The Shadow of a Gunman (1972) - full transcript

Donal Davoren is a poet but the folks in his tenement building think he's an IRA gunman laying low. Donal is content to let them think so, especially sweet colleen Minnie Powell. Donal and his flat mate Seamus end up holding the bag, literally, after a friend of Seamus who's really in the IRA is killed. When the authorities search house to house for IRA members Millie tries to protect Donal.

(dramatic music)

(upbeat jazzy music)

(moody orchestral music)

- [Announcer] The Hollywood
Television Theatre presents

"The Shadow of a Gunman by Sean O'Casey.

(light cheerful music)

(gentle music)

And now, Act One of
"The Shadow of a Gunman"

by Sean O'Casey.

- "Or when sweet summer's
ardent arms outspread entwined

"with flowers and fold us
like two lovers newlywed

"through ravished hours,

"then sorrow, woe and pain
lose all their powers.

"For each is dead and life is only ours."

(man snores)

Sorrow and pain.

Pain and sorrow.

Sorrow and pain.

Of course, of course.

(knuckles rapping)

- [Woman] Are you awake, Mr. Shields?

Mr. Shields, are you awake?

Are you going to get up
today at all, at all?

(knuckles rapping)

Mr. Shields, is there any
use in calling you at all?

This is a nice nine o'clock.

Do you know what time it is, Mr. Shields?

- [Shields] Yes!

- Why don't you get up
then, and not have the house

turned into a bedlam trying to waken you?

- All right, all right, all right!

The way these ol' ones bawl at a body.

Upon me soul, I'm beginning to think

that the Irish people are
still in the Stone Age.

If they could, they'd throw a bomb at you.

- A landmine exploding
underneath the bed is

the only thing that
could lift you out of it.

- Ah, I was fast in the
arms of Morpheus. (chuckles)

He was one of the infernal deities,

son of Somnus, wasn't he?
- I think so.

- The poppy was his emblem, wasn't it?

- I don't know.

- It's a bit cold this
morning I think, isn't it?

- It's quite plain I'm not to get

much quietness in this house.

- I wonder what time it is.

- The Angelus went some time ago.

- The Angelus?
- Aye.

- Ah, no, it couldn't
be that late, could it?

I asked them to call me at
9:00 so as I could get Mass

before I went on me rounds.

Why didn't you give us a rap?

- Give you a rap.

Why, man, they've been
thundering at the door

and hammering at the windows
for the past two hours

till the house shook
to its very foundation.

But you took less notice
of the infernal din

than I would take of the
strumming of a grasshopper.

- Yes, well, there's no fear of you

thinking of anyone else
when you're at your poetry.

(chuckles) Well, the land
of saints and scholars

will soon be a land of bloody poets.

I suppose Maguire has come and gone?

- Maguire? No, he hasn't been here.

Why, did you expect him?

- He said he'd be here at 9:00!

"Before the last chime has struck,"

says he, "I'll be coming in that door,"

and it must be, what time is it now?

- It must be half past 12.

- Did anybody ever see the
like of the Irish people?

Is there any use trying to
do anything in this country?

Have everything packed and
ready, have everything packed-

- [Donal] And have you
everything packed and ready?

- Well, what's the use of having
everything packed and ready

when he didn't come?

No wonder this unfortunate
country is as it is,

for you can't believe the word
of a single individual in it.

I suppose he was too damn lazy to get up.

He wanted the streets to be
well aired first. (chuckles)

Oh, Kathleen ni Houlihan,
your way's a thorny way.

- Oh me, alas, pain,
pain, pain ever, forever.

- That's Shelley's "Prometheus Unbound."

You know, I could never
agree with Shelley,

not that I've gotten
against him as a poet.

- He flung a few stones
through stained glass windows.

- Well, he wasn't the first,

and he won't be the last to do that.

But the stained glass windows,
more than any of them,

are still there, and Shelley is doing

a jazz dance down below. (chuckles)

- And you actually rejoice
and are exceeding glad that,

as you believe, Shelley,

the sensitive, high-minded,
noble-hearted Shelley,

is suffering the tortures of the damned?

- I rejoice in the vindication
of the church and truth.

- Bah, you know as little
about truth as anybody else,

and you care as little for the church

as the least of those
that profess her faith.

Your religion is simply
the state of being afraid

that God will torture your
soul in the next world

as you're afraid the Black and Tans

will torture your body in this.

- Oh, go on, me boy, go on.

I'll have a right laugh at
you when both of us are dead.

- Well, you're welcome to
laugh as much as you like

at me when both of us are dead.

- I don't think I need
wash meself this morning.

Do I look all right?
- You're all right.

It's too late now to
start washing yourself.

Didn't you wash yourself
yesterday morning?

- Oh, I gave meself a great rub yesterday.

Ah, I think I'll bring out
some of these braces too.

Damn it, they're well worth
sixpence each, did you see them?

- Yes, you showed them to me before.

- Oh, they're great value.

I only hope I can get enough for them.

I'm wearing a pair of them meself.

Look, they'd do Samson, they're so strong.

Now. (grunts)

(metal clinks)

And there's a dozen in
each of these packages.

I better count them to make sure.

Three. Six.


Damn it, there's only 11 in this one.

I'd better try another.

Three. Six.


My god there's only 11 in this
one too and one of them bent.

(metal clinks)
(poet laughs)

Now, I suppose I'll have to go

through the whole bloody lot of them.

For I'd never be easy in me mind thinking

there might be more than
a dozen in some of them.

And we're still looking
for freedom. (chuckles)

Ah, ye gods, it's a glorious country. Oh!

As our braces have to break in hell.

- That doesn't look as if they were

strong enough for Samson.

- I put a heavy strain on them too sudden!

There's that fellow Maguire
never turned up, either.

He's almost too lazy to wash himself.

(knuckles rapping)

- Good morning, Seumas.
- This is a nice nine o'clock.

What's the use of coming in
here at this hour of the day?

Do you think we're going
to work by moonlight?

If you weren't gonna be here at 9:00,

why couldn't you say you
weren't gonna be here at 9:00?

- Keep your hair on!

I just blew in to tell you that
I couldn't go today at all.

I've got to go to Knocksedan.

- Knocksedan?
- Yeah.

- Well, what in the name of God

can be bringing you to Knocksedan?

- Business, business, I'm
going out to catch butterflies.

- Now if you want to a cod out of anybody,

try and make a cod out of somebody else,

but don't be making a cod out of me.

Here I've had everything
packed and ready for hours.

You would have been here at nine o'clock,

and you wait till just one
o'clock to come rushing in

like a mad bull to tell me
you've gotta go to Knocksedan.

Can't you leave Knocksedan till tomorrow?

- Can't be did, can't be did, Seumas.

If I waited till tomorrow,

all the butterflies might be dead.

Here, I'll leave this bag
here until this evening.

- Now. Now look, look-

- Goodbye!

(door slams)

- Ah, what a hopeless country!

And there's a fellow who believes

that the four cardinal
virtues are not to be found

outside an Irish republic.

I don't want to boast about meself.

I don't want to boast about meself.

And I suppose I can call
meself as good a Gael

as some of those who
are knocking about now,

knocking about now, as good a Gael

as some of those who
are knocking about now.

But I remember the time
when I taught Irish

six nights a week, when in the
Irish Republican Brotherhood,

I paid me rifle levy like a man.

And when the church refused

to have anything to do
with James Stephens,

I tarred a prayer for
the repose of his soul

on the steps of the Pro-Cathedral.

Now, after all me hard
work for Dark Rosaleen,

the only answer you can get
from a roarin' Republican

to a simple question is goodbye, ee.

What in the name of God can
be bringing him to Knocksedan?

- Hadn't you better run out and ask him?

- Oh, that's right, that's right.

Make a joke about it.

Now that's the Irish people all over.

They treat a joke as a serious thing

and a serious thing as a joke.

Upon me soul, I'm beginning to believe

that the Irish people are not, never were,

and never will be fit for self-government.

They made Balor of the
Evil Eye King of Ireland,

and signs on it there's
neither conscience nor honesty

from one end of the country to the other.

Well, I hope he has a
happy day in Knocksedan.

(knuckles rapping)

Ah, who's that?

(knuckles rapping)

Who's that, who's there?

- Man, can't you go and see?

(knuckles rapping)

- Ah!

- Good day, Mr. Shields,
good day! (chuckles)

It's meself that hopes
you're feeling well.

You're looking well, anyhow,

though one can't always
go by the looks nowadays.

- It doesn't matter
whether I'm looking well

or feeling well, I'm all
right, thanks be to God.

- [Mulligan] Well, I'm
very glad to hear it.

- It doesn't matter whether
you're glad enough to hear it

or not, Mr. Mulligan.

