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Ms De Brún and the Child of Prague

As you all know, at the beginning of term, the Bishop graciously bestowed a beautiful piece of religious art unto Our Lady Immaculate College: the enchanting Child of Prague.

[hip hop music plays]

There we are.

Sure isn't he a great fella altogether?

I still don't get what it's supposed to be.

It's Jesus as a wain.

[James] Why has he got a big red hat on?

-Nobody knows. -It was the Bishop's wish that he be passed around all the schools in the Derry diocese.

Therefore, we are joined this morning by Mr. Malone, headmaster of St. Benedict's, so the handover ceremony can take place.

You are very welcome, Mr. Malone... though I fear you may have had a wasted journey.

I've thought about it, and I'd much rather just hold onto him, actually.

He brightens up my office.

He doesn't answer back.

I like the fella.

And if the Bishop has a problem with that, he can take it up with me.

Now, what else was there?

Hmm.

Ah, yes.

Uh, sadly, Sister Patrick has decided to leave us.

She's returning to her missionary work, educating the heathen inhabitants of a primitive and savage place.

She's taking a teaching post in Belfast, Sister.

Precisely.

The Board of Governors promised me that her replacement would arrive today, but as usual, they were talking out of their--

[door bangs]

I believe you've been expecting me.

Here we go. [sighs]

{\an8}♪ Lying in my bed again ♪

♪ And I cry 'cause you're not here ♪

♪ Crying in my head again ♪

[chalk clinks on hearth]

♪ And I know that it's not clear... ♪

[sighs]

What is it we should be doing, Miss?

[sighs] What should you be doing?

Now, there's the question.

Let me ask you a better one.

What is it you want to do?

-Get pissed. -Hmm.

I'd quite like some feedback on the poetry assignment, actually.

Dickhead.

It counts towards our final grade, people.

This is 12A, right?

That is correct, Miss.

-And you are? -Jenny. Jenny Joyce.

Here we go.

"The Flower" by Jenny Joyce.

-You're not going to read it out, are you? -Of course.

Poetry should always be read aloud.

"Some flowers are tall, some flowers are small.

Some flowers barely grow at all."

OK.

-That's not the end. -It should be.

Here's a poem about a dog. Here's another one about a dog.

This one has no name on it.

"An English rose among thorns."

Yeah, I can see why you might want to remain anonymous, all right.

Dog poem. Poem about a tree.

This one's called "Boys."

"I think boys are really class, especially the ones who have a nice ass."

It's called a haiku.

That's not what I would call it.

Dog poem, dog poem.

Oh, here someone's just drawn a picture of a dog.

That is not bad, actually.

Thank you very much.

This person has written about how much they love their English class, in an embarrassing attempt to suck up to the teacher.

Dog poem.

Dog poem. Cat poem.

Yes?

I think a lot of people in this class-- and I know no one will mind me saying this-- well, they have a very basic grasp of the creative process, whereas I've been writing for years, so, I'm really not afraid to put myself out there, to be bold, to take risks.

And you are?

That's my cousin.

Erin Quinn.

Erin Quinn.

Here we go.

"The bullets fired on the streets as I lie in my bed, are nothing to the bullets being fired... in my head."

It's about The Troubles, in a political sense, but also about my own troubles, in a personal sense.

No, I understand the weak analogy.

This isn't bold, Erin.

It's someone failing to be bold.

I'm sorry if the subtleties of my work were lost on you, Ms. De Brún.

Poetry is truth, and great poetry is raw, and real, and messy, and glorious and ugly.

It is dragged from the depths of the soul.

It helps us understand each other and ourselves.

Do you get what I'm saying?

Yes. Yes, I think I do, actually.

Not a baldy's.

It's not often in life you're allowed to tear up the page and start over. but I am going to give you that chance.

Impress me.

Och, this is lovely, Gerry.

I thought it would be nice for us to do something together, just the two of us, you know?

Mary, Gerry.

You're not allowed to smoke in this place.

Can you believe that?

It's barbaric.

Sarah, what are you doing here?

Mary said you were having a wee night to yourselves, so I thought you might want some company.

Why? W-w-why would you think that?

-Sarah? -Ah, himself as well, is it? Great.

-Sweet Jesus. -Hiya. How are you?

They don't let you smoke in here, Ciaran. Can you credit it?

This is a nice surprise.

When Sarah asked me to the cinema,

I thought, well, I thought she meant just the two of us.

No, Ciaran, because that would be-- What's the word now? Normal.

Double date it is then so.

Wonder what's keeping Daddy?

-Excuse me? -I've got the tickets.

We haven't decided what we want to see yet, Da.

Well, I like the look of that one with all the lads in the line-up.

It's got your man in it, the farmer from Glenroe.

What, Gabriel Byrne?

