All You Need Is Death (2023) Movie Script
1
I'm going to videotape
your witness statement
and in accordance with the law
I have to ask you,
do you consent to be
videotaped?
Yeah, no panic. Guard, yeah.
I heard she was partly eaten.
That's not
what we're here to talk about.
Can we go through the events
of the evening in question?
The evening in question
I was doing a few songs,
very ordinary, normal evening.
Quiet enough night, there
wasn't many around,
and yeah, you'd notice her
straight away.
She was recording
all the songs from the session.
She wasn't doing a very
good job of hiding it.
Hey there,
that's for you.
-Thanks.
-Have you been
to this session before?
-No, never.
-Well, that's the thing,
it's a bit awkward to say
but people get
a bit weird about, um...
-About what?
You know what.
Yeah that's him all right.
The big fella there.
He seemed to take
particular offence to her
for some reason or another.
Didn't like that she
was doing that at all.
-I saw you record him.
So, delete it. Now. Or I will.
-Maybe relax, man,
it's not that big a deal.
-Okay. Look, it's deleted.
Okay?
- Show it to me.
- Oh, man.
Show it to me.
No, show it to me.
What the fuck?
What happened after that?
Eh, not much, really.
Well, uh... thanks again
for all your help,
I really appreciate it.
-Well, I shouldn't really have
told you all that stuff,
but, you know, it's yourself
so it's no bother.
Thanks.
-Alright. Goodbye!
-Those hobbits
ripped my shirt.
-Oh, mm-hmm. Don't worry,
I'll buy you a new one.
-Did you learn anything?
-Mm-hmm. An old man
out in the country
who knows sixty-two more songs
than anyone else.
-He might...
have just been telling you
what you wanted to hear.
-Nah, I don't think so.
Either way
we'll know soon enough.
I think this one could be money.
-It's not for us.
-Let's go! Let's go!
ALL
YOU
NEED
IS
DEATH
That's about all I know
of it anyway.
Ah good man yourself.
Thank you for this.
It is an unusual
variation on the song?
I don't know
whether it is or it isn't.
Because the only man
I ever heard singing that
was my grandfather.
And I think he got it up
in Donegal somewhere.
He was a-- hah!
He was a better singer
than I am, by the way.
I'm surprised at ye being
interested in these old songs.
-Hearing songs
nobody else knows is,
I don't know... it's exciting?
- Exciting?
- Mm-hmm.
Have ye nothing more exciting
to be doing, the pair of you,
than listening to an
old fella singing songs? Huh?
We're here looking for
songs we haven't heard before.
Okay.
Fair enough, you know.
I think the two of ye now
should leave my father in peace.
He-he doesn't sing these songs
just for the fun of it.
I'll be damned. Lovely.
Look, I'll tell ye.
If you want some
great old songs,
there's a woman over there
at Cross.
Her name is Concannon, alright?
She has the weirdest songs,
the oldest songs,
songs nobody's heard of.
-You sing it well.
-I wish I knew what it meant.
-You didn't mislead me.
It is beautiful
and it's a variant
I've never heard of before.
But.
-But?
Don't
take this the wrong way
but I don't know you.
You come out of nowhere.
We have
no prior relationship.
For a collector such as myself,
possession of a unique copy
is only valuable if there is a--
- Provenance.
- Exactly.
Please do remember me
if you find something more solid
that can be
externally validated.
-We need to move up.
Invest. In our future.
Good morning.
I think you all know my name.
If you don't,
call me Agnes.
And as for you,
you're here either
because you have displayed
exceptional achievement
and remarkable understanding
of your field,
or because you've paid
a great deal of money
to be here.
Perhaps you're here because
you're impatient
with the conventional paths
to success.
You want a fast track
to validation,
publication, and approval.
I can't offer you that.
I can, however, show you
how to recognise the signs
that you can follow
to help find what you want.
The future is picked clean.
Treasure lies in the past.
We find beauty where
others have overlooked it
among the speechless
and the miserable of the earth
and we turn it into a future...
for ourselves.
It's a miracle.
Modern alchemy.
But I can't tell you
where to find it;
all I can do is
show you how to look for it.
And the skills for the job.
Then it's up to you
to find the places
where a rose springs up from
the corpse of times past.
-Uh...
I have my field
recordings with me
and would very much
appreciate your thoughts,
but, do we really have to share
them with the whole group?
-It's up to you.
I would say that progress here
will largely depend on what you
yourselves bring to the table.
And it's unlikely
that anything you have brought
will be important enough
to be stolen.
Let's begin.
Well. That is quite
an interesting thing.
A variation that's new to me.
You've brought quite a bone
to the table tonight.
I just wonder if you know
what to do with it.
-Thank you.
-We think we know
where we might find a singer
who has a song,
previously uncollected,
not a variant,
a primary source.
-Right.
Our information
is reliable.
-But we have done
as much digging as we can
and we have turned up nothing.
-So what do you have?
It is a woman,
and her name is Callcannon,
and she's from someplace...
called Cross.
I think I see your problem.
Cross isn't a place as such.
It's a colloquial name
for the town of Crossmaglen.
And "callcannon" is not a name
it's a dish made from potatoes,
onions and butter.
- I'm sorry.
I should have known that.
It sounds like the woman
you're taking about
is Maggie Concannon
from Crossmaglen.
Only problem is, she's dead.
Died at least five years ago
from what I've heard.
He thrusts, he thrusts,
he thrusts his fists
against the posts.
And still insists
he sees the ghosts.
Amidst, amidst the mists...
and fiercest frosts...
-He said "the woman".
"The woman" might not be
the same woman who died.
It could be a daughter.
She might be alive.
And we could talk to her.
Okay,
well how do you know
that she even had a daughter?
How do you know she didn't?
Fornication.
I beg your pardon.
For an occasion such as this...
it's always nice to have
a great band.
So, it's time for me to sit down
and keep quiet now
while the band plays
the first dance.
Off you go, lads.
If you ask for proof
that I am alive again
they threaten to cut my foot off
and send it to you.
-I think we're here.
Uh-huh.
-Now what do we do?
-Well... we could go into a pub
and ask if anyone knows
where this woman lives,
if she's still alive?
-I don't feel comfortable
walking into a strange pub
around here asking questions.
-Oh, we have to do something.
One of us has to
talk to somebody.
-Mmm. And by one of us,
you mean me, yes?
-Who do you think
would do better,
the foreign man
with the speech impediment
or the beautiful
young Irish woman?