- Oh, you're not inclined
to be very civil now,

are you, Mr. Shields?
- Now look here, Mr. Mulligan.

If you've come here to
raise an argument with me

I've something else to do with me time,

let me tell you that.

- I've come here to raise
no argument, ach no.

A person'd have small gains
argufyin' with the likes of you.

Let me tell you that.

- I've no time to stand
here gossiping with you,

Mr. Mulligan, let me shut the door.

- You'll shut no door,

till you've heard what I've got to say.

- Well say it then, and
be about your business.

- Oh, you're very high
and mighty now, aren't ya?

Well take care you're
not going to get a fall.

What a baby you are, not to
know what brings me here.

Maybe you thought I was
gonna ask you to come to tea?

- Ah me, alas, pain, pain ever, forever.

- Good day to you, sir!

I'm here for me rent, you don't
like the idea of being asked

to pay your just and lawful debts.

- You'll get your rent, Mr.
Mulligan, when you learn

how to keep your rent book
in a proper condition.

- I'm not going to take any
lessons from you anyhow.

- I want no more talk
with you, Mr. Mulligan.

- Talk or no talk, you
owe me 11 weeks' rent,

and it's marked down here
agin ya, in black and white.

- I don't care a damn
if it was marked down

in green, white and yellow!

- Oh, you're a terrible
independent fella now, aren't ya?

Take care, it'd be fitting
for you to be less funny,

and stop tryin' to be billicking

honest and respectable people.

- Now you better be careful
what you say, Mr. Mulligan.

There's a law in the land yet.

- Aye, by my soul, there is!

And you're gonna get a little of it now.

Here, them's for you.

- I want nothing at all to
do with you, Mr. Mulligan.

- By me soul, it was a sorry day

I ever let the likes of
you come into this house

and I think to do that.

Right now, maybe these notices
to quit will put a stop

to your writing letters to the papers

about me and the house.

- Goodness sake, don't be
discussing the situation

like a pair of primitive troglodytes.

- Writing to the papers is me
own business, Mr. Mulligan,

and I'll write as often as I like,

when I like, and how I like.

- You'll not be writing about
this house at all events. Hah!

Oh, yes, you can blow about
the state of the yard, aye,

but you took care to say
nothing, nothing at all

about paying the rent now, did you?

No, no, that's not in your line!

Hey, now.

Since you are not
satisfied with the house,

you can pack up and go to another.

- I'll go when I think fit,
Mr. Mulligan, and no sooner.

- We'll see about that.

Not content with keeping the rent,

ah, no, you're starting
to bring in lodgers.

Ah, not that I'm saying
anything again' you, sir.

No, siree, but mind you now,

bringing in lodgers without so
much as a by your leave now,

I ask ya, what in the name
of God is the world coming to

at all if a man's house
isn't his own, huh?

You get my point, huh?

Now, you!

I'll soon put a stop to your galloping.

For on the 28th of next month,
out you go, bags and all,

and there'll be few
sorry to see your back.

- I'll go when I like.

- I'll let you see whether
you own the house or no.

- I'll go when I like.

- We'll see about that.

- We'll see.

- Aye. Aye, we'll see.

(door slams)

Mind you, Seumas, I'm in earnest!

You'll not stop in this house
a minute longer than the 28th!

- Ah, go to hell!

- What in the name of
God ever persuaded me

to come into this house?

- It's all right once you get use to it.

You're too thin-skinned altogether.

The ol' sod's got the wind
up about you, that's all.

- Got the wind up about me?

- He thinks you're on the run.

He's afraid of a raid,

and that his lovely
property will be destroyed.

So they all think you're on the run.

Mrs. Henderson thinks it,
Tommy Owens thinks it,

Mr. and Mrs. Grigson think it,

and Minnie Powell thinks it, too.

Well, I better be off if I'm going

to get anythin' at all done today.

- [Donal] What are we to do
with these notices to quit?

- Ah, shove them up on the mantel piece

behind one of the statues.

- Oh, I mean what action shall we take?

- I can't go into that now.

I'll talk about it when I come back.

Hey, I'll get me own back
on that old Mulligan yet.

I wish to God they would come

and blow his old rookery to pieces.

For it's all he thinks of, and mind you,

ol' Mulligan would call
himself a descendant

of one of the true Gaels of Ireland.

Oh, proud were the
chieftains of famed Inisfail.

The star of our sky, and the
salt of our soil. (chuckles)

Kathleen ni Houlihan,
your way is a thorny way.

- Oh, Donal Og O'Davoren,
your way's a thorny way.

Your last state is worse than your first.

Oh me, alas.

Pain, pain, pain ever, forever.

Like thee, Prometheus, no
change, no pause, no hope.

Ah, life.

(typewriter clacks)



(knuckles rapping)

Oh, another Fury come to plague me now.

You can knock till you're tired.

- Are you in, Mr. Shields?

- No, he isn't, Minnie,
he's just gone out.

If you run out quickly
you're sure to catch him.

- Oh, that's all right, Mr.
Davoren, you'll do just as well.

I just come in for a drop
of milk for a cup of tea.

I shouldn't be troubling you this way,

but I'm sure you don't mind.

- No trouble in the world.

Delighted, I'm sure.


That be enough?
- Plenty, lashins, thanks.

Do you be all alone all
the day, Mr. Davoren?

- No, indeed, I wish to God I was.

- It's not good for you, then!

I don't know how you
like to be by yourself.

I couldn't stick it long.

- No?
- Oh, no, indeed.

There's nothin' I'm more
fond of than a Hooley.

I was at one last Sunday,
I danced rings around me.

Tommy Owens was there, you
know Tommy Owens, don't you?

- I can't say as I do.
- Do you not?

The little fella that lives

in the two-pair back with his mother.

He's a gorgeous melodian player.

- Gifted son of Orpheus, eh?

- You've said it, Mr. Davoren.

The son of poor ol' Battie Owens,

a weeshy, dawny, bit of a
man who was never sober,

and always talkin' politics.

Poor man, it killed him in the long run.

- A man should always be
drunk when he talks politics,

Minnie, it's the only way to
make them sound important.

- Tommy takes after the old fella, too.

He'll talk from morning till night

when he's had a few jars in him.

(typewriter clacks)

Poetry is a grand thing, Mr. Davoren.

I'd love to be able to write a poem.

A lovely poem on Ireland
and the men of '98.

- We've had enough poems of
'98, Minnie, and of Ireland too.

- Oh, there's a thing
for a Republican to say.

But I know what you mean.

It's time to give up the
writin', and take to the gun.

(typewriter clacks)

What's Mr. Shields doing
with the ol' weeds?

- Those aren't Shield's,
Minnie, they're mine.

Wildflowers is a kindlier name
for them, Minnie, than weeds.

These are wild violets,

and this is an Arum
maculatum, or Wake Robin,

and these are celandines,
a very beautiful flower,

related to the buttercups.

One day when morn's
half-opened eyes were bright

with spring sunshine, my
hand was clasped in yours,

dear love, and yours was clasped in mine.

We bowed as worshipers
before, The Golden Celandine.

- Ah.

Aren't they lovely now?

And isn't the poem lovely, too?

(typewriter clacks)

I wonder now who she was.

- "She?"

- Why, the...

Ah, (chuckles) be the way you don't know.

- No, I'm sure I don't know.

- Ah, it doesn't matter, anyhow,
that's your own business.

I suppose I don't know her.

- "Know her?" Know whom?

- Her, whose hand was clasped in yours,

and yours was clasped in hers.

- Oh, that, oh, that
simply was a poem I quoted,

Minnie, about the celandine.

It might apply to any
girl, to you, for instance.

- Ah, but you have a sweet
heart, all the same, Mr. Davoren.

Haven't you?

- I? No, not one.

- Oh, now.

You can tell that to someone else.

Aren't you a poet and aren't
all the girls fond of poets?

- That may be, Minnie,

but all the poets aren't fond of girls.

- They are in the story books.

Aye, and fond of more than one, too.

Are you fond of them, Mr. Davoren?

- Well, of course I like girls, Minnie.

Especially girls who
can add to their charms

by the way in which they dress.

Like you, for instance.

- Ah, now you're on for
coddin' me, Mr. Davoren.

- No, really, you're a very
charming little girl indeed.

- Then if I'm a charmin' little girl,

you ought to be able to
write a poem about me.

- So I will, so I will, and I
have written them about girls

not half so pretty as yourself.

- Ah.

I knew you had one, I
knew you had one now.

- Nonsense.

Every girl a poet writes
about isn't his sweetheart.

Annie Laurie wasn't a
sweetheart of Bobbie Burns.

- You needn't tell me she wasn't.

