The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) - full transcript

Colm?

Are you coming out to the pub, Colm?

It's 2:00, like.

Will I see you down there, so?

I'll see you down there, so.

What are you doin' home?

Brother?

What are you doin' home?

I knocked on ColmSonnyLarry.
He's just sitting there.

Sitting there doin' what?

Sittin' there doin' nothing.



Smoking.

Was he asleep?

He was smoking, Siobhán.
How do you smoke in your sleep, like?

Have ye been rowing?

We haven't been rowin'.

I don't think we've been rowin'.

Have we been rowin'?

Why wouldn't he answer the door to me?

Maybe he just doesn't like you no more.

Pint, Jonjo.

Is Colm not with you?

-No.
-Colm's always with you.

-I know.
-Did you not knock for him?

I did knock for him.



-Well, where is he?
-Just sittin' there.

Sittin' there doin' what?

Sittin' there doing nothin'.

Smokin'.

Have ye been rowin'?

I don't think we've been rowin'.

Sounds like ye've been rowin'.

It does sound like we've been rowin'.

Will I try him again?

That'd be the best thing.

Officer Kearney.

Never says "hello."

Never fecking says "hello."

Colm?

Colm?

The door was open, Colm.

Colm?

Where the hell are you headin' off to?

-Everybody?
-No, this is true.

He scored six points from open play.

He was barely the size of a dwarf!

This is true!

-Howdo.
-Howdo, Pádraic.

Sit somewhere else.

Huh?

But I have me pint there, Colm.

He has his pint there, Colm...

from when he came in
and ordered his pint before.

Okay.

I'll sit somewhere else, so.

Are ye rowin'?

I didn't think we were rowin'.

Well, ye are rowin'.

Well, ye are rowin'.
He's sittin' outside...

on his own like a whatchamacallit.

It does look like we're rowin'.

Well, I suppose I'd best go talk to him, so.

See what all this is fecking about.

That'd be the best thing.

Now I'm sittin' here next to you...

and if you're goin' back inside,
I'm followin' you inside...

and if you're goin' home,
I'm followin' you there, too.

Now, if I've done somethin' to ya...

just tell me what I've done to ya.

And if I've said somethin' to ya...

maybe I said somethin' when I was drunk,
and I've forgotten it...

but I don't think I said somethin'
when I was drunk, and I've forgotten it.

But if I did, then tell me what it was...

and I'll say sorry for that too, Colm.

With all me heart, I'll say sorry.

Just stop running away from me
like some fool of a moody schoolchild.

But you didn't say anything to me.

And you didn't do anything to me.

That's what I was thinking, like.

I just don't like you no more.

You do like me.

I don't.

But you liked me yesterday.

Did I, yeah?

I thought you did.

Pádraic.

Dominic.

What's the matter with ya?

There's nothing the matter with me,
for God's sake.

Look at this I found.

A stick with a hook.

What would you use it for, I wonder?

To hook things
that were the length of a stick away?

Where you goin'?

Down here.

As good a plan as any!

-Have you any fags?
-No.

You do. You always have fags.

ColmSonnyLarry's at Jonjo's
handing out a rake of fags.

Whoever's in the mood for one.

-Is he?
-No!

You're behavin' awful unusual.

What are you doin' here?

Was the pub closed?

No, it was open.

Anything in the paper?

Just the Civil War still.

A bad do.

Mrs. McCormick's comin' over later, Pádraic.
I couldn't avoid her.

I don't know if you're gonna be in or out,
but you're usually out.

Am I?

You are. Yeah, you know you are.

I don't care, Siobhán.

This is your house, too.

Is it six years since
your mammy and daddy died, Siobhán...

or is it seven years since they died?

It's coming up to eight years,
Mrs. McCormick, aye.

Is it comin' up to eight years?

Doesn't time be flyin'?

Aye, when you're havin' fun.

Be off to the pub now, Pádraic,
if you're gonna be annoyin' us.

I don't have to be down there
every night, do I?

ColmSonnyLarry's scared him off, I suppose.

What did you hear of ColmSonnyLarry?

Didn't you and he
used to be the best of friends?

We're still the best of friends.

-No, you're not.
-Who says we're not?

She says.

For God's sake, Siobhán.

I said nothing of the like, Mrs. McCormick!
I was just chatting.

Now, you go off to Jonjo's, Pádraic,
and don't be getting under our feet.

Sure, Mrs. McCormick never gets a chance
to come over for a chat.

She never gets a chance 'cause you avoid her.

I do not avoid her!

You hide behind walls
if she's coming up the road.

I do not...

hide behind walls.

Good luck to ye.

Whatever it is you're fightin' about.

PUBLIC HOUSE
J. J. DEVINE

I didn't hear there was to be a session.

Last-minute thing.

Colm decided.

All the ladies love Colm, you know.
Always did.

Yeah?
That's not true.

You're still barred, Dominic!
Out!

You said barred until April.

What are we now?

April.

Well, put that stick outside anyways,
and don't be bothering the women.

There's women?

There is women.

And good ones.

Well, I took out my dog

And him I did shoot

All down in the County Kildare...

If we sat next to Colm,
the women would have to talk to us too...

and then we could get at them
with our small talk.

I'm happy enough sittin' here, now.

