Original subtitles

- You look beautiful, Mary.

Hmm.

- Mr. Blennerhasset,

what a wonderful job you've done.

- Oh, Mary.

- Ah, let's... - My darling Mary.

- Let's not touch Mary.

- I've never seen her so alive, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- Mary.

- No, young lady, I'll think you'll find

her hair was perfect.

Let's get the photograph, shall we?

And then you can touch her all you want.

- No cheap trinkets on my Mary.

- You can get rid of this bloody thing.

I'll not have it buried with my daughter.

- I think you'll find

I had her posed in quite a dignified position.

- Ready, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- Give me a few minutes, I need to liven her up a bit.

- Oh, my Mary.

- Young man, could you put those boxes down, please,

I've got my own system.

- Mr. Blennerhasset, when can we see the photograph?

- Well, Mrs. Carew,

you haven't decided which case you want.

You could have plush-lined or you could have velvet or...

- Will we have it for the funeral?

It would be such a comfort for everyone to see it.

- Well, Mr. Carew, I'll have it for you before that.

Now could...

Stop, you're carrying that upside down.

Carruthers, could you come and help, please.

You know how to pack it.

- Not really, but God knows, I swear.

- I think velvet might be nice.

- If only Mary were alive herself to see the photograph.

- Well, unfortunately, she isn't.

- Look, I have it, I have it!

- Ah!

- Oh, that sounded like a nasty one, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- It sounded like a break.

- It might be just a fracture if you're lucky.

- I'm fine.

Carruthers, could you help me to my carriage, please?

Stand, stand, stand.

- Has much changed?

- No, Miss Vickers,

but been smoking a lot more.

- Good for you, Carruthers.

Me too.

- You don't have to do that.

- Then go to bed. - I will not go to bed.

You can't tell me what to do.

I think your mother might have just sent you here

so she could spy on me.

- Oh, no, I volunteered.

Practically caused a scene.

I need to be away from them.

All of them.

- Don't do that.

- Uncle, I want to be an actress.

- Oh.

- And they will mock me for it at home,

just like they mocked you.

- Yes,

I remember the mocking.

- I was thinking...

Now that I'm living in town,

that I could get some experience

with a bit of theater company,

and, ideally,

never go back home to our family.

- Very well, Nancy.

You can stay.

- Nah, something's not right.

- Nothing right about doing that to yourself.

- That's a queer one.

Slash both your wrists with a razor, take turns,

then sit real upright, get comfortable,

and let yourself bleed out,

calm as a lake.

- Oh yeah,

it's a queer one.

- Roper, didn't I just say it was a queer one?

- Regan, do you need to be breathing down my neck like that?

- Well, I wouldn't have to if your sketches were any better,

but they're shite, so get used to me.

- I don't think there's much point sketching this.

- Two identical suicides in one week,

and they both look very, uh...

- Lifelike?

- Yeah, now you're talking.

Did you ever get one of those memorial photographs done?

- Those odd photos you get when someone's dead?

- Yeah, one of those.

So you know the way the dead person looks alive.

- There's a fellow in town, specializes in that racket.

- Mm, Blennerhasset.

I know his work.

It's hard to tell which is actually the dead person.

- Mm, it's grim enough.

Look, McGloyn had IRB connections,

he was up to his neck in debt.

- Nah.

It's never the most obvious thing.

- It's maybe not done in Cork,

but up here, the obvious thing is usually the thing.

- Roper, you're a young buck.

Do you ever wanna sniff out the big catch

and walk your way up the ladder to Dublin Castle?

- I just want to do the job at hand, alright?

There's no point making work for yourself needlessly.

- Right.

You go through his bins outside there.

Take your time,

you don't want to miss anything.

- What? What do you mean?

- You said it yourself, boy.

It's a queer one.

It's not a delay to stop and sharpen your sight,

as my father used to say.

- Well, this won't do, for starters.

You're sure you packed the plate?

- I am personally offended by that question.

You know how meticulous I am about my work.

How do I know

you haven't become careless in your old age?

- You were looking for me, so.

- When these cases were left unattended...

- Careless.

- Did anyone interfere with this one?

- We didn't see a sinner, no.

- Well, now you're going to have to take me down

to the Carew household right away.

- No.

It's near midnight, Uncle, and they're bereaved.

- Well, don't I know it.

Would do me fit to kill myself,

listening to their maudlin chatter.

- Well, don't kill yourself until you take me there.

First thing tomorrow morning.

- Nice to see you two are still rays of sunshine.