-Don't try to flatter me,
you charmer.
-I'm not charming you.
-Fucking right you're not!
-I'm not charming you.
Okay, stop the car.
Excuse me, do you have a light?
-Uh, I've got one, uh...
somewhere here.
-Thanks.
Thanks. Um... oh, yeah.
Do you have a cigarette, too?
Sorry.
You wearing a wire?
Are you a cop or just
a reporter or what?
-What makes you think
I'm anything like that?
Ah, just here for
the fun of it then?
-Well, no.
I'm looking for someone.
Oh, right.
Well, I must be
getting on with my business.
-Oh, not cool.
Is it that scary,
me asking if you know someone?
-Depends who it is, I suppose.
-Well, I'm looking for someone
who might be a singer.
It's not political.
There's nothing that's
not political, I'm telling you.
Do you know what
"moral hazard" is?
-I don't think so.
-It's like this:
a person doing something,
you,
decides how risky that
particular something might be.
But, say you aren't the one
who's taking the risk.
Say it's the other fella,
me, who takes the risk.
And the other fella might not
even know he's taking a risk.
But you decide
that it's worthwhile.
Without asking me.
That's moral hazard.
-I see what you mean.
But I'm--
I'm really just looking for
someone who might sing songs.
-What's her name?
-Concannon?
Oh. That'd be Rita.
Marguerite, but goes by Rita.
Doesn't sing a lot these days,
now.
Bit too fond of the old--
if you know what I mean.
Do you know where she lives?
This is where
the hazard part comes in.
You want me to trust you
to tell you
somebody else's business?
-I'm not doing anything
that'll hurt anyone...
Would you, um...
take me there?
-Well, sure
I'm headed that way myself so...
I don't see why not.
-Great!
My brother will take us.
-Oh yeah.
Of course he will.
Brother and sister, eh?
-Da.
-What has ye
looking for Rita?
Her ma was a singer,
I know that much.
But all ye hear
out of her most days is,
roaring for drink.
Or roaring at that
lunatic son of hers.
-She does sing, though?
-Ah, she used to, yeah.
Not a bad set of pipes either.
Hey, turn right up here.
Right.
Pull in.
That's her digs up ahead,
last house on the left.
Give it.
-You said
you're not reporters.
We're not reporters.
-Look, I don't know
what you know about Cross
but if you're here
for other reasons,
I'll be in a shitload of shit.
-We're just here for the music.
Good. Alright, okay.
I'll leave ye to it.
If she asks you
how ye found her
don't dream of mentioning me.
- Ready?
- Uh-huh.
Hello?
Anyone here?
-What is it?
Hello again.
Explain yourself!
Say something.
Who's these here now?
My research assistants.
Just arrived from Dublin.
Why don't you
introduce yourselves?
Rita, this is young Aleks.
He's a foreigner.
- A Brit?
- Oh! Not at all.
Refugee from Communism,
or something like that.
And Anna, a good Irish girl,
lovely voice.
You'll get on with her.
Rita prefers to
conduct her meetings
from inside the wardrobe.
She's the mysterious type.
Why should I come out there?
You's are only going
to make a laugh of me.
Not at all.
Well then
what brings ye here?
I'm nobody.
Only an old woman
half gone in the head.
My own son.
What are you
looking for from me?
I've already said.
Songs.
Is it love songs you're after?
Have you Irish?
-Yes.
-I. Love. You.
What's that in Irish?
"The love
for you is on me".
You can't say
"I love you" in Irish.
Don't let anyone
tell you otherwise.
The love is ON you.
It's not yours to command.
Are you lovers?
Did you make... these?
Not at all.
My son's work.
Well, work would mean he'd be
earning something from it.
Pastime more like.
Sit down, will ya.
-Do you have many children?
-Only the one son.
No daughter.
End of the line.
-Would you have
preferred a daughter?
I'd have
preferred nothing.
What brings you here again?
-There's talk
that you have some songs.
Not for you.
This one's all right.
A well-brought-up young lady.
-Brought up by the nuns.
Oh?
-In a Home.
No mother at all?
-It's not so bad.
-Seems to have done you
no harm.
So you do a bit of singing?
I do.
But we came here
to listen to you.
-Not for public consumption.
No.
Do you mind
if I take off my coat?
Just for us to hear.
-Not him.
-Thank you
for a lovely evening.
-I know the song you want.
My mother
learned it from her mother.
And so on and so forth
back to the old times.
It's not even in Irish,
but whatever it is
that came before Irish.
There was a king once
who loved a poor woman
who betrayed him.
And the punishment he put on her
and her lover and their baby
was terrible.
The love curdled inside them
and became a curse.
What you might call
an evil spirit on the world.
My mother told me
that it comes from a time
before writing down,
when memory was the way
we had to hold things.
And that the song should
never be written down
or anything like that,
but to be remembered
and sung by our women.
No matter that we don't
understand it,
we just have to keep
the line from breaking.
Do you understand
what I'm asking you?
Do you know what
"faoi geasa" means?
-I do.
This song has no name.
But if it did have a name,
it would be...
Love is a knife
with a blade for a handle.
-Can you remember any of it?
-It's in a language
I don't speak.
And she only sang it once.
I don't know.
Maybe some of it?
-Record it.
Record it,
while it's fresh in your mind.
Record it.
-(in Russian) Fuck!
-I promised her.
-I didn't.
-So, I guess
we're in this together?
Please Mummy.
Can we-- can we
go for a little walk, Mummy?
Yes why not?
No darling we can't
go for a walk.
Will youse LISTEN TO ME?
Shut the fuck!
Will youse KEEP QUIET?
Sing me a little song, Mummy,
sing me a little song?
Would youse keep quiet, I'm
trying to tell you something!
(inaudible muttering)
Will you KEEP QUIET?
I'm home, Ma.
Ma?
Ma?
Ma?
Ma?
Christy.
Listen, thanks for calling back.
Um...
sorry for ringing so late.
No, no. She's just out
making a cup of tea.
Christy says hello, Ma.
What I was after was,
I just want to know if there was
anyone up from out of town
these last couple of nights.
Someone made off with one of
Ma's ornamental pots.
No. Look, look, it's nothing,
I just don't want her worrying.
That's very good of you.
Yeah. I can do that, yeah.
Great, great.
No bother. yeah, grand.
Thank you.
Good luck. Bye. Bye.
Sln, sln.
Christy.
They came up to the house?
I hear you.
Oh?