Are ya, yeah?

Are ya happy enough, yeah?

So fill up your glasses
With brandy...

I can't stand the maudlin ones.

Play somethin' dancey, Colm!

To dance to.

And not have that mope whining.

So be easy and free...

Here, amn't I in enough trouble with him
without your mouthing?

What trouble in are you in with him?

He just...

doesn't want to be friends with me no more.

What is he, 12?

Why does he not
want to be friends with you no more?

Daddy'll kill us if we wake him
when he's been wanking.

You won't get into trouble
for taking his poteen?

I will get into trouble...

but fuck it.

I saw cannon-fire and rifle-fire
on the mainland tonight.

Did you see it?

That'll be the Civil War.

I know that, sure.

Me, I pay no attention to wars.
I'm agin 'em.

Wars and soap.

I tell you this much.

We're good at chatting, aren't we?

Me and you?

Your sister, does she like to chat?

Not as much as most women,
but she'll chat, like.

She more likes reading.

Reading?

Feckin' hell.

Reading.

And did you ever see her with no clothes on?

I didn't.

Did you not, and you her brother?

Not even as a child?

I don't like to be chattin'
about these types of things, Dominic!

What types of things?

Sisters with no clothes on!

You saw my daddy with no clothes on.

And till the day I die, I'll wish I hadn't.

Sure, don't I know it.

The tiny, brown cock on him.

What's the matter with him?

Maybe bad news he's had?

Daddy?

No, ColmSonnyLarry.

Didn't I tell ya I'd be off if you went
whining about that lummox one more time?

I tell ya, it didn't look like
he had bad news tonight.

It looked like a weight was lifted
from his shoulders tonight.

MARCH 1923

APRIL 1923
FRI 1

Just bringing me cows past.

What?

I was just bringing me cows past.
I wasn't, you know, trying to...

You don't usually bring them this way.

I don't, but then the little fella
took a fright at a hen on the corner, so...

I only...

I only just saw
what month we changed to yesterday.

More fool me?

Changed to April.

So, will I be callin' for ya
on me way to the pub later?

I will so.

Anyways...

I better chase after these goons
for they're gettin' away from me.

Maybe they don't like me no more neither.

See you at 2:00, so, Colm.

Why don't you come down for a sherry later?

There's no need to be stuck inside
on a nice day.

I will so.

How's the book?

It's sad.

Sad?

Well, you should read a not sad one, Siobhán,
else you might get sad.

Do you never get lonely, Pádraic?

Never get what?

Lonely.

Do I never get lonely?

What's the matter with everybody?

Jesus.

"Lonely." Fecking hell.

Colm?

Pint, Jonjo.

How's he seem?

Grand, I think.
With me, anyways.

What are you doing?

So you're gonna be
an eejit again today, is it?

Amn't I allowed to have
a quiet pint on me own, Pádraic?

Well, don't ask a man to call up to ya
at your fecking house, so...

like he has nothing better to do
with his fecking time.

I didn't ask you to call up to me
at me house.

And you do have nothing better to do
with your fecking time.

You do have nothing better to do
with your fecking time.

I know I've nothing better to do
with me fecking time...

but there's better things I could be doing
with me fecking time...

than to be calling up to ya
at your house, Colm Doherty!

Like what?

Like what else could you be doin'?

Reading.

Reading, yeah?

Me, this morning...

this I wrote.

Tomorrow, I'll write the second part of it.

And the day after,
I'll write the third part of it.

And by Wednesday,
there'll be a new tune in the world...

which wouldn't have been there
if I'd spent the week...

listening to your bollocks,
Pádraic Súilleabháin.

So, do you want to take your pint outside,
or do you want me to take my pint outside?

I'll take my pint outside,
'cause it's a shite tune anyways...

I wouldn't bother with it.

I was too harsh yesterday.

Yesterday, he says.

I know well you was too harsh yesterday.

And today.

I just...

I just have this tremendous sense of time
slippin' away on me, Pádraic.

And I think I need to spend
the time I have left thinking and composing.

Just trying not to listen...

to any more of the dull things
that you have to say for yourself.

But I'm sorry about it.
I am, like.

Are you dying?

No, I'm not dying.

But then you've loads of time.

For chatting?

-Aye.
-For aimless chatting?

Not for aimless chatting.
For good, normal chatting.

So, we'll keep aimlessly chatting
and me life'll keep dwindling.

And in 12 years,
I'll die with nothin' to show for it...

bar the chats I've had with a limited man,
is that it?

I said, "Not aimless chatting."

I said, "Good, normal chatting."

The other night,
two hours you spent talking to me...

about the things you found
in your little donkey's shite that day.

Two hours, Pádraic.
I timed it.

Well, it wasn't me little donkey's shite,
was it?

It was me pony's shite,
which shows how much you were listenin'.

None of it helps me, do you understand?

None of it helps me.

We'll just chat about somethin' else then.

What's the matter with ya?

Nothin'.

Aren't we going for a sherry?

Don't feel like it.

No, I'm not having this again today!

Hey! What the hell's going on with you
and me fecking brother?

Don't come in here shouting the odds at me...

in the middle of the fecking day,
all right, Siobhán?

You can't just all of a sudden
stop being friends with a fella!

