Original subtitles

Sync & corrections by Costa Dax www.addic7ed.com

Suicide, it appears,

but the bodies were posed in the exact same position.

Picture of a fella lookin' like

he'd been tortured for the camera,

wrists slit, then snuffed out.

You took a photograph from that album,

had a little private showing.

The fake photographs you stole

from that party you were not invited to.

Czerny.

The Communist punks.

Nancy, I see that you've met Percy.

Nancy.

Lovely name.

Well, the girls 'round here don't really dress like that.

It's a disguise.

Murdered in front o' the camera.

But how could an animal such as this

know his way around a camera?

I just can't fathom it.

Something happened here, didn't it?

I trusted something I shouldn't have.

Ye didn't see that train comin',

but I did.

Fred.

The lad should've been checked thoroughly

for concealed weapons.

He was, but...

So are you responsible for the poor job,

or was it Farrelly?

It was me.

You should know better.

All right, but look.

Czerny was found in an identical position

as the two suicides that I'd mentioned

in my report.

There's only so many ways you can kill yourself.

And nobody on duty saw anything strange last night?

Nothing in the report, except for a Communist

dying in our custody,

and seeing as it was a Communist

who didn't need to be in our custody,

we could have had a much quieter report, couldn't we?

Look.

It's the photograph we found on him last night.

Looks like McKlein, doesn't it?

Suicide, I mean, or so we thought.

I believe he was brutally tortured, photographed,

and then killed.

Come on, Fred, this is just parlour tricks.

No, but look at the wounds.

They're consistent with the other suicides.

What's this?

Black rose.

Was that on McKlein when you found him?

Huh?

Any chance of a smoke, Mary?

Oh, Jesus.

I'm not sure.

McKlein was in debt.

The whole town knew that.

And this Czerny was a desperate character by all accounts.

Think I'm onto something here.

You are getting young lads like Farrelly excited

with this talk of big cases.

Big cases grow out of small talk.

Look, Freddy, me boy,

you're only in G Division a few months,

and you want a big case.

Your name in The Times, rising up the ranks.

I get it.

But this is not the boglands.

This is Dublin, heart of the British empire.

How many changelings and pookas

do you see roaming the streets?

Leave that old banter to the Fenians.

We deal in facts.

Proof.

If I can prove this is real,

will you have a word with Mallon

about putting me on the case?

Come on, Fred.

We have Republican agitators getting bold as brass,

and here you are chasing a few wastrels

doing cheap photo tricks.

You don't want the boys laughing

at you anymore, do you?

Who's laughing at me?

Wasn't laughing at ye.

Look, um...

Just stick to your corner, Freddy.

Good man.

Stick me corner up your hole.

There.

Are you happy now?

Brock.

Hmm?

I warned you not to touch Mother.

Could you not, for once?

Well.

Thought she looked much happier.

Whoa, stand.

Stand down.

Oh.

Thanks, Carruthers.

Oh, I'm just keeping up appearances, young man.

Lucky enough for you.

Aw, Jesus, will you just come on?

We're from the same part of Dublin.

Why you always being so sore wi' me?

Should we just...

Should we just go for a pint one evening?

Nancy.

It's lovely to see you.

I'm sorry for your troubles, Miss Nancy.

Thank you, Carruthers.

Me, too, I'm very sorry, for the loss of your grandmother.

Thank you, Molloy.

She'd been mostly miserable, so in a way,

it's a relief.

I need to warn you, though.

Our family can be trying.

Uncle, you already know,

and well, the others made him like that.

Who's this divil at all?

This is Mr Molloy, assistant to...

Ah.

The gravedigger.

No, he's not a gravedigger.

This is the gravedigger.

I'm Conall Molloy,

assistant to Mr Blennerhasset.

Please accept me deepest sympathies on your loss.

My brother says you're competent,

but Brock is a terrible judge of character.

Can we please get this over with?

I can't bear to see Mother looking so alive.

All right, in you go.

Wipe your shoes, now.

I'm sorry for your loss, sir.

I thank you for coming, Molloy.

You did owe me a favour.

I'm honoured you asked.

Uh, Conall?

Yeah?

