1904. Snow falls on Dublin, snow falls on Ireland in John Huston’s film The Dead, just like in the short story by James Joyce. It is the evening of Epiphany. Three women, the Morkan sisters and their niece, fond of music, receive as every year parents, friends, students, musicians for a ball and a feast around a goose. Cabs are thronging, we remove our rubbers on the stairs, the young maid, Lily, runs from the kitchen to the cloakroom, the piano plays dance tunes. The sisters, feverish, await the arrival of their nephew, Gabriel Conroy, and his wife, Gretta.
There will be songs, quadrilles, lively discussions, memories, regrets, laughter, quarrels, a speech. Old friends, parents, young people, charming young girls, sometimes cheeky, a Protestant neighbor and even that drunkard Freddy Malins, all are there.
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