,
good night.

- Oh, can I see you home?

- I'm a lone ranger.

I come dancing on me
own and go home alone.

But if you want to
do me a favor,

you can walk me to the door.

That way Harry Halitosis
over there can hardly follow.

- Come on, come on then.

- You must be Patricia Teeling.

- Oh yes.

- I'm Fionnuala Sullivan.

My husband and I drove
through earlier.

I wish he was here to
help you with your cases.

Let's have a little drink
and I'll put these upstairs.

- Oh, how kind you are.

Where I come from in
the country,

they all think Dubliners
are all so unfriendly.

Marvelous colors.

Signed Sullivan.

Do you or your husband do these?

- I did.

Danny's a writer.

He finds it very hard to write.

I sometimes thinks he just
enjoys the idea

of being a writer.

I'm afraid it makes him
rather angry.

- Do you regret marrying?

I'm sorry, what a rude question.

- It's okay.
- Thank you.

- Danny once told me that
I had the face

of a pre-Raphaelite angel.

I didn't know then that he
spent words as recklessly

as he spends money.

Yes, I do sometimes regret.

- But you still love him?

- Just occasionally.

Much of the time I hate him.

Marriage is a bed of nails,
Patricia.

Don't let anyone ever
tell you different.

(suspenseful music)

(keys rattling)

- The American
downstairs just came in.

I think he's beating her again.

(birds chirping)
(faint upbeat music playing)

(doorbell ringing)
- [Man] Yeah, wait a minute.

- Is Fionnuala there?

It's Patricia Teeling
from upstairs.

I just wanted to
borrow some milk.

It's you.

- Hello there.

Oh listen, I'm Danny Sullivan,

and I'm not the
Albanian osteopath.

- Well, I'm not a lady vet,
but still.

- Can you tell me how you
discovered where I live?

- I moved in upstairs,
before I met you.

Where's Fionnuala?

- Gone, visit a friend.

Did I hear you say milk?

What a coincidence, the
undisputed queen of the ballroom

turns out to be the
girl next door.

- Thank you very much.

- Will you come have that
drink with me one evening?

- I don't think so.

- Think, what does that mean,
think?

- It means I'm thinking
about your wife.

- She's often glad to see
the back of me.

- Bye.

♪ Lovers everywhere
of strangers ♪

♪ Plying you with
cheap champagne ♪

♪ That may not be romance

♪ But just me half a chance

♪ I'd do it all again

♪ Cynics say love
leads to danger ♪

♪ Might be wiser to abstain

♪ But if there's bliss in
store for me, why resist ♪

- Your wine, monsieur.

♪ I'd do it all again

♪ I should know by now
which way the wind blows ♪

♪ Experience has made me
weather-wise ♪

♪ So why is it I'm
always chasing rainbows ♪

♪ While some sweet talking guy

(man gargling)

♪ That's no reason to complain

- I'm afraid it lacks shoulder.

- Do you mean body, sir?

- Well, as for the body,
who knows.

There isn't even a shoulder.

- I'll call the manager sir.

- See, I'm not saying that
this is above the milk bottle,

but maybe that's it.

It's quite in articulate.

- I think what you deserve sir

is one of my more
judicious wines.

(couple laughing)

- I have a favor to ask you,
Patricia.

I'd be very grateful if
you'd let me rub your tummy.

- What, whatever for?

- It's very soothing.

When I was a little boy,
I suffered from wind.

So my mother would put me
lying on my back in bed

and rub my tummy for hours.

- So why do you want
to rub mine?

I should have thought you would
want someone to rub yours.

- I like you, Patricia.

I just want you to see
how nice it is.

This seat tilts back, see?

- I don't feel like it
this evening, Robert.

Perhaps another time.

- I'm not very good with women.

I always say or do
the wrong thing.

- You're doing very well.

Did you love your mother?

- I was lucky, she died
when I was 10,

before I had time to
outgrow her.

You'll make a good
mother Patricia.

When I saw you on that
first day of term,

I said to myself, she's
a born mother.

Do you,

do you think it's unnatural
for a man to desire a son

from the womb of a
particular girl?

To think of that before
he thinks of the act

that precedes it?

- It isn't unnatural, exactly.

But it certainly is unusual.

Thank you for a memorable
dinner, Robert.

Good night.

- When you think of men,
what do you see?

- Usually I see their faces,

some smooth and soft,
some hard and lean.

I like the lean ones best.

- For all your experience,
you're very pure, Patricia.

When I was 16, I used
to imagine men's faces.

