The Quiet Man

Well, then... Urrmm, now.

Ill begin at the beginnin.

A fine, soft day in the spring it was

when the train pulled into Castletown,

three hours late as usual,

and himself got out.

He didnt have the look

of an American tourist at all about him,

not a camera on him and, what was worst,

not even a fishing-rod.

Castletown?

- Castletown?

- Could you tell me the way to Inisfree?

Inisfree? Aw, five miles and maybe a half more.

- Do you see that road over there?

- Yeah.

Dont take that one, itll do you no good.

Now, the best road to Inisfree, and many...

Oh, Inisfree you want. Be savin your breath,

let me direct the gentleman.

Happen to know the way to Knoghenor?

If you knew the way there,

would he be asking the way to Inisfree?

Theres many knows Knoghenor

that doesnt know Inisfree.

If youd take the time to study

your countrys history, Mr Maloney...

- ...youd be the first to admit it.

- Dont send the poor man there.

The fishing is finished there entirely.

Tell me, Yank, what is it that youre after?

- Is it trout or salmon?

- All I want is to get to Inisfree.

Ah, now youre talking sense.

The best fishing in the country.

- True.

- Trout as long as your arm.

And salmon! The last one I got,

I expected Jonah to pop out of his mouth.

Ah, Inisfree. Id bring you there myself,

only I got to drive the train.

Hey, was I tellin you about that trout

I got two summers before last?

- At Inisfree?

- Not at all!

At Ballygar, over the other end of the country.

My sisters third young one is living at Inisfree,

and shed be only too happy

to show you the road.

- No, no, if she was here.

- Its Inisfree the man wants to go to.

- You see that signpost over there?

- What do you know...

Inisfree, this way.

I wonder, now, why a man would go to Inisfree.

- Six foot six?

- Four and a half.

- Cincinnati?

- No, Pittsburgh.

Pi..Pitss...

Dont you remember, Seaneen, and how it was.

The road led up past the chapel,

and it wound, and it wound,

and there was the field where

Dan Tobins bull chased you.

It was a lovely little house, Seaneen,

and the roses.!

Your father used to tease me about them,

but he was that proud of them, too.

Thats nothin but a wee humble cottage.

That little place across the brook,

that humble cottage. Who owns it now?

The widow Tillane. Not that she lives there.

- You think shed sell it?

- I doubt it.

Dont bet on it cause Im buyin it.

Why...why would a Yankee from Pittsburgh

want to buy it?

Ill tell you why, Michaleen Oge Flynn,

young small Michael Flynn,

who used to wipe my runny nose

when I was kid.

Because Im Sean Thornton,

and I was born in that little cottage.

And Ive come home, and home Im gonna stay.

Does that answer your questions

once and for all, you nosy little man?

Seaneen Thornton... The...

And look at you now.

What do they feed you,

all you men who are in Pittsburgh?

Steel, and pig-iron furnaces so hot

a man forgets his fear of hell.

When youre hard enough,

tough enough...other things.

Other things, Michaleen.

Now then, here comes myself,

thats me there, walking.

That tall, saintly-looking man.

Peter Lonergan, parish priest.

Good day, Father. Sean, this is Father Lonergan.

Father, would you believe it?

This is Sean Thornton,

born right here in Inisfree, home from America.

- Hello, Father.

- Ah, yes.

I knew your people, Sean.

Your grandfather...

He died in Australia, in a penal colony.

And your father, he was a good man too.

Bad accident, that. And your mother?

Shes dead. America, when I was twelve.

Ill remember her in the mass tomorrow.

Youll be there, seven oclock.

- Sure, I will.

- Good.

Sean, Id like to have a little word

with Michaleen here.

- Sure thing, Father.

- Itll only take a minute.

- Its a little matter...

- Take your time. Ill be up ahead.

(MICHALEEN):
Sean!

Hey, is that real?. She couldnt be.

Uh, nonsense, man. Its only a mirage

brought on by your terrible thirst.

Come up, Napoleon.

Over here we pronounce it Co-han.

Good morning.

None of that now.

Its a bold, sinful man you are, Sean Thornton.

Who told you to playing patty fingers

in the Holy Water?

- Just being polite, thats all.

- What is this?

Maybe you dont know

its a privilege only for courting couples,

and then only when the banns have been read.

And Mary Kate Danaher

dippin her fingers in as neat as you please.

- What did you say her name was?

- Mary Kate Danaher.

And dont be getting any notions in your head.

- Mary Kate...

- Forget it, Sean, forget it.

- Put it out of your mind.

- Why? Whats the matter?

- She isnt married or anything?

- Married? That one?

Not likely. And her

with her freckles and her temper.

Oh, that red head of hers is no lie.

Still, a man might put up with that

but not with her lack of a fortune.

The wealthiest woman in Inisfree

was the widow Tillane.

She had neither chick nor child, poor soul,

but she was well-respected

and good to the poor.

- So you were born there, is that it?

- Yes, maam.

All Thorntons were born there,

seven generations.

I see. And what is your thought, Mr Thornton,

are you planning to turn

White O Mornin into a national shrine?

Perhaps charge tuppence a visit

for a guided tour

through the cottage where the Thorntons

were born. Are you a man of such eminence?

No, not exactly.

My own family has been in Ireland since

the Normans came hundreds of years ago,

but weve seen no reason to establish

monuments or memorials...

Look, Mrs Tillane, Im not talking about

memorials or monuments.

Ever since I was a kid

living in a shack near the slag heaps,

my mother has told me about

Inisfree and White O Mornin.

Inisfree has become

another word for heaven to me.

When I quit the... When I decided to come here,

it was with one thought in mind.

Inisfree is far from being a heaven, Mr Thornton.

Maam, Mr Red Will Danaher

wishes to be announced,

I mean, Squire Danaher.

Watch your muddy boots!

- Mrs Tillane.

- Mr Thornton, from America.

- Aw!

- Boo.

Its him Im here about, Mrs Tillane.

- (WILL):
Is it true?

- Is what true?

That behind me back, hes trying to steal

White O Mornin right from under me nose?

And what concern of yours is this, Will Danaher?

Concern? Concern enough.

Havent I made you a fair offer

for that same piece of land?

- And mine, lying right next to yours?

- You may keep your offers.

- Oh, so its true. You sold it!

- No, I have not.

Oh, I knew it was a dirty lie

the very minute I heard it!

Sure, I said to him,

Paggy McFarland, I wont believe

that Sarahd be selling White O Mornin.

(WILL):
Why, it would be like building a fence

between your land and mine.

And for a stranger to move in, says I.

What would she be doing that for?

And us so close to an understanding,

you might say.

- So you told him all that?

- That I did.

Down at the pub, I suppose,

in front of all those big ears,

with pints in their fists

and pipes in their mouths.

You may have the land, Mr Thornton,

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