Why can't I?

Why can't ya? Because it isn't nice.

-Do you want a sherry, Siobhán?
-No!

Righty-ho.

Has he said somethin' to ya
when he was drunk?

No, I prefer him when he's drunk.

It's all the rest of the time
I have the problem with.

What's the fecking matter, then?

He's dull, Siobhán.

He's what?

He's dull.

But he's always been dull.
What's changed?

I've changed.

I just don't have a place for dullness
in me life anymore.

But you live on an island
off the coast of Ireland, Colm.

What the hell are you hoping for, like?

For a bit of peace, Siobhán.
That's all.

For a bit of peace in me heart, like.

You can understand that.
Can't ya?

Can't ya?

Do you think I'm dull?

No. 'Cause you're not dull, you're nice.

That's what I thought.
I mean, I'm a happy lad.

Or I was.

Till me best friend
started acting the gilly-gooly.

It's him, Pádraic.

Maybe he's just depressed.

That's what I was thinking,
that he's depressed.

Well, if he is, he could at least
keep it to himself, like.

You know, push it down, like the rest of us.

No, Jenny! Out!

Out!

She just wants a bit of company, Siobhán.

Animals is for outside, I've told ya.

And people don't be laughing at me
behind me back...

do they?

No. Why would they be?

They don't think I'm dim or anything?

Dim?

No.

You don't seem very sure about it.

Of course, I'm sure about it.

Dominic's the dim one
on the island, isn't he?

He is, aye. By miles.

Hang on, by miles.
And then, who's the next dimmest?

Well, I don't like to judge people
in those terms now, do I?

-In what terms?
-In order of their dimness.

Well, I know you don't.
And neither do I, do I?

-But try, like.
-No!

I won't try.

There's enough judgy people
on this fecking island, so no!

You're not dim! You're a nice man, all right?
So, move on!

I'm as clever as you, anyways.

I know that at least.

Yeah, don't be fecking stupid.

What happened to you?

Me daddy discovered the poteen situation.

Jesus, Dominic!

You poor thing, ya.

What the hell was he hittin' you with?

A kettle was the final thing.
I wouldn'ta minded, but for the spout.

Do you want a ride to church?

Feck them gobshites!

Dominic!

But could I stay the night with ye the night?

Just for the one night, like?

Well, just the one night, mind.

Nice! I'll see ye for supper, so.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

It's eight weeks
since my last confession, I think.

Go on, Colm.

Just the usual, I suppose, Father.
The drinking and the impure thoughts.

And a bit of pride, I suppose.

Although I never really saw that as a sin,
but sure I'm here now.

And...

how's the despair?

Not so much of it of late.
Thanks be.

And why aren't you talking
to Pádraic Súilleabháin no more?

That wouldn't be a sin, now,
would it, Father?

It wouldn't be a sin, no,
but it's not very nice either, is it?

Who told you?

It's an island, Colm. Word gets around.

Also, Pádraic asked me
to put in a word, like.

I see.

So...

It isn't him
you have the impure thoughts about, is it?

Are you joking me?

I mean, are you fecking joking me?

People do have impure thoughts
about men, too.

Do you have impure thoughts
about men, Father?

I do not have impure thoughts about men.

And how dare you say that
about a man of the cloth?

Well, you started it.

Well, you can get out of my confessional
right now, so you can.

And I'm not forgiving you any of these things
until the next time, so I'm not!

Well, I better not be dying
in the meantime then, eh, Father?

I'll be pure fucked!

You will be pure fucked!

Yes, you will be pure fucked!

Pint, Colm?

If you don't stop talkin' to me,
and if you don't stop botherin' me...

or sendin' your sister or your priest
to bother me...

I didn't send me sister to bother you, did I?

She has her own mind.

Although, I did send the priest though,
you have me there.

What I've decided to do is this.

I have a set of shears at home.

And each time you bother me
from this day on...

I'll take those shears...

and I'll take one of me fingers off
with them.

And I'll give that finger to ya.

A finger from me left hand. Me fiddle hand.

And each day you bother me more...

another I'll take off and I'll give ya...

until you see sense enough to stop.

Or until I have no fingers left.

Does this make things clearer to ya?

Not really, no.

Because I don't want
to hurt your feelings, Pádraic.

I don't, like.

But it feels like the drastic
is the only option left open to me.

You've loads of options left open to ya.

How's fingers the first port of call?

Please, don't talk to me...

no more, Pádraic.
Please.

-I'm begging you.
-But...

Shush, like, Pádraic.

-Just, you know, shush, like.
-Yeah, I'd shush, like.

I will shush.

Except me and me sister were thinking
you might just be a bit depressed, Colm.

And I tell you this much,
fingers just confirms it.

Don't you think, Colm?

Starting from now.

Well, I never heard the like.

I never heard the like.
He must really not like you, Pádraic.

Fingers!

Jesus. He's serious, lads.

He is serious!

You can see it in his eyes he's serious.

Just because he thinks you're dull.

That's going overboard!

Who told you about the dull?

Well, I overheard it.
Like, what was I supposed to do?

I don't think you're dull.

And jeez,
if I was to cut something off meself...

for every dull person that came in here,
I'd only have me head left.