Half an inch to the right.

To my right?

No, to your right.

Always photography's right.

Course.

What odd corner of Dublin did you pull this one from?

Mother, please.

A grave, he was literally pulled from a grave.

Imagine.

Digging holes for corpses for a living.

Uncle Morris, can you please...?

One step below taking photographs of them.

Apologies.

Take your time.

Grandmother isn't going anywhere.

Maybe he should dig her grave while we have him.

Uncle, I must say, the memorial photography business

must be in bad shape if this is who you have

working for you.

He's doing a job, Henry.

More than you've ever done in your...

Your last young assistant was much better.

What was his name?

John?

He was very charming.

I don't remember any old assistant.

Oh, this was years ago.

The fellow disappeared in the end, didn't he, brother?

Remember, that friend of yours who disappeared?

He wasn't my friend.

He was your assistant.

My assistants are not my friends.

You don't have any friends, Brock.

Never had.

Sacrificed everything for photography.

Now it seems any old gravedigger can use a camera.

Ah, will you just be quiet?

Please.

I'm ready.

So just don't move.

Especially your mouths.

Thank you.

Uh, Molloy?

Yes, sir?

That was...

That was quite commendable, you know,

particularly under the circumstances.

Thanks very much, sir.

Carruthers.

Pack Molloy's stuff.

Look, I'm going to have to stay here

with these people until after the funeral.

So take tomorrow off.

With pay.

Thank you very much, sir.

And invest in some new art materials, Molloy.

You need them.

Thank you very much, sir.

No.

Thank you.

I can stick up a bloody camera stand,

but can you do my job?

No chance.

Yeah, it must be so hard,

sitting on your hole on top of a horse all day.

I'd say your back is broken, is it?

You'd have to be a real lunatic

to fake a photo like that, or make one.

I know, yeah.

Glendinning thinks I'm away with the fairies.

That's sloppy now, pure schoolboy error.

How did you miss that rose at all, eh?

Look, it's hard to make out, isn't it?

It's like, thick and black on black.

Bit queer of him to be wearing it, no?

Is that not the flower you give

when someone has already died?

Or lost love.

That's not consistent with the body you found.

Sure anyone would doubt it.

Did you butter my bread?

Aren't you lucky to have someone

to butter your bread for you?

Oh, I am, and the miserly amount of butter on it.

And the coroner didn't find anything?

No.

Down to Marlborough Street and Ossie said

that there's was nothin' all for Czerny's debt,

and he was...

killed himself in the cell and that was that.

See, Fred, if you're saying

he didn't kill himself in the cell,

then you're saying someone killed him in the cell,

in Dublin Castle.

Inside Dublin Castle.

I know, girl, I know.

It's ridiculous.

To go to that effort for a tourist.

Well, find out what he was at on this holiday,

because if you're right, he must have done something

to piss off the wrong people.

What if I'm wrong?

If you're wrong, then you're the loud cark fella

going around Dublin Castle shouting about murder plots

with no evidence to show for it.

Mr Molloy.

How are you?

What can I do for you, Detective?

Well, we took the camera that you, uh, borrowed

off Mr Blennerhasset, and we were dismayed

to find that all the plates were missing.

Just isn't fortunate.

Yeah.

Then I met your pal Matty Talbot, and, uh,

he was flashing your dirty photographs

from down in Watling Street.

He said they were doing the rounds.

So someone must've got 'em developed, I'd say.

Yeah.

D'you think?

Yeah.

After getting a handy little job there now,

you probably shouldn't want to do anything

to jeopardise that.

Yeah, well, I won't be.

Maybe I'll ignore these photographs,

and maybe you will do something for me

as a favour, like a good man.

Ah, you're blackmailing me.

You'd know if I was.

What are you doing here?

You're trying to coerce me into informing you, is that it?

You do those?

Yeah, I did.

Very good.

You've an interest in photography, so do I.

Maybe we could work together.

That's all I'm saying.

Well.

Well, I'll help you where I can.

Right.

Now, this little photograph that I'm after findin',

if you find anything of the sort like that,

you let me know, 'cause the man I found it on?

Dead before I questioned him.

That's a pity.