But when I began
following rugby,

I could only think of their
thighs and male appendages.

I used to think that
having imaginings like that

was a terrible curse,

till my brother told me
he used to always

think of women stark naked.

That is, if he bothered to
think about them at all.

- I think what men
really value in life

is that we're a
captive audience.

They talk such a lot of bull.

(gently dramatic music)

(woman distantly chatting)

- You have not gone to
mass this morning.

- It's you.

How do you know, I
could have gone earlier.

- You have the air of a
contented truant.

Here.

Oh look, those swans
remind me of an experience

I once had when I was a boy.

I was walking along the
river when I saw seven

big sewer rats, and then they
were attacking another one.

Loud casting, fought back
as he retreated.

And when he found
himself on the bank,

he turned and jumped in.

The others gathered on a
large stone and watched

as he swam for the
opposite bank.

Well, he was swimming so
fast he couldn't have seen

the ladylike swan with
three little cygnets

until he was within
two feet of her.

They dived to avoid her.

But with a sudden
dart of her neck,

she flicked him in the
air, just like a coin.

Rat came down on his back,
and she picked him up

and flung him once again,

while the three little
cygnets clung

in a little cluster behind her.

- So,

what happened then?

- Well, the rat came down,
but this time he didn't swim.

The water folded over him.

And for a moment, he
floated on the surface,

just a moment, until the
current just (slurps)

pulled him under.

(sighs) You know, I think of
that incident nearly every day.

- It's a story of a born loser.

- Somehow I have the odd feeling

that's the story of my life.

- Have you written about it?

- No, no, things that
matter to me as a man,

I just can't face as a writer.

- Maybe you will.

- Will you have that
drink with me now?

- Mm-hm.
- Yeah.

- [Reporter] New evidence has
emerged in the investigation

into the murder of
Kathy O'Malley,

the Garda announced today.

Police wish to hear from
anyone who may have received

disturbing, anonymous
telephone calls

over the last two weeks.

They have reason to believe
the murder of Kathy O'Malley

may be linked to another
as-of-yet unsolved murder.

- I can sense this wall
between myself

and everything I do.

I know there's a wind blowing.

But I can't feel it on my face.

Indifference, it's not
like paralysis.

Oh Patricia, I think you
could help me.

I need to talk to
someone with the gift

of first-hand experience.

All I need is to meet you
for a drink, conversation,

now and again.

- We'll see.

(light acoustic music)

Absolutely no hawkers or
solicitors today.

This is the Sabbath, have
you no respect?

- Danny.

Ow.

I brought some red
wine and cheese.

Anyway, what was that all about?

- Sh, I'm writing a
weightless story

for the New Yorker
Magazine about bums,

which you Irish call tinkers.

Anyway, it's the last paragraph.

I'll be just a minute.

(typewriter keys clacking)

Oh yes, the kitchen, it's
through there.

- Have you ever sold a story
to The New Yorker before?

- [Danny] No, no I haven't.

But a fellow I met in the
pub I met last night told me

I could live in comfort on
three New Yorker stories a year.

Think about it, only
12,000 words.

- Why does he need so
many scalpels?

- Hmm?
- The man who lives here.

- Is he a butcher or a surgeon?

- He's a gay engineer, and
I'm looking after his cats

while he's skiing
somewhere in Switzerland.

But I do see what you mean.

Perhaps he's the Dublin
Ripper in his spare time.

- (giggling) I think you
brought me here

under false pretenses.

You said you needed inspiration,

but you finished your story.

Did you simply want
someone to bring you lunch?

- No.

No, I've asked you here to
help me conduct

a little experiment.

Come here, sit beside me,
come here.

I'm not going to touch you.

You're a suspicious creature.

Now I don't know if I've ever
mentioned this to you before,

but I happen to be a
very keen dowser.

- [Patricia] You look for
water with a hazel rod?

- Among other things, I
sometimes look

for metal, for example.

Now I want to perform a
dowsing experiment on you.

- [Patricia] And what do
I do while you're dowsing?

- I'm going to ask you
to hide a coin,

a 10 penny piece in
your underclothes.

And with the help of
my dowsing rod

I am going to find it, ha ha ha.

Watch, watch, watch.
- Wait.

- No, this is how it works.

Oh you see, you see, watch.

Oh, there's something down
there, uh oh, uh oh, oh!

Obviously your bladder.

- Well, I must say you're
a trier, an original, too.

- I'm perfectly serious.

Here's a 10 penny piece.

I'm going to leave the room
while you lie on the sofa.

