[Suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
male narrator: The ocean, huh?
Never fails to provoke a person
to musin' on philosophical shit,
heavy shit, like life and death
and faith and all that bewilderin' shit,
the fuckin' universe,
the individual's seemin' insignificance in it.
But are we insignificant?
I mean, take, for example,
this individual:
Waster name of Michael McCrea.
Last night, he imbibed to beat the band,
and today he's paying the seedy price.
It's evenin'.
He's havin' himself a little siesta, yeah?
Little catnap.
Now, relax yourself and pay close attention.
There's a point to all this drivel.
- [Groans]
- Very peaceful in repose there, Michael.
You know your deadline's 10:00 tonight.
- Uh...
- So what are you doin' in bed?
- Were you out last night?
- I was, yeah.
- Gettin' ripped instead of hustlin', man?
Fuck me.
- I'd call that a gross abuse of your time.
- What little you have.
- And gettin' less.
Now, you miss the aforesaid deadline, man,
Darren says you've to pay a particular price:
Two bones to be broke, your decision which.
- And digits don't count, you understand?
- Fingers, toes... - They don't count at all.
You wouldn't happen to have it, would you?
- No.
- Suggest you get out and get lookin' then, Michael.
Beg, borrow, steal.
- Only get it and bring it.
You've four more hours before Perrier's judgment comes down.
[Pistachio shells clattering]
You don't mind if we take these pistachies, man, do you?
- No.
Fuck.
[Solemn music]
♪ ♪
Wow, are those for me?
- [Laughs]
No, they're from Shamie.
He got me them as an apology
for all the lates he's been working.
- Ah, good one.
- So relieved.
- Yeah? What about?
- You know...
- Oh, the fact that you thought he was... he was losing interest.
- What an idiot, 'cause he's not, Michael.
- Well, I'm glad to hear it.
- He's not, you know.
We're as strong as ever.
I mean, the passion...
- Yeah. - Fire.
Oh, God, how are you?
- Oh, I'm fine. - Are you sure?
'Cause I just got paid. I can give you, like...
- No, Brend. - 200?
- No, no, no, Brend. It's cool.
I'm gonna go meet a dude by the name of The Mutt.
He's gonna sort me out. - The Mutt?
- Yeah, you know, like a loan to pay off a loan.
It's...
- Oh, right. Fair enough.
Well, call in later. Let me know how it goes.
- I will.
See ya.
[Car horns blare]
[Dog barking]
- Heel, boy. Heel, heel, heel!
- [Laughs]
- It's only 'cause he's fond of you, Michael.
- Yeah, he wants to fuck you.
[Laughter]
Whoo!
[Laughter]
- Michael McCrea.
Witness a righteous fuckin' ricochet, man.
- Good one.
Eh, The Mutt been around?
- You missed him, man,
and the tiff he got into.
Some fuck slaggin' his snooker skills, yeah?
Come here.
Fuck's laughin' to beat the band, right?
So he gets bet.
See the evidence?
- Jesus.
What's the other stain?
- The brown one? - Yeah.
- Couldn't tell you and wouldn't like to guess.
So...
I help you in any other way?
Some shit, say, no?
- No. - Fair enough.
- You any idea where he went?
- I haven't. - Fuck!
- But listen, man.
You change your mind, you know me whereabouts.
[Dogs barking]
- Ah, man, youse are barred!
- Fuck you, Mullo. We're taking table 9.
- Just remember to keep them dogs the fuck off it.
Do you hear me?
I never got that stain out of 12.
- Shut the fuck up, Mullo.
- Achilles! Get down off that table!
- What the fuck you doin'?
- This yours, yeah?
- Get that away from me wheel, man.
- Pick it up.
- Yeah?
- Man, I'd fuckin' heft you.
I'll haul you harder than you fuckin' hauled that.
- Go for it.
Come on, go for it.
- Fuck him, Lar.
We'll get him again, yeah?
We've got your reg, pal, and your fuckin' face.
You are under surveillance big-style.
Face.
[Tires squeal]
[Pensive music]
♪ ♪
- What the fuck are you doin' here?
- We need to have a chat.
- Why the fuck would I want to have a chat with you?
- 'Cause I'm dyin', Michael.
- What?
- I'm dyin', son, and I thought...
- You're fuckin' dyin'?
What is it, cancer?
- It's cancer, yeah.
- Oh, God.
- You gonna talk?
- Man, I would if I knew what to say.
I mean, this is...
- Yeah, I know.
And I hate to appear like this
right out of the fuckin' blue, but...
you know, all this shit between you and me is unresolved,
and your mother, of course.
And I just thought,
the situation now being what it is,
that we could talk or...
- Listen, Da...
- What's up, Michael?
- I'm workin' on it.
- If I was you, I'd work harder, man.
- Either that or just resign yourself.
Try and find a state of Zen, of acceptance, yeah?
- Right. Or resignation.
'Cause we're gonna be comin'.
- Swoopin'. - Descendin'.
Like time and tide, we wait for no man.
[Truck horn blares]
- All I owe is a grand, man.
Might as well be a mil,
the chances of me gettin' it by tonight.
- Like I said, if I had it, Michael.
- You off the drink?
- Just have a yen for some java, man.
So what other options have you?
- Well, apart from shootin' meself,
there's this one dude who sharks occasional,
name of Muttley, man.
- Ah, The Mutt.
- That's right. You know the fuck?
- I hear he drinks down at The Millers bar.
- The Millers?
- What about our talk?
- Wait here. I'll be back in an hour.
- And then we'll talk?
- Yeah, we'll see. - We'll see?
I'm only fuckin' dyin', Michael.
- ♪ Heard you're new in town ♪
♪ Want someone to show you round ♪
♪ Well, no one knows this place just quite like me ♪
♪ Well, I don't hang with the crowd ♪
♪ Where I go, we're dressing down ♪
♪ I'll take you where the music plays for free ♪
[knocking on table]
- Nice flowers you got Brenda, man.
- How are you, Michael?
- How am I?
I'm sick of fuckin' seein' you and your bitches!
- Excuse me?
- Listen, Michael.
I know Bren's your mate and all,
but, you know, fuckin' spark's gone, man.
- The spark?
So end it, you fuck, you.