He's done a fair bit since Glenroe now.

Who are you, his agent?

Da, I don't understand this. You hate the cinema.

Not since I discovered it's the only way I can spend time with our Colm.

It's the one place the boring bastard doesn't talk.

But Colm's not here, is he, Da?

Da?

[Colm] And that's not to say now that in me younger years I didn't enjoy a boiled sweet, but then I heard tell of a fella from Ballynahinch--

What was it his name was, now?

I had it there a minute ago.

Ah, it'll come to me. Anyway, this Ballynahinch lad, and as I say, his name escapes me, but he was mad keen on the boiled sweets.

Sure he couldn't get enough of them.

But in the end, well, didn't he choke to death on one?

A pear drop, I think it was, or a clove rock, maybe, but either way, it's not how I'd want to go.

I know, love. I know. Sorry.

[movie music playing]

Well, isn't this romantic?

Blonde fella is nothing but a fly bastard.

Don't you be trusting him.

I just want to check, does your father think that they can hear him?

Shh.

Apologies, folks.

We've just had a wee security alert there.

[crowd grumbling]

I'm afraid we're going to have to carry out a wee evacuation, so if you'll all follow me.

Lovely.

Great stuff.

That's the last time I let you organize a night out.

OK, then.

What about this Keyser Söze fella?

Who's Keyser Söze?

Exactly.

[upbeat electronic music playing]

Oh, God. This whole writing from the soul carry-on is a nightmare.

-I know. -What rhymes with "ride"?

-"Bide." -Bide?

What the fuck does bide mean? Bide? That's not a word.

-It is a word, Michelle. -Bide?

You've pure made that up.

Can we all be quiet, please?

What do you think, James?

You've got red eyes 'cause I ran out of brown.

My eyes are green.

Now you tell me.

OK, so I'm trying not to think too much, to just sort of let it flow through me.

Ugh, that's minging, Erin.

[Erin] Here's what I have so far.

"You know we belong together, you and I forever and ever.

No matter where you are, you're my guiding star."

Isn't that the theme tune to Home and Away ?

Is it?

Oh, for God's sake!

[door opens]

Shit!

[Gerry] My money is on Alec Baldwin's brother.

[Mary] Gabriel Byrne, I'm telling you.

The fella with the bad leg said it wasn't, Mary.

The fella with the bad leg is covering for him, Da.

Sweet Jesus.

Mammy, we can explain.

Not the Christmas cupboard.

They've had the very Tunnock's, Mary.

Animals, the lot of you.

We needed energy for our poetry.

I'll give you energy for your poetry.

We were just going to take a handful of chocolate money, Mary, but then one thing led to another.

What am I supposed to do?

I'll have to start from scratch now, and December is only 'round the corner.

It's eight months away, love.

-This suits you, doesn't it? -Sorry?

I've seen you eyeing up that Christmas cupboard.

You hoked about in there long before the wains did.

I'd stake my life on it.

That is simply not true.

Let's just salvage what we can.

There's only a couple of snowballs left, Mary.

It's been an absolute free-for-all.

Your mothers will be hearing about this.

-Oh, for f-- -What got into you, girls?

You know you don't touch the Christmas cupboard.

We're stressed.

Our new English teacher made us rip up all our poems and redo them in one night.

-Who is this blow-in? -Her name is Ms. De Brún.

She's a bit of a bitch, but cracking eyeliner.

-Winged or smudged? -Sort of both.

Interesting.

She ripped up your poems?

She said we weren't writing from the soul.

Well, why in under God weren't you writing from the soul?

Seriously.

[De Brún] It was difficult, so you've just given up.

You might fail, so why bother trying?

Exactly.

Told you she'd understand.

Have you ever stopped to look at these... these faces from the past?

They're not so different from you, really.

They had dreams like you do.

They had ambitions, but now they're gone.

Dead.

Dust.

That's my Auntie Ann, third from the left. She's not dead.

-Shh. -But she's only 54.

She runs the mobile library

-in Ballymagroarty. -Quiet!

But did they fulfill those dreams, those ambitions?

One day, girls, you too will just be an old photograph in a hallway.

You only get one life.

Don't be afraid to live it.

Find your voice.

Make your mark.

♪ Sometimes ♪

♪ The river flows ♪

♪ But nothing breathes ♪

♪ A train arrives ♪

♪ But never leaves... ♪

Dig deep.

Something you hate.

Something you despise.

No holding back.

Come on! Get it out!

Injustice!

Yes!

Prejudice!

Good. This is good!

♪ ...being rich or being poor ♪

♪ Such a shame... ♪

Mass!

Come on!

My own socks!

OK.

Being late for school!

Piano lessons!

The fact that people here use the word "wee" to describe things that aren't even actually that small!

God but I love that accent, James!