I'll keep an eye out.

Now, while I have ye,

do you know the significance of a black rose?

Is it some sort of photographic prop?

I've never seen one.

Yeah.

Haven't seen one myself much, either.

Good luck.

Carruthers is here, Uncle.

Let's just get home, Nancy.

She's not going with you.

You sent her to me, did you not?

And now your convalescence is nearly complete,

Nancy can return here and take care of the family home,

like her grandmother wanted.

Very well.

If she wants to.

I want to stay with Uncle.

The Uncle who has ignored you for years.

How weak of you, Nancy.

I find that I'm happier living in town than I am here.

Oh.

You became very independent all of a sudden, did you?

I'm sure you'll be so responsible about it,

like your brother has been.

Henry and I are not the same.

No.

You're far less charming.

Hmm.

Maybe you've had an influence on her after all.

I suppose, Nancy,

you won't need your allowance anymore.

Mother.

That's not fair.

I worked hard for that.

I minded Grandmother for the longest time.

It's all right, sister.

You keep it.

It's about time I started paying her a proper wage anyway.

Nancy?

Nancy.

You'll come crawling back, just like your uncle did!

You wanted me, boss?

You bad bastard, you.

Jesus, you're fierce jumpy.

Don't sneak up on me, Farrelly.

I get immersed in my work, you know?

A mad notion around here, I know.

Here's something for you.

There's a Yank in town.

Photograph collector of some sort.

Seems to be an associate of Louis Cannon.

Collector?

That's a queer one.

Poor landlords gettin' stuck

with pitchforks up and down the country,

and there's the two o' you like headless chickens

over some fake photographs.

Grand to have nothin' to do, isn't it boys?

Farrelly, quicker you become a G-man the better.

Working on that, boss.

Hmm.

Ah, beautiful.

You stole this when we were there?

Well, it was just lying about.

There are some photographs missing.

The late Mr Czerny ripped them out.

Quite unfortunate.

The fool was a goddamn liability.

All right, Henry, I'll buy it.

Hell of an addition to my collection.

Delighted to have it off my hands, to be honest.

I'd rather focus on a more genteel sort of photograph.

Riding, or bit of tit, saucy old crack, you know?

Ghost photography like we were saying.

Mr Whacker, do you know who the photographer is?

I do not, but I know it was commissioned

by those people whose hospitality Henry

had kindly took advantage of.

You don't think those photographs are real, do you?

Oh, I would be inclined to think so, yes.

Now I thought you were barred from here.

I think my disguise was a lot better

than people give it credit for.

Your brother asked me to meet him here.

Oh, yes, he's holding court in the corner there.

He's absolutely too much.

I can't deal with it, so we're going somewhere else.

Sorry, Nancy.

I saw the bastard on the other side of the counter,

went after him out the side exit,

and you'll never guess.

This pub has three different exits

onto three different streets.

Yes!

Three different exits on three different streets.

It's madness, isn't it?

Hello. Percy Cummins, lovely to meet you.

Percy, this is Conall Molloy.

Oh, you must be Mr Molloy.

Yes, I just said that.

Yeah, Conall Molloy, yeah.

- That's it, that's me. - Ah.

Not getting this one into trouble, eh?

Heard you got yourself holed up in a whorehouse for the night.

No harm, says you.

No, listen, I was there for professional reasons.

It was a commission, as it were.

- Right. - Under duress, I must add.

Well, you've got quite the eye

for naked forms, I must say.

Like myself.

Percy's a sculptor.

I'm a sculptor.

He likes a nude.

Who doesn't?

Decent money to be made in nude sculpting,

but I'd say you made a small fortune off those pictures,

did you Molloy?

Uh, no, no, not really, no.

I would say people'd be less inclined

to buy them when they've seen them for free,

like we did.

Sorry, you've seen them?

Oh, we saw the full spread.

Did you?

Yes.

That's why we're leaving.

Henry won't stop flashing the bloody things around.

It's just too much.

Augh.

Molloy, you bloody filth merchant, get over here.

We've things to be doing.

Come on, hup!

Come on, now!

Best of luck.

You'll need it.

Gentlemen, this is Molloy.

