Darby O'Gill and the Little People

Synopsis: Darby O'Gill seems to be as full of blarney as any old codger in Ireland, but the stories of leprechauns he tells at the pub are true. In fact, he and the tiny King Brian, ruler of the little people, are friendly adversaries, continually out-foxing each other. Darby needs a bit of magical help from the wily king when Lord Fitzpatrick replaces him as caretaker with the handsome, strapping young Michael from Dublin. Michael falls in love with Darby's beautiful daughter, Katie, which is all right with Darby; but the lad has a rival in a local ruffian, the son of a devious widow who wants her boy to be the caretaker. King Brian's supernatural assistance is necessary to make everything come out all right, but the sneaky leprechaun won't play matchmaker without a fight. Finally, real trouble comes in the form of the Banshee, and Darby will need all his quick wits to save his daughter from the wicked spirit.
Director(s): Robert Stevenson
Production: Buena Vista Pictures
 
IMDB:
7.2
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
APPROVED
Year:
1959
93 min
1,197 Views


Come in, Mrs. Sugrue.

Katie, darlin'.

Can you lend me the loan

of a small pinch of tea?

I'll pay you back Thursday.

You can have it and welcome.

I knew you wouldn't refuse

old Sheelah,

and I knew you'd have

rations and leavings,

for there's little that's lacking here,

unless 'twould be a man to cook for.

I have me father to cook for.

So you do, so you do,

but I meant a man of your own.

-Time enough for that.

-"Time enough" lost the ducks.

There's many a lass that lost

her market from waiting too long.

Oh, you can smile now,

but who in this town would have you?

-Am I that bad?

-You miss the meaning.

There's not a man doesn't want you,

but who among them dare look at you

with the grand house you live in?

A fine situation your father has

with his lordship.

Take my son Pony.

He don't dare raise his eyes to you,

and him the catch of the town.

Now, I would have said that Pony

thought no small beer of himself.

Oh, he's proud.

He's proud as a white-washed pig,

but he needs encouragement

from you.

You should be looking ahead, Katie.

Your father is getting no younger,

and when the time comes

that he must step down...

who else will there be but Pony

Sugrue who can take his place?

Don't put me father

in his grave just yet.

Oh, the saints forbid.

He'll be spared for many years,

God willin'.

That must be Pony now.

No, it's not.

Merciful heavens!

It's Lord Fitzpatrick himself.

Hello, Katie.

Your Lordship, why didn't you

tell us you were coming?

I'd have opened

the manor house for you.

I'll not be stopping here

long enough for that.

Where's your father?

Well, now, let me see.

Um...

I heard him sayin', um,

something about

cuttin' the weeds

around the summer house.

I think he'll have gone to have

the smithy sharpen his scythe.

-I'll fetch him for you, Your Lordship.

-Well, that's good of you.

That Katie's a grand girl.

Almost makes up for her father.

-What ails him?

-Oh, nothing at all,

but he retired about five years ago,

didn't tell me about it.

He'll be down at the inn now,

telling stories.

Well, let's go

and have a look at the gatehouse.

Oh, I didn't know anybody was here.

I'm the Widow Sugrue,

Your Lordship.

-I often comes in to help.

-I see.

Begging Your Lordship's pardon,

I'm the mother of Pony Sugrue.

He drives the mail cart

to Cahersiveen

whenever the train comes in.

I'm very glad to hear it.

He's a fine strong lad.

He's worthy of greater things.

-Is he, now?

-Aye, he is indeed.

You'll never hear me speak a word

against Darby O'Gill,

but he's gettin' on.

When the time comes

for you to hire a younger man,

give a thought to m'lad Pony.

I'm not sure I want a man

who is too well known to the town.

A man from outside

would be more respected.

My Pony is respected and feared, too.

He's whipped every man

in the parish.

Is that so?

Thank you. Thank you.

If it were Pony you had

in charge of this place,

he wouldn't let it fall

to wrack and ruin

whilst he sat in the pub

telling stories.

Well, I'll tell you, the first look

I got at him was in the old ruins

-on the top of Knocknasheega.

-And what did he look like, Darby?

Ah, just like any other leprechaun,

only he, being king of them all,

had a little gold crown on his head.

Tell me something, Darby.

Did he have a long tail

and a cloven hoof?

Now, whoever heard

of a leprechaun havin' a...

You don't have to listen

if you don't want to, Pony,

but you needn't make fun

of those who do.

But I do.

I want to listen.

I want to learn all about them.

Here, Molly, give me

another large one,

and then maybe I can

see a leprechaun, too.

You'll get no more

whiskey here today,

but if you care to be sociable,

you can have a glass of stout.

I ordered whiskey,

and devil a foot will I stir

from here until I get it.

Pony Sugrue, you're bloom old

and for want of a beatin',

and if I were 10 years younger,

I'd give it to you.

Ah, but you're... you're not

10 years younger, are you?

No, I'm not, but this is my place,

and while you're in the Rathcullen

Arms, you'll sit quietly,

or I'll have Father Murphy forbid you

to come here at all.

All right, I'll have the stout.

You were sayin', Darby?

I was sayin' this wasn't

like any old leprechaun

that you wouldn't say hello twice to.

But who was he...

but Brian Connors himself,

the king of them all.

But I got me eye fixed on him.

They can't escape, you know,

as long as you don't look away.

Now, the night was dark

and the mountain

was covered with mist,

and the moon was no bigger than

the light from a wee penny candle,

but it didn't hide him from me...

for there he stood,

with an angry little gob on him

and his face as fierce as fire.

King Brian, me old boyo,

I've got you at last,

and I'm not gonna let you go

until you grant me the favor

of three grand wishes.

Wait now, wait now,

maybe we can talk this over.

-Will you have a pinch of snuff?

-Aye, and you'll blow it into me eyes.

I'm up to all your dirty little tricks.

You've gone too far. You'll get

no wishes from me at all, now.

You'll either give them to me,

or else you'll answer to the Church.

I'll have Father Murphy

curse you with a blessin'

that'll shrivel you up in a minute.

All right, then, wish your wishes

and be done with it.

I've work to do at home.

-Ah, don't rush me.

-Don't rush you? Huh.

Mean to say you're not gonna wish

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Lawrence Edward Watkin

Lawrence Edward Watkin (December 9, 1901 – December 16, 1981) was an American writer and film producer. He has become known especially as a scriptwriter for a series of 1950s Walt Disney films. more…

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