Original subtitles

The thing about Irish people,

we've been arguing over the same shite for 800 years.

See, it used to be that this was our island

'til the British took it off us.

The Irish tried to fight them out,

but we couldn't quite finish the job.

So instead, the British kept the top part for themselves,

and the ira has been fighting a bloody battle

to reunite the country ever since.

Some die by bomb, some by bullet.

Others simply disappear.

- Ma, when is dinner ready? - I told you to eat a big lunch.

- Where do we keep the pliers? - Ma...

One at a time, please.

- Where are the pliers? - Archie,

you cannot fix the cooker yourself.

Mickey?

What's that under your jumper?

What? Nothing!

Let me see it, please.

Come on.

- Michael, we had an agreement. - This one's different.

Six birds in the loft, no more.

He's really friendly, ma.

Aye, he's quite handsome, but if you wanna be keeping him,

you can release some of the others.

I'll not have more wild creatures

leaving their business on my floor.

Helen!

- You're not going out tonight. - What?

Pop to the chippie,

get a bite to eat for the wee ones.

And don't be stopping for a sneaky smoke.

Right. Helen's back. Start laying the table.

Where's your mammy, love?

Quiet!

Archie?

You... stay back! Stay back!

Put your coat on, love. We're leaving.

Tell them to keep quiet.

Don't you touch them!

- Where are you taking her? - Michael!

Be quiet!

- Michael, it's alright, son. - All of yo use, calm down.

We just need to talk to her is all.

- Take me with you. - Archie.

It's okay, ma.

You say you just wanna talk?

What's the harm in letting me come?

He comes. The rest stay.

Can I sit next to her, please?

Fuck off or be shot.

Ma...

Watch the children 'til I get back.

Hello and welcome. This is the Belfast project.

An oral history.

I'm here with participant h.

- And this is all anonymous? - Aye.

No names. For both our safety.

Look, don't be nervous.

The stuff I'll be asking you about

is all ancient history.

Not to them.

That's why we've taken precautions.

This tape,

no one's gonna hear it until you're dead and gone.

You can say anything, dolours.

The whole sordid story, then?

If you like. Why don't you start

by telling us a bit about your childhood?

Well, the first thing you should know

is that my mother and father

were both proud members of the Irish republican army.

Have I told you girls how to make explosives?

Which meant while other kids got stories

about fairies and pixies,

we got the story of da's famous prison escape.

It was the night before the escape.

The screws caught wind that there was something going on.

They throw open my cell door

and they start hammering me with the batons.

And the whole time

they're asking me all kinds of questions.

What did you tell them, da?

Nothing.

I said nothing, girls.

I picked a spot.

On the wall.

And I stared at it.

And no matter how they beat me,

I just kept staring at that spot.

Sooner or later...

They had no choice but to let me go.

It was quite a happy childhood.

Until I turned 16 and decided that my whole family was mental.

Ma, we're going out!

It's not another sit-in, is it?

No, actually.

That's what's wrong with this lot, love.

You and me, we bled on the battlefield.

This generation, they sit.

Who's sitting? No one's sitting.

One time we went to a sit-in, da, for fuck's sake.

Hey! Easy there, you.

That's hormones. She's hormonal.

We're not going to a sit-in. We're going up the mountain.

You hiked up there yesterday and you came back filthy.

Like da said, I'm hormonal, and I'm going again.

There, now. You see what you've started?

Meh!

We were catholic in west Belfast,

which meant we lived on the shite side of town.

It was a segregated society.

Everything was rigged.

Jobs, housing, voting rights,

it all went to the protestants.

Civil rights march! Fair housing for catholics!

Voting rights for catholics!

Join the march to derry, Mr. Mcshane!

Good luck, girls.

If you were catholic, you had two choices.

You could live as second class,

or you could get the hell out.

Sure, it's not so shite from up here, is it?

What am I gonna do when you're at uni?

Daddy's gonna melt my friggin' head.

Come with me!

I'm serious, though, mar.

