Dolours and Marian Price (Lola Petticrew and Hazel Doupe, respectively), two teen-age sisters born and raised in Belfast, are confronted almost immediately with the clash of expectations versus reality. The pair are still novice militants when they decide to devise their own mission, entering a local bank sporting nuns’ habits and guns and announcing their intent to “liberate” funds on behalf of the Irish Republican Army. The heist doesn’t go smoothly. A stern-faced woman refuses to coöperate, calling the sisters’ disguises “sacrilege”; a visibly panicked Marian implores her to lie down, sweetening the request with a “pretty please.” In the end, the stunt nets the I.R.A. just thirty-eight quid, but the sisters are giddy. “We’re all anyone’s talking about right now,” Dolours declares. That, she believes, is “fucking priceless.”
For such a scrappy operation, image is everything. It’s difficult to deny the worthiness, even the romance, of the Republican cause: the Irish have been resisting English invasion, colonization, and exploitation for eight centuries. The Price siblings see themselves as part of that grand tradition, as did their parents before them. (In the pilot, the sisters’ father, Albert, regales his young daughters at the dinner table with tales of bombmaking and prison beatings.) By the early nineteen-seventies, when the series begins, the movement had splintered, with some taking up arms to secure Northern Ireland’s independence from British rule. “Say Nothing” understands—and often captures—the excitement and allure of this fight. But the show is ultimately preoccupied with the way violence comes to weigh on its perpetrators, however noble their aims, and with the gulf between what the I.R.A. should’ve been and what it actually was.
Denne historien er fra November 25, 2024-utgaven av The New Yorker.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent ? Logg på
Denne historien er fra November 25, 2024-utgaven av The New Yorker.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
GET IT TOGETHER
In the beginning was the mob, and the mob was bad. In Gibbon’s 1776 “Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,” the Roman mob makes regular appearances, usually at the instigation of a demagogue, loudly demanding to be placated with free food and entertainment (“bread and circuses”), and, though they don’t get to rule, they sometimes get to choose who will.
GAINING CONTROL
The frenemies who fought to bring contraception to this country.
REBELS WITH A CAUSE
In the new FX/Hulu series “Say Nothing,” life as an armed revolutionary during the Troubles has—at least at first—an air of glamour.
AGAINST THE CURRENT
\"Give Me Carmelita Tropicana!,\" at Soho Rep, and \"Gatz,\" at the Public.
METAMORPHOSIS
The director Marielle Heller explores the feral side of child rearing.
THE BIG SPIN
A district attorney's office investigates how its prosecutors picked death-penalty juries.
THIS ELECTION JUST PROVES WHAT I ALREADY BELIEVED
I hate to say I told you so, but here we are. Kamala Harris’s loss will go down in history as a catastrophe that could have easily been avoided if more people had thought whatever I happen to think.
HOLD YOUR TONGUE
Can the world's most populous country protect its languages?
A LONG WAY HOME
Ordinarily, I hate staying at someone's house, but when Hugh and I visited his friend Mary in Maine we had no other choice.
YULE RULES
“Christmas Eve in Miller’s Point.”