All language subtitles for [SubtitleTools.com] In.The.Land.Of.Saints.And.Sinners.2023.2160p.4K.WEB.x265.10bit.AAC5.1-[YTS.MX]_track3_[eng]

Here they come.

Let's go now, boys.

It's been pouring all year long, I think.

Oh, fucking kids.

Stop bothering him, Patrick!

Oh, that's all we need.

Why would you do something like that?

Pick that up.

Apologize to your brother.

This is not the day for this.

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

Fucking come on!

Look, just leave it!

Fucking move it!

Get in the car!

- Fucking drive! - Go, go, go!

Jesus! Will you 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 bloody blast 'em if I can't frigging see them?

Move them back up to the top of the roof there.

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 about fairness all day,

or are you gonna 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. Dostoyevski now,

a Russian writer.

Yes, I know nothing of him.

Agatha Christie's more my cup of tea.

Where are we going?

You know, I've got a bit of official business.

Mrs. Bailey come up to me and said the, uh,

welcome sign to the town, out this way,

- has gone missing. - Oh.

Now you'll see what real work entails.

God, that's a bit of a mess.

Maroon.

Burgundy.

Burgundy?

Ah, 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.

- Thank you.

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, uh, how's Brendan holding up?

He's far too worse to be getting better.

So, 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 have yet to claim responsibility.

Anyone with information about the attack

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 McGuinness, will you honor us with a song?

- Go on now, you kind folk,

want to hear an old fella sing.

My own flesh and kin wear earmuffs.

Right, out you come.

Can you not just shoot me here

to save us both this exercise?

Just keep walking, round 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.

You're 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...

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.

So, any hiccups then, Kev?

Nah, nothing.

You queer, Robert?

Your music suggests you're queer.

You slow, Kev? Hmm?

Your boots suggest you're slow.

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

That's a brilliant Moody Blues 45.

I'm gonna borrow this one.

"Indulgence draws the weak to an early grave."

Who's that?

Yeats?

It's me mother.

Who's that?

Only me, Mrs. McQue.

Oh, Finbar, how are you?

Robbie said you were coming in,

so I've made your favorite scones for you.

Oh, cherry, huh?

Raisin. I thought it was raisin.

- I could've sworn-- - Raisin it is.

You know me better than I know myself.

Oh, 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.

There 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?

Oh.

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

Some Mexican fella painted it.

Quite in vogue in America, apparently.

And worth a lot more than I was owed.

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

Ooh, I'd keep an eye out.

I'll have something else for you 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 I've made, 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, uh...

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 gonna jilt me?

Leave me with that gombeen?

Thanks.

You're gonna miss me?

Aye.

Like a hole in the head.

It's seeds you want?

Aye, Pat, seeds.

You're not one for buying seeds, Finbar.

No, not before.

Are you sure now? Seeds?

Christ, have you got any or not?

Alright.

I have, uh,

Broad beans,

cabbage, and we've carrots,

and there's other stuff there too.

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

- Hm? - Bit of Popple,

maybe some Goldenrod,

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

Goldenrod is a weed, Finbar.

Ah.

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?

Yeah.

- Hmm. - Oh, Finbar, I'm sorry, I didn't...

No, no, no, no, you're fine, 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 have met her.

Well, she was too good for me, that woman.

Same as yourself.

- I'll just be a wee moment. - Mm.

How's Moya?

If you hook a Rudd, be careful, 'cause that line

could cut into the palm of your hand, darling.

Here.

Go on. 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.

And me dead daddy used to say

that you shouldn't care for those

that don't care for you.

Hmm, 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!

Evening, Pat.

How you doing, Sinéad?

Finbar!

Surprised to see you on a busy night like this.

- Catherine. - Finbar.

He's grumpy tonight.

That old bastard? Never in your in life.

Aye. And it is my one night out.

A pint of plain for the grumpy bollocks, Sinéad,

and a Babycham for his long suffering wife.

I'll have a wee Black Bush, please.

Flashin' the cash, aye?

How trading books ever 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,

I have to admit. But I'll get him.

I'm sure you will.

- Oh, lovely. Great.

- Lovely. - Well done!

A water, please.

Fine fiddlin' 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?

Hmm.

Long ago, an Irishman came to my village

playing the most beautiful song I had 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 wee 'un alright.

She's her own woman.

We're like ships passing in the night,

me working here all the hours God sends.

Well, don't be giving her too much grief.

What's that?

Uh, the box of grub,

it tumbled into the river.

- What? - But that's on me.

I was yapping and distracting her.

Right, well...

Thanks for the heads-up.