You don't wanna get stuck here,

working in a factory, eating out of a fucking lunchbox.

There's one thing, though. I don't have talent.

- Hey... - I don't.

You're gonna be off doing art shows and

I'm only good at rolling cigarettes.

And I don't even smoke.

Look... Everybody has their thing, mar.

Sometimes, it just takes a wee minute to find it, okay?

There was never any argument in my family

about who had given most for the cause.

You know, my father had spent eight years in prison.

My mother had only done two weeks.

But my aunt bridie,

she had given her eyes and her hands.

We're going on a peace march. We leave on Wednesday.

Right. You will have protection, yeah?

Loads of protestant villages between here and derry, love.

We'll be fine. They said at most it'll be a few stones thrown.

If they wanna waste four days wading through muddy peat bogs.

Now, that protest at the quay,

that was a proper protest.

We pushed a police Jeep in the river and we ran.

A lot of good that did us.

Excuse me? What was that?

I'm just saying.

Look, in a civilized society,

what does violence get you?

You...

You charge the police. They attack with batons.

Everybody goes home with bruises and nothing changes.

And you think non-violence'll do better?

Explain this to me 'cause I'm a wee bit confused.

You think you can take a dander through 70 miles of sheep shite

and the prods'll just hand over the cushy jobs?

Since when has going on a walk ever changed anything?

Gandhi with the salt march, king in Alabama.

You cannot solve our problems with non-violence...

Were they not both assassinated?

Any more than you can solve them

from some fancy Dublin university.

No matter how well you can paint.

The armed struggle, that's the way.

Is there more stuffing, mammy?

Yeah.

Well, you tried that, daddy, and you lost, remember?

You tried bombing the brits and what have we got to show for it?

Has he ever told you, by the way,

the way his wee story ends?

When they all tunneled out of prison what happened?

They all got thrown right the fuck back in!

That's the armed struggle.

He's like fucking sisyphus, that one.

Dolours, shut it!

Catholic scum!

Youse are breeding like vermin, yo use are.

Tell the pope to give you the pill.

Wee lads like you are all the birth control I need!

Piss off!

It wasn't enough

that the prods had all the good jobs.

They also had the police.

And all we had were the cemeteries and each other.

Do you think we can trust the peelers?

They probably went to Sunday school with those people.

Attention! The police have said

we may encounter more resistance up ahead.

They've asked if we'd like to pack it in.

- Should we oblige them? - No!

We said at the outset that we would march non-violently.

Will we agree that not one single person will retaliate,

even to save himself from injury?

Yes!

Come on.

It'll just be a few stones.

Aye, that's what Saint Stephen said.

Which route did you take on the march?

We took the glenshane pass.

And whose idea was that, then?

That would have been the police.

Come on, then.

- My god! - Jesus Christ!

My god! Get down!

Stones!

Mar.

Dotes, get your coat up!

Mar!

This way! This way, this way!

Come on, mar!

The river. We can get across the river.

Where you gonna go now?

Go on.

No. Please. Please, please, don't.

Please.

Please.

Hey, enough of that!

Go on!

Go on, get out of it.

The thing was,

I looked into the eyes of the people who was beating us

and they were glazed over with

hate.

And I thought to myself,

you know, I thought, "no."

"I'm never gonna convert these people."

They had cudgels with bloody nails in them.

I don't know.

Girls... Why did you not fight back?

Mar, I'm concentrating.

They're rioting in the falls.

Trouble in Belfast tonight

as riots have erupted all across northern Ireland

with catholic mobs targeting local police stations

anyone seen with bricks and bottles

will be arrested on site.

Chrissie?

Jimmy, sit down over there.

Go on, son, sit down.

The cumann girls will sort you out.

Let me get you a towel, love.

You're leaking on the upholstery.

Ach, I'm sorry, Mrs. Price.

No, no. You're alright. You're alright, love.

There. You're alright.

Girls, don't just stand there. Marian, get me ice.

And dolours, will you grab me bandages, love?

I'm helping Marian.

We need to get the fuck out of here.