Sever your ties
and show her some fuckin' respect.
- Tosser.
- Are you gonna take that shit?
- Aye, there he is.
Next one over there. You see him?
- That fella? - Yeah.
- Look at that bitch, man.
What do you think?
- Dirty, like a bag of carrots.
- What about that one?
- Blah. Looks a bit horsey, man.
- It's the horsey ones like you to give them a gallopin'.
- [Clears throat]
- I know you?
- No, and I don't mean to... to interrupt,
but I heard tell you give the occasional loan?
- When I'm flush, I do,
which, at the moment, I'm far from.
Sorry, pal, can't help you.
- You serious?
Oh, fair enough.
Ah.
- That shit you were sayin' back there, man, yeah,
callin' me chick a bitch and all,
I didn't like it.
- Yeah, you weren't meant to.
- Well, I want an apology,
fuckhead.
It's not forthcoming, no?
- No.
- Okay, then.
Fuck!
[Groans]
- I would happily fuckin' burst you now.
You know that?
Now, you gonna call Brenda?
- I am. - Yeah?
Well, do it tonight.
And you fuckin' let her down gently.
You hear me?
[Dull thud]
- Well done, man. What the fuck was that about?
- I wouldn't like to say.
- Oh, and I wouldn't like to hear you say,
'cause that'd mean you had a big fuckin' mouth.
- What?
- Now, let me peddle you somethin' here.
Dinny here and meself are on a job tonight:
Little break-and-enter up in Dalkey.
Financial reward's pretty much a cert,
and that's pretty much the extent of me peddle.
Question is, do you want to purchase?
[Tires squeal]
[Engine revs]
So Dinny's out one night.
This wanker's there, loudmouth.
Goes to the toilet... - The dude?
- No, Dinny, but the dude's in there.
His phone rings... the wife.
They chat.
The alarm system's broken on their house.
The alarm dude can't get out until Monday.
Back upstairs he's talkin'.
- Dinny? - The dude, man!
Will you pay attention?
This new restaurant they're goin' to Friday night,
so tonight bein' Friday, the house is empty,
and not only, but also alarm-less.
Now, the thing is, we need an extra man.
- Why?
- Well, Dinny's the watchman,
but say the dude has a 50-inch plasma screen.
I can't fuckin' hump it solo, now, can I?
Also, we halve the exposure time.
Two men inside. You with me?
- Yeah.
[Suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
- Michael, come here.
Check this out.
[Laughs]
Stack of filth under the wardrobe.
Look at that one.
Here.
Voluptuous.
For heifer-lovers only.
Look at the udders on that.
- Nice.
- You like a bit of volup', do you?
You dirty rip.
What the fuck is that?
[Laughs]
He's been fuckin' around on the missus, look.
- Maybe that's the missus.
- That's the missus, the pinch-faced cunt.
No wonder he's gone around looking for a bit of heft.
We could blackmail this fuck.
Aye, put them back under the wardrobe.
- All right.
- Here, wait, wait, wait.
Couple of them, for me personal use.
I like a bit of volup' meself.
- And why didn't we look for any cash?
- Plastic, man. Checkbooks.
What the fuck would he be doin' with cash?
This way, you stand to make
a fuckload more than you owe, you know?
- Yeah, when?
- Partner's in peril, The Mutt moves fast, man.
Gonna call the fucker up tonight, talk figures,
set up the rendezvous for tomorrow
soon as the banks are open.
We get the money.
You give Perrier double what you owe him
to forego your chastisement, yeah?
What do we think of 30 grand?
- Ten each? - No small amount.
What?
- You're not gonna fuck me, are you?
- Michael, never doubt
that The Mutt is a man of his word, all right?
- Okay.
- Here!
Or that his fuckin' word is his fuckin' bond.
You understand?
- I do.
- Fuckin' cheek of you.
[Dogs barking]
- Ah, youse miserable fucks, youse!
You fuck!
- I told you we'd get you, shithole, yeah?
[Laughs]
Surveillance.
[Tires squealing]
[Car horn blares]
[Dramatic music]
♪ ♪
- Watch it, will ya?
[Cell phone ringing]
- Yeah, hello?
- You just earned-ed yourself another broken bone, McCrea.
That's three now. - Man, you nearly killed me.
I'll have it tomorrow, now, all right?
- Fuck that.
We're comin' to get you tonight, and we're gonna bust you up...
- What? - Big-style.
Do you hear me?
Big fuckin'... - Fuck off.
- Out me off.
What the fuck are you doin'?
- You're illegally parked.
- Take it fuckin' off.
- Once it's on, man, it doesn't come off,
unless you pay the fine.
Then if we've time.
- Which we may well not.
- Correct.
May be a delay even after you pay.
A day, man.
Could be as much as two.
Do you get it?
- Hey, fuckhead.
- Aah!
Agh!
- Can't believe clampers.
- Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no.
Not the gun.
Fuck!
- Brend, come on!
Look, you didn't take me gun, Brend, did you?
- No.
- Brend, me gun is gone. - I didn't...
I didn't.
- You're the only one with a fucking key.
- [Sobbing]
- What's wrong?
- He's left me.
- Who?
- Shamie.
He called. He said it was over.
He said the spark was gone.
It wasn't gone for me.
It was there for me, you know?
- Yeah.
- I can't live without him.
- No. No, Brend.
Brend! Brend, wait a minute.
Open the fucking door! Brend!
[Crashing]
- So predictable, man.
The last place you wanna go is home.
- 'Cause that's the first place the fuck who's after you look.
Now, you never made your choice of bones, man.
You wanna make it now?
- Lads.
- No?
Sure, fuck it, we'll make it for you.
Left leg, fibulas, yeah?
- Uggh.
[Screams]
[Whimpers]
- That do it?
- I didn't hear a break.
Go again, man, just to be sure.
- Here. Grab his leg there.
- Will you go, man? Come on!
[Gunshot]
- Fuck.
- I knew you had it.
What the fuck were you thinkin'?
- I saved your life.
- No, you saved me legs.
You're gonna cost me me life.
You fucking fool!
- [Sobbing]
- Fuckin' cryin' again.
All right. All right, Bren.
Bren, Bren, Bren.
I'm sorry.
Okay?
You did what you thought was right.
All right?