Move your feet?

It's been ages.

Calm yourself!

- Wheee!

Woo!

I know that look.

Where are 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.

Well, you're 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. Mom says the bungalow will never be done.

You can go now.

- What? - You can go now.

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

- I said I'm fine! - Moya, what the fuck?

Where have you been?

I'm fucking starvin' here.

Who's this?

A gentleman.

Oh, just like your wee Uncle Curtis then?

You're not my uncle.

Hear, you watch your back talk!

Do you hear me?

Women, eh?

Fucking nightmares.

Well, if it isn't the wanderer back from his traveling.

- About time! - I came straight away.

I've just been waiting.

What the fuck is this?

- Apples? - I don't know. It's just what they gave me.

You've been gone for two hours and you come back with apples.

Is there something fucking wrong with you?

- Hey!

Shut the fuck up!

How the fuck 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?

- I've just been waiting down at the caravan. - Ah, there's no need

to be hanging around down there.

You just get what we need and you 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, 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,

these bruises on you?

Moya...

Did something happen

that you don't want to tell me about?

Eh?

Yo, Moya!

So the gentleman caller returns.

Morning, Sinéad.

Morning, Moya!

Hope you're not thinking about 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.

What? I can't even have a wee bit of chit-chat

with the locals?

Me and him are sweet.

Ain't that right, big man?

Ah, here we go.

Nothing like a wee bit of skinny dippin'

to work up an appetite.

Just take it and go.

I'll bring you more tonight after work.

I'm going off my fucking nut up there.

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

Fuck, yeah.

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.

I thought you were all for 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.

He's a blow-in by the name of Curtis June.

I don't care, hmm?

Not on our doorstep.

Besides, he could be IRA, hmm?

Now, good luck staying away

from them fellas for the rest of your life.

So, we just let him keep on hurting her?

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

I know.

I could 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, hmm?

Conscience clean.

She'll never tell them what he's done.

He's put the fear of God in her.

And he'll never stop.

He'll just go on tormenting others.

Robert, I know what I said about killing.

But this is different.

I want no part of it, Finbar, hmm?

Count me out.

Taking your brogues for a walk?

So, you actually can talk, huh?

Only when I'm done listening.

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

Aye.

So, you're on holiday, eh?

Aye, holiday. Fuck up.

Could've nipped off to Mallorca

and fixed my farmer's tan, but nah.

Let's all squat in the back

arse of bleeding fucking nowhere.

Listen, there's cigarettes in the front there, help yourself.

The matches are on the floor.

Funny road, never looks the same on 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 the 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?

- Ah!

Jesus.

- Ah!

Fuck!

What did I ever do to you?

Wee Moya, you bastard.

Jesus fucking Christ!

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

Jesus fucking Christ!

You... You...

You're fucking dead!

- You ballbag!

Some ginger Jesse Owens, he was.

Why'd he have a knife?

Is that something all the young ones carry?

Ah, Jesus. I wouldn't consider meself

in tune with modern youth, to be fair.

What are you doing out here?

Robert asked me to check up on you.

Oh, 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, huh?

Christ!

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

This yahoo one time,

diggin' 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 have been something like nine feet

when he was done with it. Oh,

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, 53.

There you go, Finbar.

- On me, for yesterday. - Oh.

For God's sake, 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, not long ago.

- Ask for more, 34. - A woman?

Yeah.

They're more, uh,

collected than the fellas, don't you think?

More dignity before dying.

- Jesus. - What?

- You never-- - No.

There's enough cruel men in this world.

She was cruel alright.

- Cruel lookin'. - Clickety-click, 66...

Oh, but the crying took the edge off.

Bingo!

Fuck's sake.

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

Says the one.

It's just a bit of money in me pocket when I need it.

But a body count like yours?

Now, that's psychotic.

You 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?

- Ooh!

Curtis, come on...

Conan's mouthing off in there.

You know, the day they murdered our father,

Curtis was playing football in the under-12s.

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 Mom.

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 anywhere without Curtis.

He's fucking 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.

No, I knew you would fuck it up.

Well, we got the bastards, didn't we? That's what matters.

And what about the kids? What, were they just collateral?

You know fucking rightly, I couldn't have predicted that!

You made yourself known.

Me and Séamus, we were in the clear.

They only saw the back of our heads running up the road.

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.

Could say he's doing that only too fucking well.

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

Just don't be expecting big fucking hugs

when you get back to Belfast!

Curtis!

Curtis!

- Jesus,

Doireann! What are you doing out of the bungalow?

Yesterday, did Curtis say where he was heading?

I didn't see him yesterday.

