The Banshees of Inisherin (2022) Best Movie Quotes

Pádraic Súilleabháin: I’m clever as you, anyways. I know that at least.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: [quietly to herself] Yeah. Don’t be f***ing stupid.

Colm Doherty: [as he’s confessing] Just the usual, I suppose, Father. The drinking and the impure thoughts. And a bit of pride, I suppose. Although I never really saw that as a sin, but sure I’m here now.
Priest: And how’s the despair?
Colm Doherty: Not so much of it of late. Thanks be.

Priest: And why aren’t you talking to Pádraic Suilleabhain no more?
Colm Doherty: That wouldn’t be a sin, now, would it, Father?
Priest: It wouldn’t be a sin, no. But it’s not very nice either, is it?

Colm Doherty: Do you have impure thoughts about men, Father?
Priest: I do not have impure thoughts about men. And how dare you say that about a man of the cloth?

Priest: Well, you can get out of my confessional right now, so you can. And I’m not forgiving you any of these things until the next time, so I’m not!
Colm Doherty: Well, I better not be dying in the meantime then, eh, Father? I’ll be pure f***ed!
Priest: You will be pure f***ed! Yes, you will be pure f***ed!

Colm Doherty: What I’ve decided to do is this. I have a set of shears at home. And each time you bother me from this day on, I’ll take those shears, and I’ll take one of me fingers off with them. And I’ll give that finger to you. A finger from me left hand. Me fiddle hand. And each day you bother me more, another I’ll take off and I’ll give you until you see sense enough to stop. Or until I have no fingers left. Does this make things clearer to you?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Not really, no.

Colm Doherty: It feels like the drastic is the only option left open to me.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: You’ve loads of options left open to you. How’s fingers the first port of call?

Pádraic Súilleabháin: I will shush. Except me and me sister were thinking you might just be a bit depressed, Colm. And I tell you this much, and the fingers just confirms it. Don’t you think, Colm?
Colm Doherty: Starting from now.

Gerry: I never heard the like. He must really not like you, Pádraic.
Jonjo Devine: Fingers!
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Jesus. He’s serious, lads.
Jonjo Devine: He is serious! You can see it in his eyes he’s serious.
Gerry: Just because he thinks you’re dull. That’s going overboard!

Jonjo Devine: Jeez, if I was to cut something off meself for every dull person that came in here, I’d only have me head left.

Jonjo Devine: Colm was always more of a thinker.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Huh? I think.
Jonjo Devine: Ah, you don’t, Pádraic.

Jonjo Devine: [to Pádraic] You’re more one of life’s good guys.
Gerry: You’re more one of life’s good guys, aye. Apart from when you’re drunk.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: I used to think that’d be a nice thing to be. One of life’s good guys. And now, it sounds like the worst thing I ever heard.

Dominic Kearney: Colm Doherty and his fat fecking fingers. He probably wouldn’t even be able to cut through the blubber on them fingers. Would you not want him to have to do the one finger to see if he was bluffing like?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: No, we wouldn’t.
Dominic Kearney: That’s what I’d have him do, I’d have him do the one finger to see if he was bluffing. Because worst comes to worst, he can still play the fiddle with four fingers, I’ll bet you. Or the banjo.

Dominic Kearney: This is a depressing house.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: Would you prefer your own, so? I’ve heard it’s a barrel of fecking laughs.
Dominic Kearney: Well, touche.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Too what?
Dominic Kearney: Che. Touche. It’s from the French.

Dominic Kearney: Was you never wild?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: Wild? Was I never wild? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dominic. Wild, how? Angry? Because I’m getting angry now, I can tell you!
Dominic Kearney: Not angry. Wild.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: You just keep saying wild, Dominic!

Siobhan Súilleabháin: My brother told you, didn’t he? That you’d be out in the road if you started talking stupid to me?
Dominic Kearney: He said creepy, not stupid.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: Well, you’ve failed on both counts, haven’t you?
Dominic Kearney: I have.

Mrs. O’Riordan: [after he tells her that Dominic’s father beat him] That Dominic’s an awful little b****cks. That’s no news.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Still, he was in a bad way when I came upon him.
Mrs. O’Riordan: I’d beat him with a kettle meself if I wasn’t old.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: It’s news is all I’m saying.
Mrs. O’Riordan: That’s no news. That’s s**te news.

Peadar Kearney: I’ve always wanted to see an execution, haven’t you? Although, I’d have preferred a hanging.