You just reacted. Yeah?
[Door opens]
What the fuck are you doin' here?
- That was a long fuckin' hour.
- Oh, right, yeah.
Well, as you can see, I got delayed.
- Is he dead?
- Man, what the fuck do you think?
- What do I think?
I think you need to dispose of the body.
- The wise man advises.
You gonna help?
- I wouldn't be makin' the suggestion otherwise.
Whose car is that outside?
And then there's the question of force, how excessive it was,
not to mention why you had the gun in the first place.
- It's mine.
She stole it off me to kill herself.
Isn't that right, Bren?
- You suicidal?
- Yeah.
- I'm sorry to hear that, now.
You know, I'm dyin'. - Really?
- Got shitloads in common, don't you?
Shut the fuck up.
- There's no need for that. - Is there not?
In case you hadn't noticed, man, we're in deepest fuckin' peril.
So if you don't wanna end up
like a certain Maurice Joyce, man...
- That's a myth.
- Me hole it is. - Who's Maurice Joyce?
- A dude who made the mistake of strokin' gear from Perrier,
who tracked him down, man, caught him,
cut off his prick, and shoved it up his hole.
That's right.
So just, you know, behave as befits the situation,
will youse?
- You wanna keep goin' straight, Michael, yeah?
Straight into the mountains.
- What, in case I missed them?
I know the fuckin' way, man.
[Suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
- How long was she going out with Shamie?
- Ah, couple of years.
She's better off.
- What was he, a wanker?
- Yeah, to say the least, man.
- Well, he must've done something for her
to get that reaction.
[Laughs]
This is good, now, isn't it?
Father and son in mutual toil.
- Man, give me a break.
- I know the circumstances aren't ideal.
Still, somethin' we never did, you know?
Yeah, that looks good now.
[Engine grinding]
- Aw.
[Engine grinding]
Aw, no.
- All right, let's...
You're floggin' a dead fuckin' pony, Mike.
- Yeah, it's horse. Horse, man!
- Whatever, horse.
You're wastin' your fuckin' time, man.
What time's the payoff?
- I don't know.
The Mutt said he'd call around half-nine, so...
- Right. - Half-ten, 11:00?
I should be out of town by 12:00.
Few quid in me pocket.
- You're set.
Okay, so...
I spoke to your mother a couple of months back.
- Yeah?
- She's doin' good.
You want to talk now?
- All I want to do is kip, man. You mind?
- Up to you, man.
Say, this is a well-worn area now,
the tradition of buried bodies,
like Boot Hill, where the gunslingers went.
Restin' place of the hard.
Lived and died by the sword.
Well, not the sword, the gun.
There's somethin' romantic, I reckon, in that.
Lights below.
Stars above.
The waft of whatever on the wind.
What is it, cow shit?
[Sniffing]
Certainly has that essence.
[Sniffs]
[Car door opens]
[Car door shuts]
[Pensive music]
♪ ♪
narrator: So... peace.
[Laughs] Yeah?
Respite.
Sanctuary.
Well-earned maybe, but temporary,
'cause danger's percolatin' below.
[Sirens wail]
A gang is gathered, a common goal.
You with me so far?
Are you followin'?
Good.
'Cause I want to introduce you to someone else now,
dude you may have already heard referred to...
Name of Darren Perrier.
- Did you go down?
- No one there.
- No body even?
- There was nothin', man.
- That'll haunt me now.
- What?
- Ivan's grief.
Rest of me fuckin' days.
The fuckin' poignancy of it.
- All right, yeah.
- The rawness.
Suppose them bein' the best of mates and all...
- Lovers.
- Lovers?
What the fuck are you talkin' about?
- Never see the way they looked at each other?
The was amour there, man.
You can't disguise it.
- I never knew.
- Well, they never said.
There was an unnecessary shame there too,
a fear.
- Of what?
- Your judgment, maybe?
- I'd never have judged, man.
Jesus Christ.
Love is love.
Who cares how queer... or lezzy.
Fuck.
Now, that saddens me now.
- So...
what do you want us to do now?
- Youse awake enough to keep lookin'?
- Fucking right.
- Write it down.
- Ivan.
I know you and Orlando were gay lovers.
And I want you to know it doesn't bother me.
- Really?
- Man, I'm hep to all that shit.
Just wish you would've told me, though, you know?
- I'm sorry, Darren.
- Hey.
Forgiven, forgotten.
You know what I'm sayin'?
- Yeah.
- Forgiven, forgotten.
- It's so fucking sad.
- Are you sad?
- I am.
- Are you vengeful?
- I'm devastated.
- Right.
Are you vengeful?
- I don't know. I just want to...
- Get revenge? - Yeah.
- Good, 'cause listen, man.
If the boys don't get these fucks by mornin',
I'm puttin' out a bounty.
That's right.
That's how much I respect the love
whose name you could never speak.
- How much?
- 10,000 euros.
5,000 for McCrea; 5,000 for his bitch.
- Thank you, Darren.
- Fuck that shit.
- Thank you.
- Least I can fuckin' do for a mate.
- Thank you.
- Anyway...
I'll leave you to your grievin'.
[Bird caws]
[Pensive music]
♪ ♪
- You been here all fuckin' night?
- That's right.
- Why?
- Keep meself awake.
- Why would you wanna do that?
- No reason.
If I tell you somethin',
do you promise not to go bananas?
- Maybe.
- I don't have cancer.
Now, don't be goin' bananas, now.
- You're not fuckin' dyin'?
- I didn't say that.
In fact, it's gonna happen sooner than you think.
- When?
- Next time I sleep.
Bear with me here a sec, all right?
The night before last, Death came to me, son,
to me bedroom.
It wasn't a dream.
I can still differentiate.
It was real.
He told me...
- Brenda!
- "Jim," he said...
- Brenda, get yourself in gear.
- Listen to me, son!
- Man, there I was feelin' sorry for you.
- So you should.
- And here you come, tellin' tales, man,
toyin' with me fuckin'...
Why, man?
Me fuckin' sympathy.
- Michael, he came to me.
- No, he didn't!
- You and me have shit we need to resolve, son.
Fuckin' tout suite!
- Tout what?
Bren, we're gonna have to burn your car, you mind?
- Do I mind? Yes, I mind.