Why?

I heard everyone's going down the police barracks.

I'm not up for another ambulance ride tonight.

We're not gonna do anything, we're just gonna watch.

What? We are, I promise.

Ma's not gonna like that either. Wasting milk.

Mar, you can't stay with the cumann girls.

You're gonna be in there breastfeeding the men all night.

Come on, we'll have a look.

At least it won't be boring.

My mother was in the cumann.

That's the women's branch of the Irish republican army.

My mummy knew everything about those guns,

except what it felt like to fire one.

That was strictly for the men.

Get out!

Fucking ruc bastards!

Let's fucking go!

Give them everything you've fucking got!

You fucking cunts!

Right, get that mattress on the barricade.

Let's build it up.

Bottles, bricks, curbstones, whatever you can carry!

Bring it all to the barricade.

Here.

It's a wee bit more festive than I thought.

We need bottles and bricks and curbstones in those crates.

Petrol bombs up to the roof.

Who put that gawky fucker in charge?

Don't know, he just picked up the loudhailer

and he started talking.

Petrol bombs are doing fuck all.

Listen, we need bigger jars

like the ones they sell at the sweet shop.

Bigger jars mean more flames.

With enough fire, we can suck up all the oxygen

going to the car's engine.

We stall them out, then we can break in,

get our own fucking armored car.

Wee Gerry's come a long way since debate club.

For the record, the Gerry in question?

That would be Gerry Adams.

Gerry joined the ira at 16.

He grew up with republican parents, like I did.

Only, when it came to the cause,

he never wavered.

Go on, hit the sweet shops. Get as many as you can carry.

I could've told you that.

Chalkie?

What are you doing, mate?

I'm getting us a battering ram.

Chalkie,

instead of cutting the phones to a bunch of catholic flats,

do you not think you should cut down that telephone pole?

The one attached to the barracks,

so they can't call for backup.

Aye, she is right, you thick fuck.

Aw, fuck off, you.

- Who's the redhead? - She's Albert's daughter.

She's a laugh, she is.

Evening, child.

Don't call me "child", you jumped-up wee prick.

You're a year older than I am.

Right, well.

I just wanted to say,

for a pacifist you seem to have a good mind for strategy.

Who said I was a pacifist?

I saw your da at the felons club.

He said yo use were on the front lines at the peace march.

Lot of good that did us.

We marched, we sang. It did fuck all.

You know, some of the lads are talking strategy.

Doc wanted to extend an invitation.

Him? He's older than my dad.

Aye, but we've got a lot of new blood coming in.

You wanna do something about our wee apartheid state let?

The blokes upstairs are a good place to start.

You gonna take down the police barracks?

No, we're gonna take down the government.

They were trying to recruit you?

Aye, you know, I'd been talent-scouted

like one of those women who walks down the street

and some fella from a modeling agency comes up and goes,

"hey, I'm sending you to Milan."

Except, the only talent I was scouted for

was rolling bandages and making fucking tea.

Women's work.

Gerry tried to spin it.

Everyone needs to contribute in the special way they can.

This is your chance to be in the room

with the men reshaping this country.

The room next door, you mean?

Listening through the fucking wall.

- Dolours... - I'm sorry, Gerry,

the housewives have spoken.

You know, if I wanted to join the cumann,

I could have asked my mother.

We wanted to be doing what the boys were doing.

- What were the boys doing? - Fundraising.

All of yo use on the fuckin' ground!

All of yo use on the fuckin' ground now!

- Face down, alright? - Alright, listen up!

We are liberating funds

on behalf of the provisional ira!

The army does not want to hurt no one.

Remember, our problem is not with any of you.

It's with her.

You, dickhead, open that fucking register now!

Quicker, you specky bastard!

Gorgeous, get that till open now!

Jesus Christ, wee girl,

you've got the bluest eyes I've ever seen.

You are fucking stunning-looking.

Thank you very much.

Sin sin, it's in the bin!

Let's fucking go!

Are you okay?

So.

I think we'll go to the grocer next, yeah?