Peadar Kearney: Wasn’t it so much easier when we was all on the same side, and it was just the English we was killing? I think it was. I preferred it.
Colm Doherty: But you don’t care who’s executing who?
Peadar Kearney: For six bob and a free lunch, I don’t care! They could be executing you. Why don’t you come with me? You could write a miserable fecking song about it.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: You, copper, I’m allowed to chat to you, aren’t I? It’s just tubbyguts I’m not allowed to talk to.
Peadar Kearney: Actually, no, I’d rather you didn’t talk to me neither.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: Do you want to know what the three things that I hate the most on Inisherin is?
Peadar Kearney: Not really.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: One, policemen. Two, pudgy fiddle players. And three… Wait, I had some funny thing for three. What was it?

Colm Doherty: Go on back to your own gang now, Pádraic. I’m serious, now.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Serious, are you? And talking to me, are you?!

Pádraic Súilleabháin: You, Colm Doherty, do you know what you used to be?
Colm Doherty: No, Pádraic. What did I used to be?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Nice! You used to be nice! Didn’t he not? And now, do you know what you are? Not nice.
Colm Doherty: Ah, well, I suppose niceness doesn’t last then, does it, Pádraic?

Colm Doherty: But will I tell you something that does last?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: What? And don’t say something stupid like music.
Colm Doherty: Music lasts.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Knew it!
Colm Doherty: And paintings last. And poetry lasts.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: So does niceness.

Colm Doherty: Do you know who we remember for how nice they was in the 17th Century?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Who?
Colm Doherty: Absolutely no one. Yet we all remember the music of the time. Everyone, to a man, knows Mozart’s name.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Well, I don’t, so there goes that theory.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: I don’t give a feck about Mozart, or Borvoven, or any of them funny name feckers. I’m Pádraic Suilleabhain. And I’m nice.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [to Colm, referring to Peadar] So you’d rather be friends with this fella, would you? A fella who beats his own son black and blue every night that he’s not fiddling with him.
Dominic Kearney: I never told him that, Daddy. He’s just drunk now.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: [referring to Pádraic] I’ll have a word with him, Colm. You don’t need to do anything drastic. He won’t be bothering you no more.
Colm Doherty: That’s a shame. That’s the most interesting he’s ever been. I think I like him again now.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: It was the 18th century, anyway. Mozart. Not the 17th.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: What was the bang at the door? It was, hard to lie. It was a finger.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: A what?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Finger.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: Throw it out, Pádraic!
Pádraic Súilleabháin: I’m not throwing his finger out! It’ll get dirt on it!

Siobhan Súilleabháin: [referring to Colm’s finger] Do we have to have it in here while we’re eating?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Once I finish me porridge, I’ll bring it back to him.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: Did it hurt?
Colm Doherty: Hurt awful to begin with. Thought I was going to faint. It’s funny, feels fine now, in all the excitement. Would you like a cup of tea?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: I won’t, Colm. I only came up to give you your finger back.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: What do you need from him, Colm? To end all this?
Colm Doherty: Silence, Siobhan. Just silence.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: One more silent man on Inisherin, good-oh! Silence it is, so.

Colm Doherty: It’s about one boring man leaving another man alone, that’s all.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: One boring man? You’re all fecking boring. With your piddling grievances over nothing. You’re all fecking boring!

Siobhan Súilleabháin: I think you might be ill, Colm.
Colm Doherty: I do worry sometimes I’m just entertaining meself while I stave off the inevitable. Don’t you?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: No, I don’t.
Colm Doherty: Yeah, you do.

Declan: [after Pádraic tell him his father’s dead] This is impossible.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: It’s not impossible. Bread vans crash into people all the time.
Declan: I know! That’s how me mammy died. If it’s the same fecking bread van, I’ll kill them.

Peadar Kearney: What were you talking to the boat fella for?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: For none of your fecking business, I think it was.

Peadar Kearney: Well, you can tell that whiny brother of yours I’ll be around soon for that battering I owe him.
Siobhan Súilleabháin: A battering? That’d be good actually. It might take him out of himself.
Peadar Kearney: Huh? You’re an awful strange lady. No wonder no one likes you.

Mrs. McCormick: A death shall come to Inisherin afore the month is out.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: A death, huh?
Mrs. McCormick: Maybe even two deaths.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Well, that’d be sad.
Mrs. McCormick: We shall pray to the Lord ’tis neither you, nor poor Siobhan, will be either of them.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Well, is that a nice thing to be saying?
Mrs. McCormick: I wasn’t trying to be nice. I was trying to be accurate.

Dominic Kearney: Me daddy say he’s going to kill you Sunday for spilling the beans about that fiddling with me.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: “Kill me”, kill me, or, you know, “beat me up a bit”, kill me?
Dominic Kearney: “Beat you up a bit”, kill you, I think. Although he did kill a man once.

Dominic Kearney: Maybe this whole thing has just been about getting you to try a new tack, start standing up for yourself a bit.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Do you think?
Dominic Kearney: Yeah, and be less of a, you know, whiny little dull-a**.

