Brooklyn Page #7

Silence falls around the table. The other girls look at

Eilis, some pityingly, some clearly irritated.

EXT. STREET. DAY 44

It’s a bright, cold Christmas morning. Mrs Kehoe and Eilis

are on their way to Father Flood’s lunch. They’re both

carrying big bags of potatoes.

MRS KEHOE:

I know how you’re feeling, Eilis.

The first Christmas away is hard

for all my girls, but there’s

nothing I can do. All I can say is

that the next one won’t be as bad.

Eilis cannot afford to think that far ahead, and in any case

there is little consolation in Mrs Kehoe’s words.

EILIS:

(quiet)

No. I suppose not.

INT. PARISH HALL. DAY 45

The hall is old, and shabby, but it has been decorated with

paper streamers, and it looks cheery and welcoming. There are

several long trestle tables, each the length of the hall.

Eilis and many other women, including Mrs Kehoe, all wearing

paper hats, are laying the tables. Father Flood looks on

anxiously.

FATHER FLOOD:

I think we will have to open the

doors, ready or not. Maureen?

A woman standing near the large double doors unbolts them and

opens them. Immediately, old, shabby, tubercular men start to

pour through the door in an apparently never-ending stream.

It is a haunting, moving sight: the lost, the lonely and the

defeated. Eilis forgets herself and stares at them.

EILIS:

(to Father Flood)

How many are we expecting?

FATHER FLOOD:

There were two hundred last year.

There may be more this.

(CONTINUED)

'Brooklyn' YELLOW Script Dated 24th April 2014 30.

45 CONTINUED:
45

Eilis and Father Flood watch as the men are chivvied along to

one of the long trestle tables. Almost immediately they are

served with soup and stout.

FATHER FLOOD (CONT’D)

All Irish. And all Irish men, more

or less. The occasional couple,

when the woman is too old to cook.

EILIS:

Why don’t they go home?

FATHER FLOOD:

If there’s nothing at home for a

young clever girl such as yourself,

there’s nothing at home for men

like these. Some of them have been

here nearly fifty years and have

lost touch with everyone. These are

the men who built the tunnels and

the bridges and the highways. God

alone knows what they live on now.

Eilis becomes fixated by one particular man. He is wearing an

old brown coat and a scarf, and his cap almost obscures his

face. She looks as though she’s seen a ghost. She puts her

hand to her mouth in shock.

FATHER FLOOD (CONT’D)

Don’t tell me you know someone

here.

Eilis can’t speak for a moment.

EILIS:

My da.

FATHER FLOOD:

I was told that your father had

passed away.

Eilis recovers herself.

EILIS:

Yes. He did. Four years ago. I’m

sorry.

FATHER FLOOD:

I understand. Christmas lunch in

the Parish Hall... It’s like seeing

faces in the fire. It’s happened to

me. I have seen men from my

childhood who must have been dead

thirty years or more. Which one?

Eilis points at the man in the brown coat.

(CONTINUED)

'Brooklyn' YELLOW Script Dated 24th April 2014 31.

45 CONTINUED:
45

FATHER FLOOD (CONT’D)

Ah. Frankie Doran. He’s not your

father.

EILIS:

Do you know everyone here?

FATHER FLOOD:

No. But I know him. You’ll see why

later.

Later. The room is filled with smoke and conversation and

laughter. The tables are being cleared away, and bottles in

brown carrier bags are being passed around. In a corner of

the room, two men are playing fiddles and another a small

accordion. Father Flood pulls out a chair, stands on it and

clears his throat. Slowly, the room falls silent.

FATHER FLOOD:

I don’t want to interrupt the

proceedings, but I’m sure you’d

like to show your appreciation to

all the ladies here for their hard

day’s work.

Father Flood leads the applause. Some of the men are

applauding in Eilis’s direction - she’s the youngest helper

in the room - and she blushes, smiles, looks down at her

feet.

FATHER FLOOD:

And by way of a thank you

present... As many of you know,

there’s a great singer in the room

today, and perhaps he can be

persuaded to entertain us all.

Frankie?

The man in the brown coat gets to his feet and starts to sing

in Irish. The musicians in the corner join in, tentatively at

first, but then with confidence and sympathy. He sings the

slow, mournful ballad beautifully, and the smoke and squalor

of the room, the poverty of the diners, become beautiful too.

The haunting music carries on over the following montage:

46 INT. PARISH HALL. DAY 46

Two men, both in their sixties, are swinging punches at each

other. Some of the men watch on amused; Father Flood and a

couple of the others try to separate them.

'Brooklyn' YELLOW Script Dated 24th April 2014 32.

47 INT. PARISH HALL. DAY 47

The room is nearly empty. Father Flood, Eilis and the other

ladies are trying to rouse some of the casualties of the

lunch; it’s like a battlefield. One or two of the men are

lying in pools of their own urine.

48 EXT. PARISH HALL. DUSK 48

Eilis steps out into a blizzard. There is a man sitting

against the wall, asleep.

49 EXT. BROOKLYN. DUSK 49

Eilis making her way through the deserted streets, alone, the

wind and snow cutting through her.

Montage and music end.

50 INT. HALLWAY, MRS. KEHOE’S HOUSE. NIGHT 50

Eilis enters Mrs Kehoe’s house, shakes herself off, takes off

her coat. We can hear, from upstairs, the peals of laughter

and tipsy shrieks of the other lodgers. Mrs Kehoe emerges

from the front room.

MRS KEHOE:

Would you like to come into the

front room for a glass of

something? You’ve earned it.

EILIS:

Thank you.

51 INT. FRONT ROOM, MRS KEHOE’S HOUSE. NIGHT 51

The room is large, and surprisingly well-furnished: old rugs,

heavy, comfortable-looking furniture, dark pictures in gold

frames. There is an old gramophone and a wireless in one

corner of the room, and a roaring fire in the hearth. Eilis

takes it all in while Mrs Kehoe pours her a glass of sherry.

MRS KEHOE:

You survived.

EILIS:

Oh, it wasn’t so bad.

Mrs Kehoe gives her the sherry and they sit down.

EILIS (CONT’D)

Happy Christmas.

(CONTINUED)

'Brooklyn' YELLOW Script Dated 24th April 2014 33.

51 CONTINUED:
51

MRS KEHOE:

Cheers.

They sip their drinks ruminatively.

MRS KEHOE (CONT’D)

Miss McAdam is leaving us. She is

going to live with her sister in

Manhattan.

EILIS:

Ah.

MRS KEHOE:

She has the best room in the house.

The basement. It’s the biggest and

the warmest and the quietest and

the best-appointed, and it has its

own entrance.

Eilis doesn’t say anything, but she knows what’s coming.

MRS KEHOE:

I can only let a certain kind of

girl stay there, do you see?

Eilis nods, while suppressing a smile. Mrs Kehoe notices her

amusement.

MRS KEHOE:

Oh, and I’m not talking about

looks, here. (Beat) Although I will

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