All right, all right.

All right.

No, no, not in your clothes, no.

No, in your underclothes.

And you'll have plenty of
time to use your imagination,

because I have to make
a phone call.

(gentle music)

(door creaking)

- [Danny] You don't know me.

I follow you every day,
walking behind you

as you shop for groceries.

I know your crystal
glass ankles,

that crimson skirt of yours,

the one that clings so
beguilingly to your ass.

Like an aqua knight, I raise
your chestuble and have you

over a parked Toyota.

I like the erotic wrinkles
of your crotchless panties.

Why crotchless panties, you
may, in your innocence ask?

Well, if they weren't
crotchless, how could I have you

while you're waiting for
the traffic light to change?

Now, you must go shopping
tomorrow at 3:32 p.m.

Then I will have you twice

before the post office
clock chimes four.

Look, where I come, the
floor of cream-colored blood,

marbling the glorious
crimson of your ass.

- Hello? Hello?

All right, don't answer
if you don't want to.

But let me tell you, he's
just a crazy panty fetishist.

Hello?

How can you frighten
some innocent girl

with your disgusting ravings?

- That was my wife.

If a man can't make an obscene
phone call to his wife,

what the hell is the
world coming to, anyway?

- Did she know it was you?

- No, no, she thought it
was Albanian osteopath.

Look Patricia, it'd hurt her
terribly if she knew the truth.

That's why I cut the phone wire.

- You're the Albanian osteopath!

Oh Lord, the whole
thing's so slimy enough,

I can't wait to get home
and take a bath.

Now you've seen your pair
of panties for the day.

You can go off to the
loo and relieve yourself,

because I'm going home!

- Patricia, you
don't understand.

Last August, Fionnualla started
getting obscene phone calls

from a man describing himself
as an Albanian osteopath.

At first she was afraid and
asked me to listen on the phone.

Gradually, she started looking
forward to the phone calls.

Finally, she wouldn't
let me listen at all.

Okay, okay, last Christmas,
the phone calls stopped.

Fionnuala gets depressed,
Patricia.

Look, she didn't even
let me answer the phone.

She thought every time
it rang, it was for her.

I'm telling you the truth,
Patricia!

- After you left this
morning, Robert Foxley called

unexpectedly to suggest
that we go for a walk.

You don't mind my going
out with him, do you?

- Bless you, my children,
is all I can say.

Did he want to
stroke your tummy?

- I'm afraid he did.

In fact, he keeps wanting
me to take what he describes

as his macro penis in my hand.

- And did you oblige him?

- I said I might,

if he swaddled it in
cling wrap first.

I was afraid it would be like
handling a stick of dynamite,

not knowing when it
would detonate.

(quirky music)

(gentle suspenseful music)

(banging)
(woman screaming)

Sounds as if Sullivan's being
particularly brutal tonight.

- I didn't think he was here.

- Oh, I almost forgot.

I passed Fionnuala on
the stairs this evening.

She wants you to come
and have a drink with her

after school, something
important to tell you.

(doorbell ringing)
(gentle harp music)

- Fionnuala, are you there?

Fionnuala, Danny,
anyone at home?

Danny, hello?

Fionnuala?

Strange.

Hello?

(dramatic music building)

Fionnuala?

Fionnuala?

(Patricia gasping and retching)

(police radio scratching)

(gentle dramatic music)

- If you change your mind,
don't hesitate to telephone.

My Aunt Shelia says
there's plenty of room

and you're very welcome.

Are you all right, are you sure?

- Now, tell me about
Danny Sullivan.

Danny Sullivan?

- We have drinks
together sometimes.

I already told you I saw
him yesterday at the place

he was housesitting
in Booterstown.

We had a sort of row.

- A row, what?

- He wanted...

I think he may have
hoped to make love to me.

But I may have misinterpreted
his intentions.

We Irish girls aren't as
worldly as you might be.

For what it's worth, I can't
imagine Danny being capable

of murdering anyone.

- We don't at the moment
have enough evidence

to suspect him of being
a murderer, Miss Teeling.

From what your roommate told me

when I interviewed her earlier,

I'm fairly certain that
you both heard the murder.

- That noise as we were
going to sleep?

- When you found her, Fionnuala
Sullivan had been dead

for at least 15 hours.

- God rest her.

- Death, my friends, tries its
best to rival procrastination

as the thief of time.

But death is only a
would-be thief

because of the resurrection.

He can filch the decaying body,

but the glorious spirit runs
like water through his fingers.

- Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

- Death has no more dominion
over our dear departed sister

Fionnuala.
- Dead, dead, dead.

- She's as dead as a
trussed turkey.

- He's an atheist.

- He's overwrought.

- You're Patricia, aren't you?

I'm from the Mail.

You can make a sum, a bit
of money, Pat.

- What, I don't know what
you're talking about.

- One, I bet you've got a
theory about the murder.

Two, I bet you could give
me a handy description

about Fionnuala and the
sort of men she liked.

Three, I bet you're
frightened to death of staying

in this place.

You give me any one of
those stories,

and I'll write you a nice,
fat check

right here on your doorstep.
(laughs)

- I really gave it to that
little vulture.

Vulture!

Jesus, I'd almost given
up on the human race.

- Oh Danny, why didn't
you tell the truth

about the phone calls
at the inquest?

- Why didn't you contradict me?

- I keep asking myself
that question.

And I think it's because
of a gut feeling

that you're innocent,
and that...

- And that?

- And that I'd be dead
myself if you were guilty.

(phone ringing)

Hello?

- [The Voice] I'd like
to speak to Miss Teeling.

- This is she.

- [The Voice] I have something
to tell you about yourself,

something you may never
have realized.

The universe is your
box of toys.

You dabble your fingers
in the day fall.

You are gold dusty
with tumbling,

a good word amongst the stars.

You make brightness your
(newspapers rattling).

With your broken fancies,
you run wild

over the fields of ether.

You are my secret passion.

And not even he who
chases the rolling world

can take you away from me.

With a kiss for every
breath you will draw

until you hear again from
me, I give you goodbye.

- Hello, Danny?

Is that you?

- Oh and get them to put
a tap on Sullivan's phone.

- We'll need a warrant for that.

- I know, get it.
- Okay.

- I'm very glad you
got on to us.

I'd been going over the
evidence you gave at the inquest

with great care, and I think
you may have missing pieces

of the jigsaw puzzle, even
though you don't know it.

- Oh, I've been quite
sure I've told you

everything I know.

- You are quite sure that Danny
Sullivan was not your lover?

- I know he was not.

It's not something about
which I can imagine

being unsure.

- If you had to single out

a quality of Danny Sullivan's
that most struck you,

what would it be?

- Innocence.

He has a degree of innocence

of which no Irishman
can conceive.

- Innocence, Miss Teeling?

- Well, let's call it
purity of spirit.

He's that rare bird
these days, a romantic.

- For that reason, if
for no other,

you should beware of Danny
Sullivan, Miss Teeling.

Now did the voice on the

telephone sound like Mr.
Sullivan?

- I don't believe so.

It was the voice of a
superior news reader,

or a lector in a cathedral
reading something grand

like Isaiah or St. Paul,

a dark syrupy voice.

If Danny could do it, I'd
say he missed his vocation.

- Interesting.

Now I'm not trying to alarm you,

but I am asking you to
be on your guard

and to remember that I
shall not be far away.

Now and then you may see me

or Sergeant Forley in
the distance.

All it means is that
we're looking after you.

- Goodbye, Inspector.
- Goodbye, Miss Teeling.

- Your breath, Inspector,
smells of,

I thought it was pipe
tobacco, but it was of

sweet basil, delicious.

(gentle music)

- [Mother] Dear Patricia,

I wish you had listened
to your mom for once

and not gone
gallivanting up to Dublin.

Your cousin who is
down from Donegal

staying with your Uncle Lar,

and may be thinking of
taking your place altogether.

It's high time you came
home and visit.

Yous got your uncle back
in the drinking game,

and him a teetotaler
these 20 years.

- Reckon you're not
used to this.

- Used to it?

My mom and I did this for my dad

more times than I
care to remember.

I never participated,
sit (shrieking).

There's an act to this,
hard to remember.

(Uncle Lar mumbling)

- No, stay, have a drink.

- I'm going back to Dublin,
good night.

- You're a cold fish, teach,
snob.

(gentle Irish music)

(doorbell ringing)

- Danny, care to go
to Punchestown?

- To the races?
- To the races.

- Fantastic, I'll be
right there.

I thought of slashing
my wrists from boredom.

But you talked me out of it.

I thought you were
somewhere in the country?

- Country life is not
what it used to be.

- What happened, did you
have a row with your uncle?

- No, I decided the
Guinness is better in town.

- Oh, what a girl you are,
Patricia, oh.

Let's go win a fortune.

Suddenly you've made
me feel lucky.