- Come on, come on.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Brock Blennerhasset, the memorial photographer himself.

- Do I know you?

- No.

I know you.

You did a lovely portrait of my cousin, Paddy Creen.

- Creen...

Oh yes, killed by a bull.

- There wasn't a corner of that field

that poor Paddy wasn't kicked that day.

- If I remember rightly, he cleaned up quite well.

- Mm.

- Now, is the master of the house in?

- No, they're at the funeral.

- Oh, yes, of course.

- Detective Frederick Regan,

Dublin Metropolitan Police,

G Division.

My middle name is James,

in case you were wondering.

- Yes, yes, I was, yeah.

Um, could I possibly come in?

I, um, misplaced a lens cap here yesterday, I think.

- I'll sweat off my sack, Mr. Blennerhasset, but, uh,

a small piece of equipment may be a needle in a haystack.

We've had a spot of breaking and entering.

I can't stand these opportunistic bastards,

knowing a poor family is bereaved and taking advantage.

- Hmm, indeed.

- If I had the means,

it'd be a mighty help to document crime scenes like this.

Like, you know, the means of the photography, I mean.

- Well, why don't you save up and buy yourself a camera.

- I've been trying to persuade the...

- Would you be a dear

and have a look under that table for me?

No, it doesn't seem to be there.

- I keep telling them, I keep telling them,

having a photographic department in The Yard is the future.

But will they listen to me?

Will they fuck?

- If any of your offices do happen

to find a small item of this size,

could you please tell them to treat it with the utmost care,

maybe use gloved hands,

and then get them contact me as soon as possible.

- No problem, Mr. Blennerhasset.

- Thank you so much.

- Erm, you didn't happen to see anything peculiar

when you were here yesterday?

- No, I don't believe I did.

But then again, I found that family so overbearing

that I hardly noticed anything else.

- They'd put ire on your hole, wouldn't they?

- Yes, they would.

They would put ire on your hole.

Good day, sir.

- Home soon?

- I'm afraid not, Carruthers.

- Oh.

- I'm sorry again for your loss, boy.

Um, I was wondering,

you didn't happen to see some

photographic equipment yesterday, did you?

No?

Okay.

Um, again, I'm sorry for your loss, young lady.

I was wondering, did you happen to...

Oh, I'm sorry.

Sorry again, madam, for... - Oh, Mr. Blennerhasset,

you came, you came. - Oh!

- Oh, Mr. Blennerhasset,

have you brought the photograph of poor Mary?

- Not quite, but all in good time.

- You said today.

- Yes, but my, um, my foot that was injured

in that quite unnecessary incident yesterday

has set me back somewhat.

- It would, I suppose.

Oh.

- Ah!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

That was nearly an early grave for you, sir.

- Thank you.

- Alright, Mr. Blennerhasset?

- Yes, fine, thank you, thank you.

Bloody nuisance of a man.

- Brock Blennerhasset, as I live and breathe,

I love your work.

I'll get that for you, sir.

- I wouldn't do that if I were you.

- Nah, don't worry.

I dug this one.

- Right.

- Here.

- How very kind.

- Look, I hope you don't find me too overfamiliar.

It's an honor to meet such a pioneer

in the field of Irish photography.

I know some people find your work quite distasteful,

but not me.

I think it's an art myself, to be honest.

- Oh, yes, you're right, it is an art, hmm.

- The name's Conall Molloy.

I've seen your work.

The head man here, Billy Barron,

showed me an elegant photograph of his uncle,

Mr. Edwin Wainwright.

- Oh, oh yes, Wainwright.

He was in the canal for four or five days.

- And a mighty job you did of covering it up.

- Right, well, uh...

Thank you for your help.

Good day.

- Eh, did you hurt yourself, sir?

- Yes, just a mild fracture.

- Look, I was wondering, Mr. Blennerhasset,

if you're in need of assistance.

I am looking for a new line of work

and I like to sketch street scenes,

real life, the characters of Dublin, that sort of thing,

and photography is an area

I would love to gain experience in.

- Hmm.

You look like the type of chap

who likes to get his hands dirty.

- Well, I am a gravedigger, sir.

- Ah, yes, that you are.

Well, perhaps I might have some work for you,

and you'll be happy to know that it involves some digging

for information.

- Uh, I see. Information.

- Yes.

- Alright.

- Well, there's my address.

Come and visit when you've finished work.

- Certainly.

Thank you, sir.

Billy, be good, man.

- Oh, here we go.

- Look, I just need some quarters to do a small job.

