Dancing at Lughnasa Page #5

Synopsis: A young boy tells the story of growing up in a fatherless home with his unmarried mother and four spinster aunts in 1930's Ireland. Each of the five women, different from the other in temperament and capability, is the emotional support system, although at times reluctantly, for each other, with the eldest assuming the role of a 'somewhat meddling' overseer. But then into this comes an elderly brother, a priest too senile to perform his clerical functions, who has "come home to die" after a lifetime in Africa; as well, there also arrives the boy's father, riding up on a motorcycle, only to announce that he's on his way to Spain to fight against Franco. Nevertheless, life goes on for the five sisters, although undeniably affected by the presence of the two men, they continue to cope as a close-knit unit... until something happens that disrupts the very fabric of that cohesiveness beyond repair.
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): Pat O'Connor
Production: Sony Pictures Classics
  2 wins & 7 nominations.
 
IMDB:
6.3
Rotten Tomatoes:
66%
PG
Year:
1998
95 min
627 Views


Will they ever ring

for you and Christina?

Good.

Better to leave her single

than to leave her married.

I've a wild pain in my stomach,

and my head's splittin'.

That's hit you very sudden.

Must be that hot sun.

Maybe you should go home

and have a wee rest.

Aye. I think I will.

- Go straight home.

- I will! Aye.

Rosebud.

You'll never go away, will ya?

Did you bring anything to eat?

You said we'd have a picnic,

and I could eat a horse.

Chocolate biscuits.

The very boys.

I don't know why

I'm goin' to Spain.

Everybody says

it'll be over by Christmas.

They said the Great War

would be over by Christmas.

They say that about all wars.

Never are though.

It's for the cause.

There's bound to be something

right about the cause.

It's somewhere to go.

Spain.

Isn't it?

There's Agnes over there.

You're an eejit of a man,

Gerry Evans.

There now.

You're even more beautiful.

A right glamour girl.

Pretty milkmaid,

put down your pails...

and dance with me.

- Would you have a bit of sense?

- Dance with me, please. Come on.

Give me your hand.

In olden days

a glimpse of stocking

Was looked at

as something shocking

And heaven knows

Anything goes

Good authors too

who once knew better words

Now only use four-letter words

writing prose

Anything goes

But I know you're not responsible

for Gerry's decisions...

but I just feel it would be on

my consciousness if I didn't tell ya...

how strongly I disapprove of this whole

International Brigade caper in Spain.

Would it?

Its a sorry day in Ireland when we send

men off to fight for godless Communism.

And I know he would say

it's for democracy.

- Would he?

- I'm not going to argue.

- I just want to clear my conscience.

- Now you've cleared it.

Good for you.

Did you enjoy them biscuits, Rose?

I did, Danny. Thank you.

Is that all I'm going to get?

It is, yes.

When my wife left me,

I came out here to Lough Anna.

To go out in the boat?

No. To the water.

To throw myself in.

But I didn't.

There's a dance tonight in

the back hills. Will you come with me?

I have to go home.

They'll be worried.

Are you worried?

Are you?

Will you come with me

to the dance tonight?

Yes, I will.

Please, will you stop this?

I'll get back to dry land.

And you won't leave me.

You won't.

Is that a purple stain

on your gansey?

I fell into a bush.

Rosie nearly died laughin' at me.

How is she now?

Is she still in bed?

Bed?

She's here, isn't she?

She left me and went home to lie down.

She said she wasn't feeling well.

Have you seen Rose?

When did she leave you?

Three hours ago.

She said she felt out of sorts.

And she set off on her own

to come home?

That's what she said.

Start at the beginning, Agnes.

What exactly happened?

Nothing happened. Nothing at all.

We walked to the bushes

and out of the blue she said...

- I've forgotten what she said.

- Think.

She said something

about the warm sun...

and she had a sore head

and a sick stomach.

She'd go home and sleep for a while.

Are you sure she's not in her bed?

Where is she?

What's happening to our Rosie?

Stop sniveling.

Did she go towards home?

I think so. Yes.

- She may have gone into the town.

- Not wearing Wellingtons.

She was wearing

her good shoes...

and her blue cardigan

and her good skirt.

- Danny Bradley.