He did, did he?
Right.
I'm obliged to you.
Help!
Help! Help.
Help!
What about ye, Ron.
Look what they
did to my Ma, Ron.
It's a terrible pity.
Nobody should go out
looking like that.
Looks like she was
in a bad state.
Whoever did this
gave her a fright.
It wasn't me, Breeze.
You know that.
-You're a fuckin' idiot
but you're not cracked.
-I'll tell you anything
you want to know,
but it's not much.
-Did you ever meet my granny?
I mean, Rita could sing but
the granny was something else.
People came from all over.
I hear tell they filmed her
one time,
came all the way
from the States to do it.
Famous voice she had.
The songs she knew...
Come-all-ye's,
the ballads,
and the rebel songs,
and drinking songs,
the sean-ns...
everything you could imagine.
She knew other things too.
You know, stuff, stuff we knew
enough not to talk about.
Not saying that she was a witch
or anything, but...
I'm not saying she wasn't,
either.
She used to sleep in here
when I was a wee lad
and Rita was off on a skite.
I'd have to sleep in here too.
It wasn't nice.
I didn't like it.
You'd wake up
in the night sometimes,
and there'd be these...
...things...
floating around her in the bed.
Smudges, like, you know.
You'd look at them...
and they wouldn't be there.
then you'd look away and...
they'd be there.
Not nice at all.
But I was only a child,
I didn't know what was real
and what wasn't half the time.
You'd hear stories
about her all right.
She was a powerful woman.
She was.
From a long line of them.
There was things went down
from mother to daughter
in her line that were
never told anyone else.
Never told to me for sure.
She hounded Rita to
have another child.
A girl.
But sure Ma,
Ma and men didn't mix.
So there I'd be...
I'd be flat on my back
in a box in granny's room
trying not to look at
these black smudgy things
out of the corner of my eye,
you know,
floating round granny's bed.
Then they started talking to me.
You were supposed to be a girl,
they'd say.
What went wrong with you?
And stuff like that.
Granny lying in bed
laughing her head off.
And Ma wouldn't
talk to me either.
I know that she knew
something was going on.
But she--
she musta seen the look of me
when she came in
the odd time to sleep.
But she--
but she hated Granny that much,
she'd be back off again,
and I'd be back in here
trying to sleep
with these black smudgy things
looking at me.
Settle down, Ron,
I'm just trying to
tell ya something!
I'm sorry!
-I just wanted 'em
to stop talking to me, so I did.
Them black shapes
in Granny's room.
Ah FUCK, Breeze!
-Anyway,
they stopped after I did that.
I'll leave you with that.
-What?
Breeze-- no.
Breeze.
-Who was it?
A girl, brown hair.
Good-looking enough,
from Dublin.
Looking for songs, old songs.
Some fella with her,
foreign, I think.
Driving a Yaris, Dublin reg.
That's it, that's everything!
Breeze.
I'll come back
when I find them.
Please?
Mind yourself, Ron.
Help! Help!
Help! Help me!
Help me!
No!
No!
Help me!
Well, if I'm not
completely mistaken,
that's another line completed.
What, only forty to go?
Why should I try to
keep anything from you?
Here's what I think it says.
- "The flower's red
fades like your love,
and my love is like the water
that flows forever."
-Romantic, isn't it?
Then there's this.
- "When she saw
what she had done to her child,
"her screaming was great
and could not be ended."
-Folk songs, eh?
I should go,
Anna wants me.
I feel like I should
listen to it some more.
-I've played it
hundreds of times.
You're not bored?
No.
No, no, no. It's like...
the more that I hear it...
the more that I can
understand the words.
The deeper that
it gets inside me,
the more I want to hear it.
You have one new message.
Aleks?
I'm worried about you.
Where are you?
Call me back.
You have seven new message.
Where are you?
I'm really scared, okay.
Please call me.
You have 14 new messages.
Aleks, please.
Is this something to do
with that woman?
You have 47 new messages.
YOU FUCKING MONSTER!
FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOU!
You have 70 new messages
Please just come back.
Please come back.
Your mailbox is full.
Please empty your mailbox
to receive new messages.
Pint?
-I won't say no, go on.
-I heard tell of
this young one,
not bad-looking,
maybe a young lad with her,
going round buying songs.
Ring any bells?
Have you ever heard of my ma,
Rita Concannon?
Eh, might have.
-This young one
came to visit and...
it didn't end well.
-What business
of that is mine?
-You mean, what business
of yours is that?
We could make this
your business.
Or you could tell me
about this young one
and you won't see me
up here again.
It's up to you.
I never touch the stuff myself.
You'd better get out.
I'm going to have to tie you up.
Do you have
anything to drink?
No.
I don't drink.
Are you going to kill me?
Don't know.
I hope not.
What happened to my mother?
-How would I know?
You came up to the house.
I was away.
I know you were there.
The lad that
brought you told me.
Last time I saw her,
she was dead.
She didn't deserve to die.
I don't know
what it was happened,
but you're going to tell me.
-The old woman with the songs
is your mother?
Yeah, she was, yeah.
-She's... dead.
Yeah, I know.
-And you don't know
who killed her?
I didn't think
she was going to do it.
-Who?
-She was waiting there
when we arrived.
I think she must have
figured out
from what I told her
that your mother
had something she wanted.
But, but we just wanted
the song.
She's different. She's evil.
-Who?
I can tell you her name
and where we met her.
but I don't know
where she lives.
I'll help you
any way I can.
She needs to be punished.
The fella that was with you?
Where's he?
-I don't know.
I'll make you tell me!
-I'd tell you if I knew.
I don't know.
He left me. Weeks ago.
-You two together?
-He was working with her.
This fucking horrible old woman.
What would he want with her?
What's her name?
Where does she live?
-Agnes.
I told you I don't know
where she lives.
But they're together?
-Must be.
-I'll be back.
Will you be all right?
Agnes?
Agnes.
We're ready for you now.
Are you absolutely positive
you're not pregnant?
-I couldn't be more positive.
I had a hysterectomy.
It must be
in your records somewhere.
Well,
I-I don't know what to say.
-Could it be cancer?
While I can't rule anything out,
I feel it's very unlikely.
I'll schedule you
for an appointment next week
if there's a slot available.
-Hmm.
I got you chips.
Sorry.
What day is it?
Wednesday.
How long
have you had me here?
I don't know.
-You haven't found them yet.
You haven't
given me a lot to work on.
I went to the place
you said they were,
but there wasn't a soul.