He used to be a gravedigger.

Molloy, this here's Bushrod Whacker,

purveyor of exotic photographs, as it so happens.

Did some great service in the American Civil War, you know.

Dread to think how many men the old bastard has killed.

Me, too.

And this here is Louis Cannon.

He's going to be a big name

in the print business, mark my words.

Gentlemen.

Louis, Molloy is one hell of a photographer.

If he's a hell of a photographer

how come we didn't hire him?

Well, I hadn't seen his work at the time.

I cannot wait to see the job he did on old Granny.

You should've seen her propped up there.

She looked bloody radiant, the old hag.

Look. Look at the looks on their faces.

I mean, marvel.

They look so bloody aroused,

and arousing, let me tell you.

Molloy, when you were out at the house

you should've mentioned you did

this manner of lusty picture.

Yeah, well, it might've been inappropriate,

on the account of your dead grandmother.

You took these?

Yeah.

But it was Mr Blennerhasset who...

who aroused engagement in the...

Shut up and take a credit, dirty little devil.

I have never seen intercourse photographed so beautifully.

Well, thanks very much.

I mean, it was me first time, uh, photographing.

Intercourse, that is.

Molloy, a man of your skill shouldn't resort

to taking photographs of corpses with my eccentric uncle.

There is money to be made

in pictures people actually want to see,

and Louis... Louis.

- Louis. - Hmm?

Louis, you can get them out there, can't you?

Well, I make specialist publications.

It's a small operation, but there is an appetite

for the strange and bizarre in photography, eh?

'Scuse me.

If you can get the right collection

of photographs together, there's a fortune to be made.

Whacker here brought us three to a party

up at the Wicklow Mountains not too long ago.

Some sort of secret society.

Shouldn't have been there.

No, and we're not s'posed

to talk about it either, so let's not.

Ah, we were not the most sober trespassers,

it has to be said, eh?

Mighty nice, mighty.

Scenes of debauched, wildness debauched.

Anyway, I stole this mad, mad photograph album...

Shut up about the photo album, man.

Hey, why don't you both shut up?

Molloy, Whacker was saying there's big money

in ghost photography in America.

And Cannon's wife, poor Jocelyn, died last month.

Fell down the stairs, she did.

It is like I can still feel her presence in the house.

I actually know what you mean, Mr Cannon.

I thought it might be a good opportunity

to capture some manner of apparition.

I'll capture it.

The photograph, I mean.

Spirit photography's an area I'm very interested in.

I'm not a cynic, you know?

I think there are spirits among us.

I can't guarantee that I'll capture something, but...

Do me best.

Let's see what Mr Molloy can do.

Mighty.

I'll make some cancellations.

Jeez, thanks very much.

Well, have a drink. Molloy, drink.

Come on, now.

Thanks very much, gentlemen.

- Sláinte. - Sláinte.

Sláinte.

Thank you, thank you, lovely.

And, uh, how're you planning on conjuring the ghost?

Son, how do you think?

They've organised a séance in Cannon's house.

She'll do the job.

Well, her name's Eva Lambert.

Look, I think... I think she's a medium.

It says, uh, like, it says, "spirit"...

"spiritual séance" on a...

Molloy.

Let me.

Eva Lambert, or the Ghost Queen as she likes to be known.

A very well-known medium, notorious even.

In theatrical circles she's very carefully studied.

Yeah, but that's only, that's only because

they want to see, like, if she makes it up.

That's it: it doesn't look like she does.

People emerge from her séances thoroughly distressed.

Henry has very strange interests, doesn't he?

Do you want that comment to pass unremarked on?

Back to your proposition, Molloy.

I know...

that spirit photography, it's a bit more sensationalistic

than your style.

So I thought I might undertake the shoot by myself.

And I could do with the money, so.

Well, spirit photography is merely

the double-exposure technique.

It's just the work of charlatans.

What if you capture something real?

You're not being a charlatan.

Tell me, Molloy, why are you so desperate

to believe in ghosts?

I think there's something quite comforting about the idea.

You know? Just that they're still here, minding us.

I am not passing up the opportunity

to go to a séance.

Very well, Molloy, you've got the job.