"An' for bonnie Annie Laurie
I'd lay me down and die."

No man would lay down and die
for any but his sweetheart.

Not even for a wife.

- No man, Minnie, willingly
dies for anything.

- Except for his country,
like Robert Emmet.

- Even he'd have lived if he could.

He died not to deliver Ireland,

the British Government killed him

to save the British nation.

- Ah, you're only joking now,
you'd die for your country.

- I don't know so much about that.

- Ah, you would, you would, you would!

I know what you are.

- What am I?

- A gunman on the run.

- Well, maybe I am, and maybe I'm not.

- Oh, I know, I know, I know.

Do you never be afraid?

- Afraid?

Afraid of what?

- Why, the ambushes of course.

I'm all of a tremble when
I hear a shot go off,

and what must it be to be
in the middle of the firin'?

- I'll admit, one does be
a little nervous at first.

But a fellow gets used to it after a bit,

till, at last, a gunman throws a bomb

as carelessly as a
schoolboy throws a snowball.

- Ah, I wish it was
all over, all the same.

You'll take care of yourself, won't you?

Won't you, Donal?

I mean, Mr. Davoren.

- Call me Donal.

We're friends, we're great friends now.

Go on, Minnie, call me Donal.

Let me hear you say Donal.

- Oh, the place badly
needs a tidying up, Donal.

There. But it really does,
it's in an awful state.

Tomorrows a half-day,

and I'll run in and
straighten it up a bit.

- Oh no, no, no, you're too
pretty for that sort of thing.

Besides, the people in the house

would be sure to start talking about you.

- And do you think Minnie Powell cares

whether they'll talk or no?

I've had to push my way
through life up to this

without help from anyone,
and she's not gonna ask

their leave now to do
what she wants to do.

- My soul within art thou, Minnie.

A pioneer in action as I
am a pioneer in thought.

The two powers that shall "grasp
this sorry scheme of things

"entire, and mold life nearer
to the heart's desire."

Lovely little Minnie, and brave as well.

Brave little Minnie, and lovely as well.

(Minnie gasps)

- Uh, I seen nothing, honest.

I thought you was learning to typewrite.

Mr. Davoren teaching ya.

I seen nothin' else, so help me god.

- We'd be hard put to it, Tommy Owens,

if we minded what you seen.

- Right, Minnie, right.

(chuckles) Tommy Owens has a heart.

Evenin', Mr. Davoren.

Don't mind me comin' in, I'm Tommy Owens.

I live up in the two-pair back.

Workin' in Ross and Walpole's.

Ah, Mr. Shields knows me well.

You needn't be afraid of me, Mr. Davoren.

- Why should I be afraid
of you, Mr. Owens,

or of anybody else?
- Why should you, indeed?

Why should you, indeed?

We're all friends here.

Uh, Mr. Shields knows me well.

All you've got to say is,
"Do you know Tommy Owens?"

And he'll tell you the sort
of a man Tommy Owens is.

There's no flies on Tommy, you got me?

- For goodness sake, Tommy,
leave Mr. Davoren alone.

He's got enough burdens on him already.

- Not a word, Minnie,
(chuckles) not a word.

Mr. Daveron understands
me well, as man to man.

It's "Up the Republic" all
the time, eh, Mr. Davoren?

- I know nothing about
the Republic, Mr. Owens.

I have no connection with
the politics of the day

and I don't want to have any connection.

- Needn't say no more,
needn't say no more.

A nod's as good as a wink
to a blind horse. Hm?

You've no meddlin' or makin' with it,

neither good, bad, or
indifferent, neither pro nor con.

(typewriter clacks)

Oh, I knew it, and Minnie knows it!

Give me your hand, give me your hand!

Two firm hands clasped together
with all the power outbrave

of the heartless English tyrant. (scoffs)

The Saxon coward and knave.

That's Tommy Owens' hand, sir!

The hand of a man, ah,
Mr. Shields knows me well!

♪ High upon the gallows tree
stood the noble-hearted three ♪

♪ By the vengeful tyrant
stricken in their bloom ♪

♪ But they met him face to face ♪

♪ With the spirit of their race ♪

♪ And they went with souls
undaunted to their doom ♪

- Tommy Owens, for
goodness sake, it'd best-

♪ God save Ireland says the heroes ♪

♪ God save Ireland says we all ♪

♪ Whether on the scaffold high
or the battlefield we die ♪

♪ Oh, what matter when
for Eireann dear we fall ♪

(Tommy sighs)

Mr. Davoren, I'd die for Ireland.

- I know you would,
Tommy, I know you would.

- Never got a chance.

They never gave me a chance.

But all the same, I'd be
there if I was called on.

Mr. Shields knows that.

You ask Mr. Shields that, Mr. Daveron.

- There's no necessity, Tommy,
I know you've got the stuff,

if you only had the chance, but remember,

he also serves who only stands and waits.

- Bloody well tired of waitin'.

We're all tired of waitin'.

Why isn't every man in
Ireland out with the I.R.A.?

"Up with the barricades,
up with the barricades!

"It's now or never, it's now and forever."

As Sarsfield said at the
battle of Vinegar Hill, hm?

"Up with the barricades!"

That's Tommy Owens, and
a penny buys a whistle.

And let them as thinks
different say different, eh?

What do you say, Mr. Daveron?

- I say, Tommy, you ought to
go up and get your dinner.

(Tommy laughs)

For if you wait much longer,
it won't be worth you eatin'.

- Oh, damn the dinner.

Who'd think of dinner, and
Ireland fightin' to be free?

Not Tommy Owens!

It's only the Englishman who's
always thinkin' of his belly.

- Tommy Owens.

- Oh, excuse me, miss,
in the ardor of me anger

I disremembered there was a lady present.

- Come in, Mr. Gallogher.

Come in, Mr. Gallogher.
Mr. Davoren won't mind.

It's him who can put you in the way

of havin' your wrongs righted

Come in, man, and don't be so shy.

Mr. Davoren is one of ourselves,

that stands for the
government of the people,

with the people and by the people.

You'll find you'll be as
welcome as the flowers in May.

Good evening, Mr. Davoren.

God and his holy angels be
between you and all harm.

- Come on in, Mr. Gallogher,
and don't be a stranger.

We're all friends here.

Oh, if there's anything
special to be done,

or particular advice asked,
that's your man there.

- Mrs. Henderson, I'm very busy right now-

- Oh, don't be put out, Mr. Davoren.

I won't keep you more than a few minutes.

It isn't in me or in Mr.
Gallogher to spoil a sport.

Him and me was young once.

We know what it is to
be strolling at night

in the pale moonlight with
arms around one another.

And I wouldn't take much
and say there's game

in Mr. Gallogher still, for I, sometimes,

seen a dangerous cock in his eye.

But we won't keep you
and Minnie long asunder

for he's the letter and all written.

You must know, Mr. Davoren.

Oh, excuse me for not
introducing him sooner,

but, this is Mr. Gallogher.

He lives in the front
drawin' room of number 55.

- How do you do?

- As decent, honest, and quiet a man

as you'd ever meet in a day's walk.

And signs on it, it's
them will be imposed upon.

Read the letter Mr. Gallogher.

- Read away, Mr. Gallogher.

It'll be attended to, never fear.

We know our own now, eh, Mr. Daveron?

- Hurry up, Mr. Gallogher,

and don't be keeping Mr. Davoren waiting.

- Give him time, Minnie
Powell, give him time.

You must know, in all
fairity, Mr. Davoren,

that the people livin' in the
next room to Mr. Gallogher,

the back drawin' room, to be particular,

am I right or am I wrong, Mr. Gallogher?

- Oh, you're right, Mrs.
Henderson, perfectly right, indeed.

That's the very identical room.

- Well, the people livin'
in the back drawin' room,

ought to be more
particular, the residents,

that's the one that's written the letter.

Am I right or am I wrong, Mr. Gallogher?

- You're right, Mrs.
Henderson, perfectly accurate.

That's the very identical word.

- Well, the residents livin'
in the back drawin' room,

is nothing but a gang of tramps
that oughtn't to be allowed

to associate with decent, honest,
quiet people like himself.

Mr. Davoren has tried to reason with them

and make them behave themselves.

Which, in my opinion, they never will.

It's only an opinion,
however, and not legal,

but ever since, they've made
Mr. Gallogher's life a hell.

Mr. Gallogher, am I right or am I wrong?

- I'm sorry to say you're
right, Mrs. Henderson.

Perfectly right, there's
not a word of exaggeration.

- Well, well now, Mr. Gallogher,

since I've given Mr.
Daveron a fair account

of how you're situated,

and of these tramps cleverality,

I'll ask you to read the letter.