- What?

- Oh, God, no.

- Danny. Lough Anna. The back hills.

What about the back hills? What do

you know about this Bradley business?

- I know no more than any of you!

- You and Rose always whisper together.

What plot has been hatched

between Rose and Mr. Bradley?

- No plot, Kate, please!

- You're lyin' to me, Agnes!

- You're withholdin'. I want the truth.

- All I know is what I have...

- I want to know everything you know!

- That'll do, Kate!

Will you stop that at once?

She may well be in the town.

She may be on her way home.

She may have fainted

if she wasn't feelin' well.

We're going to find her.

You search the fields

on the upper side of the lane.

You take the lower side

down as far as the main road.

Kate, you go to the old well

and search all around there.

- What are you calling him for?

- He has a motorbike. We need him.

I may go home soon, Kate,

see if the others have found her.

She might be in the kitchen,

havin' a cup of tea.

I wonder if we'll

soon have tea to drink.

I've had a letter from Father Carlin.

And I'm not a teacher anymore.

- What?

- Decline in numbers, he said.

A lie.

He thanked me.

A lie.

A lie, a lie, a lie, a lie.

What is that?

The Lughnasa fires.

People light them

and dance and jump over them.

A fellow called Sweeney

fell into a fire.

He was almost burnt to death.

Lugh, god of light,

god of music.

I remember.

Uncle Jack, where are you goin'?

I'm supposed to be mindin' ya.

Uncle Jack! Come back!

You're not even a real priest.

Welcome to the Lughnasa fires,

Father Jack!

Is this Africa? Rose?

We're gettin' married. I'm Danny

Bradley, and I'm gonna marry Rose.

I wanna go home!

Are these our relations?

Is this your wedding?

No, they're savages! Pagans!

They're no connection to us!

Will you marry us, Father?

Marry me and Rose!

I won't marry you, Danny.

You're married already!

No, look, Rose! Look! Look!

Look what I'll do for you.

- I'm goin' away!

- Where?

It's a secret! Good-bye!

We must go home!

These are not our people!

- Where are you goin'?

- I don't know where!

- We're just going home.

- I'll follow you.

I'll get ya.

Are you comin' home?

You got loads.

They're nice.

They're sweet.

Rose love, we were wild

worried about you.

You said you were

coming home to lie down.

- But you didn't come home.

- Were ya in the town?

That's why you're all

dressed up, isn't it?

You went into Ballybeg, didn't ya?

We'll go and pick some more

blackberries next week.

All right. I'll lie down

for a few hours...

but I'll be up to fetch turf

in the morning.

I want to know

where you've been.

- Later, after she sleeps.

- Where you have been!

- Lough Anna.

- Where?

- Lough Anna.

- Kate, just leave her.

- You walked to Lough Anna?

- Yes.

Did you meet someone there?

Had you arranged

to meet someone there?

I had arranged to meet

Danny Bradley there.

He brought me out in

his father's blue boat.

It's a very peaceful place

up there.

He calls me his Rosebud, Aggie.

Oh, I told you, didn't I?

Then the two of us went up

through the back hills.

We must have seen the last

of the Lughnasa fires.

They are pagans.

I came home with Jack...

and I said good-bye to Danny.

And that's all I'm gonna tell ya.

That's all any of youse

are gonna hear!

What's happened to this house?

Mother of God,

what has happened to this house?

We should get some sleep.

Come on, Katie dear,

to your bed.

Maggie'll kill you.

- Where's Gerry?

- He's trying to fix the aerial.

That bloody set

was never any good.

Never any damned good,

that bloody set!

- He knows what he's doing.

- Never any damned good, that bloody set.

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Frank McGuinness

Professor Frank McGuinness (born 1953) is an Irish writer. As well as his own plays, which include The Factory Girls, Observe the Sons of Ulster Marching Towards the Somme, Someone Who'll Watch Over Me and Dolly West's Kitchen, he is recognised for a "strong record of adapting literary classics, having translated the plays of Racine, Sophocles, Ibsen, Garcia Lorca, and Strindberg to critical acclaim". He has also published four collections of poetry, and two novels. McGuinness has been Professor of Creative Writing at University College Dublin (UCD) since 2007. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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