Oh, so he's missing?

Oh, thank God.

I should never have let yous back in my life.

Go on, 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?

They're probably closing in on the rest of you sorry fucking bastards.

Ma!

I'm fighting for a free Ireland

and that includes you, you cunt!

So you'd better start showing me some fucking respect!

What did he tell ya?

- Ma!

He said nothing!

But I'm not stupid, Doireann.

I read the papers!

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

Here, he swam most days!

Maybe he fucking drowned.

- Ah, Jesus.

Are you ever gonna let your age get to ya?

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

- Now, what's your excuse? - Ah!

Sure, I was about the last to arrive.

You know, I never knew the hell of war that you did.

For me, the liberation of France was, uh,

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

Did they mock you as well, when you came back?

Well, they certainly weren't up to

make me feel good about it.

They was determined to

help fight those Nazi bastards.

Even if it meant siding with the English.

And that's why I wear the uniform, you know?

I know right, I know wrong, alright?

And you need the black and white,

what with the state of the north at the minute.

And I've seen enough fighting for a lifetime.

Hey! There you go.

Did anyone come out here? Does anyone know?

- Not one soul. - So he could be back in Belfast then?

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

What if Special Branch is onto us?

Oh, wise up! Of course they're not.

Ah, fuck off!

Just give me something!

Local intel, any names around here,

- someone who'd know. - Where are you again?

- Glen, 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.

Oh, shit.

No, stay back.

Robert McQue?

No knock?

Force of habit.

Your, uh, colleague

wasn't specific about the nature of your visit.

I'm afraid his phone was being tapped

by the big fellas, I suppose, huh?

Oh, bloody paranoiacs.

Trying to find a friend

and none know the shadows better than those under the rocks.

Oh, I like that.

Oh.

Uh, this friend...

What's the name?

Curtis.

Curtis June.

That's a funny old name, huh?

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 me life met anyone called June.

- Redhead, tall, skinny fella.

Ah, it doesn't ring a bell.

You know, those bandits out by Inishwest,

they might have heard something. You give them a try.

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!

Woah, woah! Put it away, will ya?

I'm not staking me life for him.

I told him not to do it.

Who?

Finbar.

- Finbar Murphy. - Finbar Murphy.

But we parted ways.

He's no longer in my employ.

Who called the hit?

Well, you'd have to ask him that.

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

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

if you would get the--

- Robbie?

Robbie?

Robbie's not here anymore.

Where is he?

I shot him.

Believe me, he had it coming.

I'm not trying to be disrespectful or nothing.

What's your name, love?

Josie.

You have 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.

So why don't you go into your bedroom back there,

lock your door

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

Robbie isn't going anywhere.

Put that away.

Take a look at this.

Blood money?

Fuckin' massacre.

Well, thanks again, Rita.

Oh, wait a minute.

I'll teach you bits whenever you start planting,

but I can't remember everything.

- Uh-huh. - Books help.

You've done good.

It's a start.

- Good night. - Night.

It's Robert.

- Finbar. - Oh, Mrs. McQue.

Thank you for coming.

Finbar.

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

don't.

Robbie was a good man.

Of 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.

And she was talking to Robbie, though.

She said 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 siphon 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. - But why does it have to be me?

'Cause you always look lost.

Now go!

Good evening.

I'm up for the weekend,

visiting my uncle.

We got a bit, uh...

...turned around.

You wouldn't happen to 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?

Huh? Yeah.

You ever see that fella around here before?

Never have.

Says he's up to see his uncle Finbar.

- Finbar? - Mm-hmm.

The old dunce never said he had a nephew.

Hmm.

- Finbar... - I'm 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 just wait for you outside, then.

How long will you be?

Pull in over there.

Did something spook you?

Somebody's in my house.

Well, that's me unemployed then, I suppose?

Old Robert took advantage of me,

but he 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

and there's no love to be had,

I'd hardly call it running away.

Escaping is more like it.

One night,

I got meself 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.

Of course, I didn't know he was getting 130,

but that was Robert, the old sleeveen bastard.

'Twas easy money.

Ah, I lost track long ago.

How many I've killed.

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

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 neighbor, 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.

- Hey, hey.

- What are you doing? - I'm gonna fucking 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 wee bitch sent it.

Do.

Talk about a cruel woman.

Conan!

Come on!

Pew!

- Pew, pew!

Oh, God.

Grab her legs.

You go first.

Two cottages down from the crossroads,

the one with the flowers.

And 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.

Ah.

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 meself.

I'll make my own record someday.

Maybe over there in

California if we can save enough for the journey.