Do you think I'm dull, Gerry?

No.

That said...

I did think the two of ye
always made a funny pairing, like.

-No, we didn't.
-Yeah, ye did.

Ye did. Obviously, ye did.

'Cause now he'd rather maim himself
than talk to ya.

Colm was always more of a thinker.

Why's every...
I think.

You don't, Pádraic.

-You don't, Pádraic.
-Your sister does.

-Your sister does, aye. Siobhán does.
-You're more of a...

You're more of a...
What is he?

You're more one of life's good guys.

You're more one of life's good guys, aye.
Apart from when you're drunk.

Apart from when you're drunk, aye.

I used to think that'd be a nice thing to be.

One of life's good guys.

And now, it sounds like
the worst thing I ever heard.

Don't take it like that, Pádraic.

Don't take it like that, Pádraic.

We're on your side.

What are you smiling at?

What's this mope so mopey for?
He's just a fecking man, lads!

A fat, ginger man!

Ay yi yi.

I'll tell ya this much.
Ye two are awful mopey hosts.

Luckily, you won't have to put up with us
more than one night, so...

and try eatin' with your mouth closed.

Where are we now, France?

Will you tell him, Pádraic?

Aye, stop being
a little fecking bollocks, Dominic.

No. Just about the mouth thing.

Colm Doherty and his fat fecking fingers.

He probably wouldn't even be able
to cut through the blubber on them fingers.

Would you not want him to have to do the
one finger to see if he was bluffing, like?

No, we wouldn't.

That's what I'd have him do, I'd have him do
the one finger to see if he was bluffin'.

'Cause worst comes to worst...

he can still play the fiddle
with four fingers, I'll bet ya.

Or the banjo.

We don't want any of that.
We just want nothing to do with him no more.

You don't.
This gom does.

I am a gom, is right.

You're not a gom!

Jeez.

This is a depressing house.

Would you prefer your own, so?

I've heard it's a barrel of fecking laughs.

Well, touché.

Too what?

Ché. Touché.
It's from the French.

And how is it, Siobhán,
that you was never married?

It's none of your fecking business
how I was never fecking married.

How isn't it?

How isn't it?

Was you never wild?

Wild? Was I never wild?

I don't know
what you're talkin' about, Dominic.

Wild, how? Angry?

'Cause I'm gettin' angry now, I can tell ya!

Not angry. Wild.

You just keep sayin' wild, Dominic!

-Wild!
-My brother told you, didn't he?

That you'd be out in the road
if you started talking stupid to me?

He said creepy, not stupid.

Well, you've failed on both counts,
haven't ya?

I have.

I'm off to bed and he's not stayin' here
another night, Pádraic.

I don't care how depressed you are.
I'd rather have the donkey in.

Foiled again.

But "faint heart" and all that.

Here.

Ye two, ye'll be all right.

Will we be?

Hello there, Mrs. O'Riordan,
I've the milk outside for ya.

So, it's the two weeks
you owe me for now, I think.

Nobody has a lick of news for us
from your side of the island, Pádraic.

Are you going to be the same as them?

I am, Mrs. O'Riordan, I'm afraid.
And I'm in a bit of a rush, so...

Eileen Coughlan had no news.

Vincent Shaughnessy had no news.

It was a poor old week for news.
But then it is, sometimes.

ColmSonnyLarry, he had no news.

Did he not?

That man never talks.

-He talks sometimes.
-Up himself.

Aye, aye, anyways, so, it's the two weeks
you owe me for now, Mrs. O'Riordan.

As I was sayin'.

Ladies.

It's Peadar.

Peadar always has a rake of news.

-What news have you, Peadar?
-News, is it?

Fella killed himself, over Rosmuck way.

Walked into a lake for himself.

Twenty-nine and nothing wrong with him,
the fool.

God love us!

No, not "God love us."
Fool!

Another fella...

Protestant, of course...

stabbed his missus in Letterkenny.

Six times he stabbed her.

Good God!
And did she die, Peadar?

She did die, aye.

It wasn't with a spoon he was stabbin' her.

That's a lot of news.

This man has no news, don't ya not?
No-Newsy!

-Stukes never have news.
-Stukes!

Funny.

There was a bit of news
I remembered, Mrs. O'Riordan.

Dominic Kearney's father beat
Dominic senseless with a kettle Saturday...

and is staying with me and me sister,
Dominic is.

So, at least his father'll take
a bit of a break from his beatin' of him.

And him, a policeman.

Isn't that news?

That Dominic's an awful little bollocks.

That's no news.

Still, he was in a bad way
when I came upon him.

I'd beat him with a kettle meself
if I wasn't old.

It's news is all I'm sayin'.

That's no news.
That's shite news.

Okay, so, Mrs. O'Riordan, thanks for the...

I'll see ya when I see ya.

And you can tell
that skitter of a son of mine...

he'd better be home by teatime...

or it's over to batter
the both of ye I'll be...

and your dreary fecking sister, too!

Hello there, Colm.

Will I see you at Jonjo's tonight
for that pint you owe me?

I owe you no...

You will, Peadar.

Good man yourself.

Stand.

Stand.

What's that, Jenny?

Will we go to the pub for ourselves?

We will. Come on.

One drink you're havin', lady,
then it's off home with ya.