Which, I must say, not
because you're there,

or because you're a friend of mine,

is as good a letter as was
ever decomposed by a scholar.

Now, Mr. Gallogher, and
don't forget the top sayin'.

- One second, Mr. Gallogher,
is this the 21st or the 22nd?

- [Gallogher] It's the 21st, sir.

- Thanks, proceed, Mr. Gallogher.

- "To all to whom these presents come,

"greeting, gentlemen of
the Irish Republican Army."

- There's a beginning
for you, Mr. Daveron.

- That's some swank.

- There's a lot in that saying, mind you.

It packs a hard wallop
at the British Empire.

- Go on, Mr. Gallogher.

- "I wish to call your
attention to the persecution

"me and my family has to put up with,

"in respect of and
appertaining to the residents

"of the back drawing
room of the house known

"as 55 Saint Teresa Street,

"situate in the parish of St. Thomas

"in the borough and city of Dublin.

"This persecution started 18
months ago, or to be precise,

"on the 10th day of the 11th
month in the year 1918."

- That's the word I was
trying to think of, precise.

It cuts the ground from under
their feet, so to speak.

- "We, the complainants,
resident on the ground floor,

"deeming it disrespectable to"-

- Which it was.

- "Deeming it disrespectable
to have an open hall door,

"and to have the hall
turned into a playground,

"made a solemn protest.

"And in consequence, we,
the complainants aforesaid,

"has had no peace ever since.

"Owing to the persecution,
as aforesaid specified,

"we had to take out a summons
again them some time ago,

"as there was no Republican courts then.

"But we did not proceed again
them, as me and my wife,

"to wit, James and Winifred Gallogher,

"has a strong objection
to foreign courts as such.

"We had peace for some time after that,

"but now things have
gone from bad to worse.

"The name calling and the
language is something abominable."

- Excuse me, Mr. Gallogher,
I think the word shockin'

should be put in there after abominable.

The language of these tramps

has two ways of bein' looked at.

Abominable to your children
and shockin' to your wife.

Am I right or am I wrong, Mr. Davoren?

- [Tommy] Shocking is a right good word

with a great deal of meaning.

- [Julia] Oh, Tommy,
let Mr. Davoren speak.

Whatever Mr. Davoren says,
Julia Henderson will abide by.

- I think the word

might certainly be
introduced with advantage.

- Well, put in the word
shockin', as aforesaid.

- Hey, there's two Ks in shockin'.

- "The language is something
abominable and shocking.

"My wife has often to
lock the door of the room

"to keep them from assaulting her.

"The name of the resident tenant

"who is giving all this trouble,

"and who, pursuant to
the facts of the case

"aforesaid mentioned, will
be the defendant, is Dwyer.

"The husband of the aforesaid Mrs. Dwyer,

"or the aforesaid defendant,
as the case may be,

"is a seaman who is coming home shortly,

"and we beg the Irish
Republican Army to note

"that the said Mrs. Dwyer
says he will settle us

"when he comes home.

(Tommy laughs)

"While leaving it entirely
in the hands of the gentlemen

"of the Republican Army, the
defendant, that is to say,

"James Gallogher of 55
Saint Teresa Street,

"ventures to say that he
thinks he has made out

"a primmy fashy case
case against Mrs. Dwyer,

"and all her heirs, male and female,

"as aforesaid mentioned in
the above written schedule.

"N.B. If you send up any of your men,

"please tell them to bring their guns.

"I beg to remain the humble
servant and devoted admirer

"of the gentlemen of the
Irish Republican Army.

"Witness my hand this 10th
day of the fifth month

"of the year 1920, James Gallogher."

- There's a letter for you, Mr. Davoren.

- That's the most powerfullest
letter I ever heard read.

- It wasn't you that really
writ that, Mr. Gallogher?

- (speaking in foreign language),
him and him only, Minnie.

I seen it with me own two
eyes when me and Winnie,

Mrs. Gallogher, as aforesaid
appears in the letter,

Mr. Davoren, was havin'
a chat by the fire.

- You'd never think it
was in him to do it.

- And to think the likes

of such a man could have the
livin' soul-case worried out

of him by a gang of tramps.

But it's in good hands now

and instead of them settlin'
yous, Mr. Gallogher,

it's yous will settle them.

Give the letter to Mr.
Davoren and we'll be going.

Oh, I hope you and Mr.
Shields is gettin' on

all right together, Mr. Davoren?

- Fairly well, thanks, we
don't see much of each other,

he's out during the day

and I'm usually out during the evening.

- I'm afraid he'll
never make a fortune out

of what he's sellin'.

He'll talk above an hour
over a pennorth of pins.

Every time he comes by the
place I buy a packet of hairpins

from him just to give him
a little encouragement.

I declare to God I have as many pins now

that'd make a wire mattress
for a double bed. (laughs)

All the young devils around
the place are beginnin'

to make jeer of him, too, I
gave one of them a mallavogin'

the other day for
callin' him ol' hairpins.

- Mr. Shields is a man of
exceptional mental capacity

and is worthy of a more
dignified position.

- Them words is true, Mr.
Gallogher, and they aren't.

For to be wise is to be a fool,

and to be a fool is to be wise.

- Oh, Mrs. Henderson, that's a parrotox.

- Well, it may be what a
parrot talks, or a blackbird,

or, for a matter of that, a lark,

but it's what Julia
Henderson thinks anyway.

Shh, shh.
(man yells)

Is that a stop press?

Go out and get one, Tommy,
till we see what it says!

- [Tommy] I haven't got a mint.

- Ach, I've never seen you any other way!

Ah, Mrs. Grigson, was that a stop press?

- Yes, an ambush out near Knocksedan.

- (gasps) That's the stuff to
give them, was anybody hurted?

- One poor man killed.

Some chap named Maguire, the papers says.

- What name did she say?
- Maguire!

Did you know him, Mr. Davoren?

- Yes.

No, Minnie, I didn't know
him, I didn't know him.

- I wonder, does it be the Maguire

that does be with Mr. Shields?

- Oh no, not at all, it couldn't be.

- Well, we'd better make
a move, Mr. Gallogher.

We've kept Mr. Davoren long enough.

You'll find the letter
will be in good hands.

- Mr. Davoren, sir, on behalf
of meself, James Gallogher,

and Winifred, Mrs. Gallogher,
wife of the said James,

I beg to offer, extend,
and furnish our humble

and hearty thanks, for
your benevolent goodness

in interfering in the matter specified,

particularated and expanded
upon in this letter,

mandamus or schedule, as the case may be.

And let me interpretate
to you on behalf of meself

and Winifred Gallogher,
that whenever you visit us,

you will be supernally
positive of a 100,000 welcomes.

- There's a man for you, Mr. Davoren.

And he forgot to mention the
two children, Biddy and Shaun.

It's himself that trained them well.

It'd make your heart
thrill like an alarm clock

to hear them singin',
"Faith of Our Fathers"

and "Wrap the Green Flag Roun' Me."

- It's "Faith and
Fatherland," Mrs. Henderson.

"Faith and Fatherland."

- Oh, well, good day, Mr. Davoren.

- Good day.

- God keep you and strengthen all men

that are fightin' for Ireland's freedom.

- I must be off, too.

Good day to you, Mr.
Davoren, and remember,

Tommy Owens only waits the call.

Only waits the call.

- Well, Minnie, we're
by ourselves once more.

- Wouldn't that Tommy
Owens give you the sick?

"Only waiting to hear the call!"

Ah, then it'll take all
the brass bands in Ireland

to blow the call before
Tommy Owens would hear it.

Sacred Heart, I've only 10
minutes to get back to work.

I'll have to fly.

Quick, Mr. Davoren.

Write me name in typewritin' before I go?

Just Minnie.

(typewriter clacks)

Now yours, underneath.

Just Donal.

(Donal chuckles)

(typewriter clacks)

"Minnie. Donal.

"Donal. Minnie."

Goodbye now.

- Here, what about your milk?

- Oh, I haven't time for it now.

I'll come back for it later this evenin'.

- What about the kiss I didn't get?

- What kiss?

- When we were interrupted.

You know, you little rogue.

Come on, just one.

- Quick, then.

(gentle music)

- "Minnie. Donal.

"Donal. Minnie."

Very pretty, but very ignorant.

A gunman on the run.

Be careful, be careful, Donal Davoren.

But Minnie is attracted to the idea,

and I am attracted to Minnie.

And what danger can there be

in being the shadow of a gunman?

(pensive music)

(door thudding)

- [Narrator] In a moment, Act Two

of "The Shadow of a
Gunman" by Sean O'Casey.

(gentle upbeat music)

(gentle upbeat music)

(gentle music)

Now Act Two of "The Shadow of a Gunman,"

by Sean O'Casey.