Looked like it was
cleaned out too.
-She stays on the move,
I told you.
Like me.
-Do you want to hear the song?
-I thought you said
you didn't have the tape.
That she took it.
Your fella took it.
I can remember it.
Some of it anyway.
I have a good memory.
-You wouldn't be taking
a hand out of me, would you?
Course not.
So you want to hear it?
I do.
If it's the one
I'm thinking of,
I was never allowed to hear it.
It was only for
the women to hear.
Why?
-How would I know?
Sing it.
-What language
would you say that is?
It's not Irish.
-Probably older.
Do you think
you could write it down?
Just the words,
the way you sang them there?
-If it'll help you find her,
I will.
Whether...
the weather...
be hot...
we'll be together...
to-geth-er, together
whatever the weather.
Agnes?
-How are you doing?
Can I get you anything?
I think you know
what I need...
You dirty young man.
You know what I mean.
And you
know what I mean.
-I do... but,
right now don't you think
maybe you need to...
eat something?
Well, okay,
I must admit...
I am ravenous.
-I'll go and make some soup
for you.
Chicken.
I would love some chicken.
A whole one, if possible.
-I'll go see
what's left in the fridge.
Hurry back...
I have made mess, I'm afraid.
Can I have towel for my face?
Well, now!
What have you got to
offer me for dessert?
- Can I help you?
- How you doin'?
I'm looking for a book
on old Irish,
the olden days stuff.
Would ye have any?
-Ah, in fact we do.
Just returned recently,
actually.
Hasn't been taken out in years,
and now here we have,
twice in one week.
It's funny, isn't it?
I'm laughing on the inside.
I don't suppose you can
tell me who had it out last?
No, I can't.
There you go.
Let's get to work.
Do you need help reading it?
-I'm not the best at the old
reading and writing but...
I'll get there.
He must have loved her a lot,
that old king.
-Do people do things like that
to people they love?
You'd be amazed.
-No. He did it to her to prove
there's no such thing as love,
that... that's a lie.
-Maybe. But that's what
this line means.
"Love is a knife with
a blade for a handle."
Cuts both ways.
-If you lock anyone up for
long enough with nothing to eat,
they'll do anything to survive.
Even eat... their own baby.
-That's nature.
That's got nothing to do
with love.
The old king
was trying to tell her
that her love was made up.
To punish her, I think.
To starve a body
'til it goes mad...
proves nothing.
-Love is just a thing people say
to get you to do what they want.
-I'm sorry he did that to you.
He should have looked after you.
-No. It's not about him.
He's nothing.
It's her you need
to be thinking of.
-Would you sing the song
for me again?
-I thought you had work to do?
Find her address,
and maybe I'll sing for you.
-It was a great privilege
to speak to the renowned
street singer in his own home,
and to collect this version
of the The Cruel Mother
which some of you may
know as Weile Weile Waile
or possibly Green Wood Sidey.
Is that you?
Hello, darling!
Come here, please.
Hello, my love.
I've missed you so much.
I've been thinking
about you all day.
Dreaming... about how beautiful
it will be when...
we don't ever have to
be separated again.
That's all I live for, you know.
I can feel it, so powerfully.
You and me,
our souls entwined.
Far into future, like...
two trees that grow together
into one.
It will be so beautiful.
-Yes, sweetheart.
It will be beautiful.
Play with yourself for me.
-She lives here?
For sure?
-For sure.
Are you ready?
-For what?
Only joking.
-When we find her,
use your imagination.
-I have a few ideas, all right.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
-You.
What are you doing here?
-What have you done with him?
She's up the spout!
Don't do that!
-Yeah!
She killed your mother!
His mother?
-Aye. Rita Concannon.
She's dead?
She was alive when I left her.
Just drunk.
-She's lying.
Where is he?
-I should warn you,
he's not well.
Hello, darling!
-How...
how did you find us?
Are you-- are you sick?
Did she do this?
No, no, no, no.
I'm fine. Don't worry.
It's all going to be fine.
Hello! I'm Aleks.
Nice to meet!
Get out.
GET OUT!
What the fuck
is going on here?
You didn't kill my ma at all,
did you?
Why would I?
I had what I wanted.
I had the song.
Do you know what it does?
I think
I'm beginning to get it.
You're not pregnant, then.
I don't have a womb.
But, he's getting smaller
and I'm getting bigger.
Doesn't take a doctor
to figure out what's going on.
You wrote down
the words of the song,
and the music?
We did.
The story of a king
and the woman he loved,
and how she betrayed him,
and how he punished her for it.
D'you think
it really happened?
Who knows?
But there's a reason
your mother and her mother
and all the women before her
kept it to themselves.
There's a secret in it
and I think we broke the secret
and now this is where we are.
-I'm going to
call an ambulance
and I'm going to save you, okay?
What?
-No, you won't.
No, I'm fine, and soon,
soon I will be dead, but...
but then I will be coming back
and I will never have left.
-Aleks.
-Tell me this.
Have you ever seen any shadowy
smudgy things in this place?
-Out of the corner of my eye,
sometimes I see things moving.
-Fuck.
What your mother said,
about the song...
Could it be a spell
to contain a demon,
or a god?
Could the curse be
something to do with love?
To love until you're
consumed by your lover,
or you consume them?
What people call 'love' now
isn't this...
this force.
It's older.
It's been around since
maybe before humans.
It's a hunger.
Uncontrollable.
Beyond our understanding.
Like in the song.
A love that would make you
devour your own child.
-But what happened to my ma?
I think...
she broke her promise
to whatever it is
lives in the song.
-God save her soul.
-Aleks, we need to leave.
Now.
You're sick.
- No.
I'm not.
I am exactly as I should be.
It will be over soon,
all of this.
And then...
we will be together.
-You and me.
Silly.
Agnes and I.
Or you too, maybe, I hope.
Who knows?
No.
No.
No.
-You all right in there?
What happened?
What did he do?
-They're in it together.
We need to kill them.
-I don't think that would be--
-HE KILLED YOUR MOTHER,
I TOLD YOU!
-Don't say that.
-Listen, listen
Kill him and we can be together.
You and me.
-You and me?
-Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.
-I think we should just go.
Now.
No, no, no.
-No.
Come on, Anna,
we need to get out.
No one knows we're here.
I'll keep you safe.
Do you still love us?
-Yes.
-Do you know
what has to happen now?
I think so.
You are going
to become a part of us.
We are so hungry.