- No, there's digging to be done, Molloy.

It's consumption season.

- Yeah, don't I know it.

Look, I promise I'll do a double shift in return.

My mother needs me to take the extra work,

and you don't want to be letting my ma down,

now do you, Billy?

- I certainly do not.

Actually, I owe Dymphna a little visit now I think of it.

- Oh, no, that's, uh,

that sounds a bit ominous there, Billy.

Yeah, so you best leave off.

She's up to here with men anyway.

- Oh.

- Anyhow, thanks for that, Billy.

You're an absolute gent, good luck.

- But, but I have flowers to give her.

- I've no call for that many flowers.

- And she got them off the grave.

- The suit is too big, isn't it, Ma?

- When was the last time you wore it?

Siobhan's funeral?

- Yeah, I felt more comfortable then.

- It's about time you start dressing neat again.

- There's no call in dressing neat

if it's only the dead around you.

- Maybe not for much longer, eh?

- Yes?

- Er, I have an appointment with Mr. Blennerhasset, ma'am.

- How exciting.

Is that?

- It's, it's mud,

and you'd be surprised

how much I've already scraped off, actually.

- Now, a photographic plate has gone missing.

A very, very important photographic plate.

- Might have been stolen?

- Well, it's not in the family home.

Carruthers has searched his carriage countless times

and Nancy has searched every corner of this place

under my watchful eye.

Mr. Molloy, you do appreciate my reputation, don't you?

- Yeah, er, many of the grieving families that I've met

in the course of my work...

- Yes, grave digging.

- Yeah.

Well,

they've been comforted so greatly by your photography.

You bring the dead to life.

- Yes, indeed.

Well, this photograph

is more important to this family than money,

and my reputation is more important to me than money.

I want you to go to other photographers

and see if they've encountered a photographic plate

in the last 24 hours.

- Yeah.

- And under no circumstances,

are you to say who you work for.

- Mr. Molloy,

here are a list of photographic studios in Dublin.

The ones underlined

are ones my uncle feels are out to get him the most.

- You have beautiful handwriting, ma'am.

- I wrote that.

- Mr. Molloy.

A small present.

He says he doesn't need them anymore.

- That's very good of you.

- It's just a bit tidier.

- Uh.

- Um, maybe do that outside?

- You have a visitor, Uncle.

- Well, now as I have it,

the parents didn't approve of the marriage.

They didn't know she was...

And, uh, this Desmond Roth, well...

he's a Fenian from a working class background,

and when Mary got sick,

he couldn't afford to take care of her.

Ah.

So as she went home to convalesce,

there she died.

So on the morning of the funeral,

the suspect, Roth, broke in,

mad with grief he was, to see the dead wife,

and when she wasn't there,

I suspect that he stole a momento.

- Hmm.

- And that got me kind of thinking about your search.

- Oh, why would he take a lens cap?

- Maybe it wasn't a lens cap.

Maybe you lost the photo of Mary

and naturally didn't want the parents to find out about it.

- That's nonsense, it's developing as we speak.

- Give us a look.

- No.

- The family kept her from him

because he was a former convict, a Fenian agitator,

and an enemy of the Crown,

hence my employment to the case.

So it's, uh,

it's a good thing that you have that photo safe and sound,

because imagine if we lost it though.

- Huh, ah?

They'll be dousing them, alright, huh?

- Imagine that?

You would've lost the last picture of their daughter,

And lied to the DMP about it.

I'll head on.

- Nancy,

would you see the detective out, please?

- Yes, of course.

- Thank you for your time.

And if you think of anything,

let me know.

- What's that now?

- I said call the police.

- What happened?

- You're not the police, I don't have to tell you anything.

- Er, do you want to be untied?

- Do I, what do you think?

Untie me, release me.

Ah!

Why are you here?

- Erm, I, I'm just looking for a stolen camera plate.

It's a picture of a family?

- A family with honor that happens to be dead?

- No.

- The man who ransacked me,

he wanted to develop a picture of his dead wife.

You're an errand boy for Blennerhasset, aren't you?

- No, I don't know who that is, so.

- Of course.

He wouldn't be caught dead talking to ol' Rubinstein.

- I don't know what Blennerhasset.

- Oh, that's good,

then you won't care he'll be getting an angry madman

arriving to his studio.

- What was that now?

- The beast.

He didn't know who Blennerhasset was either

so I gave him a good recommendation

to get his photo developed.

Not that you care.

Why would you, you don't know him.

I give out.

- You could have saved us the trouble

of searching everywhere.