I've a shirt that wants ironing
for the morning.

Okay, Daddy.

Aye. Off to the mainland in the morning
I'm headin'.

That's why I need the clean shirt, like.

"And why are you off to the mainland
in the mornin', Peadar?"

Thanks for asking, Colm.
I'll tell ya why.

They've asked for extra manpower
for a couple of the executions...

in case there's any kind of a to-do, like.

Six bob and a free lunch they're payin' me.

And sure I'd have gone for nothin'.

I've always wanted to see an execution,
haven't you?

Although, I'd have preferred a hanging.

Who are they executin'?

The Free State lads are executin'
a couple of the IRA lads.

Or is it the other way around?

I find it hard to follow these days.

Wasn't it so much easier
when we was all on the same side...

and it was just the English we was killin'?

I think it was.
I preferred it.

But you don't care who's executin' who?

For six bob and a free lunch, I don't care!

They could be executin' you.

Why don't you come with me?

You could write
a miserable feckin' song about it.

Nah, I'm only messin'.

Who are them?

Music students, I think, from Lisdoonvarna.

Another whiskey, anyways, Jonjo.

Jeez, you're goin' at it
at a fair old lick tonight, Pádraic.

Yeah? What's it to ya?

Pádraic, don't now...

Go get Siobhán, Dominic, would ya?

What are you after, gobshite?

Another beatin', is it?

You, copper, I'm allowed
to chat to you, aren't I?

It's just tubbyguts
I'm not allowed to talk to.

Actually, no, I'd rather
you didn't talk to me neither.

Well, anyways...

do you want to know what the three things
that I hate the most...

-on Inisherin is?
-Not really.

One...

policemen.

Two...

pudgy fiddle players.

And three...

Wait, I had some funny thing for three.
What was it?

I'll start again.
One...

policemen.

Two...

Pudgy fiddle players.

Pudgy fiddle players.

And shite, what was three?

Go on back to your own gang now, Pádraic.
I'm serious, now.

Serious, are ya?

And talkin' to me,
are ya?

Siobhán!

Pádraic's out of his brains on whiskey,
and Colm's there.

You'd better come.

You, Colm Doherty,
do you know what you used to be?

No, Pádraic, what did I used to be?

Nice!

You used to be nice!

Didn't he not?

And now, do you know what you are?

Not nice.

Well...

I suppose niceness doesn't last then,
does it, Pádraic?

But will I tell ya something that does last?

What? And don't say
somethin' stupid like music.

-Music lasts.
-Knew it!

And paintings last. And poetry lasts.

So does niceness.

Do you know who we remember...

for how nice they was in the 17th century?

-Who?
-Absolutely no one.

Yet we all remember the music of the time.

Everyone, to a man, knows Mozart's name.

Well, I don't, so there goes that theory.

And anyway, we're talkin' about niceness.

Not whatsisname.

My mammy, she was nice.

I remember her.

And my daddy, he was nice.
I remember him.

And my sister, she's nice.

I'll remember her.
Forever I'll remember her.

-And who else will?
-"Who else will" what?

Remember Siobhán and your niceness?

No one will.

In 50 years' time...

no one will remember any of us.

Yet the music of a man
who lived two centuries ago...

"Yet" he says, like he's English.

Come home, Pádraic.

I don't give a feck about Mozart...

or Borvoven...

or any of them funny name feckers.

I'm Pádraic Súilleabháin.

And I'm nice.

Come home.

So you'd rather be friends
with this fella, would ya?

A fella who...

beats his own son black and blue every night
that he's not fiddling with him.

I never told him that, Daddy.
He's just drunk now.

You used to be nice.

Or did you never used to be?

Oh, God.

Maybe you never used to be.

I'll have a word with him, Colm.
You don't need to do anything drastic.

He won't be botherin' you no more.

That's a shame.

That's the most interesting he's ever been.
I think I like him again now.

It was the 18th century, anyway.
Mozart.

Not the 17th.

Siobhán Súilleabháin!
Well, well.

I only came in for rashers, Mrs. O'Riordan.
I've no time to talk, I'm afraid.

Letter came for ya.

Fell open, did it?

Aye, in the heat, I suppose.

A job offer, is it?

A job offer from a library
on the mainland, is it?

Just the rashers, please, Mrs. O'Riordan.
About ten of them.

You never tell me anything!

Well, it'd crucify him, your leaving!

Hey, no one's leaving!

Listen, I didn't come down to chat.

I just came down to say that all that
last night was just the whiskey talkin', Colm.

All what last night?

All whatever it was I was sayin'.

What were you sayin'?

Yeah. I can't remember much of it...

but I remember
the gist of it wasn't the best.

You always know, don't ya?

Well, anyways,
I just wanted to say I was sorry.

Will we leave it at that?

Why can't you just leave me alone, Pádraic?

I've already told ya, haven't I?

Yeah, I know. I was just...

I mean, why can't you just leave me alone?

-What are ya doing?
-I don't know.

For fuck's sake, like.

How's the new tune?

What?

For God's sake, Pádraic.

How many more times?

I am not putting me donkey outside
when I am sad, okay?

Well, stringy bits of shite I had to pick up
yesterday when ya let her in!