(lively music)

♪ Won't you come home with me

♪ Won't you come home

♪ You've been away too long

- Papal Slipper jumped
like a cat at Leopardstown.

Would've won, too, if it
hadn't rained that night.

- I was talking to a
stable lad this morning,

and he said he has this
human side, too.

He wanders around the yard,

puts his head into the
kitchen door.

This morning, the trainer's
boy burned some toast.

And you won't believe this now,

but he ate a bit of it
for his breakfast.

- I'm following those guys.

I had burned toast
for breakfast.

I must put money on
Papal Slipper

before the odds
start to shorten.

Now don't move, don't move a
muscle, I'll be right back.

Our fortunes are made.

- And what's your choice
for the big race?

- Number four, I was
thinking about Papal Slipper.

- If I were you, I'd put
your money on Phlogiston,

number three.

- But Phlogiston is a
ranked outsider.

He's 40 to one.

What about Papal Slipper?

They say he's had burned
toast for breakfast.

- It's burned toast,
Miss Teeling,

but 10 pounds of rolled oats.

- Is that bad?

- It isn't good.

You should be more careful
where you get your information.

And if you'll forgive a
policeman for speaking frankly

in the course of his duty,

and more careful in the
company you keep.

Now when I saw you last, you
spoke of Sullivan's innocence.

Remember, the innocence of
the truly mad is legendary.

(people chattering)

- [Announcer] The white
dragon's been raised,

and they're off.

In the early stages,
Plyman's Lunch is the leader

with Kiss Me Quick and
Master's Mate also prominent.

Papal Slipper up with them,
too, as they come down

past the stands, away from
the first fence in the gray.

Plyman's Lunch the leader.

Phlogiston moving up on
the far slide.

Then Papal Slipper, then
a gap to Kiss Me Quick.

Behind Kiss Me Quick
comes Master's Knee.

Back in view and going
down the far side,

away from that bank,
Phlogiston has moved up

to take the lead.

Papal Slipper coming alongside
- Phlogiston!

as they go to the next.

Papal Slipper makes a bad
mistake, and he's down.

Papal Slipper is gone.

He's hampered a few and and
Aaron Nicola comes through

to lead over the
fifth room home.

Phlogiston moving up
- Phlogiston!

and moving into second place.

Smacking Progress beginning
to make round just behind him.

Zroom Baba coming into it
on the outside.

Calico Boy is next.

A slow jump there by
Smacking Progress,

but Phlogiston jumped
it really well.

Our preferred last,
Aaron Nickel the leader,

Phlogiston second, and Smacking
Progress made a mistake.

The rider did very well
to stay in the saddle.

Going away now from the
second last fence,

Phlogiston moving up smoothly
- Phlogiston!

as they straighten for
the final fence.

Aaron Nickel still the leader.

Phlogiston coming very
strongly on the far side.

Sanford's Paradise, and
Melodrama there as well, too.

Racing down towards the
final fence now.

And Phlogiston has been been
switched to the stand side

as Sanford's Paradise comes
to challenge between them.

A mistake by Sanford's Paradise,

but he's away from the
fence in front.

Fighting back from the
stand is Phlogiston.

They're neck-in-neck as they
race inside the last 250 yards.

Sanford's Paradise with
Phlogiston on the near side,

as Ferry closed between them
- Phlogiston!

as they go to the line.

A very close one, a
photo finish.

- To Phlogiston, may
he live forever

in a perfect stud farm, and
cover more beautiful mares

than any other stallion
ever dreamed of.

- Unfortunately, poor
Phlogiston is a gelding.

But I'm not.

Shall we go home to bed?

- You already know my
answer to that.

- Patricia, if you think
I'm just looking

for some quick nookie,
you're wrong.

Did I ever tell you that
ever since the inquest,

I've had the feeling that
damned inspector

has been following me?

See him there?

- I do, I rather like his face.

- He's just trying to upset me.

He walks like a barnacle goose.

I call him Goosefoot.

Let's go bait him with a
little probing wit, shall we?

- Oh, you must be mad.
- Come on, come on.

- Come on, come on.

♪ I drew away from the
hustling crowd ♪

♪ And all that rat race
noise that fill the street ♪

- Where's he gone?

♪ The only place I know

♪ Where you'd like to wait

- Do you mind if we join you?

- Not at all.

- Oh, we were having fun
over on the other side.

Well, we saw you all alone,

so we thought we'd
come over here

and spread a little
sweetness and light.

- Two elusive, but
fine qualities.