- Well, unless you want them to trace you to it.
- Who? - The cops!
- Trace you to the blood in the boot,
to the body buried beside the fuckin' thing.
- All right. - All right, then!
- All right! Fucking burn it!
I don't give a fuck!
Shamie and I first made love in there.
- Yeah?
Was it awkward at all?
- It was beautiful.
- Yeah, well in light of how things have turned out, Bren,
maybe it's for the best.
[Flames crackle]
[Car clangs and hisses]
- But you said you were dying.
- I am.
- I don't get it. How could you be dying?
- Ah, forget it, Bren. You don't want to know.
- I do.
- Ah, maybe Michael's right, Bren.
It requires a leap of faith he wasn't willin' to make
and you more than likely won't be either.
- Try me.
- Nah, just... - Try me, Jim.
I'm willing at least to make the effort.
- All right, so...
- Oh, just shut up and come on, will youse?
[Thunder crackles]
- I was lyin' there in me jammies.
I'd just gotten into bed, you know?
And the room got cold, really quick, like, really cold.
And I looked, and I saw this dude there.
Nothin' strange about him,
middle-aged dude in a suit at the end of me bed.
But I knew.
I knew who he was.
And he said to me,
"Jim, bit of bad news for you, Jim."
And I said, "Am I dead?"
And he said, "No.
"But next time you sleep, man, you will be.
You with me?"
I said, "I am, man. I am.
Sure, why wouldn't I be, you bein' The Reaper and shit?"
And he said, "That I am, man.
That I am."
- Hey!
Get on out of there, now!
- It's rainin'.
Huh, do you believe this?
Bitch'd begrudge us a bit of shelter.
- Now!
- Fuck you! We'll go when it eases off!
- What then, Jim?
- Well, we talked a bit, believe it or not.
And then the lights went out,
and when I turned them on again, he was gone.
So I went downstairs to the kitchen,
poured meself a sizeable drop of Jack, and wept.
You know why?
Because never in my life
have I been as certain of anything
as I was that he was who I thought he was
and that what he said
was no less than how it would be.
- They're on their way!
- Who?
- The police!
They know you tried to rape me!
- What?
- You fucking animal!
You sodomite!
Well, we'll see in a minute
exactly how the likes of you is dealt with.
- That's amazing.
And did you get the chance to ask him, Jim?
- About what?
- About the afterlife.
- I did, but he declined to give me an answer.
Said there's certain things he likes to leave obscure
and enigmatic.
[Deep voice] "Cause that's me way, man."
- Is that what he said?
- What he said and the way he said it.
- "That's me way, man."
Wow.
- And why did he choose you, Da?
- I don't know.
- Oh, he left that ambiguous too, did he?
Very convenient, Da.
- Yeah, well, that's his way, man, isn't it?
Sketch!
- You believe this shit?
- Will youse fuckin' sketch!
- She did fuckin' ring them.
Bitch.
Do you believe it?
- You still suicidal, Bren?
- Am I what?
Ah, no.
- That's good to hear.
Why not?
- Well, I'm sober now, for one.
And for two,
I'm kind of convinced there might still be hope.
- Uh-huh.
- I'm not gonna just give up, Jim.
I'm gonna fight for my man,
find out what the problem is and see if we can't,
through good, fucking honest communication, work things out.
I'm gonna call down
as soon as we get back into town.
- What?
Your hole you will. Are you mad?
- I'd only be there half... No!
- I'd only be there half an hour... or, say, an hour.
- An hour? - Yeah, say, at the most.
- Shamie doesn't want you back, Bren.
- Why not?
- Because he's a wanker, man.
- That's it?
- Yeah, yeah. That's... that's right.
- Maybe you're the wanker.
- Oh, maybe I am,
but I'm not the wanker has you pullin' your hair out
every other night, and me havin' to suffer it.
"Oh, Shamie was odd tonight.
I'm really worried about Shamie."
Shamie's been blowin' hot and cold on you, man,
the last two fuckin' years.
And do you know what?
Do you know why you never knew where you stood?
Because you never fuckin' stood anywhere, man.
- Michael, come on.
- No, she needs to hear this, man!
All she is to him is a joke that fuckin'...
somethin' cute on his arm when it suits him.
- All right. - A convenient fuck.
And it's not all right!
- I'm just sayin', give her a fuckin' break, man.
Don't mind him, Bren.
What the...
What the blazes?
- Bren?
Ah.
Now this... this is just fuckin' infantile, man.
Fuckin'...
Bren!
- Brenda?
Can't say I blame her, Michael.
- What?
- Well, what you said was fairly fuckin' insensitive,
sensitive as she is at the moment.
- Yeah, well, you know, tough love and all.
- Home truths?
- That's right.
Shit fuckin' had to be said.
- Got any coke on you, Michael?
- Any what?
- Cocain.
- What the fuck are you talking about?
- [Screaming]
[Men yelling indistinctly]
- Come on.
- I'm asking you to get in.
- I don't want to get in.
- Why not?
- Am I under arrest? - No.
- Well, get the fuck off me, then!
- Right.
What we'll do is talk to them.
Hey.
Dad!
- Freeze, motherfuckers!
Move, and I'll blow your fuckin' brains out.
Hiya, Bren. Get in.
- Hiya, Jim.
- Now, get down on the ground, man.
- Take it easy.
- Down, man, tout fuckin' suite.
- Tout what?
- Shut up. Tout suite.
Michael, get in.
Go on, man. I got your back.
Don't fuckin' move. You with me?
You follow?
Don't even fuckin' breathe.
Hell, you gonna punch it, or what?
[Engine revs]
[Tires squeal]
[Dramatic music]
♪ ♪
- All right, Bren?
You not talking to me?
All right. I'm sorry.
I shouldn't... I shouldn't have spoken to you like that.
I just... - How sorry are you?
- Very.
What do you mean?
- Make it up to me.
- How?
- Bring me down to Shamie's.
- Oh, fuck that.
Ring him, you want.
- I need to see him!
- Bring her down to Shamie's, son.
- I already told you...
Bring her down. Go on.
- Shit. I fuckin' swear.
- Bring her down to Shamie's. - Shut the fuck up, man.
- Bring her down to Shamie's. [Cell phone ringing]
- Shut the fuck up. Hello?