There was no stringy bits
in that donkey's shite.

There was bits of straw,
if there was anything.

Maybe it was straw, so.

I'll get us our porridge.

Was I awful last night?

No, you was lovely.

Well, I know I wasn't lovely now, Siobhán.

You were lovely.
About me, anyways.

Of course I was lovely about you.

What else is there to be about ya?

What was that? A bird?

What was what?

The bang at the door.

A bird?

-Aye.
-No.

What was it, so?

-The bang at the door?
-Aye!

What was the bang at the door?

It was...

hard to lie...

it was...

a finger.

A what?

Finger.

Jesus, Siobhán!
You'll frighten the little fella!

Throw it out, Pádraic!

I'm not throwing his finger out!
It'll get dirt on it!

Where'd you put it?

Shoebox.

Oh, my. Oh, God.

Well...

he's serious, then.

Do we have to have it in here
while we're eating?

Once I finish me porridge,
I'll bring it back to him.

Are you feckin' stupid?

I mean, are you feckin' stupid?

No, I'm not feckin' stupid.
We've had this discussion.

You've got to leave him alone now, Pádraic.
For good!

Do you think?

Do I think?
Yeah, I do think!

He's cut his feckin' finger off,
and thrown it at ya!

Come on! It wasn't at me.

Well, what are we going to do?

We can't keep a man's finger.

Jesus, Colm!

Did it hurt?

Hurt awful to begin with.
Thought I was going to faint.

It's funny, feels fine now,
in all the excitement.

Would you like a cup of tea?

I won't, Colm. I only came up
to give you your finger back.

Yeah?

Thanks.

Cleared up quite nice, actually.

And you wouldn't have thought it would.

What do you need from him, Colm?

To end all this?

Silence, Siobhán.

Just silence.

One more silent man on Inisherin, good-oh!

Silence it is, so.

This isn't about Inisherin.

It's about one boring man
leaving another man alone, that's all.

"One boring man"!
You're all fecking boring!

With your piddling grievances over nothin'!

You're all fecking boring!

I'll see he doesn't talk to you no more.

Do.

Else it'll be all four of them the next time,
not just the one.

You're not serious.

Well, that won't help your fecking music.

Aye.

We're gettin' somewhere now.

I think you might be ill, Colm.

Do worry sometimes
I'm just entertaining meself...

while I stave off the inevitable.

Don't you?

No, I don't.

Yeah, you do.

Declan!

Howdo!

Howdo!

Do you want a ride?

I will so.

Thanks, fella!

Oh, no, you're not that student fella
from Lisdoonvarna, are ya?

I am. I'm Declan.

Why?

They told me at the post office
to try to find...

that student fella, Declan,
from Lisdoonvarna.

Yeah, a telegram came for ya.

From your mammy.

My mammy is no longer with us.

Not your mammy, sorry.

Did I say your mammy?
Your auntie. Yeah, your auntie.

It's about your daddy.

What about Daddy?

Bread van crashed into him.

-The bread van?
-Yeah.

They said you'd best hurry home to him,
lest he should die all alone.

Die?

Or get worse, all alone.

This is impossible.

It's not impossible.

-Bread vans crash into people all the time.
-I know!

That's how me mammy died.

If it's the same fecking bread van,
I'll kill them.

Thanks.

What were you talking to the boat fella for?

For none of your fecking business,
I think it was.

Of course, it's me business.
Aren't I the law?

Fecking knob.

Well, you can tell
that whiny brother of yours...

I'll be around soon
for that battering I owe him.

A battering?

That'd be good, actually.
It might take him out of himself.

You're an awful strange lady.

No wonder no one likes ya.

Hello, there, Mrs. McCormick.

A death shall come to Inisherin
afore the month is out.

A death, huh?

Maybe even two deaths.

Well, that'd be sad.

We shall pray to the Lord...

'tis neither you, nor poor Siobhán,
will be either of them.

Well, is that a nice thing to be sayin'?

I wasn't trying to be nice.

I was trying to be accurate.

Fecking hell.

What's the matter?

Nothing.

Me daddy say he's gonna kill you Sunday...

for spilling the beans
about that fiddling with me.

"Kill me," kill me, or you know...

"beat me up a bit," kill me?

"Beat you up a bit," kill ya, I think.

Although he did kill a man once.

I'm sorry for that
spilling the beans on ya, Dominic.

I was out of order that night.

You was funny apart from that bit.

That's why I don't understand
why that fat fella threw the finger at ya.

He seemed fine when you were slagging him.

He did not.

Did he?

"That's the most interesting
Pádraic's ever been," he said.

"I think I like him again now."

Aye.

Maybe this whole thing has just been about
gettin' you to try a new tack...

start standin' up for yourself a bit.

Do you think?

Yeah, and be less of a, you know...

whiny little dull-arse.

Well, I have been
less of a whiny little dull-arse, actually.

Have ya, yeah?

Just yesterday, there was this musician fella
that Colm was getting along great with.

And what did I do?
I went and sent him packing from the island.

Did ya? How?

I told him a bread van
crashed into his daddy...

and he'd have to be rushing home to him,
lest he die.

That sounds like the meanest thing
I've ever heard.

Well, aye, it was a bit mean, but...

he'll be fine once he gets home and he finds
his daddy hasn't been hit by a bread van.