- "The cold, chased moon.

"The queen of heaven's bright isles,

"who makes all beautiful
on which she smiles.

"That wandering shrine
of soft yet icy flame,

"whichever is transformed
yet still the same.

"Ah, Shelley, Shelley.

"You yourself were a lovely human orb,

"shining through clouds
of whirling human dust.

"She makes all beautiful
on which she smiles."

Ah Shelley, she couldn't make
this accursed room beautiful."

Oh, Donal.

I fear your last state
is worse than your first.

"When night advances through the sky,

"with slow and solemn trend,

"the queenly moon looks
down on life below,

"as if she read man's soul.

"And in her scornful silence said,

"all beautiful and
happiest things are dead."

- Donal.

Donal, are you awake?


Donal, are you asleep?

- I'm neither awake nor
asleep, I'm thinkin'.

- I was just thinking, too.

I was just thinking too
that Maguire is sorry now

he didn't come with me instead
of going to Knocksedan.

He got more than butterflies.

Two of them he got, one through each lung.

- The Irish people are
very fond of turnin'

a serious thing into a joke.

That was a very serious
affair for poor Maguire.

- Well why didn't he do
what he arranged to do?

Did he think of me when he
was going to Knocksedan?

How can he expect me to have
any sympathy for him now?

- I hardly expect that,
now that he's dead.

- Oh, the Republicans will
do a lot for him, now.

And how am I going to get back the things

he has belonging to me, either?

There's some of them in that bag there,

but that's not a quarter of what he had.

And I don't know where he was stoppin'

for he left his old digs a week or so ago.

Oh, I suppose nothing is
to be said about my loss.

I'm to sing dumb.

(groans) I can't sleep

ever since they put on this damned curfew.

A few minutes ago I thought
I heard the ol' ones standing

at the door, they won't be satisfied till

they bring a ruddy raid on the house.

They never stand there
till it's after curfew.

Are you going to bed, Donal?

- No. I'm trying to finish this poem.

- Ah, if I was you, I'd give that game up.

It doesn't pay a working
man to write poetry.

I don't profess to know much
about poetry, about poetry.

I don't profess to know much about poetry.

I don't profess to know much

about the pearly glint of the morning dew,

or the damask sweetness
of the rare wild rose,

or the subtle greenness
of the serpent's eye,

but I think that a poet's
claim to greatness lies

in his power to put passion
into the common people.

- Aye, passion to howl
for his destruction.

The people.

Damn the people, they live in the abyss.

The poet lives in the mountaintop.

To the people, there
is no mystery of color.

There is simply the
scarlet coat of a soldier,

the purple vestments of a priest,

the green banner of a party,

the brown and blue overalls of industry.

The people-
(Seumas yells)

- Is that a tappin' again?
- Tappin'?

What tappin'?

- That's the second night
I heard that tappin'.

I believe it bodes me no good.


Do you hear it now?

A slow, steady,

mysterious tappin' on the wall.

- I hear no tappin'.

- Be better for me if you did.

It's a sure sign of death when
nobody hears it but meself.

- Death, what the devil
are you talking about?

- Oh, I don't like it at all!

There's always something like that heard

when one of our family dies.

- I don't know about that,
but there's a hell of a lot

of things heard when one
of your family lives.

- Well, God between us and all harm.

Thanks be to God I am where
I ought to be, in bed.

It's always well to be
in your proper place

when such things happen.

(gasps) Sacred heart, there it is again,

do you not hear it now?

- Oh, for God's sake, go asleep.

- Do you believe in nothin'?

- I don't believe in tappin'!

- Shut it. (muttering)

Stopped now.

I'd better try and go asleep,
for fear it might begin again.

- Aye, do, and if it comes again,

I'll be sure to waken you up.

(Seumas groans)

- It's very cold tonight,
Donal, do you feel the cold?

- I thought you was goin' asleep?

= Ah, the bloody cold won't let me.

You'd need to wear a pair of pajamas.

Did you ever wear pajamas, Donal?

- No, no, no!

- What kind of stuff is in them?

- Oh, it depends on the climate.

In India, silk, in Italy,
satin, and the Eskimo wears

them made from the skin of the polar bear!

- If you take my advice and get into bed,

that poem's beginnin'
to get on your nerves.

(Donal blows sharply)

- Right.

I'm goin' to bed now.

So you can shut up.

- I was going to say something there

before you put the light out.

What's this it was now?

Um, uh...

Oh aye, yeah.

When I was comin' in this evening,

I saw that Minnie Powell goin' out.

Now, if I was you, I wouldn't
have that one comin' in here.

- She comes in, I...

I don't bring her in, do I?

- Well, the ol' ones will be talkin',

and when they start, you
don't know how it will end.

Now surely a man who has read Shelley

couldn't be interested in
an ignorant little bitch

who thinks nothing but
jazz dances, fox trots,

picture theaters and dress.

- Right glad I am she thinks of dress.

For she thinks of it in the right way

and makes herself a
pleasant picture to the eye.

Education has been wasted on many people.

Teaching them to talk only but leaving 'em

with all their primitive instincts.

Had poor Minnie received an education,

she would've been an artist.

She is certainly a pretty girl,
I'm sure she is a good girl,

and I believe she is a brave girl.

- Oh, a Helen of Troy come
to live in a tenement.

Ah, you think a lot
about her simply because

she thinks a lot about you,

and she thinks a lot about
you because she looks on you

as a hero, a kind of Paris.

She'd give the world and
all to be gaddin' about

with a gunman.

And what joy it'd give her,

if one of these days
you were shot or hanged.

Ah, she could go about then
like a good many more, saying,

"I do not mourn me darlin' lost,

"for he fell in his jacket green.

(chuckles) "And then,
for a year and a day."

♪ All around her hat she'd
wear a Tri-Colored Ribbon O ♪

Till she'd pick up with
and marry someone else,

probably a British
Tommy, with a Mons Star.

As for being brave,

it's easy to be brave when
there's no cause for cowardice.

I wouldn't like to have me life dependin'

on brave little Minnie Powell.

She wouldn't sacrifice
a jazz dance to save it.

- There, that'll be enough
about Minnie Powell.

I'm afraid I'll soon have to
be on the run out of this house

too, it is becoming painfully obvious

that there is no peace to be found here!

- The house is all right.

Barrin' the children,
it does be quiet enough.

Was there children in the
last house you were in too?

- Aye, 10, and they were all over 40.

(Donal sighs)

- [Seumas] Everything is very quiet now.

I wonder what time it is.

- "The village cock hath thrice

"done salutation to the morn."

- Ah, Shakespeare.

Richard III, Act Five, Scene Three.

It was Radcliffe said that to Richard,

just before the battle of Bosworth.

Ah, how peaceful the heavens look now,

with a moon in the middle.

You'd never think there were
men prowlin' round outside,

outside, trying to shoot each other.

I don't know how a man who has shot anyone

can sleep in peace at night.

- There's plenty of men can't
sleep in peace at night now

unless they know that
they have shot somebody.

- I wish to God it was all over.

The whole country's going mad.

Instead of counting their beads now,

they're countin' bullets.

Their paternosters and Hail
Marys are burstin' bombs,

burstin' bombs and the
rattle of machine guns.

Petrol is our holy water.

Their Mass is a burning building.

Their De Profundis is
"The Soldier's Song,"

and their creed is I
believe in the gun almighty,

maker of heaven and earth. (chuckles)

And it's all for the glory of
God and the honor of Ireland.

- I remember the time
when you yourself believed

in nothing but the gun.

- Aye, that's when there
wasn't a gun in the country.

I've got a different opinion now,

when there's nothing
but guns in the country.

And you daren't open your mouth now,

for Kathleen ni Houlihan is
very different from the woman

who used to play the harp and sing,

"Weep on, weep on, your hour is past,"

for she's a ragin' devil now,

and you've only got to look crooked at her

and you're sure of a punch in the eye.

Well, this is the way I look at it.

I look at it this way.

You are not going to
break the British Empire,

the British Empire, by
shootin' an occasional Tommy

at the corner of an occasional street.

Besides, when the Tommies get the wind up,

when the Tommies get the wind
up, they let bang at that

and they see they don't give
a God's curse who they plug.

- Well, maybe they ought
to get down off the lorry

and run to the Records Office
to find out a man's pedigree

before they plug him.

- It's the civilians that suffer,

when there's an ambush on and
they don't know where to run.

Shot in the back to
save the British Empire,

or shot in the breast to
save the soul of Ireland.

Oh, I'm a nationalist
meself, right enough.

I'm a nationalist, right
enough, but all the same.

I'm a nationalist meself, right enough.

I believe in the freedom of Ireland.

