As you all know, at the beginning of term, the Bishop graciously
bestowed a beautiful piece of religious art
onto Our Lady Immaculate College -
the enchanting Child Of Prague.
MUSIC: Jazzie's Groove by Soul II Soul
There we are.
Sure, isn't he a great fella altogether?
I still don't get what it's supposed to be.
It's Jesus as a wain.
Why has he got a big red hat on?
Nobody knows.
It was the Bishop's wish that
he be passed around all the schools in the Derry Diocese.
Therefore we are joined this morning
by Mr Malone, headmaster of St Benedict's,
so that the handover ceremony can take place.
You're very welcome, Mr Malone.
Though I fear you may have had a wasted journey.
I've thought about it, and I'd much rather
just hold on to him, actually.
He brightens up my office.
He doesn't answer back.
I like the fella.
And if the Bishop has a problem with that, he can take it up with me.
Now, what else was there?
Ah, yes.
Sadly, Sister Patrick has decided to leave us.
She's returning to her missionary work,
educating the heathen inhabitants of a primitive and savage place.
She's...taken a teaching post in Belfast, Sister.
Precisely.
The Board of Governors promised me
that her replacement would arrive today,
but as usual they were talking out of their...
DOOR BANGS
MUSIC: I Can't Be With You by The Cranberries
I believe you've been expecting me.
Here we go.
# Lying in my bed again
# And I cry cos you're not here... #
CHALK PINGS AND CLATTERS
SHE SIGHS
What is it we should be doing, Miss?
"What should you be doing?"
Now, there's the question.
But let me ask you a better one.
What is it you want to do?
Get pished. Hmm.
I'd quite like some feedback on the poetry assignment, actually.
Dickhead.
It counts towards our final grade, people!
This is 12A, right?
That is correct, Miss.
And you are? Jenny. Jenny Joyce.
Here we go.
The Flower, by Jenny Joyce.
You're not going to read it out, are you? Of course.
Poetry should always be read aloud.
"Some flowers are tall Some flowers are small
"Some flowers barely grow at all."
OK... That's not the end.
It should be.
Here's a poem about a dog.
Here's another one about a dog.
This one has no name on it.
An English Rose Among Thorns?
Yeah, I can see why you might want to remain anonymous, all right.
Dog poem.
Poem about a tree.
This one's called Boys.
"I think boys are really class
"Especially the ones who have a nice ass."
It's called a haiku.
That's not what I would call it.
Dog poem. Dog poem.
Oh, here someone's just drawn a picture of a dog.
That is not bad, actually. Thank you very much.
This person has written about how much they love their English class,
in an embarrassing attempt to suck up to the teacher.
Dog poem. Dog poem.
Cat poem.
Yes?
I think a lot of people in this class,
and I know no-one will mind me saying this,
well, they have a very basic grasp of the creative process.
Whereas I've been writing for years, so I'm really not afraid to
put myself out there,
to be bold, to take risks.
And you are?
That's my cousin. Erin Quinn.
Erin Quinn.
Here we go.
"The bullets fired on the streets as I lie in my bed
"Are nothing to the bullets being fired...
"in my head."
It's about The Troubles in a political sense,
but also about my own troubles, in a personal sense.
No, I understand the weak analogy.
This isn't bold, Erin.
It's someone failing to be bold.
Well, I'm sorry if the subtleties
of my work were lost on you, Miss de Brun.
Poetry is truth.
And great poetry is raw and real and messy and glorious and ugly.
It is dragged from the depths of the soul.
It helps us understand each other and ourselves.
Do you get what I'm saying?
Yes.
Yes, I think I do, actually.
Not a baldies.
It's not often in life you're allowed to tear up the page
and start over.
But I am gonna give you that chance.
Impress me.
MUSIC: Return To Innocence by Enigma
Ach, this is lovely, Gerry.
I thought it'd be nice for us to do something together,
just the two of us, you know?
Mary! Gerry!
You're not allowed to smoke in this place.
Can you believe that? It's barbaric.
Sarah, what are you doing here?
Mary said you were having a wee night to yourselves,
so I thought you might want some company.
Why? W-why would you think that?
Sarah!
Ah, himself as well, is it? Great(!)
Sweet Jesus.
Hiya, how are ye?
They don't let you smoke in here, Ciaran. Can you credit it?
This is a nice surprise.
When Sarah asked me to the cinema,
I thought, well, I thought she meant just the two of us.
No, Ciaran, because that would be... what's the word now? Normal.
Double date it is, then, so.
Wonder what's keeping Daddy.
Excuse me? I've got the tickets.
