Shake Hands with the Devil

Dublin, 1921.

A city at war.

This is the story of men and guns.

Hard men, brave men.

Violent men.

The story of the war between the Black and Tans

and the Irish Republican Army.

It is 1921.

A year of total war.

A year of decision.

Come on, boys.

Leave it. Drop it.

Stop! Stop, I tell you!

All right, mick. You've done your running for the day.

- Well, well. Joe Cullen. - That's right.

That means O'Leary's around here somewhere.

- The girl said they were both in on it. - It was a girl, was it?

Pretty, I'll wager, and eyes blue and innocent.

We'll find her and stop her blabbing for good.

Not you, my lad. You've only got till dawn.

Put him in the lorry.

Hurry up, men. Get him in the lorry.

Please, sir. Please.

Get after him! Head him off this way!

What's your name?

Kerry O'Shea.

Can you identify yourself?

You two, come with me!

- Your parents? - Yes.

This says you're American.

My mother died last year. I brought her back to Ireland to rest beside my father.

You've been here ever since? Rather a long visit, isn't it?

I'm a medical student at the College of Surgeons.

Ah. On Cork Street.

- St. Stephen's Green. - Name of the chancellor?

Maitland. Sir Robert Maitland.

Go on! Get after him!

- Who are you? - She's a friend of the family.

- We found these under the wall, sir. - That'll have been O'Leary.

Oh! Thank you.

It is a small thing to do for Cathleen O'Shea,

whose son once showed Eileen O'Leary a very great kindness.

It'll be the firing squad if they catch him.

Like it was for Joe Cullen this morning.

Hey, Kerry! Where were you off to so early this morning?

Shh. Never mind about that.

Well, a fine roommate you turned out to be.

Why?

Not a friend of mine who isn't talking about

the American lad who struck a blow for the cause yesterday.

Among the brave dead in Glasnevin cemetery.

And who is the last to hear of it? Meself.

For a very good reason. I wasn't striking any blow for any cause.

Well, what was it, then? To make monkeys out of the Black and Tans?

Eileen O'Leary on her knees beside you while her man gets over the wall.

It was just instinct. I didn't have a chance to think.

Ah, because you knew it was right.

Look, let's forget the recruiting speech, huh?

You followed the fine instincts of a true Irishman.

American.

Irish-born of Irish parents.

Paddy, I'm not going to join the organization.

I told you that. I got all the fighting out of my system in France.

What you're saying is that you don't believe in the cause.

Let's just say I don't believe violence ever solved anything.

But my heart's with you.

What'll it take, man, to make you realize that your heart isn't enough?

Ah, it must be a grand thing to be an American,

with your war for independence already won.

Here comes Lenihan.

Now, before resuming the subject of mitral stenosis,

M" Mr. Leonardo da Vinci O'Connor

please remove his latest work of art from the blackboard?

And I'd like to remind Mr. O'Connor and other members of the class

who apply more zeal to their politics than they do to their medical studies

that there's a splendid course in political science being offered at University College

and all are free to transfer there.

Now, as to mitral stenosis...

This, gentlemen, as we learned yesterday,

is an almost stone-like hardening of the leaflets of the mitral valve.

These leaflets, these valve leaflets,

ordinarily are soft and pliable,

permitting a free flow of blood through the area.

When the hardening occurs,

the flow of blood is stemmed.

The surgeon's problem is how to widen the aperture.

Unfortunately, no one has yet devised a satisfactory technique.

However, medicine is looking hopefully toward the researches

of a young man at this college,

a student of natural history

who will undoubtedly find the answer in avid pursuit of what he does best.

Bird-watching.

If you were my surgeon, Mr. O'Shea, and I were on the operating table

with my life in your hands, I would not rest easy,

anesthetic and all, if a pigeon on a windowsill had more of your attention

than my exposed insides.

And now, gentlemen, if we are finally decided why we are in this classroom,

the subject, as you may recall, is mitral stenosis.

A man's nothing, he's nothing unless he believes in something.

- I do believe in something. - What?