Bluebells are in season.

Aye, ma.

Let's get bluebells, definitely.

That was Brendan fucking Hughes.

Brendan Hughes... A.k.a. The dark.

He ran d-company back then.

They were the bad bastards.

Well, he definitely recognized you.

I've seen him around the pub. He must've remembered me.

You think everyone remembers you.

That was mad, right, wasn't it? I mean

I mean, just in and out.

I thought robbing a bank would be harder.

No, I think it's probably easy.

Can one of you give me a hand with this potting soil?

You should tell your frien

to pick better disguises.

Women's tights aren't the most foolproof means of camouflage,

especially if one has a moustache.

He's not... We're not friends, mummy.

I've just seen him around is all.

Would it be a problem if we were?

What? God, no!

Brendan's a credit to the cause, he is.

Yet clearly you don't want me knocking around with him, so

I didn't say that, dolours,

so please stop putting words in my mouth.

Maybe if you said what you meant once in a while,

- I wouldn't have to. - Look... watch your mouth.

And that's not fair. I don't want to argue with you.

I just meant that things are obviously heating up.

Your da thinks the brits will be sending in the army soon

and they will come down hard on the ira,

and your man Brendan's right out there on the front lines.

I just don't want you to forget the opportunity you've got

at university, because, let me tell you something,

an education like that was not an option for me.

The bloody unionists wouldn't let me.

Are you fucking serious?

- Dolours... - No, no, no, no...

For 18 years, da has been yarning on, like.

"The peelers are crooked, dolours."

"We have to dismantle the state, dolours."

And you just sat there nodding your fucking head.

Dolours, shush!

Look.

I'd just prefer

that if my daughter does go to university,

that she has all four limbs intact.

That's all.

You don't have to worry about me, ma.

I've my priorities sorted.

Are those soldiers still about?

Soldiers?

There are no soldiers, auntie bridie.

I heard them last night, rummaging through the bins.

Go and tell your da up at the felons.

- He needs to know. - Okay.

What's up?

Soldiers.

At the neighbo's house.

What's going on?

They're searching houses.

Albert price!

- Mummy? - British army!

- Albert price? - Wait!

No, no, this is my house.

You have no fucking right!

Mummy! Mummy!

- Mummy! Ma, no! - I'm okay.

I'm okay. I'm okay.

Clothes are gone. Must have done a runner.

Just find the guns.

Where's your daddy gone?

Where's he hiding the guns?

You tell me where the fuck he is right now!

I swear to god, I will pull your sister in here

and make a fucking example of her in front of you.

Even if we had talked, those men wouldn't have liked

what they heard.

Da fled south, over the border,

where British law meant nothing.

Others weren't so lucky.

They took old fellas,

young fellas, cripples, drunks.

Didn't matter.

Anyone deemed a threat to the peace,

they were swept up off the street like that.

Neat and tidy.

You know, the house got a lot quieter after he left.

I was surprised how much I missed my father.

C'mon. I'm gonna be late for school.

You're not going to fucking school.

Let me do the talking.

Our da's on the run.

We just came back from being questioned.

I had that on me the whole time. Soldiers didn't think to look.

If you think that we're just useful serving tea,

then you might be missing your chance to win this war.

Does their mammy know they're here?

Nah.

They want her kept out of it.

Let me see if I understand.

You want to rewrite the whole operations manual

just because you got a famous daddy?

No, rewrite it because it was written in '56.

The fight has radically changed.

- Aye, but... - no, no, listen, respectfully,

yo use goaded the brits into your war, yeah?

And now you're outmanned 50 to one.

There's an army of women in Belfast and derry

willing to tilt the odds in your favor.

Any of whom can help by joining the cumann.

But you're not listening.

We don't wanna be rolling bandages.

How 'bout you, Marian?

Your ma's been with the women's council 20 years.

You'd honor her legacy by joining.

- She wants to fight. - Let her tell us herself.

I guess ever since that march

I kind of have been thinking

maybe the women's council would be a good fit.