- Yeah, what's the story? Do you want your money?
- Oh, right. Uh...
- We been trying to get ahold of you and couldn't.
- So you went ahead?
- Yeah. 30 grand, as agreed.
And since you shared in the scheme's inception,
it's only fittin' you shared in the loot.
- Oh, that's very good of you, Mutt.
That's very good of you.
- Integrity's what you call it.
Right, here's me location.
[Hard rock music]
- Go on, you mad fucker!
Jesus!
[Tires squeal]
Whoa. [Laughs]
[Tires screech]
- Fuck.
- Relax.
We're not the cops.
- Did you stroke that car?
- We did.
You stroke that one?
- We did.
- You wanna swap?
- Okay.
[Truck horn blares]
- Are you sure about this?
- Michael. - No, it's fine.
It's fine.
Just don't blame me, you know?
- I'm not gonna... - Just don't blame me.
That's all I'm gonna say.
- Why would l... - Don't go blamin' me.
You gettin' out or what?
- All right.
- And don't be all day, man.
I'm meetin' The Mutt at 1:00.
- All right.
- Ah, man, will you come on!
- All right!
Ugggh!
[Dogs barking]
- Hey, Brenda.
- All right, lads?
[Dogs barking]
- You know your ma moved down to Carrigaholt?
- Yeah? Where's that?
- County Clare.
It's a beautiful spot, apparently.
Got a view of the sea and all.
- Eh...
I was sorry to hear youse split up.
- Uh-huh.
Well, it happens, doesn't it?
- Have you see her since?
- Nah.
I promised her I'd drop down,
but it just never seemed to happen.
I mean, it's not as if
we're not still mates or nothin', you know?
But what I was thinking, see, why don't we go down?
- Man, give me a break.
You know why.
- Michael, what occurred in the past,
it's the past.
Your mother... - Da, I'm not goin' down!
- [Laughs]
- The fuck are you doin'? Come back!
- No, you come out.
- Man, someone will see you, you crazy slut, you.
- Are you gonna fuck me?
- Yes!
Now, come fuckin' on!
Bren.
Bren!
- Ah, here we go.
Bren!
Just... just wait here a minute.
Bren!
- Come on, Achilles.
Come on. - Come on.
Come on.
Like that.
Get the meat in your mouth.
Come on. You can do it.
- Just give him time.
- What's wrong with me, Michael?
What was I lacking?
- No.
Don't start goin' down that road, now.
Do you hear me?
You're lackin' nothin'.
You're funny as fuck, for one.
- Self-pitying, more like... - Nah, fuck that, now.
- You're also good lookin'.
- Depressive.
- No, you're smart.
- Suicidal, self-obsessed.
Let's not forget the fella I shot last night.
Yeah, I'm a right fucking catch.
- How's it going there?
- What's all this in aid of?
- Trainin'.
For the Savage Canine Vernacular Annual Celebration of Rip.
- What's that?
- Well, it's like the Olympics, only it's for warrior dogs.
- Warrior dogs?
- Uh-huh.
- Sounds awesome.
- [Whimpers]
- All right, go for it now.
Don't look at me.
Look at the meat and go.
Oh, bollocks.
- What do you say you want to set them on someone?
- "Hoose," of course.
- Ah, Achilles, will you just go for the meat?
You did it yesterday.
- Why don't you "hoose" him up on that?
- Give it a go.
- All right, Achilles.
Hoose!
- [Snarling]
- You see?
It's all in the fuckin' "Hoose," man.
- [Laughs] Nice one, old-timer.
Tough dog, man.
- That did the business, eh?
- You were right.
Night after night, my fucking bullshit.
How'd you put up with me?
- I don't know.
Maybe I'm the bigger idiot.
- Yeah. You are an idiot.
Oh, fucking hell.
- Bren.
Just, uh, blow.
- Fuck you.
Fucking, "Blow."
[Car horn honks]
- Youse right?
- All right. I'll be back in a minute.
Mutt?
- How's it goin'?
- Ah, man.
Listen, I really appreciate this.
- Fuck that, man. Isn't that right, Din?
- Yeah, man.
- Nah, seriously, you're gettin' me out of a major...
- Jesus, look at that chick in her nip, man!
- [Coughing]
[Gulps]
This isn't fuckin' workin' at all, man!
- [Muttering]
- The fuck? - Is that Michael?
- This is beyond the fuckin' beyond, man.
Give me a clatter, will you?
- What? - To wake me up.
A good and hard one, to get me blood up and running.
Fuck. Good one.
What the fuck are youse doin'?
- Huh? Who are you?
- None of your fuckin' business.
Now, nice and easy, man.
Nice and smooth.
Step away from the car.
- That smooth enough?
- All right, Jim?
- Peachy, Bren.
Be cool.
What the fuck did you do to him?
- Nothin'.
Clobbered him.
- Yeah?
You call a clobberin' nothin'?
Bet you it's somethin' now.
- I don't suppose we could...
Look, Perrier wants...
[groans]
- Must be his mate.
- Whose?
- Perrier's, man, what say?
- Could be.
- Must fuckin' be, man.
Now, think a little interlude's required, yeah?
Let's find us somewhere solitary.
You concurrin'?
- Yeah.
- You know somewhere?
- I think so.
- Give us another clatter, will you?
- Huh?
Narrator.' "Another clatter."
[Laughs]
Mad fuck, isn't he?
Jim.
I like him, though.
Like Bren as well.
Be nice if somethin' developed between her and Michael,
wouldn't it?
Or if Michael and Jim resolved
whatever it is occurred in their past.
Be a bit of symmetry there, yeah?
Closure, whatever.
But I happen to know some shit you don't, my friends.
There's going to be heartbreak ere this day is done.
Brutal and tragic events are brewin' up righteous.
So when they come to pass, man,
don't go sayin' I didn't fuckin' warn youse.
Still and all, bit of crack, yeah?
- What the fuck are you doin'?
- What?
- That's spit!
- Which is sterile, Michael.
Relax.
- Go on.
- So is piss, as a matter of fact.
Here.
Not that I'm advocatin' its use.
- What the fuck is this?
- He owed you, didn't he?
- Ten, man.
This is the full-whack 30.
- What he gets for tryin' to get you killed.