I'm going to videotape
your witness statement
and in accordance with the law
I have to ask you,
do you consent to be
videotaped?
Yeah, no panic. Guard, yeah.
I heard she was partly eaten.
That's not
what we're here to talk about.
Can we go through the events
of the evening in question?
The evening in question
I was doing a few songs,
very ordinary, normal evening.
Quiet enough night, there
wasn't many around,
and yeah, you'd notice her
straight away.
She was recording
all the songs from the session.
She wasn't doing a very
good job of hiding it.
Hey there,
that's for you.
-Thanks.
-Have you been
to this session before?
-No, never.
-Well, that's the thing,
it's a bit awkward to say
but people get
a bit weird about, um...
-About what?
You know what.
Yeah that's him all right.
The big fella there.
He seemed to take
particular offence to her
for some reason or another.
Didn't like that she
was doing that at all.
-I saw you record him.
So, delete it. Now. Or I will.
-Maybe relax, man,
it's not that big a deal.
-Okay. Look, it's deleted.
Okay?
- Show it to me.
- Oh, man.
Show it to me.
No, show it to me.
What the fuck?
What happened after that?
Eh, not much, really.
Well, uh... thanks again
for all your help,
I really appreciate it.
-Well, I shouldn't really have
told you all that stuff,
but, you know, it's yourself
so it's no bother.
Thanks.
-Alright. Goodbye!
-Those hobbits
ripped my shirt.
-Oh, mm-hmm. Don't worry,
I'll buy you a new one.
-Did you learn anything?
-Mm-hmm. An old man
out in the country
who knows sixty-two more songs
than anyone else.
-He might...
have just been telling you
what you wanted to hear.
-Nah, I don't think so.
Either way
we'll know soon enough.
I think this one could be money.
-It's not for us.
-Let's go! Let's go!
ALL
YOU
NEED
IS
DEATH
That's about all I know
of it anyway.
Ah good man yourself.
Thank you for this.
It is an unusual
variation on the song?
I don't know
whether it is or it isn't.
Because the only man
I ever heard singing that
was my grandfather.
And I think he got it up
in Donegal somewhere.
He was a-- hah!
He was a better singer
than I am, by the way.
I'm surprised at ye being
interested in these old songs.
-Hearing songs
nobody else knows is,
I don't know... it's exciting?
- Exciting?
- Mm-hmm.
Have ye nothing more exciting
to be doing, the pair of you,
than listening to an
old fella singing songs? Huh?
We're here looking for
songs we haven't heard before.
Okay.
Fair enough, you know.
I think the two of ye now
should leave my father in peace.
He-he doesn't sing these songs
just for the fun of it.
I'll be damned. Lovely.
Look, I'll tell ye.
If you want some
great old songs,
there's a woman over there
at Cross.
Her name is Concannon, alright?
She has the weirdest songs,
the oldest songs,
songs nobody's heard of.
-You sing it well.
-I wish I knew what it meant.
-You didn't mislead me.
It is beautiful
and it's a variant
I've never heard of before.
But.
-But?
Don't
take this the wrong way
but I don't know you.
You come out of nowhere.
We have
no prior relationship.
For a collector such as myself,
possession of a unique copy
is only valuable if there is a--
- Provenance.
- Exactly.
Please do remember me
if you find something more solid
that can be
externally validated.
-We need to move up.
Invest. In our future.
Good morning.
I think you all know my name.
If you don't,
call me Agnes.
And as for you,
you're here either
because you have displayed
exceptional achievement
and remarkable understanding
of your field,
or because you've paid
a great deal of money
to be here.
Perhaps you're here because
you're impatient
with the conventional paths
to success.
You want a fast track
to validation,
publication, and approval.
I can't offer you that.
I can, however, show you
how to recognise the signs
that you can follow
to help find what you want.
The future is picked clean.
Treasure lies in the past.
We find beauty where
others have overlooked it
among the speechless
and the miserable of the earth
and we turn it into a future...
for ourselves.
It's a miracle.
Modern alchemy.
But I can't tell you
where to find it;
all I can do is
show you how to look for it.
And the skills for the job.
Then it's up to you
to find the places
where a rose springs up from
the corpse of times past.
-Uh...
I have my field
recordings with me
and would very much
appreciate your thoughts,
but, do we really have to share
them with the whole group?
-It's up to you.
I would say that progress here
will largely depend on what you
yourselves bring to the table.
And it's unlikely
that anything you have brought
will be important enough
to be stolen.
Let's begin.
Well. That is quite
an interesting thing.
A variation that's new to me.
You've brought quite a bone
to the table tonight.
I just wonder if you know
what to do with it.
-Thank you.
-We think we know
where we might find a singer
who has a song,
previously uncollected,
not a variant,
a primary source.
-Right.
Our information
is reliable.
-But we have done
as much digging as we can
and we have turned up nothing.
-So what do you have?
It is a woman,
and her name is Callcannon,
and she's from someplace...
called Cross.
I think I see your problem.
Cross isn't a place as such.
It's a colloquial name
for the town of Crossmaglen.
And "callcannon" is not a name
it's a dish made from potatoes,
onions and butter.
- I'm sorry.
I should have known that.
It sounds like the woman
you're taking about
is Maggie Concannon
from Crossmaglen.
Only problem is, she's dead.
Died at least five years ago
from what I've heard.
He thrusts, he thrusts,
he thrusts his fists
against the posts.
And still insists
he sees the ghosts.
Amidst, amidst the mists...
and fiercest frosts...
-He said "the woman".
"The woman" might not be
the same woman who died.
It could be a daughter.
She might be alive.
And we could talk to her.
Okay,
well how do you know
that she even had a daughter?
How do you know she didn't?
Fornication.
I beg your pardon.
For an occasion such as this...
it's always nice to have
a great band.
So, it's time for me to sit down
and keep quiet now
while the band plays
the first dance.
Off you go, lads.
If you ask for proof
that I am alive again
they threaten to cut my foot off
and send it to you.
-I think we're here.
Uh-huh.
-Now what do we do?
-Well... we could go into a pub
and ask if anyone knows
where this woman lives,
if she's still alive?
-I don't feel comfortable
walking into a strange pub
around here asking questions.
-Oh, we have to do something.
One of us has to
talk to somebody.
-Mmm. And by one of us,
you mean me, yes?
-Who do you think
would do better,
the foreign man
with the speech impediment
or the beautiful
young Irish woman?
-Don't try to flatter me,
you charmer.