We haven't decided what we want to see yet, Da!
Well, I liked the look of that one with all the lads in the line-up.
It's got your man in it, the farmer from Glenroe.
What, Gabriel Byrne?
He's done a fair bit since Glenroe now.
Who are you? His agent?
Da, I don't understand this. You hate the cinema.
Oh, not since I discovered
it's the only way I can spend time with our Colm.
It's the one place the boring bastard doesn't talk.
But Colm's not here, is he, Da?
Da?
..and that's not to say, now, that in my younger years,
I didn't enjoy a boiled sweet.
But then I heard tell of a fella from Ballynahinch...
What was it his name was, now?
I had it there a minute ago.
Ach, it'll come to me.
Anyway, this Ballynahinch lad, and, as I say, his name escapes me,
but he was mad keen on the boiled sweets.
Sure, he couldn't get enough of them.
But in the end, well, didn't he choke to death on one?
A pear drop, I think it was.
Or a clove rock, maybe.
But either way, it's not how I'd want to go.
I know, love. I know.
TENSE STRING MUSIC
Well, isn't this romantic?
Thon fella's nothing but a fly bastard!
Don't you be trusting him!
I just want to check, does your father think that they can hear him?
Ssh.
DOORS CLATTER OPEN
Apologies, folks.
We've just had a wee security alert there.
GRUMBLING
I'm afraid we're gonna have to carry out a wee evacuation.
So, if you'll all follow me.
Lovely. Great stuff.
That's the last time I let you organise a night out.
OK, then.
What about this Keyser Soze fella?
Who's Keyser Soze?
Exactly!
MUSIC: Don't Give Me Your Life by Alex Party
God, this whole writing-from-the-soul carry-on is a nightmare.
I know. What rhymes with ride?
Bide.
Bide? What the fuck does bide mean? Bide. That's not a word.
It is a word, Michelle.
Bide? You've pure made that up.
Can we all be quiet? Please.
What do you think, James?
You've got red eyes cos I ran out of brown.
My eyes are green.
Now you tell me.
OK. So, I'm trying not to think too much.
Just to sort of let it flow through me.
That's minging, Erin.
Here's what I have so far.
"You know we belong together
"You and I forever and ever
"No matter where you are You're my guiding star."
Isn't that the theme tune to Home and Away?
Is it?
Aw, for God's sake!
DOOR OPENS
Shit!
GERRY: My money's on Alec Baldwin's brother.
MARY: It's Gabriel Byrne. I'm telling you.
JOE: The fella with the bad leg said it wasn't, Mary.
The fella with the bad leg's covering for him, Da!
Sweet Jesus.
MOUTH FULL: Mammy, we can explain.
Not the Christmas cupboard?
They've had the very Tunnock's, Mary.
Animals, the lot of you!
We needed energy for our poetry.
I'll give you energy for your poetry!
We were just gonna take a handful of chocolate money, Mary.
But then one thing led to another.
What am I supposed to do?
I'll have to start from scratch now.
And December's only round the corner.
It's eight months away, love.
This suits you, doesn't it? I'm sorry?
I've seen you eyeing up that Christmas cupboard.
You hoked about in there long before the wains did.
I'll stake my life on it.
That is simply not true.
Let's just salvage what we can.
There's only a couple of Snowballs left, Mary.
It's been an absolute free-for-all.
Your mothers will be hearing about this.
Aw, for... What got into you, girls?
You know you don't touch the Christmas cupboard.
We're stressed!
Our new English teacher made us rip up all our poems
and re-do them in one night.
Who is this blow-in?
Here name's Miss de Brun.
She's a bit of a bitch, but, cracking eyeliner.
Winged or smudged?
Sort of both.
Interesting.
She ripped up your poems?
She said we weren't writing from the soul.
Well, why in under God weren't you writing from the soul?
Seriously?
MISS DE BRUN: It was difficult, so you've just given up?
You might fail, so why bother trying?
Exactly.
Told you she'd understand.
Have you ever stopped to look at these?
These faces from the past.
They're not so different from you, really.
They had dreams like you do.
They had...ambitions.
But now, they're gone.
Dead.
Dust.
That's my Auntie Anne third from the left. She's not dead.
Ssh! But she's only 54.
She runs the mobile library in Ballymagroarty. Quiet.
But did they fulfil those dreams, those ambitions?
One day, girls, you too will just be an old photograph in a hallway.
You only get one life.
Don't be afraid to live it.
Find your voice.
Make your mark.
# Sometimes
# The river flows but nothing breathes
# A train arrives but never leaves... #
Dig deep, something you hate, something you despise.
No holding back. Come on!