- Thanks, Da.
And, uh, thanks, you know, for savin' me bacon and shit.
- You're welcome.
So will you get me some coke now?
- Jesus Christ. All right.
- Yeah?
- Fuckin' shut you up!
I said yeah, didn't I?
- And what about comin' down to your ma's?
- No. Fuck that shit, man.
The coke procurement's as far as me obligation extends.
- Where's your ma?
- County Clare.
- Why don't you want to see her?
- None of your business.
- They had a fallin' out.
- Over what?
Over what?
- Tell her.
- You.
- Do you mind?
- Man, I don't give a fuck.
- About four years back, Michael caught this dude,
name of Steve Lynch, givin' this girl a beatin'.
So he stepped in and gave the dude a beatin'.
Few weeks after, this fella knocked up to the house.
Elaine was there alone.
- Your wife? - That's right.
And attacked her.
Fucked her up so bad,
she was in hospital for a fuckin' month.
Broke her arm, man, a bunch of her ribs, her nose.
- That's terrible.
Did he get done for it?
- No, he was shot by the guards about four days after.
- Yeah, good riddance.
- A post office robbery.
- That's really horrible, Jim.
But it wasn't your fault, though, Michael.
I mean, you were only doing what you...
- They fuckin' thought it was,
enough at least, I was told,
they never wanted to see me again,
that I was... what was it?
Someone they were better off no longer havin' in their lives.
- Michael.
- I only done what anyone would've.
- I know. - Oh, you know?
Fuckin' four years later.
- Michael, you know we tried to make it up.
How many times did we call, either one or the other?
- And what did he say?
- He never answered.
He cut us off, man.
- Could you blame me?
- No, I couldn't.
I couldn't.
I understand you were hurt.
But weren't we all?
Michael, weren't we all?
I mean, I just thought, if we could,
one last time, the three of us,
just sitting around a table, you know?
But fuck it, man. You're right.
It's more than your obligation extends to.
Anyway, can we get me coke now?
- All right, Michael.
Observe a righteous curlicue, man.
See? 'Cause it curls.
- Very good.
Come here. Any chance of some of your best?
- How much?
- Say, 20 grams?
- You're talkin' expense, man.
600 euros.
Fuck, man, you're flush!
- Well, you know,
circumstances can change in a quick, man.
All you need is a bit of luck.
- Speakin' of luck, do you want a game?
- Fuck that. We're in; we're out.
Tout suite, man. - What?
- Oan I have some now, son?
- Gaggin', huh?
Gents is down there to the right.
Your aul fella, is it?
- Yeah.
- Such a surprise.
- What is?
- All this new shit.
Your mum, your dad, the falling out.
- What about it?
- Nothing.
I'm just saying, you're... you're fairly enigmatic.
- Yeah, well...
- What?
- That's me way, man.
- Oh, yeah, very good.
I doubt your delivery has the weight of the Reaper's.
- Fuckin' Reaper.
Tell me you don't believe that shit.
- No, I don't, but I believe he does.
And I think you owe it to him, if you don't mind me saying,
and to your mum,
and to yourself, to get over yourself.
- Get over myself?
- Yeah.
- [Scoffs]
- And do what he's asked you to do.
- Go down?
- Yeah.
Go see her, and, all of you, make your fucking peace.
Course, you're only gonna do what you want to do.
- What the fuck are you doing?
Oh, fuck! Get down!
Lads, lads, if we could just take a minute.
Look, I'm really sorry.
[Gunshot zings]
Fuck.
- Come on out, lads. We won't go near youse.
- Yeah?
Swear on your granny's grave?
Didn't fuckin' think so.
- Fuck.
[Gunshot]
[Glass shattering]
[Gunshots]
Don't kill them, man!
We're trying to take them alive, aren't we?
- Lads.
Refrain from shootin' this way, will youse?
- You sold us out, you cunt, didn't you?
- Yeah, sorry, Michael. Bit of cash involved.
The fuck are you lookin' at, bitch?
- Fuck him.
- What the fuck are you doing?
- What the fuck is she up to?
- Bren!
[Gunshots]
- Aah!
Okay. Right.
Fuck.
- What the fuck are you doin'?
- Michael.
Michael! - Ah, get them!
- Fucking coward's hiding behind his bitch, Darren.
- Go, go, go, go, go, go!
- No!
Fuck!
Let's go.
Wait. I have to go back.
- What?
- I have to go back for me da', man!
- No, no, no.
They don't know who he is, right?
He's just some guy.
He's safe. Come on.
Come on!
[Tires squeal]
- Bren!
I've been lookin' all over the place for you.
- Fuck!
- Oan we talk?
- Just shut up and drive!
- What's going on?
[Tires squeal]
- What's the problem?
- They've gone, man.
Poor Clifford, huh?
- Yeah, devastating, isn't it?
Victor, listen.
Go down and nab his coke, will ya.
- Yeah, boss.
- See if we can salvage a bit of good from this...
tragedy.
I thought you said you were gonna nab them.
- Yeah, I know.
What we did was fuckin' lose them.
- Yeah. So did we.
- They were here?
- Two fuckin' minutes ago.
- Well, listen.
Was wonderin' if maybe we could pool resources,
you know, forget the bounty.
- What?
- Well, see, we've reasons of our own
for wantin' to nab the fuck.
What say?
[Dogs snarling]
- What the fuck?
- Heel.
Get down, Achilles.
- Achilles you call him?
- Yeah.
You know, the invincible fuck? - I do.
Invincible except for his heel, yeah?
Except for his weak spot.
What's his, man, his head?
- [Whimpering]
Highfalutin fuckin' names, man!
- Achilles, no!
Apollo!
- You motherf...
- Now, do you want to mourn your doggies,
or do you want to join them?
He's right.
Before the guards fuckin' arrive.
- Darren.
Hold on a sec, will you?
- I made a mistake.
I was confused.
You know what it was?
I was suddenly scared of where we were goin'.
But losin' you, Bren, or the prospect of it,
really put shit into perspective.
- What about that girl?
- Nothing.
A guide, man.
- A guide?
- On the path to perspective,
on the road to realizin'
that I want to be with you forever.
I really do.
Forgive me, Bren. Please.
I'm so fucking sorry.