-I'm not charming you.
-Fucking right you're not!
-I'm not charming you.
Okay, stop the car.
Excuse me, do you have a light?
-Uh, I've got one, uh...
somewhere here.
-Thanks.
Thanks. Um... oh, yeah.
Do you have a cigarette, too?
Sorry.
You wearing a wire?
Are you a cop or just
a reporter or what?
-What makes you think
I'm anything like that?
Ah, just here for
the fun of it then?
-Well, no.
I'm looking for someone.
Oh, right.
Well, I must be
getting on with my business.
-Oh, not cool.
Is it that scary,
me asking if you know someone?
-Depends who it is, I suppose.
-Well, I'm looking for someone
who might be a singer.
It's not political.
There's nothing that's
not political, I'm telling you.
Do you know what
"moral hazard" is?
-I don't think so.
-It's like this:
a person doing something,
you,
decides how risky that
particular something might be.
But, say you aren't the one
who's taking the risk.
Say it's the other fella,
me, who takes the risk.
And the other fella might not
even know he's taking a risk.
But you decide
that it's worthwhile.
Without asking me.
That's moral hazard.
-I see what you mean.
But I'm--
I'm really just looking for
someone who might sing songs.
-What's her name?
-Concannon?
Oh. That'd be Rita.
Marguerite, but goes by Rita.
Doesn't sing a lot these days,
now.
Bit too fond of the old--
if you know what I mean.
Do you know where she lives?
This is where
the hazard part comes in.
You want me to trust you
to tell you
somebody else's business?
-I'm not doing anything
that'll hurt anyone...
Would you, um...
take me there?
-Well, sure
I'm headed that way myself so...
I don't see why not.
-Great!
My brother will take us.
-Oh yeah.
Of course he will.
Brother and sister, eh?
-Da.
-What has ye
looking for Rita?
Her ma was a singer,
I know that much.
But all ye hear
out of her most days is,
roaring for drink.
Or roaring at that
lunatic son of hers.
-She does sing, though?
-Ah, she used to, yeah.
Not a bad set of pipes either.
Hey, turn right up here.
Right.
Pull in.
That's her digs up ahead,
last house on the left.
Give it.
-You said
you're not reporters.
We're not reporters.
-Look, I don't know
what you know about Cross
but if you're here
for other reasons,
I'll be in a shitload of shit.
-We're just here for the music.
Good. Alright, okay.
I'll leave ye to it.
If she asks you
how ye found her
don't dream of mentioning me.
- Ready?
- Uh-huh.
Hello?
Anyone here?
-What is it?
Hello again.
Explain yourself!
Say something.
Who's these here now?
My research assistants.
Just arrived from Dublin.
Why don't you
introduce yourselves?
Rita, this is young Aleks.
He's a foreigner.
- A Brit?
- Oh! Not at all.
Refugee from Communism,
or something like that.
And Anna, a good Irish girl,
lovely voice.
You'll get on with her.
Rita prefers to
conduct her meetings
from inside the wardrobe.
She's the mysterious type.
Why should I come out there?
You's are only going
to make a laugh of me.
Not at all.
Well then
what brings ye here?
I'm nobody.
Only an old woman
half gone in the head.
My own son.
What are you
looking for from me?
I've already said.
Songs.
Is it love songs you're after?
Have you Irish?
-Yes.
-I. Love. You.
What's that in Irish?
"The love
for you is on me".
You can't say
"I love you" in Irish.
Don't let anyone
tell you otherwise.
The love is ON you.
It's not yours to command.
Are you lovers?
Did you make... these?
Not at all.
My son's work.
Well, work would mean he'd be
earning something from it.
Pastime more like.
Sit down, will ya.
-Do you have many children?
-Only the one son.
No daughter.
End of the line.
-Would you have
preferred a daughter?
I'd have
preferred nothing.
What brings you here again?
-There's talk
that you have some songs.
Not for you.
This one's all right.
A well-brought-up young lady.
-Brought up by the nuns.
Oh?
-In a Home.
No mother at all?
-It's not so bad.
-Seems to have done you
no harm.
So you do a bit of singing?
I do.
But we came here
to listen to you.
-Not for public consumption.
No.
Do you mind
if I take off my coat?
Just for us to hear.
-Not him.
-Thank you
for a lovely evening.
-I know the song you want.
My mother
learned it from her mother.
And so on and so forth
back to the old times.
It's not even in Irish,
but whatever it is
that came before Irish.
There was a king once
who loved a poor woman
who betrayed him.
And the punishment he put on her
and her lover and their baby
was terrible.
The love curdled inside them
and became a curse.
What you might call
an evil spirit on the world.
My mother told me
that it comes from a time
before writing down,
when memory was the way
we had to hold things.
And that the song should
never be written down
or anything like that,
but to be remembered
and sung by our women.
No matter that we don't
understand it,
we just have to keep
the line from breaking.
Do you understand
what I'm asking you?
Do you know what
"faoi geasa" means?
-I do.
This song has no name.
But if it did have a name,
it would be...
Love is a knife
with a blade for a handle.
-Can you remember any of it?
-It's in a language
I don't speak.
And she only sang it once.
I don't know.
Maybe some of it?
-Record it.
Record it,
while it's fresh in your mind.
Record it.
-(in Russian) Fuck!
-I promised her.
-I didn't.
-So, I guess
we're in this together?
Please Mummy.
Can we-- can we
go for a little walk, Mummy?
Yes why not?
No darling we can't
go for a walk.
Will youse LISTEN TO ME?
Shut the fuck!
Will youse KEEP QUIET?
Sing me a little song, Mummy,
sing me a little song?
Would youse keep quiet, I'm
trying to tell you something!
(inaudible muttering)
Will you KEEP QUIET?
I'm home, Ma.
Ma?
Ma?
Ma?
Ma?
Christy.
Listen, thanks for calling back.
Um...
sorry for ringing so late.
No, no. She's just out
making a cup of tea.
Christy says hello, Ma.
What I was after was,
I just want to know if there was
anyone up from out of town
these last couple of nights.
Someone made off with one of
Ma's ornamental pots.
No. Look, look, it's nothing,
I just don't want her worrying.
That's very good of you.
Yeah. I can do that, yeah.
Great, great.
No bother. yeah, grand.
Thank you.
Good luck. Bye. Bye.
Sln, sln.
Christy.
They came up to the house?
I hear you.
Oh?
He did, did he?
Right.
I'm obliged to you.
Help!