♪ ...yourself and you will shine ♪

♪ You've go to search for the hero ♪

♪ Inside yourself ♪

♪ Search for the secrets you hide ♪

♪ Search for the hero ♪

♪ Inside yourself ♪

♪ Until you find the key ♪

♪ To your life ♪

[Erin] Ms. De Brún is amazing.

I've just never met anyone like her.

She's an inspiration.

Absolutely.

She really knows how to grab things by the balls.

Oh, yeah!

She's changed my life, she really has.

She likes my accent.

I'd die for her.

I think I would too, you know.

Me too.

Aye, fuck it, why not?

Yeah. I mean, obviously I totally agree.

I'd die for her as well, but I'm also conscious of the fact we've only known her, like, two days.

And?

Well, is it a bit weird she's invited us to her house at night?

-What do you mean? -Well, she's a teacher.

She's much more than a teacher.

Yeah. No, obviously I get that.

She's great, but it's just that I have a feeling it might be sort of frowned upon.

God, Clare, you're so conditioned.

What's that supposed to mean?

It means you need to loosen the fuck up.

I am loose, thank you very much.

Face it, Clare, you're a craic killer.

I'm not a craic killer.

I am not a craic killer!

[De Brún] Some wine?

Oh no, actually, I don't...

Cheers.

[gulping]

Hit me again.

OK. [laughs]

[wine glugging]

You don't have much stuff.

Everything I own can fit into a suitcase.

I've never understood why people weigh themselves down with meaningless crap, you know?

Yeah, God, I just hate possessions so much.

Does that mean I can have your Sylvanian Family collection?

Shut up, Orla.

I don't like to feel tied down, you know?

Life should be spontaneous.

-Free. -Big time.

Sláinte.

This is actually nice.

Mmm, tastes a bit like blood.

"Life is no brief candle to me.

It is a sort of splendid torch which I've got hold of for the moment, and I want to make it burn as brightly as possible."

That's beautiful.

Shaw.

It's my favorite quote.

Take it easy, Oliver Reed.

What's yours?

"Be careful, child, of the doll made of glass, for if you hold her too tightly, she will break and you will bleed."

I don't think I'm familiar with that one. Who's it by?

Me. It's by me.

Wow.

♪ Everybody Everybody... ♪

I feel floaty.

She's absolutely fucking flying.

[Jenny] Well, well, well, what are you guys up to?

Nothing much.

We were just hanging out at Ms. De Brún's house.

You were at her house? At night?

Well, that is a bit inappropriate.

Your ma is a bit inappropriate.

-That doesn't even make sense. -Your ma doesn't even make sense.

Is she drunk?

Your ma's drunk.

OK, Clare. Yeah, I think we get the idea.

-Lovely seeing you, Jenny. -Take care, now.

[reggae music playing]

[distorted voice on walkie-talkie]

I never slept a wink last night, you know.

Me either.

Keyser Söze?

No. I went to bed with my rollers in, sure it's always a nightmare.

Then why do you do it?

I've no volume at the root, Mary. What choice do I have?

I'm leaning toward Pete Postlethwaite now.

It wasn't Pete Postlethwaite, Da.

It's never Pete Postlethwaite.

Look, this is driving me to distraction. We'll have to go back tonight.

-It's not in the listings anymore, love. -What?

The cinema has stopped showing it.

-Oh, well done. -It's not my fault.

Ah, sure, nothing ever is.

-What are we gonna do? -Wait for them to release it on video.

I can't, Gerry. I can't go on like this. I need to know.

Well, that's us away.

Where's your socks, love?

They're just not for me, Mammy. I'm sorry.

You'll be foundered.

I know what I'm doing.

Have a great day, everyone.

What are you in such a good mood about?

Just, you know, life.

You're up to something, and I'll get to the bottom of it.

Honest to God, Erin, between you and Keyser Söze, my head is turned.

Who's Keyser Söze?

God almighty.

[electronic dance music playing]

[Sister Michael] Take a seat, please, ladies.

Where's Ms. De Brún?

Gone, and she's not coming back.

What?

I knew it. When I woke up this morning,

I had a feeling something terrible was going to happen, and also that essentially, deep down, I'm quite an evil person.

It's called a hangover, Clare. You'll be grand.

[Sister Michael] I will be taking this class for the rest of the term, which makes me want to pull off my own face,

-but needs must. -This was you, wasn't it?

What did you do? What did you say?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Aye, so you don't, super-grass.

That's quite enough.

You don't understand, Sister.

Ms. De Brún, she touched us.

What?

She made us think, she made us feel.

Oh, thank God. That would be all I need.

You can't sack her. You just can't!

Miss Quinn, you appear to be under the misapprehension that you can address me as though you are my equal.

I suggest you rein it in and take a seat.