The people over there just seem...

...free or something.

Enjoying life.

You know what I mean?

- The game's about to start. - Okay, let's go.

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.

Well, the poor fella must have been a hermit out there,

for I'd never saw him in the town.

Went by the name of

Robert McQue.

- Did you know him at all? - Mm-mm.

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

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

You know, I was wondering

if maybe the sign had something to do with it?

You know, maybe the sign was

a sign. Anyway,

I'll get the detectives down from Dublin.

They'll be all over it.

There'll be nothing for me to do.

- Oh, here,

you never told me you had a nephew.

Aye, nice lad. Don't see him that much.

Do you mind, uh, dropping me by Sinéad's?

No, get in.

Well...

...cheers for the ride, Vinny.

Yeah, hey!

Don't be smug about it.

Can't be seen to have favorites.

Get on with you.

Go wide, guys! Go wide, man!

Back in!

- Go on! - Come on! Come on!

Stay low.

Stay out of sight,

and you come to a fucking football match.

He'll be here.

Rats. Everywhere fucking rats.

They didn't get your good side.

This pushes us into a corner, we're gonna have to leg it.

Not yet.

Anybody could recognize us, Doireann.

Curtis is dead.

Try to give an ounce of shit.

- Gerry, long ball! - Wait for them!

Let's burn the fucker's place to the ground for Curtis.

Then we get out of here. We get to Amsterdam, France maybe.

We've got that money, we can 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?

It's just for a while, until things settle down.

Am I the only one who understands

what we're fighting for here?

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're just gonna have to pry it from 'em.

I gotta find the loo. Maybe the two of you

can come up with just one fucking idea

while I'm gone.

Finbar!

Hasan.

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?

Uh, 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?

- Deereann McCann. - Ah! Ah-ah!

It's Doireann.

I've only seen it printed.

And they've printed a lot about you, lady.

You tell me who ordered the hit

or I'll put you down right here

to die in this shit-fed turf.

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

one for the other.

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 have known about his, uh...

...tendencies.

Give me the name.

Easy.

Alright, I can bring him to you.

Easier that way.

And you're just gonna 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.

Wright's?

That's it.

Full of merry fucking villagers about that time.

None of who suspect you're a murderer

bastard, I suppose?

So no tricks.

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

- do you hear me? - 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 right through this God forsaken place.

And that quaint little nosey neighbor lady of yours...

Ha! No one will be safe.

Fuckin' eejit!

You take my pistol and nip off without a pip?

Certainly into your dramatics, aren't you?

I found the leader.

She didn't take to my ceasefire.

She left me no choice.

I'm gonna 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, Jose.

The great Finbar Murphy's going to war,

and I'll be fucked if I'm missin' out on all the fun!

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. You'll 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?

I'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--

- We agreed we were-- - 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 ever 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.

Oh, Jesus. Jumpy tonight, aren't we?

Jesus, Vincent, I've got an old heart.

Aye, 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 have a peep in first,

Conan, you bring the case in after.

Why him?

Because you're shit with a pistol.

Because I went looking for Curtis

with no help from you.

Because I organized this trade

and 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, do you hear?

- Scorch the bastards. - Sure, 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 are you getting on with your Russian book?

Not finished it yet.

I dare say you would enjoy it, though.

Oh, 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 is 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! Moya! Come here. Come on.

- You have to scoot on home. - Where are we going?

This is no place for wee 'uns.

- But I'm allowed in the bar! My ma says-- - No, no, no, not tonight.

- I need you to go. - I just want Seán to meet me ma!

Not tonight. Take Seán and go home now.

- But I-- - Seán can meet your ma

some other time, okay?

Go home. Now!

String us away, lad! String it away!

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 like you said

and you can get back to your music.

We'll 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?

Huh?

The music.

Makes you want to just grab one of the nearest young dolls

and kiss the face clean off her.

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

Aren't I a bit ripe for your tongue?

Oh...

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

...Doireann.

Grateful for your charity, Finbar.

But a saint's gotta be a sinner first, don't he?

- This him? - Calm down.

- I told you, it was me. - Of course it's me.

Now, why don't we all go out back

- and--

- Get down!

Fuck!

Run! Run!

Fuck!

Hurry up!

Oh, fuck!

That's mine, you bastard.

The dumb bitch, she shot me!

- Come on!

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

Ugh!

Jesus.

Why the fuck did you come back?

Hasan, stay down!

Stay down!

All your money's in me car.

Guessing you'll get out to California before me.

Ahh!

Oh, f...

Finbar.

You're 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 me 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, uh...

You take care, yeah?