- I am not telling some loud mouth policeman

that I lost a photograph.

He might tell the Carews, he might blab,

and I don't want anyone having any leverage over me.

Now if that's that damned policeman,

you tell him to make an appointment

just like everyone else.

- Yes? - In we go.

- Well, aren't you there, like a good man.

Try anything like that again,

and you'll be wearing my knife as a hat.

- Molloy, you came back.

- Why is she tied up and you're not?

- Oh, she has a tendency to move quickly and be very loud.

- You'll do this job for me

and neither of you's will make any fuss.

- Oh, Jesus.

- Molloy, as you can see,

Mr. Roth here has went to great lengths

to attain his dearly departed wife's photograph,

which he stole from me

while I waited for the doctor.

- Shouldn't have left the case open.

- Well, under threat of his knife

and the one he carries in his belt.

- And a knife in my boot.

- What? - And the knife in his boot.

I will undertake the development of the photograph

and put this whole matter to rest.

- Ooh.

- No.

- Wait, just wait.

- Molloy, let him tie you up.

What else are you going to do?

- I'd like to assist.

- I'd like to assist you headfirst if you keep talking.

- Uh, Mr. Roth?

Mr. Roth, um,

this man is my assistant,

and as you can see by my predicament,

I need assistance.

So, um, if you want your job done quickly...

- So long as he's quiet or we got a fear of stabbing

when there's a lot of sudden noise.

- I don't wanna see them.

- Well, the only photographs I took of Mary

was with her family.

- They made her weak and made her vulnerable,

and now they get a picture of her, and I don't?

Well, if I can't have a picture with her,

neither can they.

- Wait!

Maybe we can arrange a photograph.

- What, Molloy.

Are you gonna put your grave digging skills to good use?

- No, I meant, maybe there's a way

we can take Mary out the image.

Perhaps we can cut her out

and just place her in a case all of her own.

Right, Mr. Blennerhasset?

- Well, I would be loathe to compromise the image,

but if that's what you want.

- You dig graves?

- Yeah,

or hopefully not for much longer.

- And you photograph the dead?

- Better than anyone, yes.

- Well, I want a photograph

of the two of us.

- Of the two of who?

- So of the two of you's together?

- We fetch my Mary.

- Fetch? Um...

- I don't think fetch is a very good...

You know, Molloy here,

dug the very grave that your Mary lies in, hmm?

- If you are suggesting that we're gonna dig up

that poor woman instead of just altering a photograph,

you're outta your minds,

you're absolutely raving mad.

- I wanna see her!

I want my photograph!

- Or maybe a light disinterment?

- There's no such thing as a light disinterment.

- Look, I am certainly willing to recompense you

because you would be working for me,

albeit under the threat of violence from Mr. Roth here.

So I'm asking you to assist me,

please?

We are going to need all the help we can get.

- Will she be quiet?

- Mmhmm.

Dig up the grave!

Uncle, I knew you were morbid but this is too much.

- As far from quiet, she is.

- Ah, ah!

- Look, Nancy, this is a very delicate intervention.

Now, if the alarm is going to be raised,

we're going to need you to put on a performance

to distract any intruders from our...

activities.

So for now,

please be quiet.

- Mm.

- You circle around, we'll be back in an hour.

Now if you see we've got company, do that whistle.

Not now, man, when we've got company.

- I hear you whistling

and I'll start my lunatic bereaved widow act.

- Be careful.

Don't damage the casket.

- Open it.

- No, we have to be very... - Open it, I said.

- Mr. Roth, I do appreciate you want to see your wife again,

but we are digging a grave in the middle of the night,

so wouldn't it be better to wait

until we're in the safety of the chapel?

- Alright.

Well, hurry it up then.

- No, not too much hurry.

We don't want to be dropping the coffin.

- We all need to carry the coffin.

- Yeah?

- Each of us are carrying the coffin?

- Many hands make light work.

- Oh.

Gently does it.

- It wouldn't be even a burial without her ring.

- No, no, you can't do that.

- I want her with me in the picture.

- Yes, but Mary must stay in the coffin.

Now we don't have time to pose her efficiently.

- If I don't get my photograph,

this fellow will be digging three fresh graves,

do you hear me?

Did you take this off her?

- Oh, no, no, no, no.

It was the father.

He refused to have the photograph taken with that on, so,

um, and I forgot I had it,

but I think it would be nice

if you put it back to its rightful place.

And we can take a beautiful photograph

as long as Mary stays in the coffin, hmm?