[reggae music playing]

[school bell ringing]

-What if she's in there? -It's Friday. She's at judo.

Relax your cacks, Clare. [clicks tongue]

Creepy wee fucker, isn't he?

I would just like to state, once again, for the record, that I think this might be the worst idea we've ever had.

Look, do you want to help Ms. De Brún or not?

Can we not find a way to help her that doesn't involve abducting a holy statue?

We're not abducting him, Clare. We're kidnapping him.

Is that different? I don't think that's different.

We'll give him back on the condition that Ms. De Brún is rightfully reinstated.

Oh, I'm sure Sister Michael will be fully on board with that.

-Aye, me too. -OK, let's do the photograph.

Great. I'll write the ransom note.

-We need a copy of today's newspaper. -Why?

It's just the done thing, kidnapping-wise.

-I've got last week's parish bulletin. -That'll do.

I'm gonna use my left hand, just in case she recognizes my handwriting.

Oh, well, this is fool-proof.

Should I start, "Dear Sister Michael," or, "To whom it may concern," do you think?

I don't know about this one. I think he looks a bit fat in it.

-Yeah, that's not flattering. -Aye.

Right. Maybe if we just tilt him this way a bit.

See, I think he needs to come forward a bit.

It was fine where it was, dicko.

No, I'm the one taking the photo.

-Fuck off. -Just leave it, Michelle.

-[shattering] -[all gasping]

Good God!

OK.

So we've gone a bit off course here.

-Let's glue him. -Brilliant.

We'll just-- we'll just stick it back on.

We'll just stick it back on. It'll be fine. It'll be fine.

[girls arguing]

[Sister Michael] Jesus, girls. What are you still doing here?

I thought we had an intruder. And I tell you what, he'd have been a sorry boy, for I just nailed some serious moves.

We were just working on our English project, Sister.

Step aside.

[snaps]

What in God's name have you done?

How could you have glued his head on upside down, Orla?

He's wearing a hat, for Christ's sake.

Quiet!

All right, Mary, Sarah, Deidre.

Your girls involved in this beheading too, then?

-It wasn't me, Mammy. -Do not speak to me, Clare.

In fact, don't even breathe.

[sucks in air]

[Sister Michael] Take a seat, Mrs. Devlin.

The statue was stolen from this room, so I've asked Miss Mooney to photograph the scene.

Either it is replaced, at your expense, or the school will sue.

To be honest, Sister-- and I'm not just saying this--

I think he looks better.

He looks like his head's on upside-down.

And I'll be suspending them for a week.

Oh, please, God, no!

A week? We're going to be stuck with them for a week?

Be reasonable, Sister. We didn't behead the fella.

-By Christ, you're in for it, Erin. -It was an accident, Mammy.

So you accidentally wrote a ransom note, did you?

OK, that bit wasn't an accident, but we were so upset by what happened to Ms. De Brún.

It was wrong. She shouldn't have been sacked.

-She wasn't. -What?

-[knocks on door] -[door opens]

Sorry to interrupt, Sister, but if I could just grab the old P45 and I will be out of your way.

Excuse me?

Ms. De Brún has decided to leave us.

I got offered a post in St. Dominic's Girls.

Better wages, holiday pay, great pension.

The works. I couldn't say no, really.

But what happened to living for the moment?

What happened to life should be spontaneous?

[De Brún] Yeah, I know, but,

I'm buying a house and the mortgage rates are absolutely crippling at the minute.

-[Mary] Tell me about it. -It's desperate.

Part of the reason I became a nun.

Free accommodation.

[Erin] But Ms. De Brún, you inspired me to do my greatest work.

I see. Which was...

My poem. My glass doll poem. She's a doll made of glass.

She's a glass doll. I read it to you last night.

Yeah, I wasn't really listening, to be honest.

[gasps]

Cheers.

[door opens]

Carpe diem.

Carpe dickhead. [laughs]

Well, I guess we never knew who the real Ms. De Brún was.

Bit like Keyser Söze.

Fella with the bad leg.

What?

Keyser Söze.

He was the fella with the bad leg.

He was talking absolute shite the whole time.

He was one of those-- Uh, what you call it?

Unreliable narrators.

Oh, that's very clever.

Yeah. I thought so too.

Look this way, girls.

[camera shutter clicks]

♪ Here we go again ♪

♪ Here we go-go-go To the temple of consumption ♪

♪ Get your gear and start to spend ♪

♪ Here we go-go-go With a total dedication ♪

♪ Here we go again ♪

♪ Here we go-go-go To the temple of consumption ♪

♪ Get your gear and start to spend ♪

♪ Here we go, here we go, here we go ♪

♪ As some sort of prototype I serve to be ♪

♪ You see tomorrow's dream Has never been part of me ♪

♪ Consume today And leave the rest behind you... ♪