That England has no right to
be here, but I draw the line

when I hear the gunmen blowin'
about dyin' for the people,

when it's the people who
are dyin' for the gunmen.

With all due respects to the gunmen,

I don't want to have them dyin' for me.

- Not likely, you object

to any one of them
deliberately dying for you

for fear that one of these days,

you might accidentally
die for one of them.

- Oh, you're one of these brave fellas

who doesn't fear death.

- Why should I be afraid of it?

It's all the same to me how it comes,

where it comes, or when it comes.

I leave fear of death to those people

that are always prayin' for eternal life.

Death is here and death is
there, death is busy everywhere.

- Aye, in Ireland.

Well, thanks be to God
I'm a daily communicant.

There's great comfort in religion.

It makes a man strong in time of danger,

and brave in time of trouble.

No man need be afraid with a
host of holy angels round him.

Thanks to God for his holy religion.

- You're welcome to your angels.

Philosophy is mine.

Philosophy that makes the coward brave,

the sufferer defiant, the weak strong-

(bullets ricocheting)

- [Seumas] Jesus, Mary
and Joseph, what was that?

- Oh, god! That was very close.

- Is there any Christianity
at all left in the country?

- Are we ever going to know
what peace and security are?

- If this goes on much longer,

I'll be nothing but a
galvanic battery of shocks.

- It's dangerous to be in and
equally dangerous to be out.

- It's dangerous to be
here with that window.

You could never tell the
moment a bullet could come

through it and hit the, hit the, hit the--

- Hit the what, man?
- Hit the wall.

- Couldn't you say that at first

without making a song about it?

- I don't believe there's
horses in that stable at all.

- Stable? What stable
are you talking about?

- There's a stable at
the back of the house

with an entrance from the yard.

It's used as a carpenter's shop.

Did you ever hear the peculiar
noises there at night?

They give out it's the
horses shakin' their chains.

- And what is it?
- Oh, there I'll leave you.

- Surely you don't mean-
- Oh, but I do mean!

- You do mean what?

- Well, I, I wouldn't be surprised,

I wouldn't be surprised-
- Yes, yes, surprised, go on!

- I wouldn't be surprised

if they were manufacturing bombs in there.

- My god, that's a pleasant contemplation.

The sooner I'm on the run
out of this house the better.

How is it you never said
anything about this before?

- Well, I didn't want
to, I didn't want to-

- [Donal] You didn't want to what, man?

- I didn't want to frighten you.

- You're bloody kind.

(knuckles rapping)

- [Grigson] Are you asleep, Mr. Shields?

- What does that one want

coming in at this hour of the night?

No, Mrs. Grigson, what is it?

- He hasn't turned up yet,

and I'm stiff with cold waiting for him.

- Oh, Mr. Grigson, is it?

- Adolphus, Mr. Shields.

After takin' his tea at six o'
clock, no, I'm tellin' a lie,

it was before 6:00,

for I remember the Angelus was ringing out

and we sitting at the table.

After takin' his tea, he went
out for a breath of fresh air,

and I haven't seen sign
or light of him since.

Declare to God me heart is up in me mouth

thinking he might've been
shot by the Black and Tans.

- Ah, he'll be all right, Mrs. Grigson.

Go on to bed now and get a little sleep.

Sure, it's always the worst
that comes into our body's mind.

Go on to bed now or you'll
catch your death of cold.

- I'm afraid to go to bed, Mr. Shields,

for I'm always in dread
that some night or another,

when he has a sup taken, he'll
fall down the kitchen stairs

and break his neck.

Not that I'd be any the worse
if anything did happen to him,

for you know the sort he is, Mr. Shields.

Sure, he has me heart broke.

- Ah, don't be downhearted, Mrs. Grigson,

for one of these days
he might take a thought

and turn over a new leaf.

- Sorry a leaf Adolphus'll ever turn over.

He's too far gone in
the horns for that now.

Sure, no one'd mind him
taking a pint or two,

if he'd stop at that, but he won't.

Nothin' could fill him with beer,

and no matter how much he may have taken,

when he's taken more he'll always say

"Here's the first today!"

- Christ, is she gonna stop
talking here all night?

- Shh, she'll hear you.

Now, right enough, the man has
the poor woman's heart broke.

- And because he's her heart broken,

she's to have the privilege
of breaking everybody else's?

- Mr. Shields.

- What is it, Mrs. Grigson?

- Do the insurance companies pay

if a man is shot after curfew?

- Well, now that's a thing I
couldn't say, Mrs. Grigson.

- Isn't he a terrible man
to be takin' such risks,

and not knowin' what'll happen to him?

He knows them societies
only want an excuse

to do people out of their money.

(sighs) Is it after 1:00 now, Mr. Shields?

- Oh, yes, it must be
after 1:00, Mrs. Grigson.

- Ah, then, if I were a young girl again,

I'd think twice before gettin' married.

(door clicks)
(man coughs)

There's somebody now.

It's him, I know by the way he's fumbling.

Is that you, Dolphie dear?
- Yeah!

- Dolphie dear, mind yourself!

- [Adolphus] I'm all right!

Do you see anything wrong with me?

- Of course you're all right,
dear, no one's mindin' you.

- Mindin' me, is it?

Mindin' me? (chuckles)

Jeez, he'd want to be a
good thing that'd mind me.

Because there's a man
here, a man, mind you,

afraid of nothin', not in
this bloody house anyway.

- Come on downstairs now, Dolphie dear.

Sure, there's not one in the
house that'd say a word to you.

- Say a word to me, is it?

(chuckles) So's he'd
want to be a good thing

that'd say anything to Dolphie Grigson.


Is there anybody in this house

wants to say anythin' to Dolphie Grigson?

Because if there is,
he's here, a man, too!

There's no blottin' it out, a man!

- You're waking everybody in the house.

Can't you speak quiet?

- What the hell do I care
for anybody in the house?

Are they keepin' me, are
they givin' me anything?

When they're keepin' Grigson

it'll be time enough for them to talk.

And I can tell them,

Adolphus Grigson wasn't born in a bottle!

- Why do you talk like that, dear?

We all know you weren't born in a bottle.

- There's some of them in
this house seems to think

that Grigson was born in a bottle.

- Come on down to bed now, dear.

You can talk about them in the morning.

- I'll talk about them now.

Come in here.

Here, do you think I'm afraid of them?

Dolphie Grigson's afraid of
nothin', creepin' or walkin'.

If there's anyone in this
house thinks he's fit

to take a fall out of Adolphus Grigson,

well he's here, come on!

(chuckles) Why, it is they'll
find Grigson's no soft thing,

eh, Mr. Shields? (chuckles)

- Dolphie dear, poor Mr.
Davoren wants to go to bed.

- Davoren? Ah!

Now! There's a man! (laughs)

Come on there, come on,
put her there, mate.

Come on, you don't have to
be afraid of Dolphie Grigson.

There never was a drop of informer's blood

in the entire family of Grigson.

Now, I don't know what you
are, or what you think,

but you're a man, and not
like some of the gougers

of this house that'd hang you.

I'm not referrin' to you now, Mr. Shields.

- Oh, you're not alludin' to Mr. Shields.

- Oh, I know that now, I
know that, Mr. Grigson.

Go on downstairs with Mrs.
Grigson and get a little sleep.

- I tie meself to no woman's
apron strings, Mr. Shields.

I know how to keep Mrs.
Grigson there in her place.

I have the authority
of the Bible for that.

I know the Bible from cover
to cover, Mr. Davoren,

and that's more than can be
said for some in this house.

And what does Holy
Scripture say about woman?

It says the woman shall
be subject to her husband.

And I mean to see that Mrs.
Grigson here keeps the teaching

of the holy book in the
letter and in the spirit.

Now listen, Mr. Davoren, Mr. Davoren.

If you're ever in trouble, and
you need a help of Grigson,

I'm your man, have you me?

- I have you. Mr. Grigson, I have you.

- Right, right!

Now, now! Mind you!

I'm an Orangeman.

I'm not ashamed of it
and I'm not afraid of it.

But I have a feelin' for a true
man, all the same. (laughs)

Ah, have you got me, Mr. Shields?

- Oh yes, yes, Mr. Grigson,
we all know you well.

So many a good Irishman was a Protestant.

Tone, Emmet, Parnell-

- Ah, well now, wait now.

Hold on there now, Mr. Shields.

Mr. Shields, I can't say as I agree

with them you've mentioned,
because the Bible forbids it,

and Adolphus Grigson will
always abide by the Bible.

Fear God and honor the king!

That's written down in holy scripture,

and there's no blottin' it out.

But Mr. Davoren, come on here, man, now,

I'll have a little drink,

just to show there's no coolness, huh?

