The Luck of the Irish

Synopsis: Steven Fitzgerald, a newpaper reporter from New York, meets a leprechaun and a beautiful young woman while traveling in Ireland. When he returns to his fiance and her wealthy father's political campaign in New York, he finds that the leprechaun and the young woman are now in New York as well. Steven is torn between the wealth he might enjoy in New York or returning to his roots in Ireland.
Director(s): Henry Koster
Production: 20th Century Fox Film Corporation
 
IMDB:
6.9
NOT RATED
Year:
1948
99 min
318 Views


This can't be right.

Let me see that map.

- The road isn't even marked.

- That's the Irish of it.

As long as we stick to the seacoast,

we can't miss Shannon.

Well, it's your hurry, not mine.

Now look, Fitz. Take it easy.

- You won't be much use to

Augur if you break your neck.

- Well, it's my neck.

- Hey. I'm fond of mine too.

This'll hold us all right.

Well, you stay here with the car

in case someone comes along.

I'll scout up the road a bit.

Must lead somewhere.

Don't be too sure. Irish paths

are whimsical, like the Irish character.

Hey.

Good afternoon.

My friend and I, we're lost.

Can you direct me to the nearest town?

Oh. Oh, then you didn't

come here looking for me.

For you?

Of course not.

- I'm looking for a town where I can hire a car.

- Indeed.

What might your name be?

- Eh?

- Your name.

- Fitzgerald.

- Fitzgerald!

Maybe if I knew why

you were needing a car.

Look. If you don't mind,

I'm in a terrible hurry.

- Hurry.

- Mm-hmm.

It's a strange word, "hurry. "

Why would you be in a hurry?

There's a very important man

waiting for me in New York...

and he's not the kind

that you keep waiting.

"Lmportant. "

There's another one of your words.

It's plain to see that you're impatient

with me, Fitzgerald.

I've enjoyed our conversation.

I'll not detain you any longer.

Thank you very much.

Then you'll not be wanting

thy direction.

Oh, yes. That's right.

The water from the mountains

comes into my pool with a roar...

goes out with a whisper.

Down the hill it goes

till it quietly reaches the sea.

And there a little village

called Ballynabun.

You, sir, may do the same.

I'll go get my friend.

Thank you very much.

You're entirely welcome.

Good day to you, sir.

Oh. Good day.

Oh, is there a-

- This'll be yours, sir.

- Thanks.

And this over here, sir, this'll be-

That's-That's all right, sir. I can take it.

Perhaps the landlady

will know some way out of here.

I'm beginning to think

the whole thing's a conspiracy.

I never should have listened

to that old lunatic up by the waterfall.

- What waterfall is that, sir?

- The one up the stream a mile or so.

The Gentle Burn it's called.

There's no waterfall on it.

I suppose we wet our feet

in a mirage, huh?

Begging your pardon, sir,

but I've tramped the length of that burn...

many and many's the time and I a young lad,

and there's no waterfall on it.

- I guess that old fella must be a friend of yours.

- What old fella?

The old shoemaker with the green coat

and the brass buttons.

Shoemaker with a green coat

and brass buttons.

It's him.

Is everybody balmy in this country?

- You saw that waterfall, didn't you?

- No. You told me it was up there.

Oh, yes. That's right.

We hit the stream below it.

Wonder what's wrong with our friend.

Oh, he probably thinks you saw a pixie.

They're quite common in Ireland.

Yeah, well, I'll be glad to get back

to New York, where things make sense.

Because people like your new boss have taken

all the agreeable nonsense out of life.

I'm beginning to think

you don't like Mr. Augur.

I don't. Don't like his type.

I don't like him personally.

And above all, I don't like what he does

to good newspapermen who go to work for him.

- Ah, I'm gonna take a bath.

- Sure. In a fine tub.

But for they forgot to

put in the water pipes...

and there's not a plumber

this side of Limerick town.

- Don't take it so hard. I like the Irish.

- Yes, well, you can have 'em.

All of them, including myself.

I wish I could still

have you, Fitz...

but I just haven't got the price

to compete with Augur.

Come in.

- I brought you some towels.

- Thank you. Just put 'em right here on the bed.

- All right.

- What time is dinner?

In an hour or so- if me stove doesn't

take it into its head to start an argument.

It will if it's like

everything else here.

You mustn't be too hard on us.

We're not used to having

such grand guests all the way from America.

Oh, uh, would you tell the old lady

I'd like to see her, please?

There's only one old lady here.

You're seeing her now.

I beg your pardon.

Are-Are you the-

Oh, Mrs., uh-

Is there a chance of transportation

out of here?

- If you can wait.

- Well, I can't.

- Well, you see, the trouble is we're

sea-locked. - There must be boats.

Pookawns and such. But they're not

much good in any kind of a sea or...

if the wind's wrong.

But Sean O'Fearna will be glad to take you

in his boat when he comes in.

Mm-hmm. And when is that

likely to be?

- Oh, he'll be back any day now.

- Any day.

Tomorrow perhaps.

By the end of the week surely.

I hope you'll be comfortable, sir.

Ah, that was a good stew, Fitz.

- It was all right, if you like lamb stew.

- I do.

- Well, why don't you pour one for yourself?

- Huh?

Oh, no. Herself wouldn't like it.

She says a long glass means a short life.

Oh, that's a lot of bunk, isn't it?

Why, when I was a cub reporter

back in Tennessee...

I once interviewed a man

on his 110th birthday.

He swore it was the result of drinking

a pint of corn liquor every morning-

before breakfast.

- Do you tell me that now?

- That's the truth.

You know, you'd do me a great favor

if you'd mention that to herself sometime.

- I'd be delighted. Anytime.

- 110 years.

I'll take a glass of whiskey

with you, as you insist...

and as you're guests of the house.

Well, sit down.

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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