Ryan's Daughter

Synopsis: World War I seems far away from Ireland's Dingle peninsula when Rosy Ryan Shaughnessy goes horseback riding on the beach with the young English officer. There was a magnetic attraction between them the day he was the only customer in her father's pub and Rosy was tending bar for the first time since her marriage to the village schoolmaster. Then one stormy night some Irish revolutionaries expecting a shipment of guns arrive at Ryan's pub. Is it Rosy who betrays them to the British? Will Shaugnessy take Father Collin's advice? Is the pivotal role that of the village idiot who is mute?
Genre: Drama, Romance
Director(s): David Lean
Production: MGM Home Entertainment
  Won 2 Oscars. Another 7 wins & 21 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.5
Rotten Tomatoes:
47%
GP
Year:
1970
206 min
894 Views


Give it over, Michael.

Thanks.

Rose!

- Yours?

- Aye.

My dad got it when they

sold up Lady Pawson's.

Lady Pawson, is it?

Fine fish, Michael.

Give him a smile and you'll maybe

get one of the claws for your supper.

Michael!

I've told you, Michael,

they're created creatures!

Get off!

It'll make me sick!

Poor Mike's no answer to

a young maid's dreams...

but do you not think he

just possibly knows that?

I can't abide him, Father Hugh.

You used to ride to

school on his back.

- I can walk for myself now.

- Aye.

Where are you walking this

afternoon dressed up like that?

- Nowhere precisely.

- Just so.

What do you do, Rose, mooning

about all day by yourself?

Read.

- Well, I wasn't really reading it.

- You're doing nothing, then?

- I suppose so.

- Have you nothing to do?

Precisely that!

Well, Miss Precisely, that's a pity.

Doing nothing is a

dangerous occupation!

Morning.

- Blowy day?

- That's right, Corporal.

It's the wind.

Only want to be friendly, kids.

Then go back to London

and write us a letter.

- Don't come from London, love.

- Go anyway.

- Morning, Mr. O'Connor.

- Good morning to you, Corporal.

Will you listen to that now?

Aren't the police a dirty lot,

hobnobbing with the British soldiers?

I heard that, Moureen Cassidy.

You were meant to, Constable O'Connor.

Hey, Michael!

Michael, darling, show us your fish.

How much does he weigh then, Mike?

How long is it, Michael?

I've never seen a

lobster the equal of that.

- Michael, can I touch it?

- Come here and show it to us, Michael.

Michael.

Now what? Now what?

What am I to do with you? What?

- Actually it's only a bit of fun, Father.

- Fun?

Are you brainless,

Moureen Cassidy, or what?

Fun.

Devil take me if the lot of

you is not possessed and damned.

I don't know what's the matter

with the youngsters in this place.

I don't at all.

Their talk is filthy, their doings

are secret, and cruelty for fun.

Unemployment is the matter

with them, Father Hugh.

It's the deliberate policy

of the British government...

that Irish youngsters

shall corrupt in idleness.

Well, it's working fine.

I just seen your Rosy

loafing about the beach again.

How much you give for

that black lace umbrella?

Three and six.

You'll ruin that girl.

It's time she had a fellow of her own,

Tom. A house of her own. Floors to scrub.

My princess isn't interested

in fellows, Father.

Your princess has

fellows enough in here.

And fellows running loose in

there will do a girl more damage...

than a barrack full of drunk dragoons.

Well...

if there's one of that lot as is fit for

her, maybe you'll point him out, Father.

Rose.

Mr. Shaughnessy.

Well...

this is nice, Rose.

Well, you're back, then?

Yes, I'm back, and I...

- Thanks.

- Thanks.

I came to meet you.

Well, that was kind.

A party of us went to a couple

of concerts while we were there.

I saved you the programs.

- "The Royal Philharmonic. "

- Berlioz and Tchaikovsky.

- No Beethoven?

- No Beethoven.

Do you know that the British

government has got a law now...

- forbidding the playing of German music?

- No.

- Can you imagine such foolishness?

- British.

Well, all governments

is foolish, more or less.

An Irish government would be the same.

Well, maybe.

Thank you.

- You enjoyed yourself in Dublin, then?

- Well, I did and I didn't.

A conference of village school

teachers, you know, is not exactly a...

- Bacchanalia?

- Bacchanalia. Precisely.

We did have some interesting

discussions, though.

There was a lady teacher among us

from Belfast, a stimulating woman.

Oh.

- Did she come to the concert?

- She had the score.

In what way, precisely,

was she stimulating?

She had a fine and fresh mind,

Rose. Very modern in her thoughts.

She'd been at the

teaching for over 50 years.

Old folk with fresh minds

are very stimulating.

Then there was a ministry

inspector, he gave us an address...

But the best we had was this

professor from the Sorbonne.

Now, there was a man

with a mind, if you like.

- Why? What did he say?

- I couldn't tell you, Rose.

Whatever it was, it was wasted on us.

Teachers are a poor lot, surely.

If teachers were the poor lot,

like you're always making out...

how would the pupils

be learning such riches?

What?

Some young fellow's

going to be a lucky man.

- Rose?

- I've something in my eye.

Rose.

The nuisance.

- Will I get it out, then?

- Oh, no, it's nothing.

It's only the wind.

- Are you away to the schoolhouse, then?

- No, Rose, I think...

I'll scramble up the dunes

and pay my respects to my wife.

Oh, yes.

Good day, Rose.

Good day, Mr. Shaughnessy.

Hello, Michael.

- Shaughnessy.

- There you are, Mr. Shaughnessy.

So, you're back again, Charles.

Home is the voyager,

safe from the sea.

- The usual?

- Thanks.

And...

what did you see in Dublin?

- You mean, the trouble?

- What else?

Well, nothing, really.

- Did you not go and see Sackville Street?

- I passed it, yes.

- Passed it?

- Well, I'll be damned.

What did you see as

you passed it, Charles?

- It did look terrible smashed about, Father.

- It's true, then.

- The Government used guns.

- I've not said that, Father.

All right, you've not said

anything. What did you hear?

I heard they used heavy guns...

like them they're using on the

Western Front against the Germans.

And our poor lads pursued

from house to house...

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Robert Bolt

British left-wing playwright best known for his screenplay for the 1962 epic Lawrence of Arabia directed by David Lean. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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