You can use one of my old cameras.

Oh, thank you, sir.

And I think I'll come along with you, if you don't mind.

Really?

I didn't think it'd be your kind of thing, Uncle.

It'll stop me looping around these four walls.

That's the spirit.

We should take bets on how she does it.

You are here for my sister's gathering.

Yes, we are.

Mr Cannon extended the invitation to us.

I'm very excited.

What is this?

Did Henry not mention that we were bringing a camera?

No.

He did not.

They want to capture it...

Spirits do not like being captured.

Enter.

Very ominous.

I like it.

Ah.

Welcome to my home.

Please.

Uncle Brock.

Here to have a chat with dead Granny, I presume?

Pleased to meet you.

I'm here, Henry, out of simple curiosity.

Brock Blennerhasset?

I own two of your originals.

Most beautiful, haunting tintypes.

How did you come upon those?

There are ways, my friend.

Families don't wanna mourn forever.

Bushrod Whacker.

Pleasure to meet you, sir.

And you, I'm sure.

Please, let's start.

You did not tell me that you'd be taking

photographs, Mr Cannon.

Think of the publicity for you and your sister

if we get this in print, hmm?

Mount your apparatus quickly.

Molloy's going to do a bloody good job.

He's very versatile.

People riding, people being dead, people as ghosts.

You do it all, don't you, Molloy?

Uh, yeah, do... do me best, Mr Vickers.

And Uncle here didn't even want you

to take the photographs of poor, dead Granny.

Nancy had to talk him into it.

Henry, shut up.

Now it's time for the bloody

Dublin Photographic Society you did.

Henry, shut up!

I'm telling the truth, aren't I?

Tell me if I'm lying, Brock.

Quiet!

The Ghost Queen is ready to meet you.

Oh, no I don't, I don't drink on the job.

Do not insult the dead.

To the dead, to welcome them here.

To the dead.

The spirits are ready,

but they won't wait around all night.

Now,

hold hands.

Do we really need to hold...

Hold hands.

The dead are here.

They were quick, weren't they?

There is... there is...

A Jocelyn is speaking to me.

That is my wife.

My late wife.

She is speaking to me of a fall.

Yes, she died in a fall.

She says she was pushed down the stairs...

in this house.

No, it was an accident.

I was in a different county at the time.

We'll need evidence, I'm afraid, Jocelyn.

Hard evidence.

Goddamn right about hard evidence.

I don't give a shit about Cannon's murdered wife,

'less I can see her.

She wasn't murdered, at least not by me.

Jocelyn, I hear your cries.

Show yourself to us.

What the hell?

I hear another voice.

There's someone who wants to talk to you.

Who wants to talk to me?

Someone you loved and lost.

It must be Grandmother.

Love, that's pretty strange.

Hello.

It's me.

I'm still here.

Who?

Your assistant.

Yes, but, my assistant and then, what else?

The voice is fading.

No.

No.

Your assistant...

Is he... is he really dead?

Um, I'm right here, sir.

No, someone wants to talk to your assistant over there.

Conall.

I can talk to you again.

I can sing to you like I used to.

♪ She is far from the night ♪

♪ Where her young hero sleeps ♪

♪ And lovers around her are sighing ♪

♪ Oh, coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps ♪

♪ For her heart, in his grave is lying ♪

Jesus.

Keep it together, man.

Yeah, sorry.

I was pushed, by some ghostly force.

It's workin'.

Right, be quiet, I want to see.

I didn't come here for shitty old Irish songs.

I wanna see something real.

Give her a chance, lads, give her a chance!

Stop talking, everyone!

Your negative energy has attracted bad spirits,

come to torment you.

Nancy, I... I'm not feeling too good.

I think we should leave.

There is a bat, a giant bat, on the wall!

Does anyone else see the bat?

Nancy, we shouldn't have taken this job.

Molloy shouldn't have taken this job.

God, you look demented.

Are you okay?

Wait!

I think I see the bat!

Why is everybody seeing bats?

Who knows what forms our own demons take?

Well, maybe everyone should just calm down

until this thing passes, whatever this silliness is.

Alvin...

Anyone else see 'im?