Get it out!
Injustice! Yes!
Prejudice!
Good! This is good!
# Of being rich or being poor
# Such a shame... #
Mass! Come on!
My own socks!
OK.
Being late for school!
Piano lessons!
The fact that people here use the word "wee"
to describe things that aren't even actually that small!
God, but I love that accent, James!
# Just seek yourself and you will shine
# You've go to search for the hero inside yourself
# Search for the secrets you hide
# Search for the hero inside yourself
# Until you find the key to your life. #
# I've got the key I've got the secret... #
Miss de Brun's amazing. I've just never met anyone like her.
She's an inspiration. Absolutely.
She really knows how to grab things by the balls. Oh, yeah!
She's changed my life, she really has.
She likes my accent.
I'd die for her. I think I would too, you know.
Me too. Aye. Fuck it. Why not?
Yeah! I mean, obviously, I totally agree, I'd die for her as well.
But I'm also conscious of the fact
we've only known her, like, two days. And?
Is it a wee bit weird she's invited us to her house at night?
What do you mean? Well, she's a teacher.
She's much more than a teacher.
Yeah. No. Obviously. I get that. She's great.
But it's just that I have a feeling it might be, sort of, frowned upon.
God, Clare. You're so conditioned. What's that supposed to mean?
It means you need to loosen the fuck up.
I am loose, thank you very much.
Face it, Clare, you're a craic killer.
I'm not a craic killer.
I AM NOT A CRAIC KILLER!
Some wine? Oh, no. Actually, I don't...
Cheers.
Hit me again. OK.
You don't have much stuff.
Everything I own can fit into a suitcase.
I've never understood why people weigh themselves down with
meaningless crap, you know?
Yeah. God, I just hate possessions so much.
Does that mean I can have your Sylvanian Family collection?
Shut up, Orla. I don't like to feel tied down, you know.
Life should be spontaneous, free.
Big time.
Slainte.
This is actually nice. Mmm, it tastes a bit like blood.
"Life is no brief candle to me.
"It is a sort of splendid torch,
"which I have got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn
"as brightly as possible."
That's beautiful.
Shaw.
It's my favourite quote.
Take it easy, Oliver Reed.
What's yours?
"Be careful, child, of the doll made of glass.
"For if you hold her too tightly, she will break, and you will bleed."
I don't think I'm familiar with that one. Who's it by?
Me. It's by me. Wow!
# This is the rhythm of the night... #
I feel all floaty.
She's absolutely fucking flying.
Well, well, well. What are you guys up to?
Nothing much.
We've just been hanging out at Miss de Brun's place.
You were at her house? At night?
Well, that's a bit inappropriate.
Your ma is a bit inappropriate.
That doesn't even make sense. Your ma doesn't even make sense.
Is she drunk? Your ma's drunk.
OK, Clare. I think we get the idea.
Lovely seeing you, Jenny. Take care now.
RADIO CHATTER
I never slept a wink last night, you know. Me either.
Keyser Soze? Naw.
I went to bed with my rollers in. Sure, it's always a nightmare.
Then why do you do it? I've no volume at the root, Mary.
What choice do I have?
I'm leaning towards Pete Postlethwaite now.
It wasn't Pete Postlethwaite, Da. It's never Pete Postlethwaite.
Look, this is driving me to distraction.
We'll have to go back tonight.
It's not in the listings any more. What?
The cinema's stopped showing it. Oh, well done.
It's not my fault. Sure, nothing ever is.
What are we meant to do? Wait for them to release it on video.
I can't, Gerry! I can't go on like this!
I need to know!
Well, that's us away.
Where's your socks, love? They're just not for me, Mammy.
I'm sorry. You'll be foundered.
I know what I'm doing. Have a great day, everyone.
What are you in such a good mood about?
Just, you know, life.
You're up to something. And I'll get to the bottom of it.
Honest to God, Erin - between you and Keyser Soze, my head is turned.
Who's Keyser Soze?
God almighty!
Take a seat, please, ladies.
Where's Miss de Brun? Gone.
And she's not coming back. What?
I knew it. When I woke up this morning, I had a feeling
something terrible was going to happen and also that essentially
deep down, I'm quite an evil person.
It's called a hangover, Clare. You'll be grand.
I will be taking this class for the rest of the term,
which makes me want to pull off my own face, but needs must.
This was you, wasn't it?
What did you do? What did you say?
I don't know what you're talking about.
Aye, so you don't. Supergrass!
That's quite enough. You don't understand, Sister.
Miss de Brun, she touched us.
What? She made us think, she made us feel.
Oh, thank God.
