The Banshees of Inisherin

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
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 or maybe if I've said somethin' when I was drunk and forgotten it. But I don't think I've 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 school child.

Colm Doherty:
But you didn't say anything to me. And you didn't do anything to me.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Well that's what I was thinking, like.

Colm Doherty:
I just don't like ya no more.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
[hurt and disbelieving] You do like me.

Colm Doherty:
I don't.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
But you liked me yesterday.

Colm Doherty:
Oh, did I, yeah?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
I thought you did...

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

Colm Doherty:
Why can't I?

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Why can't ya? Because it isn't nice. Has he said somethin' to ya when he was drunk?

Colm Doherty:
No, I prefer him when he's drunk. It's all the rest of the time I have the problem with.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
What's the fecking matter, then?

Colm Doherty:
He's dull, Siobhan.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
He's what?

Colm Doherty:
He's dull.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
But he's always been dull. What's changed?

Colm Doherty:
I've changed. I just don't have a place for dullness in me life anymore.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
But you live on an island off the coast of Ireland, Colm. What the hell are you hoping for, like?

Colm Doherty:
For a bit of peace, Siobhan. That's all. For a bit of peace in me heart, like. You can understand that. Can't ya? Can't ya?

Colm Doherty:
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...

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
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.

Colm Doherty:
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?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Not really, no.

Colm Doherty:
Because I don't want to hurt your feelings, Padraic. I don't, like. But it feels like the drastic is the only option left open to me.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
You've loads of options left open to ya. How's fingers the first port of call?

Colm Doherty:
Please, don't talk to me no more, Padraic. Please. I'm begging you.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
But...

Jonjo Devine:
Shush, like, Padraic. Just, you know, shush, like.

Gerry:
Yeah, I'd shush, like.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
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?

Colm Doherty:
Starting from now.

Colm Doherty:
I was too harsh yesterday.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Yesterday, he says! I know well you was too harsh yesterday.

Colm Doherty:
I just... I just have this tremendous sense of time slipping away on me, Padraic. 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 you have to say for yourself. But I am sorry about it. I am, like.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Are you dying?

Colm Doherty:
No, I'm not dying.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
But then you have loads of time.

Colm Doherty:
For chatting?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Aye.

Colm Doherty:
For aimless chatting?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Not for aimless chatting. For good, normal chatting.

Colm Doherty:
So we'll keep aimlessly chatting and my life will keep on 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?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
I said, "not aimless chatting" I said "Good, normal chatting."

Colm Doherty:
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, Padraic. I timed it.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Well it wasn't me little donkey's shite, was it? It was me pony's shite. Which shows how much you were listenin'.

Colm Doherty:
None of it helps me. Do you understand? None of it helps me.

[Colm leaves]

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
We'll just talk about something else, then!

Dominic Kearney:
What trouble are ya in with him?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
He just... doesn't want to be friends with me any more.

Dominic Kearney:
What is he, twelve?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
[bursting into Colm's house] How are ya, 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! [sits] How's that for an old hello?

Colm Doherty:
Have you gone fecking mental?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Have I gone fecking mental? No I haven't gone fecking mental. Not only have I not gone fecking mental, but I have got ten fingers to prove I'm not fecking mental. How many fingers have you got to prove you're not fecking mental?

Colm Doherty:
Nine fingers.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Nine fingers is the epitome of mental.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
What do you need from him, Colm? To end all this?

Colm Doherty:
Silence, Siobhan. Just silence.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
One more silent man on Inisherin, good-oh! Silence it is, so.

Colm Doherty:
This isn't about Inisherin. It's about one boring man leaving another man alone, that's all.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
One boring man! You're all f***ing boring! With your piddling grievances over nothin'! You're all f***ing boring! I'll see he doesn't talk to you no more.

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

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
You're not serious. Well, that won't help your fecking music.

Colm Doherty:
Aye. We're gettin' somewhere now.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
I think you might be ill, Colm.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
They don't think I'm dim or anything?

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Dim? No.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
You don't seem very sure about it.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Of course, I'm sure about it.

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

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
He is, aye. By miles.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Uh, hang on, by miles. And then, who's the next dimmest?

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

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
In what terms?

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
In order of their dimness.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Well, I know you don't. And neither do I, do I? But try, like.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
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!

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
I'm as clever as you, anyways. I know that at least.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Yeah, don't be fecking stupid.

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

Colm Doherty:
I fear he doesn't. And I fear that's where it's all gone wrong.

Dominic Kearney:
Howdo!

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Jesus Christ, Dominic! Would you ever stop creeping up on people? You almost gave me a fecking heart attack!

Dominic Kearney:
I wasn't creeping up on ya. I was sliding up on ya.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Between you and that ghoul, Jesus!

Dominic Kearney:
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.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
We don't have anything in common.

Dominic Kearney:
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?

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Dominic, I don't think so, love.

Dominic Kearney:
No, yeah, no. I was thinking no. Not even in the future, like? Like when I'm your age?

[she nods negatively]

Dominic Kearney:
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.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Do you know what you used to be?

Colm Doherty:
No, what did I used to be?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Nice! You used to be nice! And now, do you know what you are? Not nice.

Colm Doherty:
Ah, well, I suppose niceness doesn't last then, does it? But will I tell ya something that does last?

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

Colm Doherty:
Music lasts.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Knew it!

Colm Doherty:
And paintings last. And poetry lasts.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
So does niceness.

Colm Doherty:
Do you know who we remember for how nice they was in the 17th century?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Who?

Colm Doherty:
Absolutely no one. Yet we all remember the music of the time. Everyone, to a man, knows Mozart's name.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Well, I don't, so there goes that theory. And anyway, we're talkin' about niceness. Not what's his name. 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.

Colm Doherty:
And who else will?

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Who else will what?

Colm Doherty:
Remember Siobhan 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...

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

Colm Doherty:
Ah here. If punching a policeman is a sin, we may as well just pack up and go home.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
He won't be bothering you no more.

Colm Doherty:
That's a shame. That's the most interesting he's ever been. I think I like him again now.

Mrs. O'Riordan:
Letter came for ya.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
Fell open, did it?

Mrs. O'Riordan:
Aye, in the heat, I suppose.

Colm Doherty:
So, let's just call it quits and agree to go our separate ways, for good this time.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Your fat fingers killed me little donkey today. So, no, we won't call it quits. We'll call it the start.

Colm Doherty:
You're jokin' me.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
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.

Colm Doherty:
Pádraic. Thanks for lookin' after me dog for me, anyways.

Pádraic Súilleabháin:
Anytime.

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

PáDraic SúIlleabháin:
Some things there's no moving on from. And I think that's a good thing.

Colm Doherty:
I do worry sometimes I might just be entertaining myself while staving off the inevitable.

Dominic Kearney:
Me, I pay no attention to wars. I'm agin' 'em. Wars and soap.

Siobhan Súilleabháin:
[in a letter] Dear Padraic, I am safely ensconced in the mainland and, Padraic, 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, Padraic. 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, Padraic. Leave there.