I used to think you were the nicest of them.

Turns out you're just the same as them.

I am the nicest of them.

Dominic, now!

Well, maybe I'm not a happy lad, so!

Maybe this is the new me!

Aye.

Maybe this is the new me.

Howdo!

Jesus Christ, Dominic!

Would you ever stop creeping up on people?

You almost gave me a fecking heart attack!

I wasn't creeping up on ya.

I was sidling up on ya.

Between you and that ghoul, Jesus!

I always call her a ghoul, too,
because she is a ghoul.

Jeez, we have a lot in common, don't we?
Me and you.

Calling old people ghouls and that.

It's a great old lake, isn't it?

I'm glad I caught you, actually.

Because there was somethin'
I was wantin' to ask ya, actually.

And discovering how much
we have in common...

well, it just makes me
want to ask you even more.

We don't have anything in common.

Don't skip ahead.

But yeah, what I was wantin'
to ask you was...

Somethin' along the lines of...

Should've planned this, really.

Well, yeah,
what I was wantin' to ask you was...

You probably wouldn't ever want to,
I don't know...

to fall in love with a boy like me, would ya?

Dominic, I don't think so, love.

No, yeah, no. I was thinking no.

Not even in the future, like?
Like when I'm your age?

Yeah, no, I didn't think so.

Just thought I'd ask on the off chance,
you know...

like, "faint heart" and that.

Well, there goes that dream.

Well...

I best go over there and do whatever
that thing over there I was gonna do was.

I walked from Mallow Town

To Aghadoe, Aghadoe

I took his head from the jail gate to Aghadoe

Come on, Sammy, you have to dance too.

Like an Irish king he sleeps in Aghadoe

How are you, fatty?

Dancing with your dog, is it?

Well, who else is gonna dance with ya?
Your poor dog has no say in the matter.

And if you're too rude
to be offering me a seat...

I'll be taking one of me own accord!

Now, how's that for an old hello?

Have you gone fecking mental?

Have I gone fecking mental?

No, I haven't gone fecking mental, actually.

Not only have I not gone fecking mental...

but I have ten fingers to prove
I've not gone fecking mental.

How many fingers do you have to prove
you've not gone fecking mental?

Nine fingers.

And nine fingers is the epitome of mental.

That's right. The epitome!

There'll be none of that!
I didn't come here for licks!

I came here for the opposite of licks.

What's the opposite of licks?

What did you come here for?

I didn't come here for anythin', did I?

I just came to kick your door in
and give you a slagging.

Well, you've done that, so you can go now.

Haven't finished yet, have I?

Well, I finished with your door.
I haven't finished with your slagging.

We were doin' so well, Pádraic.

I wasn't doing so well.

I was doing terrible.

All right, I was doin' so well.

Yeah, well, it can't all be you, you, you,
can it?

Yes, it can.

-There's two of us in this.
-No, there isn't.

It takes two to tango.

I don't want to tango.

Well, you danced with your dog.

Talkin' of tangos,
how's your new tune comin' along?

I just finished it, actually.

Just this morning.

No, Colm, that's great, like!

That's why I was dancing with me dog.

I don't usually dance with me dog.

There's no harm dancin' with your dog.

I'd dance with me donkey if I knew how.
And she did.

Is it good?

Your tune?

What's it called?

"The Banshees of Inisherin," I was thinking.

But there are no banshees on Inisherin.

I know, I just like the double S.H. sounds.

Aye.

There's plenty of double S.H. on Inisherin.

Yeah.

Maybe there are banshees, too.

I just don't think that they scream
to portend death anymore.

I think they just sit back, amused,
and observe.

Portend?

Yeah.

I keep having thoughts
about playing it for you at your funeral.

But that wouldn't be fair on either of us,
would it?

Well, that's great
that you finished your tune, Colm.

That's more than great.

That's really great.

So, do you want to meet me
down the pub, Colm?

We could celebrate your tune, like.

Only if you'd like, like.

But I could run up ahead.
Order them in.

Why don't you do that, Pádraic?

Why don't I run up...

and order them?

Well, I will so.

Jeez, that went well!
And maybe on the way...

I can find that student friend of yours,
that Declan fella!

I told him his daddy was dying,
so he'd feck off home...

and leave us alone,
but there's no need now!

Sure he could join us.

What are you sitting over there for
when I'm over here?

Just thought I'd have a sit for meself,
you know.

Wait for me friend.

Are you fecking joking me?

Your four-fingered friend?

I mean, are you fecking joking me?

No, I'm not fecking joking ya.

He just needed a bit of tough love was all.

Siobhán, do you want a sherry?

-No.
-Righty-ho.

What are you doin'?

-Me?
-Yes, you.

Nothing. Just drinkin'.

-Not waitin'?
-Not waitin'.

Well, he is waitin', Siobhán.
He's waitin' for Colm Doherty.

I amn't waitin'.

He just told me he was waitin'.

Telltale!

Come home with me, Pádraic.
I've somethin' to discuss with ya.

You've somethin' to discuss with me?

That sounds...

I don't want to discuss somethin'.

Well, ya have to, 'cause I'm leavin'.

Leavin'?

Like leavin'?