Dominic Kearney: I used to think you were the nicest of them. Turns out you’re just the same as them.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: I am the nicest of them. Dominic, now! Well, maybe I’m not a happy lad, so! Maybe this is the new me!

Dominic Kearney: What I was wanting to ask you was, you probably wouldn’t ever want to, I don’t know, to fall in love with a boy like me, would you?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: Oh, Dominic. I don’t think so, love.
Dominic Kearney: No. Yeah. No. I was thinking no. Not even in the future like? Like when I’m your age? Yeah. No, I didn’t think so. Just thought I’d ask on the off chance, you know, like “faint heart” and that. Well, there goes that dream.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [as he kicks open Colm’s front door] How are you, fatty? Dancing with your dog, is it? Well, who else is going to dance with you? Your poor dog has no say in the matter.

Colm Doherty: Have you gone fecking mental?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Have I gone fecking mental? No, I haven’t gone fecking mental actually. Not only have I not gone fecking mental, but I have ten fingers to prove I’ve not gone fecking mental. How many fingers do you have to prove you’ve not gone fecking mental?
Colm Doherty: Nine fingers.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: And nine fingers is the epitome of mental. That’s right. The epitome!

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [as Colm’s dog licks his hand] There’ll be none of that! I didn’t come here for licks! I came here for the opposite of licks.
Colm Doherty: What’s the opposite of licks?

Colm Doherty: What did you come here for?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: I didn’t come here for anything, did I? I just came to kick your door in and to give you a slagging.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: There’s two of us in this.
Colm Doherty: No, there isn’t.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: It takes two to tango.
Colm Doherty: I don’t want to tango.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Well, you danced with your dog.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [referring to his music] What’s it called?
Colm Doherty: The Banshees of Inisherin, I was thinking
Pádraic Súilleabháin: But there are no banshees on Inisherin.
Colm Doherty: I know, I just like the double S-H sounds.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: There’s plenty of double S-H on Inisherin.
Colm Doherty: Yeah. Maybe there are banshees too. I just don’t think that they scream to portend death anymore. I think they just sit back, amused, and observe.

Colm Doherty: [to Pádraic, referring to his music] I keep having thoughts about playing it for you at your funeral. But that wouldn’t be fair on either of us, would it?

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [after she’s told him she’s leaving] I’ll have no friends at all left!
Siobhan Súilleabháin: You’ll have Dominic.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Ah, here! And he’s gone off me now too. What kind of a place is it when the village gom goes off you? And who’s going to do the cooking?
Siobhan Súilleabháin: Oh, that’s your first question, isn’t it? “Who’s going to do the cooking?”
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Well, it wasn’t me first question, was it? “But what about me?” was me first question.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: I can’t be waiting around for anymore of this madness!

Siobhan Súilleabháin: What the hell did you say to him, Pádraic?
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Nothing really. Well, I’d sort of had a chat with Dominic earlier. And a new sort of, you know, standing up for meself sort of tack we thought I should try. It was all going fine until he chopped off all his fingers.

Mrs. McCormick: [after Jenny dies from choking on one of Colm’s finger] Don’t go killing his dog now.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: And don’t be putting things in me head that weren’t there in the first fecking place, you fecking nutbag!

Colm Doherty: I don’t need your apologies, alright? It’s a relief to me. So, let’s just call it quits and agree to go our separate ways, for good this time.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Your fat fingers killed me little donkey today. So, no, we won’t call it quits. We’ll call it the start.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: [after he’s told Colm he’s going to set his house on fire] To our graves we’re taking this. To one of our graves anyways.

Priest: Wouldn’t you say punching a policeman is a sin?
Colm Doherty: Ah, here. If punching a policeman is a sin, we may as well just pack up and go home.
Priest: And self-mutilation is a sin. It’s one of the biggest.
Colm Doherty: Is it? Self-mutilation, so you have me there. Multiplied by five.

Siobhan Súilleabháin: [from her letter] Mostly, I wanted to say there’s a spare bed here for you, Pádraic. And with the war almost over, I think there’d be work for you here. Because there’s nothing for you on Inisherin. Nothing but more bleakness, and grudges, and loneliness, and spite, and the slow passing of time until death. And sure, you can do that anywhere. So come, Pádraic. Leave there.

Colm Doherty: [referring to Pádraic setting fire to his house] Suppose me house makes us quits.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: If you’d stayed in your house, that would’ve made us quits. But you didn’t, did you? So it doesn’t, does it?
Colm Doherty: I’m sorry about your donkey, Pádraic. Honestly, I am.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: I don’t f***ing care.

Pádraic Súilleabháin: Some things there’s no moving on from. And I think that’s a good thing.

Colm Doherty: Pádraic. Thanks for looking after me dog for me anyways.
Pádraic Súilleabháin: Any time.