He's standing in the corner.

I shot that bastard dead over a card game,

Charleston back in '70.

You don't look too happy with me.

Nancy!

This is your grandmother.

You are free to do what you want to do.

That doesn't sound like Grandmother.

No, Grandmother can't be here.

I sang at her funeral.

Oh no, wait, Grandmother's ghost is here.

Oh, yes.

This is awful different all the same, isn't it?

We have connected with the spiritual world.

Embrace it!

Good Lord!

There's more of 'em.

The men I killed, come to take their vengeance on me

while I'm in a wild and unfamiliar land.

Does that dog live here?

Just stay calm!

Alvin!

I only put you in the ground on account of you cheated me!

Had it come it, you shit-sucking rider!

Get back!

Make this stop, you witch!

Oh, he's got a gun!

I told you, check them all out!

I didn't put my hand down his trousers, did I?

A bleedin' camera?

They dropped their ammo!

They're frauds, Molloy!

Look!

That was the third photographer

that tried to catch us out this year.

It's the worst bleedin' invention goin'.

That was a strong dose, Aline.

Well, they can't say they didn't get their money's worth.

You!

You!

Nancy, I saw...

I saw him!

Saw who?

Vaudry! I saw him.

- He's not dead. - Go, before we're shot!

Aren't you delighted we came?

Not really, no.

We must go, we must go, we must go!

I fear Bushrod's going to shoot every last buck of us.

I never got a photograph of the spirit!

Well, you're not bloody going to get it now, are you?

Who's shootin' up the bleedin' place?

Carruthers!

Bring us home, right away!

Where's my goddamn album?

Where's my album?

Come back, you thieves!

Thieves, you say?

One of you took their album.

I didn't.

Who did?

It's you, isn't it?

It is.

Well, can I just say, sir, that I love your work?

Oh, hello.

You, uh, you saw the...

Yes.

So strange.

All the things you can see in front of your eyes, eh?

- Push over there, you. - I just...

Give over, will you?

I can see so many different colours in front of my face.

Can you see that?

No, like I can see... I can see two...

I can see two... everyone's got two or three faces.

I can't stand listen to this.

When do we get to your house, Uncle?

Oh, no, no, no, Henry.

You're not coming to stay at my house, no.

He was there, he, he seen me.

Yes, very good, sir, very good, yeah.

Now, that's enough excitement for one night.

A good, sweet cup o' tea now and you'll be grand.

Tea, tea!

Yes.

I'd love some tea, thank you, Carruthers.

Then go make it yourself.

Will be back tomorrow to check on youse.

See if you're all still alive.

Bye-bye, Carruthers.

Thanks for getting us home safely.

Jesus, give me patience.

He's such a good man, d'you know that?

I need... I need to get to my study.

Take me to my study!

I saw him, Nancy.

I saw him.

Who?

Vaudry, Vaudry was there.

Who is Vaudry?

He's my, my old...

my old assistant.

And he's dead.

You've seen a dead person?

Have we been scared witless?

Is that what's going on here?

Ah, that's how she does it, the crafty bitch.

She's poisoned us with some manner

of mind-altering concoction.

That's what I said.

I win the bet.

You're not dead, Vaudry.

You're not dead.

Poor Uncle.

I hope he had a good night.

Because, I tell you this:

I had a bloody great time.

That's it.

I'm gonna die walkin' home.

I'm gonna go wanderin' for miles and miles

and end up face down in the Dodder,

seein' moving statues and all kinds of weird shite.

No, no, stay here, Molloy.

You're in no fit state to be out in the street,

you poor boy.

I can't, me mother and me sister would be worried, and...

That feels good, doesn't it.

You're a very pleasant man.

Do you know that?

But you've got a fella, don't you?

That Percy chap, he's, he seems very dodgy, but...

All right.

A mildly diverting distraction.

And you?

Why must you always be so nervous?

I think you may have caught my heart off guard, Nancy.

What?

Can you see those faces?

Yeah.

Her employer sent you this, sir.

I'm not too happy that we haven't found it yet.

We will.

We weren't as discreet this evening

as we previously have been.

What I'm saying, sir, is we need to be careful.

Get out.

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