Help! Help.
Help!
What about ye, Ron.
Look what they
did to my Ma, Ron.
It's a terrible pity.
Nobody should go out
looking like that.
Looks like she was
in a bad state.
Whoever did this
gave her a fright.
It wasn't me, Breeze.
You know that.
-You're a fuckin' idiot
but you're not cracked.
-I'll tell you anything
you want to know,
but it's not much.
-Did you ever meet my granny?
I mean, Rita could sing but
the granny was something else.
People came from all over.
I hear tell they filmed her
one time,
came all the way
from the States to do it.
Famous voice she had.
The songs she knew...
Come-all-ye's,
the ballads,
and the rebel songs,
and drinking songs,
the sean-ns...
everything you could imagine.
She knew other things too.
You know, stuff, stuff we knew
enough not to talk about.
Not saying that she was a witch
or anything, but...
I'm not saying she wasn't,
either.
She used to sleep in here
when I was a wee lad
and Rita was off on a skite.
I'd have to sleep in here too.
It wasn't nice.
I didn't like it.
You'd wake up
in the night sometimes,
and there'd be these...
...things...
floating around her in the bed.
Smudges, like, you know.
You'd look at them...
and they wouldn't be there.
then you'd look away and...
they'd be there.
Not nice at all.
But I was only a child,
I didn't know what was real
and what wasn't half the time.
You'd hear stories
about her all right.
She was a powerful woman.
She was.
From a long line of them.
There was things went down
from mother to daughter
in her line that were
never told anyone else.
Never told to me for sure.
She hounded Rita to
have another child.
A girl.
But sure Ma,
Ma and men didn't mix.
So there I'd be...
I'd be flat on my back
in a box in granny's room
trying not to look at
these black smudgy things
out of the corner of my eye,
you know,
floating round granny's bed.
Then they started talking to me.
You were supposed to be a girl,
they'd say.
What went wrong with you?
And stuff like that.
Granny lying in bed
laughing her head off.
And Ma wouldn't
talk to me either.
I know that she knew
something was going on.
But she--
she musta seen the look of me
when she came in
the odd time to sleep.
But she--
but she hated Granny that much,
she'd be back off again,
and I'd be back in here
trying to sleep
with these black smudgy things
looking at me.
Settle down, Ron,
I'm just trying to
tell ya something!
I'm sorry!
-I just wanted 'em
to stop talking to me, so I did.
Them black shapes
in Granny's room.
Ah FUCK, Breeze!
-Anyway,
they stopped after I did that.
I'll leave you with that.
-What?
Breeze-- no.
Breeze.
-Who was it?
A girl, brown hair.
Good-looking enough,
from Dublin.
Looking for songs, old songs.
Some fella with her,
foreign, I think.
Driving a Yaris, Dublin reg.
That's it, that's everything!
Breeze.
I'll come back
when I find them.
Please?
Mind yourself, Ron.
Help! Help!
Help! Help me!
Help me!
No!
No!
Help me!
Well, if I'm not
completely mistaken,
that's another line completed.
What, only forty to go?
Why should I try to
keep anything from you?
Here's what I think it says.
- "The flower's red
fades like your love,
and my love is like the water
that flows forever."
-Romantic, isn't it?
Then there's this.
- "When she saw
what she had done to her child,
"her screaming was great
and could not be ended."
-Folk songs, eh?
I should go,
Anna wants me.
I feel like I should
listen to it some more.
-I've played it
hundreds of times.
You're not bored?
No.
No, no, no. It's like...
the more that I hear it...
the more that I can
understand the words.
The deeper that
it gets inside me,
the more I want to hear it.
You have one new message.
Aleks?
I'm worried about you.
Where are you?
Call me back.
You have seven new message.
Where are you?
I'm really scared, okay.
Please call me.
You have 14 new messages.
Aleks, please.
Is this something to do
with that woman?
You have 47 new messages.
YOU FUCKING MONSTER!
FUCK YOU!
FUCK YOU!
You have 70 new messages
Please just come back.
Please come back.
Your mailbox is full.
Please empty your mailbox
to receive new messages.
Pint?
-I won't say no, go on.
-I heard tell of
this young one,
not bad-looking,
maybe a young lad with her,
going round buying songs.
Ring any bells?
Have you ever heard of my ma,
Rita Concannon?
Eh, might have.
-This young one
came to visit and...
it didn't end well.
-What business
of that is mine?
-You mean, what business
of yours is that?
We could make this
your business.
Or you could tell me
about this young one
and you won't see me
up here again.
It's up to you.
I never touch the stuff myself.
You'd better get out.
I'm going to have to tie you up.
Do you have
anything to drink?
No.
I don't drink.
Are you going to kill me?
Don't know.
I hope not.
What happened to my mother?
-How would I know?
You came up to the house.
I was away.
I know you were there.
The lad that
brought you told me.
Last time I saw her,
she was dead.
She didn't deserve to die.
I don't know
what it was happened,
but you're going to tell me.
-The old woman with the songs
is your mother?
Yeah, she was, yeah.
-She's... dead.
Yeah, I know.
-And you don't know
who killed her?
I didn't think
she was going to do it.
-Who?
-She was waiting there
when we arrived.
I think she must have
figured out
from what I told her
that your mother
had something she wanted.
But, but we just wanted
the song.
She's different. She's evil.
-Who?
I can tell you her name
and where we met her.
but I don't know
where she lives.
I'll help you
any way I can.
She needs to be punished.
The fella that was with you?
Where's he?
-I don't know.
I'll make you tell me!
-I'd tell you if I knew.
I don't know.
He left me. Weeks ago.
-You two together?
-He was working with her.
This fucking horrible old woman.
What would he want with her?
What's her name?
Where does she live?
-Agnes.
I told you I don't know
where she lives.
But they're together?
-Must be.
-I'll be back.
Will you be all right?
Agnes?
Agnes.
We're ready for you now.
Are you absolutely positive
you're not pregnant?
-I couldn't be more positive.
I had a hysterectomy.
It must be
in your records somewhere.
Well,
I-I don't know what to say.
-Could it be cancer?
While I can't rule anything out,
I feel it's very unlikely.
I'll schedule you
for an appointment next week
if there's a slot available.
-Hmm.
I got you chips.
Sorry.
What day is it?
Wednesday.
How long
have you had me here?
I don't know.
-You haven't found them yet.
You haven't
given me a lot to work on.
I went to the place
you said they were,
but there wasn't a soul.