- No thanks, Mr. Grigson, it's
too late to take anything.

Go on downstairs with Mrs. Grigson,

and we can have a chat in the morning.

- Oh, you're sure you won't have a drink?

- Quite sure, thanks all the same.

- All right, then!

Here's the first today!

Ah, here's to all true men,

even if they were born
in a bottle. (laughs)

And here's to King Billy,
and the Battle of the Boyne,

and the Hobah Black Chapter,
that's my Lodge, Mr. Davoren.

- Aye.

- And to The Orange Lily O.

♪ Did you go to see the show ♪

♪ Each rose and pinkadilly O ♪

♪ To feast your eyes and view the prize ♪

♪ Won by the Orange Lily O ♪

- Mr. Grigson-

♪ So heigh ho ♪

♪ The Lily O ♪

♪ The royal, loyal ♪

(engine rumbling)

- Shh, listen.

- There's no need to be frightened.

They can't be comin' in here.

- God forbid.

It'd be terrible if they came
at this hour of the night.

- You can never tell, Mrs. Grigson.

They come in on you when
you least expect it.

Well what in the name of God
is goin' to come out of it all?

Nobody cares a traneen
now about the orders

of the Ten Commandments, the
only order they mind now is,

"Put your hands up," oh,
it's a hopeless country.

- Whisht, man, whisht!

Do you hear them talking
outside at the door?

My god, you're sure of
your life nowhere now.

It's just as safe to go
everywhere as it is to anywhere.

And they don't give a damn

whether you're a loyal man or not.

If you're a Republican,

they make you sing "God Save the King"

and if you're loyal

they'll make you sing
"The Soldier's Song."

The singing'd be all right

if they didn't make you dance afterwards.

- They'd hardly come here

unless they'd heard
something about Mr. Davoren.

- Davoren?
- What, me?

What could they hear about me?

- Ach, listen.

You'll never get some people
to keep their mouths shut.

Listen, I was in the
Blue Lion this evening,

and who do you think was in
there, blowin' out of him,

but that little blower, Tommy Owens.

Yes, there he was tellin' everybody

that he knew where there was bombs,

that he had a friend who
was a General in the I.R.A.

that could tell them what the
staff was thinkin' of doin',

that he could lay his
hand on tons of revolvers,

that wasn't a mile from
where he was livin',

but that he knew his own know,

and would keep it all to himself!

- Well, God blast the
little blower, anyway!

It's the likes of him that
deserves to get plugged.

- [Adolphus] Right!

- What're you looking for
among the books, Donal?

- A letter I got today from Mr. Gallogher

and Mrs. Henderson, I'm blessed
if I know where I put it.

- Ah, can't you look for it tomorrow?

- It's addressed to the
Irish Republican Army,

and considering the possibility of a raid,

it would be safer to get rid of it.

(gun fires)

- I think we'd better be
getting to bed, Debby,

it's not right to be keepin' Mr. Davoren

and Mr. Shields awake.

Goodnight, Mr. Davoren,
goodnight, Mr. Shields.

- Goodnight, Mr. Shields,
goodnight, Mr. Davoren.

- What in the name of God made them

give you a letter like that?

And you were worse to
take it, have you got it?

- No, I can't find it
anywhere, isn't it terrible!

- What in the name of God made
you take a letter like that?

Ye gods, had nobody got any brains at all?

Oh, it's a hopeless country,
did you try your pockets?

Your pockets.

- Oh, praise be to god, here it is.

- Burn it now.

And for the love of God,

never take a letter like that again.

(engine rumbling)

There's the motor going away now.

Ah, we can sleep in peace
for the rest of the night.

(Seumas grunts)

Just to make sure of everything now,

you better have a look
in that bag of Maguire's.

Not that there could be anything in it.

- Well if there's nothing in
it, what's the good of looking?

- Well it won't kill you to look, will it?

(bag thuds)

- Holy god.

It's full of bombs.

Mills bombs.

- Oh, holy mother of God, you're jokin'.

- If the Tans come you'll find
out whether I'm joking or no.

- Oh, (chuckles) this is
a nice pickle to be in.

Oh, Holy St. Anthony, look down on us.

- There's no use of blaming St. Anthony.

Why did you let Maguire
bring that bag in here for?

- Why did I let him bring the bag here?

Why did I let him bring the bag here?

- Yes!

- How did I know what was in it?

Did I only think there were
spoons and hairpins in it?

Oh, what do we do now, what do we do now?

Oh, Holy St. Anthony, grant
there'll be no raid tonight.

I knew something'd go wrong
when I missed Mass this morning.

- Oh, give over your praying

and let us think of what is to be done.

There's one thing certain,
as soon as morning comes,

I'm on the run out of this house.

- Aye, thinkin' of yourself,
like the rest of them.

Leaving me here to bear the brunt of it.

- Why shouldn't you bear the brunt of it?

Maguire was no friend of mine.

Besides, you're to blame, you
knew what sort of man he was.

You should've been on your guard!

- Did I know he was a gunman,
did I know he was a gunman?

- You mean to tell me that you didn't know

that Maguire was collected
with the Republican Movement?

What's the use of trying
to tell damn lies?

- Davoren, Mr. Davoren,
they're all around the house!

They must be goin' to raid the place.

I was lookin' out the
window when I seen 'em.

I do be on the watch every night.

Have you anything? if you have...

(guns firing)

There they are, there
they are, there they are!

(men shouting)

- Oh my god.

- What is it, what have you got?

- Bombs, bombs, bombs,
we're done, we're done.

- Oh, Holy St. Anthony, we hear
them batterin' on the door.

There's the glass gone, say
an act of contrition, Donal.

- I'll take them up to my room,
maybe they won't search it.

If they do itself, they won't harm a girl.

Goodbye, Donal.

- If we come through this,
I'll never miss Mass again.

If it's the Tommies, it won't be so bad,

but if it's the Tans, we're
goin' to have a terrible time.

(fist thudding)
- Open up!

- (whimpering) Who's that?

- Who's there?
- Only two men, sir.

Meself and me mate in the other bed.

- [Man] Open the door!

- Why didn't you open the door?

- I'm a little hard of hearing, sir.

I didn't hear you knocking.

- You must be a little
hard of hearing, eh?

- Well I had rheumatic
fever a few years back,

and ever since then, I do
be a little hard of hearing.

- How is it you're not in bed, eh?

- I was in bed,

but when I heard the knocking,
I got up to open the door.

- Ah, you're a kind bloke.

Delighted, like, to have
us pay you a visit, eh?

Why don't you answer?
- Yes, sir!

- Get on the chair quick,
get your arms up quick!

What's your name?

- Davoren.

Dan Davoren, sir.

- You're not an Irishman, are you?

- I was born in Ireland.

- Oh, you were, were you?

Irish and proud of it, eh?

Stand down.

Put your hands down!

What's your name?

- Seumas, oh, no, no, Jimmie Shields!

- Oh, you're a Celt!

One of the Celtic race what
speaks a lingo on its own,

who wants to overthrow the
British Empire, I don't think!


Where's your gun?

- I've never had a gun
in me hand in me life.

- No, you wouldn't know what a gun was,

if you saw one, I suppose.

What this then, eh?
- Oh, no no, oh, no!

Oh, please be careful!

- [Man] What have I got
to be careful about?

- The gun, the gun, the
gun, it might go off!

- And what if it does, what's the price?

I can easily reload it.

What's in that press?

Got ammunition in here, eh?

- Only a bit of grub, sir.

You'll find nothin' in there.

Nobody in this house has any
connection with politics.

- No, I haven't met a man
yet that wouldn't say that.

We're a little ikey now

to be kidding with that sort of talk.

- May I go and get a drink of water?

- You'll want a barrel of water

before we're done with you lot.

(kicks thudding)

'Ello, what's this?

A status of Christ and a crucifix.

You'd think you was in a bloody monastery!

(crucifix clattering)

- They're turnin' the place upside down,

upstairs and downstairs,

they're making a litter of everything.

I declare to God, it's awful

what law-abiding people
have to go through!

And they found a pint bottle of whisky

under Dolphie's pillow and
they're drinking every drop of it

and Dolphie will be a devil in the morning

when he finds he has no cure-

- Bottle of whiskey, eh?
(Debby screams)

Quick, where do you live?

- Downstairs in the kitchen.

And when you go down, ask
them not to drink! (grunts)

He's gone without listening to me.

- Are they, are they searching

the whole house, Mrs. Grigson?

- They didn't leave a thing in the kitchen

that they didn't flitter about the floor,

the things in the cupboard,

and all the little odds and
ends that I keep in the big box.

- Oh, they're a terrible
gang of blaguards.

They haven't gone upstairs?