- I thought it was gone.

- Well, it's yours again.

Now, um, so if everyone could cooperate

for the next 20 minutes or so,

then that means that nobody needs to get stuck with a knife.

- We'll need to get you cleaned up.

- I don't have any other clothes,

just bits of my lunch, I'm sorry.

- Well, we'll just have to make do

with what we have then, won't we?

- The lens must be focused very precisely, like so.

Careful.

- Oh, darkness sucks.

- You look very handsome.

- Molloy, could you adjust that lamp over there

for me, please?

Mr. Roth,

could you possibly just adjust Mary's face, there.

That doesn't sound like the whistle he normally does,

maybe he's changed it.

But then again, why would he do that?

- Well, you were the one that's supposed to recognize it.

Standing here talking about it

quite defeats the purpose of the whistle.

- Did someone alert the rustlers?

- Hey, don't blame us.

Graves dug up,

unholy photo shoots at all hours,

and you think no one's gonna notice

what the hell we're doing.

- We'll need a good story to explain this.

- You can't smoke in here.

- Alright, hurry it up.

If they try and take me, I won't go down without a fight.

- Well, that's reason enough to stay focused.

Okay,

stay still,

and if you could just...

- Uncle, can we please just take the bloody photo...

- Shh!

- Come on, lads.

- Sir, to begin,

we were all kidnapped by a madman.

- I'm sorry I didn't believe you about the ol' lens cap.

- Well, yes, got me wrong, detective.

But that group chased me down

until he'd gotten that print in his grasp,

now I suspected he's taken the plate to one of my rivals.

I'd say it was that A. G. Rubinstein.

There's a man who could do with some forceful interrogation.

- Oh, I will.

And Desmond Roth won't walk the streets of Dublin

for very long, don't you worry.

- Ah, careful, lads.

Be careful with that coffin.

- I'll fetch Carruthers.

- Er, Mr. Blennerhasset,

I was wondering if I could ask your expertise on a matter.

- I don't see why not.

- Do you think it's easy

to pose the bodies, like you do,

for the layman?

- No, I, I've previously worked as a mortician

so I'm at an advantage there, um,

but I suppose with the right training,

it should be reasonable enough to do it.

Why do you ask?

- You see, there's been a couple of deaths recently

that got me wondering.

The daughter of a judge last week,

and a young salesman only two days ago.

Suicide it appears,

but the bodies were posed in the exact same position,

with the same wounds.

- You're right.

- Hmm, queer one.

- Yes, well, very tragic.

But, alas, suicide's not my area of expertise.

Good day to you, detective.

- Stop.

Right, um...

Leave the coffin to the gravediggers!

- That wasn't the whistle we agreed to.

- I got caught off guard

and I had to give a more discreet whistle.

- There's no such thing as a discreet whistle.

- Look, you pay me for one job.

That's the job I do best.

- Ha, barely.

Ask and not help, I can sleep fine.

- This is still what you do, is it.

- What?

- Use people and then discard them.

- So I assume you're talking about the gravedigger.

- I am,

but myself also.

You were the only person in our family

who showed any interest in encouraging my talents

and just...

well, me as a person.

And then one day, you no longer had any use for me.

That was cold, wasn't it, Uncle?

- That was not what it seemed.

No, I am grateful for your help,

isn't that something?

- Is it?

Uncle.

- From time to time,

I'm going to need someone to help carry my equipment

and assist me occasionally,

and you seemed willing to learn,

so that's something I suppose.

- Thank you for the offer, Mr. Blennerhasset.

I'm such an admirer of your work.

I just...

I need to be regarded as more than just a gravedigger.

- So you don't want a job.

- No, I do, I really... - That's all I need to hear.

- No.

Please hear him out, Uncle.

- I think I've proven myself during that ghastly affair

that I'm a trustworthy fellow

and I should be afforded that trust

as your assistant,

and not as just some filthy errand boy.

Do I have that trust, Mr. Blennerhasset?

- Well, that's really.

- So?

- He said yes.

He said yes because he needs an assistant,

don't you, Uncle?

- Yes,

as long as your work is of the highest standard.

- Oh, it, it will be.

Thank you, sir.

Ma'am.

- Thank you, as ever, Nancy.

It seems I'll have an assistant again.

Well, nothing lasts forever in this business, does it?

No, a change might do me good,

bring a bit of life to the place,

hmm?

- You shouldn't be here.

- I do apologize, miss, I was looking for the bathroom.

Marvelous party, by the way,

very entertaining, lovely people.