You might find you have
abundance in one corner,

only to discover
they've deserted you

by the time you cross the room.

- Tell me, have you
ever heard of goosefoot?

- I know it as well
as my own name.

But have you heard of
goosefooting,

sometimes called first footing?

It's common in the north.

Presbyterians who celebrate
the Scottish feast of Hogmanay

sometimes mistake a Catholic
house for one of their own.

They cross the threshold,
expecting to kiss the lassies,

but are promptly goosed
by the head of the family

for their pains.

- The goosefoot that I have
in mind has nothing to do

with Irish tribal warfare.

No, it's a weed-like,
evil smelling plant

with a leaf like the
foot of a goose.

- Now there you're quite wrong,
Danny.

It is the common name
for some members

of the Chenopodioideae,

lot of important vegetables.

- I was going to say,
doesn't it include spinach?

- Absolutely, and mango
wars and some beets.

- You know, well, I think
I've been seeing a lot of you

recently, Inspector,
what's your name again?

- Inspector Goosefoot, but
minor, I thought you know.

A policeman by profession, but
birdwatching is my real love.

I'm fond of watching the
nocturnal birds, you know,

the birds of prey.

- Danny, I'm feeling
rather tired.

This has been a momentous day.

- [Inspector] Oh, must
you go so soon?

- Goodbye.

- I was beginning to
enjoy our little chat.

(phone ringing)
(gentle dramatic music)

- Hello?

- [The Voice] How refreshing
it was to walk down

Pembrooke Road at
your side today.

The swing of your pleated
skirt was like the swing

of the open sea.

You wore the breezes
of the country

as you paused by the
Grand Canal.

I stood at your shoulder,

breathing the
fragrance of your hair

as you watched the lock
gates spill and spew.

You turned for home, and
again I went with you,

envying every pavement
slab that bore the pressure

of your heel.

I love you, Patricia.
(phone clicks)

(Patricia sighs)

(choirboy singing)

(boys choir singing)

- A few words from
the Holy Gospel

according to Saint John
from chapter 20,

beginning at verse four.

So they both ran together,

and the other disciple
did outrun Peter,

and came first to the sepulcher.

And he, swooping down,
looking in--

- [The Voice] Saw the
linen clothes lying.

Yet he went not in.

The meteors nuzzled
their noses in your hand.

You tease into growling the
kenneled thunder, Patricia.

The orbs of heaven
are your eyes.

- Then went he in also,
that other disciple,

which came first to
the sepulcher.

And he saw and believed.

(Irish dance music)

- [Cousin] What are
you gonna have?

- A large whiskey, if you will.

Will you have a whiskey, too,
Patricia?

- It will, tonight's the
night I graduate

from stout to whiskey.

It's been a hard week.

- Right, hey Peter, can I
have a pint of Guinness,

a large and small stout, please?

Thank you.

- You're a rare girl, Patricia.

I was afraid I was in
for a lecture from you.

And here you are,
keeping me company.

We must celebrate
your homecoming.

- I don't believe it.

- I got up this morning,
found you gone,

so I decided it was time for
me to explore the country.

I took a room upstairs.

- Uncle Lar, this is Danny
Sullivan from Dublin.

- Pleased to meet you, sir.

- Likewise, sir.

- And this, Danny, is
my cousin Hugh.

- Slainte.
- Aye.

- What's this, spinach?

- No, it's goosefoot.

You've never heard of it before?

It's very good when the
leaves are young.

It's an odd name for
it, I suppose, isn't it?

- Do you always eat so late,
or so early?

Plays hell with your stomach.

- I won't be able to
sleep right,

unless I sit down for a
good bast before turning in.

Tell me,

are you one of these fellas
that writes for the newspapers

and their lives sound like
one disaster after another,

you know, a farmer
killed by tractor,

husband murdered his wife.

- He writes fiction,
Uncle Lar, short stories.

- Ah, stories, is it?

I think he'd like the
story about Red Morgan.

(Hugh speaking with mouth full)

- You know, when I went
to America first,

I worked for this stock
farmer called Red Morgan.

One day, his wife vanished,
she never came back.

He scoured the countryside
for miles around,

no sign of her.

And then, it was nine years
later, Red Morgan died,

left me his farm.

He had no family himself.

Then one day, Danny, one
day I was crossing the path,

and I noticed my dog sniffing

around this old red tar barrel.

I trust to have a look,

and I noticed where the
rust had eaten a hole

through the side of the barrel.

There was this bone
sticking out.

I looked in the barrel, and
there was this human skeleton.