Come back to me.
- [Laughs]
Sorry, Shamie. The spark's gone.
- Spark?
Oh, good, man.
Very good.
Referrin' to...
Yeah.
- Shut the fuck up.
And try and take it like a man, you prick, you.
[Engine revs]
- Up your holes, man!
I hope youse fuckin' die!
Youse can suck each other's fuckin' cocks
for all I care!
[Train rumbles]
[Siren wails]
- I mean, I'm a lover of dogs,
but they left me no alternative, you know?
- Yeah.
- Can't deny it's left me
a little bit melancholic, though,
bit ripped apart.
Ahh.
So, The Mutt,
you plannin' on havin' a bit of McCrea?
- Nah, all we want's our money, man.
We get it, and we go,
secured in the knowledge he'll be chastised
as befits him.
- How much did he take, man?
- 30 grand.
- [Sniffing]
- So you can understand me tenacity here,
me yen for the fucker's capture.
Now, that's not to belittle any yen of your own,
or lvan's.
- I've a yen, all right.
- Which will be satisfied in due fuckin' course, man.
- [Snoring]
- Hey, fuckhead.
Stay the fuck awake.
We'll be makin' that call in a minute.
[Cell phone ringing]
- Michael?
- Yeah, where are you?
- Perrier's gaff, son.
Sorry.
Fuckin' Mutt's here as well.
- Yeah? What do they want?
- Want you, son, you and Bren.
But listen.
I'm gonna take a nap now, yeah?
So if you come, I'll be asleep when you get here.
Are you with me?
- Michael.
Michael?
- I love you, Da.
- I love you too.
- Yeah, look. I fucked it all up.
- No.
- No, I did. You and Ma.
I did. I'm so fuckin' sorry, Da.
- "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Da."
- Put him fuckin' back on!
- I'll kill him now, you don't shut the fuck up.
Now, a few items I want you to bring with you, yeah?
- First, the chick that did the deed, man.
Second, the cash you ripped off of The Mutt.
And last but not least, Orlando's body.
Right?
You know Danlands?
- Yeah.
- Well, that's where we are.
You've an hour, man.
- [Snoring]
- Believe this old fuck?
[Laughter]
- Listen to me.
Don't go up there.
They're going to kill him anyway.
Are you fucking stupid?
Michael, don't go!
If you go, then you'll both be dead.
Okay?
You fucking know that. Don't go!
- It was never just "putting up with you," Bren.
Never, you understand?
I loved every minute of it.
[Suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
[men shouting indistinctly]
- Hey!
♪ ♪
[metal clicking]
[Car horn blares]
- Fuck. God!
Yeah?
Shit. Come on.
Come on, mate.
Ah, come fucking on!
[Tires screech]
[Dog barking]
- Come on.
- Da!
- Get back over here, you fuck!
- [Snoring]
- Da!
- So where's your bitch?
- Vacated, man.
- Orlando's body?
- Buried.
- Man, you believe the insouciance of this fuck?
How the fuck you gonna make a trade
if you've nothin' to make a trade fuckin' with?
- I've meself.
- Mm.
That's far from enough to earn your old man
a reprieve, McCrea.
Did youse pat him down?
- Yeah.
- Even his packet?
- His packet?
- You need to be more thorough.
Often a dude will stash a piece in his briefs, man...
- [grunts]
- Hopin' that the frisker will overlook it,
which you did.
- [Groans]
- Good one, Darren.
- Come here.
- Aah.
- Now, your da's gonna die tonight, McCrea, all right?
That's a foregone fuckin' conclusion.
But he's gonna die posthaste;
whereas you, man,
you're gonna suffer for what you did
to lvan's lover.
- His lover?
- You say that like you have a problem
with that kind of thing.
- I don't.
- I think he thinks
you're a fuckin' abomination, lvan.
- He's the abomination.
- You're the abomination, McCrea,
with your fuckin' intolerance, am I right,
your ignorance?
Sure you're only a fuckin' murderin' fascist!
You gonna do a Maurice Joyce on him?
- I am.
- What it is, McCrea:
He severs your Mickey, yeah?
- I know what a Maurice Joyce is.
- Ah, really?
Word gets around.
I'm delighted!
Eh, can we get on with it?
- [Grunts]
Get the fuck off me!
- Yeah, hold onto his legs, please!
- Get the fuck off me!
- Let's get his undies off.
- Darren.
- Ivan. Just wait a...
One sec, sorry.
- Eh, any chance we can get our money first?
- Ah, not up for the hairy shit, no?
- Yeah, sorry. - Fair enough.
No need to apologize. Ivan!
Give us a minute.
- The blood's up, Darren.
- Wait!
- Yeah.
- Don't worry, McCrea.
You'll get your Maurice Joyce.
- Get the... the fuck off!
- Sorry.
How the fuck do you think I acquired me wealth, The Mutt?
By passin' up opportunity?
[Gunshot]
Not fuckin' likely.
[Gunshot]
- Darren... - No beggin', now!
- I beg you.
- He begs me.
- Please! Please, Darren!
- What did I say, you fuck? Give me that.
- Darren!
- You tell him one thing.
[Gunshots]
- Get back here, you fuck!
- The ricochets, Kenny. Fuck!
You nearly fuckin' killed me!
- Darren...
- Mind me valuables, yeah?
- Sorry, Darren.
- You sap!
What did I tell you?
Dump those fuckers.
[Suspenseful music]
♪ ♪
- That way.
♪ ♪
- Ugh.
♪ ♪
- Fuck, he's a heavy bastard!
- Dump them in the porters, skip.
We'll deal with them later.
- We're on it.
[Clanging sound]
- Was there a hole in The Mutt's jacket?
- Yeah, it's fucked.
- Ah, burn it.
Snap out of it, lvan.
- All right, fuckhead.
- All right?
- Take your guns out and drop them.
- Jesus.
Cool, man.
Keep your mellow, yeah?
- Yeah, yeah, I'm keepin' it fuckin' mellow.
Now, ever so slowly...
That's it.
Yeah, ever so gently, place them on...
That's it.
Good.
Right, you. Get that bag.
Now! Move it!
Yeah, and the blade too.
Yeah. Give it here.
Get up there.
- We'll track you down, McCrea.
- Yeah?