Like...

not staying?

Yeah.

But what about me?

What about you?

I'll have no friends at all left!

-You'll have Dominic.
-Ah here!

And he's gone off me now, too.

What kind of a place is it
when the village gom goes off ya?

And who's gonna do the cookin'?

That's your first question, isn't it?
"Who's gonna do the cookin'?"

Well, it wasn't me first question, was it?
"But what about me?" was me first question.

Pádraic.

Pádraic!

Now?
But you can't be leavin' now!

I can be leavin' now.

I can't be waitin' round
for any more of this madness!

What the hell did you say to him, Pádraic?

Nothin' really.

Well, I'd sort of had a chat
with Dominic earlier.

And a new sort of...

you know, standin' up for meself
sort of tack we thought I should try.

God!

It was all going fine
until he chopped off all his fingers.

Me books wouldn't fit.

Would you look after them for me?

Don't go, Siobhán.

They're all I have, really.

Apart from the obvious.

You'll be back soon, won't you, Siobhán?

Oh, Pádraic!

Don't say, "Oh, Pádraic."

Say yes.

Jenny.

Oh.

I don't want to talk.

Don't go killin' his dog now.

And don't be puttin' things in me head...

that weren't there
in the first feckin' place...

you feckin' nutbag!

"Nutbag!"

What would I ever hurt you for?

You're the only nice thing about him.

How are you, Pádraic?
You're lookin' well.

That's lovely, lads.

I don't need your apologies, all right?

It's a relief to me.

So, let's just call it quits...

and agree to go our separate ways,
for good this time.

Your fat fingers
killed me little donkey today.

So, no, we won't call it quits.

We'll call it the start.

-You're jokin' me.
-Yeah, no.

I'm not jokin' ya.

So tomorrow, Sunday...

God's day, around 2:00...

I'm going to call up to your house
and I'm gonna set fire to it...

and hopefully you'll still be inside it.

But I won't be checkin' either way.

Just be sure and leave your dog outside.

I've nothing against that gom.

Or you can do
whatever's in your power to stop me.

To our graves we're taking this.

To one of our graves, anyways.

Here.

I've a bone to pick with you, dreary.

Is that little gobshite of mine
at your place again?

Leave him, Peadar.
His donkey's just died.

Did he?

The little miniature fella?

Well, Jesus, boys,
I'll tell ya this much...

Two o'clock.

I killed a miniature donkey.

It was by accident...

but I do feel bad about it.

Do you think God gives a damn
about miniature donkeys, Colm?

I fear he doesn't.

And I fear that's where it's all gone wrong.

Is that it?

Is what it?

Aren't you forgetting a couple of things?

No, I think I've covered it.

Wouldn't you say
punching a policeman is a sin?

Ah here.

If punching a policeman is a sin...

we may as well just pack up and go home.

And self-mutilation is a sin.

It's one of the biggest.

Is it?

Self-mutilation, so you have me there.

Multiplied by five.

How's the despair?

It's back a bit.

But you're not gonna do anything about it?

I'm not gonna do anything about it, no.

Dear Pádraic...

I am safely ensconced in the mainland
and, Pádraic, it's lovely here.

There's a river running past my window
as I write...

and the people already seem
less bitter and mental.

I'm not sure why, but I think
it's 'cause a lot of them are from Spain.

Mostly, I wanted to say
there's a spare bed here for you, Pádraic.

And with the war almost over,
I think there'd be work for ya here.

Because there's nothing for you on Inisherin.

Nothing but more bleakness and grudges...

and loneliness and spite...

and the slow passing of time until death.

And sure, you can do that anywhere.

So come, Pádraic. Leave there.

Dominic can look after Jenny
and the rest of your animals.

They could move into the house together.

So come now, Pádraic, please.

Before it's all too late.

Dear Siobhán.

Obviously,
I don't know what "ensconced" is...

but I thank you for the offer of the free bed
and the whatnot.

But I won't be takin' you up on it,
I'm afraid.

As I told you, me life is on Inisherin.

Me friends, me animals.

JENNY

Even now as I write...

little donkey Jenny
is looking at me saying...

"Please don't go, Pádraic.
We'd miss ya."

And nuzzling me, the gilly-gooly.

Get off, Jenny.

In other news...

in sadder news, actually...

I won't be able to ask Dominic anything,
I'm afraid.

Because they found him in the lake
this morning.

I suppose he must've slipped
and fell in.

So, there'd be no one
to take care of the animals, anyway.

No other news, really.

Except that I love you, Siobhán.

And I miss ya.

And I hope I'll see ya again someday.

If you ever come back home.

Come back home, Siobhán.

Yours sincerely, your loving brother...

Pádraic Súilleabháin.

Suppose me house makes us quits.

If you'd stayed in your house,
that would've made us quits.

But you didn't, did ya,
so it doesn't, does it?

I'm sorry about your donkey, Pádraic.

Honestly, I am.

I don't fucking care.

Haven't heard any rifle fire
from the mainland in a day or two.

I think they're coming to the end of it.

I'm sure they'll be at it again soon enough,
aren't you?

Some things there's no movin' on from.

And I think that's a good thing.

Pádraic.

Thanks for lookin' after me dog
for me, anyways.

Any time.