They'd hardly search Minnie Powell's room,

do you think they will, Mrs. Grigson?

- And just to show the
sort of a man he was,

before they came in, Dolphie
put the big Bible on the table,

open at the First Gospel of
St. Peter, second chapter,

and marked the 13th to the
17th verses in red ink.

You know the passages, Mr. Shields.

"Submit yourselves to
every ordinance of man

"for the Lord's sake.

"Love the brotherhood, fear
God and honor the king."

And what do you think
they did, Mr. Shields?

They caught a hold of the Bible

and they flung it on the floor.

What do you think of that, Mr. Shields?

Flinging the Bible on the floor!

And then one says to
another, "Jack," says he,

"have you seen the light,
is your soul saved?"

And then they caught a
hold of poor Dolphie,

callin' him Mr. Moody and Mr. Sankey,

and wanted him to offer up a
prayer for the Irish Republic.

And when they were puttin' me out,

there they had the poor
man sitting up in his bed,

his arms crossed over his breast,

his eyes looking at the ceiling,
and he's singing a hymn.

"We shall meet in the sweet bye and bye!"

And all the time, Mr. Shields,

there they were, drinking his whiskey.

There's torture for you,
and they all laughin'

at poor Dolphie and
his terrible suffering.

- In the name of all that's sensible,

what did he want to bring
whiskey home with him for?

They're bad enough sober.

What will they be like when they're drunk?

- He always brings a drop home with him!

He calls it his medicine.

- They'll hardly search the whole house,

will they, Mrs. Grigson?

- And we have a picture
on the mantelpiece,

of King William crossing the Boyne.

Do you know what they wanted
to make out, Mr. Shields?

That it was Robert Emmet,

and the picture of a secret society!

- You're not listenin'
to a word I'm sayin'.

All the country is hopeless
and the people is hopeless.

- For god's sake, tell her
to go the hell out of this.

She's worse than that Auxsie.

- No, better let her stay where she is.

It's safer to have a woman in the room.

Oh, my God, if they come across the bombs,

I hope Minnie will say nothing.

- We're a pair of pitiable
cowards to let poor Minnie suffer

when we know that we and
not she are to blame.

- Well what do you expect us to do, man?

Do you want us to be done in?

If you're anxious to be riddled, I'm not.

Besides, she's only a
girl, they won't harm her.

And everything will be all right,

if only she keeps her mouth shut.

- I wish I could be sure of that.

- There isn't a bit of me
that's not shakin' like a jelly.

- Uh, uh, have they gone
upstairs, Mrs. Grigson?

Mrs. Grigson, do you
think they'll soon go?

- When they were makin' poor
Dolphie sit up in the bed,

I thought every minute I'd
hear their guns go off,

and see poor Dolphie
stretched out dead on the bed!

Whist, God bless us, I
think I hear him moanin'.

- Might as well be talking to a stone.

Ah, it's hopeless, hopeless, hopeless.

She thinks she hears him moanin'.

It's bloody near time
somebody made him moan.

- He's moaning for the
loss of his whiskey.

(Minnie screams)
(men shouting)

- Get on with it.

Come on now, come on.
(Minnie screams)

Get on.
- Come on, get out there.

- Minnie, Minnie!

- [Minnie] Up the Republic!

- God save us, they're taking Minnie!

They're taking Minnie Powell!

What in god's name could have happened?

- [Seumas] Oh god, grant
she won't say anything.

- We'll never be able to
life up our heads again

if anything happens to Minnie!

- For god's sake, keep
quiet or they'll hear ya.

Nothin' will happen to
her, nothin' at all,

everythin' will be all right

so long as she keeps her mouth shut.

- They're after gettin'
a whole lot of stuff

in Minnie's room.

Enough to blow up the
whole street, a Tan says.

God tonight, who'd have
thought that of Minnie Powell?

- Did she say anythin', did
she say anythin', Mrs. Grigson?

- She shouted "Up the Republic"
at the top of her lungs!

And big Mrs. Henderson was
fightin' with the soldiers.

She after nearly knocked one of them down.

They put her in the lorry too!

- Oh, blast that ol' one.

What does she want coming in here?

Cannot she help mind her own business?

Doesn't she know there's a raid on?

There's a whole country going mad.

They're gonna open fire in a minute now

and innocent people-

- What way are they using
Minnie, Mrs. Grigson?

Are they rough with her?

- They couldn't be half rough enough.

The little hussy, to be so deceitful!

She might as well have
had the house blow up!

God tonight, who'd think
it was in Minnie Powell?

- Oh, God grant she won't say anythin'.

Are they gone, Mrs. Grigson?

- They're, they're going away now.

Ah, then, I hope they'll give
that Minnie Powell a cooling.

- Are they gone, Mrs. Grigson?

- With her fancy
stockings and her pompoms,

and her crepe de chine blouses,

I knew she'd come to no good.

- Are they gone, Mrs. Grigson?

- They're gone, Mr. Shields.

- Ah that's an excitin' few
moments, Mr. Davoren. (chuckles)

- Dolphie dear, you're
all right, thanks to god!

I thought you'd never see the morning!

- Course I'm all right.

What'd put a bother on Dolphie Grigson?

Not the Tans anyhow!

- When I see you
stretched out on that bed,

and you singing a hymn.

- Who was singin' a hymn?

When was I singin' a hymn?

Do you hear me talkin' to ya,
when was I singin' a hymn?

- Oh, Dolphie dear, I was only jokin'.

- Get the hell downstairs.

Your place is down below and
not up here gossipin' to men.

Down with you, quick!

(sighs) Panic-stricken. (chuckles)

You know the only thing
to do with these fellas

is to show them that they
can't put the wind up ya.

Show the least sign of fright
and they'll walk on you.

Simply walk on you.

Two of them come down, "Put them up,"

revolvers under your nose,
you know, the usual stuff.

"What's all the bother
about," says I, quite calm.

"Oh, no bother at all," says
one of them, "only this gun

"might go off and hit somebody,
have you me," says he.

"What if it does," says I.

"A man can only die once,

"and you'll find Grigson won't squeal."

"My God you're a cool
one," says the other fella.

"There's no blottin' it out."

- Yes. That's the best way to treat them.

It only makes things worse you
show you've got the wind up.

- Oh, yes.

- "Any ammunition in here,"

says the fellow who came in here.

"Not that I know of," says I,

"but you better have a look round."

"No back talks," says he,
"or you might get plugged."

"I don't know," says I, "of any clause

"in the British constitution
that makes it a crime

"for a man to speak in his own room."

- (laughs) Me God, that's
the way to talk to-

- With that, he just had a
look round and off he went.

- Ah yes, sure, if a man keeps a stiff-

(explosions rumbling)

My god, that's an ambush!

(guns firing)

My god, they shot her.
- Who's shot?

- Minnie Powell.
- Minnie Powell?

- [Man] Is she dead?

- [Adolphus] Shot her
jumping off the lorry.

Shot her in the bosom.
- Oh god.

- What?
- Poor Minnie.

- Do you hear what they're sayin'?

Hear what they're sayin', Shields?

Minnie Powell is shot!

- For god's sake, keep quiet,

or you'll have them in on top of us again.

- Is that all you're thinking of?

Do you realize she has
been shot to save us?

- Is it my fault, am I to blame?

- It is your fault and my fault, both.

We're a pair of dastardly cowards

who let poor Minnie do what she did.

- She did it off her own bat,
we didn't ask her to do it.

- What's going to happen next?

Oh, Mr. Davoren, isn't it terrible?

Isn't it terrible?

Minnie Powell, Minnie
Powell has been shot dead.

They were raiding a house a few doors down

and they had just got into
their lorries to go away,

when they was ambushed.

You never heard such shootin'.

And in the thick of it,

poor little Minnie went to
jump off the lorry she was on,

and she was shot, through the bosom.

Oh, it was horrible to
see the blood pourin' out,

and Minnie moanin'.

They found some paper in her breast,

with Minnie written on it,

some other name they couldn't
make out with the blood.

The officer kept it.

The ambulance is bringin'
her to the hospital.

But what good is that when she's dead?

Poor little Minnie.

Poor little Minnie Powell.

To think of you so full
of life a few minutes ago.

And now she's dead.

- Ah me, alas.

Pain, pain, pain ever, forever.

It's terrible to think
that little Minnie is dead.

But it is still more terrible to think

that Davoren and Shields are alive.

Oh, Donal Davoren.

Shame is your portion now till
the silver cord is loosened

and the golden bowl be broken.

Davoren. Donal Davoren.

Poet and poltroon.

Poltroon and poet.

- I knew somethin' would come
of that tappin' on the wall.

I knew somethin' would come of it.

(mournful music)

(mournful music)

(gentle music)

(pensive music)