That would be all I need. You can't sack her! You just can't!
Miss Quinn, you appear to be under the misapprehension
that you can address me as though you are my equal.
I suggest you rein it in and take a seat.
SCHOOL BELL RINGS
What if she's in there?
It's Friday. She's at judo. Relax the kecks, Clare.
Creepy wee fucker, isn't he?
I would just like to just state once again for the record
that I think this might be the worst idea we've ever had.
Look, do you want to help Miss de Brun or not?
Can we not find a way to help her
that doesn't involve abducting a holy statue?
We're not abducting him, Clare - we're kidnapping him.
Is that different? I don't think that's different.
We'll give him back on the condition
that Miss de Brun is rightfully reinstated.
Oh, I'm sure Sister Michael will be fully on board with that.
Aye, me too. OK, let's do the photograph.
Great. I'll write the ransom note.
We need a copy of today's newspaper. Why?
It's just the done thing, kidnapping-wise.
I've got last week's parish bulletin. That'll do.
I'm going to use my left hand,
just in case she recognises my handwriting.
Oh, well, this is foolproof!
Should I start, "Dear Sister Michael,"
or "To whom it may concern," do you think?
I don't know about this one. I think he looks a bit fat in it.
Yeah, that's not flattering. Aye.
Maybe if we just tilt him this way a bit...
See, I think he needs to come forward a bit.
It was fine where it was, dicko.
Look, I'm the one taking the photo. Fuck off! Just leave it, Michelle.
SMASHING
Ah! Good God.
OK, so we've gone a bit off course here.
Let's glue him! Brilliant.
We'll just... We'll just stick it back on.
We'll stick it back on, and it'll all be grand.
EXCITED CHATTER
Jesus, girls! What are you still doing here?
I thought we had an intruder.
And I tell you what - he'd have been a sorry boy,
for I just nailed some serious moves.
We were just working on our English project, Sister.
Step aside.
SHE SNAPS HER FINGERS
What in God's name have you done?
CAMERA WHIRS
How could you have glued his head on upside down, Orla?
He's wearing a hat, for Christ's sake! Quiet!
All right, Mary, Sarah, Deidre.
Your girls involved in this beheading too, then?
It wasn't me, Mammy! Do not speak to me, Clare.
In fact, don't even breathe.
Take a seat, Mrs Devlin.
The statue was stolen from this room,
so I've asked Miss Mooney to photograph the scene.
Either it is replaced, at your expense, or the school will sue.
To be honest, Sister,
and I'm not just saying this -
I think he looks better.
He looks like his head's on upside down.
And I'll be suspending them for a week. Oh, please, God! No!
A week? We're going to be stuck with them for a week?
Be reasonable, Sister! We didn't behead the fella.
By Christ, you're in for it, Erin. It was an accident, Mammy.
Oh, so you accidentally wrote a ransom note, did you?
OK, that bit wasn't an accident.
But we were so upset by what happened to Miss de Brun.
It was wrong. She shouldn't have been sacked.
She wasn't. What?
KNOCK ON DOOR
Sorry to interrupt, Sister.
But if I could just grab the old P45, then I'll be out of your way.
Excuse me?
Miss de Brun has decided to leave us.
I got offered a post in St Dominic's Girls.
Better wages, holiday pay, great pension - the works.
I couldn't say no, really.
But what happened to living for the moment?
What happened to "life should be spontaneous"?
Yeah, I know, but I'm buying a house
and the mortgage rates are absolutely crippling at the minute.
Tell me about it. Desperate.
Part of the reason I became a nun - free accommodation.
But, Miss de Brun, you inspired me to do my greatest work.
I see. Which was?
My poem. My glass doll poem. She's a doll made of glass.
She's a glass doll. I read it to you last night.
Yeah. I wasn't really listening, to be honest. Oh!
Cheers.
Carpe diem.
Carpe dickhead.
Well, I guess we never knew who the real Miss de Brun was.
A bit like Keyser Soze.
The fella with the bad leg.
What? Keyser Soze.
He was the fella with the bad leg.
He was talking absolute shite the whole time.
He was one of those...er, what do you call it? Unreliable narrators.
That's very clever.
Yeah. I thought so, too.
Look this way, girls.
# Here we go again
# Here we go-go-go to the temple of consumption
# Get your gear and start to spend
# Here we go-go-go with a total dedication
# Here we go again
# Here we go-go-go to the temple of consumption
# Get your gear and start to spend
# Here we go, here we go, here we go. #
Subtitles by Red Bee Media
# As some sort of prototype I serve to be
# You see, tomorrow's dream has never been part of me... #