Seachd: The Inaccessible Pinnacle

Synopsis: Làn fhìrinn na sgeòil. The truth is in the story. When a young man, Angus, visits his dying Grandfather in hospital he cannot hold back his boyhood quest for the truth - the truth behind the death of his parents and the truth behind his Grandfather's ancient, incredible, fearful stories. Stories from the whole swathe of Gaelic history of poisoned lovers, bloody revenge, water-horses and Spanish gold. His Grandfather hijacks Angus' life for one last time leading him to one of Scotland's most treacherous mountains, The Inaccessible Pinnacle on the Isle of Skye, and an ancient truth he never expected to find. Seachd: The Inaccessible Pinnacle is the first Scottish Gaelic feature film. Làn fhìrinn na sgeòil. Tha Aonghas air a bhith air tòir na fìrinn o òige, miann a tha a' teannachadh na inntinn 's na chorp nuair a thuigeas e gu bheil am bàs gu laighe air a Sheanar. Tha fios aig Aonghas gu bheil an t-àm dha eòlas a chur air an fhìrinn mu bhàs a phàrantan 's cuideachd mu sgeulachdan a Shean
 
IMDB:
6.6
Year:
2007
100 min
82 Views


When my parents died on the mountain,

it wasn't a story, it was the truth.

But thanks to my grandfather,

my life was full of stories,

and sometimes it was hard

to tell the stories from reality.

My name is Aonghas,

like my grandfather,

and his grandfather before him.

Put out the lights. Put out the lights. Put...

I'm afraid there's only one prison

strong enough to hold thieves like you.

Bed.

Don't tell me you came all this way

for my sake!

Yes, a long way.

The further the distance,

the worse the news.

You're going to die.

Is that all?

I thought you'd brought really bad news.

Sit.

More! More!

Hurry up!

Caught twice in one night!

You're all useless!

You're not going to tell us another story,

are you?

There's a big difference, Miri,

between a story and the truth.

Once, there was a man called Aonghas.

He was secretly in love

with a girl from the country.

They'd meet in the gloaming,

to get a few minutes together.

But full of impatience for love's first kiss,

he made a balm for her lips.

She was not dead,

but neither was she alive.

How could she be

not dead and not alive?

He'd made the lip balm from the pinkest

flower he could find in the wood -

the plant of the dead.

The whisky and honey in which he'd mixed

the petals had weakened the poison,

and, unknown to him, his gift to her

had become a waking death.

There was only one cure, he was told,

the crimson snowdrop.

But not one had been seen

in living memory.

After seven years of searching,

Aonghas reached

the Cuilfhionn Mountains on Skye.

But when he reached the peak,

beyond it lay yet another peak.

Nothing could have lived there.

It was just a bare, grey space.

It's what we call now

the Inaccessible Pinnacle.

And there, concealed in the snow,

was the world's last crimson snowdrop.

He tested the first petal on himself...

the petal that didn't reach her lips in time.

He wanted nothing more than

for his own heart to stop beating too.

But it would not.

The petal of the crimson snowdrop

made his heart beat

both more slowly and more strongly.

For every ten beats of a normal heart,

his heart needed to beat just once.

And a man whose heart beats

ten times as slowly

will live ten times as long.

Impatience purchased her death,

and almost a thousand years

could not buy it back.

Off you go, now!

Bed!

You won't tell Mammy and Daddy

when they come back, will you?

No, Aonghas.

I won't say a word to Mammy and Daddy.

Now sleep.

It wasn't me!

Donnchadh, find out where he's gone!

What happened?

Just a wee accident,

but Aonghas has run off.

Are you sure we can do this?

We have to. We have no choice.

I'll deal with him...

when I get a hold of him.

I'm going up the mountain.

You are not!

He won't be up there, Aonghas.

Who?

The man who killed them.

You know it was an accident.

Anyway, he went back to Glasgow.

You don't have any money, you idiot!

Idiot!

Shut your mouth!

He's not there.

If you're not down here in one minute,

we'll go without you!

You lot go!

I'll stay here with Aonghas.

Out to the car, both of you!

And whatever you do,

don't let him saw you in half.

Yes, son?

One ticket, please.

One ticket... Where are you off to today?

Glasgow.

Glasgow? Good lad!

How are you paying, plastic or cash?

Plastic.

Well, well!

Take a seat while I put your card through.

- You know, they take a while sometimes.

- Yes, I know.

Don't worry!

Machine's giving me a bit of trouble today.

Well, lad!

The only good thing about Glasgow

is that it's very, very far away.

Isn't that right, Eoghann?

It doesn't work.

It doesn't work!

I'm guessing, Aonghas, that you ran off

because you didn't want to see

that dreadful magician this afternoon.

Your name doesn't just belong to you.

It belongs to every Aonghas who ever lived.

Which means...

Which means you belong to them.

The dead.

And you dishonour each of them

when you ignore your real name.

Now, sit down!

Hate is a terrible thing, Aonghas.

It's like a great river.

And once you're in the grasp of its torrent,

hardly anything on earth

can bring you back ashore.

Have you ever heard

the name Ciara Ghunnach?

She was born in a dark, evil time,

in a sea of hate, which took hold of her.

The landlords had the power

to take everything you had from you.

Your name and your home

and your tongue.

They're coming!

Donnchadh's house is on fire!

Leave it!

My great-grandfather built this house,

stone by stone.

They can't set fire to it if we're inside.

Bring me the rope.

Bring me that rope!

Stay still!

Still!

Get out, then!

Go!

Be homeless!

Be quiet! You can do nothing now!

Quick!

Don't move, and be quiet!

What happened to her father?

They should have saved him.

They couldn't. How could they?

The magician had saved Ciara,

and since she was homeless,

she travelled around with him.

She learned tricks and sleight of hand...

the magician's trade.

Her training drove out

the memory of her father for a while,

but fate was catching up

with Ciara Ghunnach.

For the hands of a murderer.

A thousand curses

on the eyes that saw

A thousand curses

on the ears that heard

A thousand curses

on the mouth that spoke

A thousand curses

on the hands that struck

A thousand curses

on the eyes that saw

A thousand curses

on the ears that heard

A thousand curses

on the mouth that spoke

A thousand curses

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Joanne Cockwell

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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