Red Morgan killed his wife,
put her in the barrel,

and sealed it up again.

Red Morgan, and that old barrel
at the end of his paddock,

as a mausoleum to admire every
day till the day he died.

I bet you, Danny, there's
lots of murderers like him

walking around today, scot-free.

- You would think that a
murderer would have cold eyes.

- Ah no, not a bit.

Red Morgan isn't the
only murderer I've known.

No difference in their
eyes between Danny's there

and my own.

Anyway, most murderers
are at an impasse.

What do you think, Dan?

- I'll tell you what I think!

I think you think you're
very clever, talk of murder.

You even talk of goosefoot!

- Danny sit down,
there's something--

- You've got a lot of
nerve after misleading me

the way you have.

It was Uncle Lar this,
Uncle Lar that.

What do I find when I get here?

A wicked old man with
the cunning of the devil.

All he can do is follow
me with his hinting.

- That's enough!

- Oh, I've been goaded
before and I haven't budged.

Now it's your turn to worry,
Patricia.

Sleep on that, if you can.

- What did you put in
his Guinness?

- Danny, please, let me
drive you back to the pub.

- I know perfectly well
where I'm going.

And you are the last person
I wanna take with me.

- Danny, please.

- You kept me dangling
for six months

while you philosophize
about your precious twat.

- Please don't say that.
- You're not a woman.

- No, you're a monster!
- Please don't say that!

- Prick-teasing tomboy.

- Danny, don't, please don't.

- Don't touch me, bitch!
- Please don't say that, no!

(birds chirping)

(dramatic music)

- [Woman] Oh, it's an
emergency (mumbling).

- I didn't think he'd
go so quick.

- What is it?

- Lar's dead.

- Must have been that big
dinner we had,

laid heavy on his heart.

I heard a noise in his
room, but when I got there,

he was dead.

- The will is very simple.

It says in effect, the
farm in its entirety

is left to Hugh Teeling.

- It's all right, Mom.

(sad, dramatic music)

(beeping)

- [The Voice] You've led me
down the labyrinthian ways

of your own mind, but
still I'm there.

There is no escape from my
inevitable embrace, Patricia.

I have touched the sheets that
kiss your body every night.

I have breathed the scent of
you from the most intimate

of your garments.

Wherever you go, in the
city or countryside,

in the echo of your footfalls,
listen for my footsteps,

for they are always there.

For behind you and beside you,

around you and within you,
I am there.

(doorbell ringing)

Wherever you go, it is
only a matter of time

until you are wholly mine.

(gentle suspenseful music)

(dramatic music
building in intensity)

(music building in suspense)

(thunder rumbling)

Turned for home, and
again I went with you,

envying every pavement
slab that bore the pressure

of your heel.

I love you, Patricia.

(dogs barking)

(church bells ringing)

- Inspector McMyler.

I tried to phone you at
your office, but--

- Oh, I'm off-duty today.

- I had another phone call,

and a visitor, I'm not sure who.

I escaped out the back way--

- Poor Miss Teeling, you're
having a bad time of it.

Do come in and have a
drink, a glass of wine.

Tell me all about it.

That's right, and check
it out at once, will you?

And keep me informed, right.

Well, Sergeant Forley
is on his way

to look into this matter.

Now how's your drink going.

- Oh, I'm fine.
- Just a drop.

- Thanks.
- There, no harm in that.

- Do you live alone, Inspector?

- I used to share with my
sister, who died four years ago.

Now, quite alone.

- When do you listen to music?

- Only on Sunday mornings.

When the sun is up, I
play Handel and Corelli.

And I play Bach mid-rinse.

- Bach, I love Bach.

What beautiful binding.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead.

- An ancient Buddhist
guide to the afterlife.

You should read it.

I think you'll find
it reassuring.

I do, I'm so often close
to the business of dying.

- You are?

- Only in my work, you know.

- Oh, of course. (giggling)

This has been very pleasant.

That drink, just what I needed.

Did you say Sergeant
Forley will be waiting?

I suppose I better be off now.

- Well, if he's found anything
untoward, he'll let me know.

We have an officer waiting
for you, don't worry.

Just before you go, would
you like to see

a little hobby of mine?

- Mm, yes.

- Good, it's just through here.

(suspenseful music)

- Why'd you lock the door?

- So we won't be disturbed.

As you can see, I've been
preoccupied with you, Patricia.

Patricia, for nine very
happy months.

I know this must
come as a shock.

- I had no idea.

- How could you know?