"Paddy, tonight I believe in a red-headed girl 5 '4" tall in her bare feet.

And I mustn't keep the poor darlin' waiting.

You're hopeless. Hopeless.

Will you have a drink, your honor?

We'd reports O'Leary was in here.

O'Leary? O'Leary.

The name has a lot of use in Dublin.

Would it be Sean O'Leary you're meaning, or Liam, perhaps?

Maybe the gentleman is searching after Seamus O'Leary,

who had his stable burned down on him

and was left without a roof for his poor old horse.

That's enough of that.

Perhaps you'll do me the honor of having the pint I poured that his lordship refused.

Waste not, want not.

Cheers now. Good luck.

Doesn't that make your blood boil?

Oh, now, Paddy.

Oh, and a man can't enjoy a harmless pint without being spied on.

Hey, you better save your voice.

You got a report to read tomorrow.

And don't wait up for me.

You know, for a man of peace, you devote a great deal of time to the battle of the sexes.

It's merely the study of the human figure. Very important for a doctor.

Mr. O'Shea, has it occurred to you

that when you're a doctor, you may have a male patient or two?

No. But if I do, I'll just turn them over to my good friend, Dr. Patrick Nolan.

I wonder...

I wonder what Terence O'Shea would think to hear his own son talk like this?

And him among the leaders when they captured the hall of records.

And what did he get for it? A bullet in his spine.

No, Paddy, let's just say that one O'Shea is enough for the cause.

Hey! You want us to widen the streets for you?

Come on!

Come on!

Come on!

Are you crazy, man?

- Get out of it, man. I'm done. - Come on, boy.

Come on, boy.

It's Paddy Nolan. He's hurt.

He told me to bring him here.

'Tis one of the boys.

'Tis the nice-looking ones always get hit first.

Well...

One doctor to another?

It's gonna take a surgeon.

Get Lenihan.

Lenihan?

Yeah.

I know where he lives.

I'll go.

Hang on, boy, huh?

Hang on, huh?

On my oath, I swear to fight for the republic.

Careful. Careful, Tracy. That Tan nearly saw you.

Shh. Easy.

No, no. No, no.

- Let me take this one. - Shh. What's keeping them?

- It's a long ways off. - There, how's that for a shoot?

What's all this? What's all this?

- Where's Mary? - She's gone for help.

I want her to stand aside from the troubles.

- And you, too, you old hag. - Shh!

- I told you to stay out of this. - Clancy, the poor lad was hurt.

Don't, Clancy.

Teach you to listen when I tell you something.

With me brother dead for the cause, would you have me turn the lad out?

Suppose the Black and Tans come in? What then?

I always done what you wanted.

You know how I feel about you.

Oh, so you remember.

Hurry now.

Regular fancy dan waiting for you at the hotel.

Lonely he is and spoiling for a touch of feminine companionship.

Sorry about the redhead.

You were a poor student, Paddy Nolan, but a good soldier.

It doesn't matter what your epitaph is when you're dead at 23.

Yes, it does. It does matter.

I'll send a priest and some men by before morning.

The Tans will be coming to your place to ask questions.

- They're probably there now. - Why?

I dropped my textbook. It has my name in it.

Well, you'd better come with me.

We'll keep you at headquarters for a while.

All right. Stop all the fussing. You look grand enough.

Don't come back... ever.

And not a word.

You're keeping no appointment tonight or any other night.

I didn't know what else to do.

With me brother dead for the cause, how else could I look after her?

Find some other way. Others have.

We're fighting to keep Ireland a fit place to live in.

- Everything ready? - Just waiting for the word, Commandant.

And remember, the second the car turns onto the Curra Road,

you make your move, but not until then, hmm?

We've got to get those plans. We've got to find out what they're up to at Dublin Castle.

We'll get them for you, nice and easy.

- Mmm. Dermot? - Sir?

You, uh, you'll go in Paddy Nolan's place. He was killed tonight.

- Are you ready, Jim? - I am that.

Well, get on with it, then. We've lost enough time.