But now internment's on.

And what happens if tomorrow all you guys are gone?

Either we sit at home fiddling with our bandages

or you can teach us to fight.

Which one of those do you think is gonna help us win the war?

These two are not for budgin'.

We'd better kick it up to the big lad.

Sorry... "The big lad"?

Aye. You heard that name a lot.

You know, anyone you ever talked to,

it was always, "go and see the big lad."

I got a sit-down with the man eventually.

So you're just seriously not gonna tell me who it is?

Okay, I'll give you a clue. You know him.

- Right. - His birthday is in January.

I'm only fucking you about. I dunno when his birthday is.

Don't tell him I said that.

You're gonna go in here,

you're gonna sit down, you're gonna wait.

He's very particular.

He doesn't like being seen in public, and he's...

He's very intimidated by good-looking women.

Don't tell him I said that either.

I know how to handle men like that.

Alright.

Good luck.

This is where I leave you.

Evening, child.

That's a cagey piece of spy craft you've got there, Gerry.

Brits will never see past the turtleneck.

Well, I don't have advantages like some do.

Nice red hair and a mini skirt for instance

do I take that to mean you approve of my request?

Aye.

Of course we need women.

They're interning all the bloody men.

That's exactly what I've been saying!

The rest of the fellas, I feel I'm gonna have to fucking...

Tie them to their chairs, put hoods on their heads

and read aloud from the fucking feminine mystique.

Luckily, the chief of staff's quite practical about this.

And his opinion's all that counts.

That's marvelous, then.

You know, they very nearly let a dog into the army.

It's actually not a bad story.

There's this wee fella herbo Gibson, right?

What?

It's just, we were talking about women, Gerry.

Aye, we were, and now I'm telling you about a dog.

So, this dog, Bo was his name,

and during the riots,

you know, when the lads were throwing stones,

Bo had orders to fetch each stone,

and bring it back to the thrower.

And he was quite a good soldier, Bo.

He always followed orders.

His career was cut short, though,

when one of the lads threw a nail bomb.

Bo picks it up, brings it back to his owner

and now the rioters all... All panic.

They're all losing their heads, jumping behind hedges

'til they heard the jelly go bang.

When they found Bo's body,

they gave the wee man a military funeral.

Jesus, Gerry.

Your stories are awful fucking dreary, mate.

Dolours, all I'm saying

is that being a soldier is not like your daddy says.

You're more like that dog, Bo.

You follow orders,

you don't ask questions, and there's a good chance

that someone you love will find your body in the street.

So...

The question, child, isn't if they'll let you fight.

The question is, are you sure you want to?

Raise your right hand and repeat after me:

I, dolours price

promise I will promote the objectives

of the Irish republican army

to the best of my knowledge and ability.

Promise that I will promote the objectives

of the Irish republican army

to the best of my knowledge and ability.

And that I will obey all orders

issued to me by the army authority

and my superior officers.

Issued to me by the army authority

and my superior officers.

Right, then.

You're not to tell anyone you're ira.

Not friends, boyfriends, schoolmates.

Loose talk costs lives.

Understood?

Have you ever said any of this on the record before?

No.

Not explicitly.

You wanna talk about the robberies?

Aye, I'll talk about the robberies.

The London job?

I'll talk about the London job, aye.

How about that thing that happened in divis flats?

What thing that happened in divis flats?

A woman was taken. She never came home.

She was a widow.

A mother of ten.

Her name was Jean mcconville.

Want to say anything about that?

You know one thing that I can say...

That all my life I thought joining the ira

was the noblest thing a person could do.

Could be worse, I guess.

How?

You were taught that you were fighting

in the name of the people.

Not too shabby?

That the whole community was behind you.

You know, that every drop of blood that was shed

was the cost of an unjust war.

You just moving in?

You're welcome to drop by sometime.

We're the ones with the red door.

That the men fighting beside you were your brothers.

And that everything you do together

is for the greater good of a free and united Ireland.

Welcome to divis, lad.

And I think people should know

that it's all lies.