You thought I was keeping
an eye on Sullivan,

whereas my only wish was
to be near you.

- Why didn't you tell me?

If only I'd known.

- It wouldn't have
been the same.

I wanted to have you for myself.

But because of my nature, I
had to go the long way around.

- Oh, you have me now.

- Do you like my pictures?

- They're very professional.

I had no idea I
looked so soulful.

- I'd seen you come out of
Fionnuala Sullivan's house.

And then I saw you in
Grafton Street,

waiting to cross the road.

You're actually most spiritual
with the wind in your hair.

And that is back at the pub,

and you were holding
your cigarette in a tin,

from which you kept
your loose change.

It was as though all you
required in life

could be contained in a
two-ounce tobacco tin.

And that's when I really
fell in love with you.

- In love?

- Oh, if only you could
see your skirts a-sway.

No, skirts that swirl like
a stately ship of tarsis.

- So it was you that made all
those literary phone calls?

They were wonderfully poetic.

I really think I should go now.

- Oh, of course, of course.

But before you go, I
want to take a picture

of you as La Morphy,

the lady in the picture
over the bed.

Before I met you, she was
my ideal of Irish womanhood,

Mary Louise O'Murphy.

She rose, or lay down,
to become one of Louis XV

of France's favorite mistresses.

I want to take a photograph
of you in that position.

I'm certain that your lady body
is even lovelier than hers.

- Oh no, please, I'm not
at all beautiful naked.

My hips are too wide.

My breasts are too small.

Do you realize I don't
even know your first name?

- Seamus, are you frightened,
Patricia?

(gentle music)

- Do, do knives
interest you at all?

Nothing in my view, not gold,
not silver, not platinum,

is as beautiful as
tempered steel.

The blue tinge it has,
the coldness to the touch.

(dramatic musical bursts)

The sharpness of it.

I want you to undress, Patricia.

That's grand, now look
at the picture, Patricia.

See how her leg, her right
leg, stretched out there.

And bring the other one
just down a bit,

over the edge of the couch.

Now your left arm out
a little bit.

And the other one up high.

That's, oh that's beautiful,
beautiful, Patricia.

Bold, brave Patricia.

Inside you're very,
very frightened,

but you're too proud to show it.

And I admire that.

(lively music)

Ah, that's terrific, terrific.

Now, that's right, now your
chin up, just a fraction.

That's it, that's it.

Now look, no, no, don't
smile, don't smile.

That's beautiful, yes.

That's it.

Now another one, just like that.

Lift your head a
little bit more.

That's it, that's the one.

Now imagine, imagine I'm
the horny king himself,

coming to give you the
great honor of enjoying you.

That's it, oh that's grand, yes.

Beautiful, Patricia.

Now one more just like that,
hold it.

That's it, that's beautiful,
Patricia.

That's grand, Patricia,
terrific.

Stay like that, now the
head up a little bit more.

Just a few more.

Raise your head, just
a little bit.

Moisten your lips, that's it.

That's grand.

You have a sort of
aura about you.

That's it, terrific.

Wonderful.

You know, the painter Rubens
tends to give his women

dimples at the top of
their rear cleft.

I mention it because I
find yours very affecting.

(screeching dramatic music)

I find sometimes that fear
makes the flesh go cold.

Oh, it isn't just some metaphor
from some old thriller,

her blood ran cold.

It did because right here,

they get a cold sweat,
they really do.

Not surprising, you're
warm and dry, Patricia.

Oh now, I've gone and marked
your back with my own blood.

I'm so sorry.

(dreamy suspenseful music)

(hands slapping flesh)

(twinkling dramatic music)

(ticking and clanking)

- I'll see you tomorrow
evening at eight, then.

You should put some alcohol
on that thumb to disinfect it.

(seagulls screeching)

I came to fetch the (speaking
in a foreign language).

Hope you're well, love Robert.

(clocks ticking)

(gentle Irish music)

Dear Sergeant, I'm leaving
on the nine o'clock ferry

for England tonight.

I'm so afraid.

I've just come face-to-face
with the murderer.

You'll think I'm raving
mad when I tell you.

It is none other than your
own Inspector McMyler.

(boat horn blaring)

(Patricia yelling)
(dramatic music)

- Think you can fake this
Patricia, you trifled with me.

You drank my wine and promised
to come back for more.

It's too late now, isn't it?

(Patricia screaming)

Patricia!

Patricia, help me!

For God's sake, help me!

(people chatting)

- Man overboard!

(dramatic music)

(gentle Irish music)

(operatic singing)