Up against the wall.
Come on!
Right, get down on your knees.
Get down on your knees!
- You can run, but... - Oh, yeah, I know.
But I can't hide.
Is that it?
Well, maybe I should do you now,
and then I won't have to worry about it, huh?
Huh?
- Go for it.
- Get down, man.
- No.
- The fuck are you doin', Kenny?
- I'm callin' this screwhead's bluff, Darren.
I reckon he hasn't got the grits...
- Fuck's sake, Kenny.
- The machismo to kill a dude.
Me fuckin' leg!
- You're a dildo, Kenny.
- Jesus.
- Put your hands on your heads!
- Oh, the agony, man.
- All right, Da?
It's just me, Da.
We're getting out of here. All right?
Peek out of any of youse,
and I'll murder the lot of youse.
Do you hear me?
I swear to fuck.
Fucking warning you!
Told you!
- Wait.
- I need a doctor, Darren.
- Shut up, Kenny.
- The fuck are you doin', Darren?
- As if I wouldn't have an old AK lyin' around.
- [Groaning]
[Groans]
Da? Da?
- I'm alive!
I'm alive. Sweet fuck!
Michael!
- Where the fuck's the Reaper now, huh?
No, no, no, no, no!
[Tires screech]
- [Groans]
- He's here, son.
He's just a bit fuckin' late, the cunt.
- Da? Da?
Da?
No!
Dad!
Don't.
- Me fuckin' hand!
- Never has anyone given me so much grief, man.
- Good.
- Anyway, any last words before I do you?
- Yeah.
- What?
- Don't.
- I'm sorry, Michael.
Man, the fuck is this?
[Tires squealing]
The fuck is goin' on?
[Dogs barking and snarling]
[Gun clicking]
[Barking and snarling continues]
- This is the Savage Canine Vernacular, man.
- [Snarling]
- And they've a bone or two to pick tonight
on behalf of their fallen comrades,
Achilles and Apollo.
[Dogs barking and snarling]
We're puttin' an end to you, Perrier,
your regime.
- Me what? - Shut the fuck up.
You ready, boys? - [Together] Yeah.
- Wait.
- Then hoose away.
- [Together] Hoose, hoose.
Hoose, hoose, hoose, hoose, hoose.
Hoose, hoose, hoose, hoose.
Hoose! Hoose! Hoose! Hoose!
[Dogs snarling]
- Wait!
Wait!
[Yelling indistinctly]
Aah! Aaah!
[Yelling]
[Dogs growling]
Aaah!
- [Gasps]
- Hey.
- We're takin' you down to Derek Dawson, Michael.
- The best.
- What is he, a doctor?
- A vet, man.
- A vet?
- He's the best in the fuckin' business.
- He is.
You hear me, Michael?
Dawson.
The best.
Overhaul you in no time, yeah?
[Dog whimpers]
- He said that this was where those who lived
and died by the sword were buried.
[Dog whimpers]
And in his last few hours, that's certainly what he did.
Anyway,
no better companions could he have in death
than Achilles and Apollo, man.
[Dog whimpers]
Keep him company on his way to...
I don't know, Valhalla or somethin'.
Amen.
All: Amen.
- What can you say that his moniker didn't?
- What do you think? - Achilles.
Feel its texture, its power...
- I think I'm in love with you.
- What?
Man, that's just the rebound talkin'.
- No, it's not.
- Savage yet tender, he...
- I love you too, Bren. - Do you?
- Orazy love, like.
Yes, I do.
- Wild yet devoted...
- Is your love crazy?
- Yeah, I think it is.
- Ah, come on, lads.
We didn't talk over your fuckin' eulogy.
- Sorry, lads.
- In the haunch, the power of the jaw.
The snap.
[Dog bays]
[Pensive music]
♪ ♪
- Fuckin' typical.
First thing I have to do is tell her her husband's dead.
Ah.
- How's the leg?
- Fucked, man.
Fuckin' vet, I swear.
- Yeah, well, if it wasn't for him, you'd be jail.
- Yeah.
[Seagulls shrieking]
- Your mum must love this place.
[Paper rustling]
Oan I ask you something?
- Yeah.
- Do you think he was telling the truth?
- Who, me da?
- Yeah.
Do you think he was right about the Reaper?
- I don't know.
Narrator.' Pertinent question, though, isn't it?
'Cause if Jim's death was indeed foretold,
then wouldn't that suggest that we're not alone,
and that each of us is indeed significant
in this vast and degenerate cosmos?
I'm sure you'll agree
that's a soothin' fuckin' notion, man,
a happy notion.
But what's to become of Michael?
I mean, is he dComed to remain the dude he was,
a perpetual waster, forever to be ruled
by fear and confusion and anger?
Or has he, after all the harrowin' shit
he's endured and overcome,
come out the other side a better man,
an enlightened man?
I'm afraid that's somethin'
that remains to be seen, my friend.
See, there's certain things I like to leave obscure
and enigmatic.
And why?
'Cause that's me way, man.
That's me way.
[Hard rock music]
♪ ♪
- ♪ Here she comes again ♪
♪ Not satisfied ♪
♪ With the state I'm in ♪
♪ She's a breath of life ♪
♪ Tearing me inside ♪
♪ My arms are open but my, my soul is tired ♪
♪ Morning comes but it's still the night ♪
♪ I see your face when I close my eyes ♪
♪ In my dreams coming back to me ♪
♪ I see you walking in my sleep ♪
♪ I see teardrops in the streets ♪
♪ I hear you saying you will wait ♪
♪ I feel you lying next to me ♪
♪ I hear you whisper ♪
♪ Come and see ♪
♪ ♪
♪ Here she comes again ♪
♪ Standing by my side ♪
♪ Breathing on my skin ♪
♪ She's a breath of life ♪
♪ I have nothing left to hide ♪
♪ My arms are open but my, my soul is tired ♪
♪ Morning comes but it's still the night ♪
♪ I see your face when I close my eyes ♪
♪ In my dreams coming back to me ♪
♪ I see you walking in my sleep ♪
♪ I see teardrops in the streets ♪
♪ I hear you saying you will wait ♪
♪ I feel you lying next to me ♪
♪ I hear you whisper ♪
♪ Come and see ♪
♪ ♪