Looked like it was
cleaned out too.
-She stays on the move,
I told you.
Like me.
-Do you want to hear the song?
-I thought you said
you didn't have the tape.
That she took it.
Your fella took it.
I can remember it.
Some of it anyway.
I have a good memory.
-You wouldn't be taking
a hand out of me, would you?
Course not.
So you want to hear it?
I do.
If it's the one
I'm thinking of,
I was never allowed to hear it.
It was only for
the women to hear.
Why?
-How would I know?
Sing it.
-What language
would you say that is?
It's not Irish.
-Probably older.
Do you think
you could write it down?
Just the words,
the way you sang them there?
-If it'll help you find her,
I will.
Whether...
the weather...
be hot...
we'll be together...
to-geth-er, together
whatever the weather.
Agnes?
-How are you doing?
Can I get you anything?
I think you know
what I need...
You dirty young man.
You know what I mean.
And you
know what I mean.
-I do... but,
right now don't you think
maybe you need to...
eat something?
Well, okay,
I must admit...
I am ravenous.
-I'll go and make some soup
for you.
Chicken.
I would love some chicken.
A whole one, if possible.
-I'll go see
what's left in the fridge.
Hurry back...
I have made mess, I'm afraid.
Can I have towel for my face?
Well, now!
What have you got to
offer me for dessert?
- Can I help you?
- How you doin'?
I'm looking for a book
on old Irish,
the olden days stuff.
Would ye have any?
-Ah, in fact we do.
Just returned recently,
actually.
Hasn't been taken out in years,
and now here we have,
twice in one week.
It's funny, isn't it?
I'm laughing on the inside.
I don't suppose you can
tell me who had it out last?
No, I can't.
There you go.
Let's get to work.
Do you need help reading it?
-I'm not the best at the old
reading and writing but...
I'll get there.
He must have loved her a lot,
that old king.
-Do people do things like that
to people they love?
You'd be amazed.
-No. He did it to her to prove
there's no such thing as love,
that... that's a lie.
-Maybe. But that's what
this line means.
"Love is a knife with
a blade for a handle."
Cuts both ways.
-If you lock anyone up for
long enough with nothing to eat,
they'll do anything to survive.
Even eat... their own baby.
-That's nature.
That's got nothing to do
with love.
The old king
was trying to tell her
that her love was made up.
To punish her, I think.
To starve a body
'til it goes mad...
proves nothing.
-Love is just a thing people say
to get you to do what they want.
-I'm sorry he did that to you.
He should have looked after you.
-No. It's not about him.
He's nothing.
It's her you need
to be thinking of.
-Would you sing the song
for me again?
-I thought you had work to do?
Find her address,
and maybe I'll sing for you.
-It was a great privilege
to speak to the renowned
street singer in his own home,
and to collect this version
of the The Cruel Mother
which some of you may
know as Weile Weile Waile
or possibly Green Wood Sidey.
Is that you?
Hello, darling!
Come here, please.
Hello, my love.
I've missed you so much.
I've been thinking
about you all day.
Dreaming... about how beautiful
it will be when...
we don't ever have to
be separated again.
That's all I live for, you know.
I can feel it, so powerfully.
You and me,
our souls entwined.
Far into future, like...
two trees that grow together
into one.
It will be so beautiful.
-Yes, sweetheart.
It will be beautiful.
Play with yourself for me.
-She lives here?
For sure?
-For sure.
Are you ready?
-For what?
Only joking.
-When we find her,
use your imagination.
-I have a few ideas, all right.
Jesus, Mary and Joseph!
-You.
What are you doing here?
-What have you done with him?
She's up the spout!
Don't do that!
-Yeah!
She killed your mother!
His mother?
-Aye. Rita Concannon.
She's dead?
She was alive when I left her.
Just drunk.
-She's lying.
Where is he?
-I should warn you,
he's not well.
Hello, darling!
-How...
how did you find us?
Are you-- are you sick?
Did she do this?
No, no, no, no.
I'm fine. Don't worry.
It's all going to be fine.
Hello! I'm Aleks.
Nice to meet!
Get out.
GET OUT!
What the fuck
is going on here?
You didn't kill my ma at all,
did you?
Why would I?
I had what I wanted.
I had the song.
Do you know what it does?
I think
I'm beginning to get it.
You're not pregnant, then.
I don't have a womb.
But, he's getting smaller
and I'm getting bigger.
Doesn't take a doctor
to figure out what's going on.
You wrote down
the words of the song,
and the music?
We did.
The story of a king
and the woman he loved,
and how she betrayed him,
and how he punished her for it.
D'you think
it really happened?
Who knows?
But there's a reason
your mother and her mother
and all the women before her
kept it to themselves.
There's a secret in it
and I think we broke the secret
and now this is where we are.
-I'm going to
call an ambulance
and I'm going to save you, okay?
What?
-No, you won't.
No, I'm fine, and soon,
soon I will be dead, but...
but then I will be coming back
and I will never have left.
-Aleks.
-Tell me this.
Have you ever seen any shadowy
smudgy things in this place?
-Out of the corner of my eye,
sometimes I see things moving.
-Fuck.
What your mother said,
about the song...
Could it be a spell
to contain a demon,
or a god?
Could the curse be
something to do with love?
To love until you're
consumed by your lover,
or you consume them?
What people call 'love' now
isn't this...
this force.
It's older.
It's been around since
maybe before humans.
It's a hunger.
Uncontrollable.
Beyond our understanding.
Like in the song.
A love that would make you
devour your own child.
-But what happened to my ma?
I think...
she broke her promise
to whatever it is
lives in the song.
-God save her soul.
-Aleks, we need to leave.
Now.
You're sick.
- No.
I'm not.
I am exactly as I should be.
It will be over soon,
all of this.
And then...
we will be together.
-You and me.
Silly.
Agnes and I.
Or you too, maybe, I hope.
Who knows?
No.
No.
No.
-You all right in there?
What happened?
What did he do?
-They're in it together.
We need to kill them.
-I don't think that would be--
-HE KILLED YOUR MOTHER,
I TOLD YOU!
-Don't say that.
-Listen, listen
Kill him and we can be together.
You and me.
-You and me?
-Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.
-I think we should just go.
Now.
No, no, no.
-No.
Come on, Anna,
we need to get out.
No one knows we're here.
I'll keep you safe.
Do you still love us?
-Yes.
-Do you know
what has to happen now?
I think so.
You are going
to become a part of us.
We are so hungry.