Original subtitles

From the Earth to the Moon (1958)

The fantastic adventure began that night,

May 18, 1868,

at an isolated area located at 97 degrees longitude west,

42 degrees 30 minutes latitude north,

or a day's and night's journey from New York.

Welcome home, Victor.

Thank you, JV.

Good evening, Vernon.

Mr. Barbicane, sir.

Have all the guests arrived?

The entire membership, Victor.

Making them comfortable?

Oh, indeed.

They will dine on mountain trout,

pheasant, then rack of lamb.

We are serving four wines,

and of course, using the gold services.

Good.

Victory.

I never tire of coming back to it.

This is the only place in the world

that I ever get lonely for.

All is waiting, Victor.

Excellent.

Midnight then.

Mr. Morgana, I'm so glad to see you.

The pleasure is mine, JV.

You know, whenever I see you,

I get the feeling that Barbicane is up to no good.

Have you any idea what our friend has in mind this time?

Not the faintest.

Beyond the fact that it'll cost us a fortune.

Well, we shall soon find out.

Here he is.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Please be seated.

Permit me to welcome you to Victory,

members of the International Armament Club.

I thank you for setting aside the important work you all carry on

and from the four corners of the Earth

meeting with me here tonight.

It is my belief

that we stand, this night, upon the threshold

of a new era in the affairs of mankind,

an era that will change the concept of the physical world.

For the first time,

we are dealing with the secrets of the universe itself.

My dear Victor, if you have somehow got in league with the devil.

No.

I do not intend to share credit for my discovery

with the devil.

Therefore, I shall get straight to the point.

With your permission, of course.

It has been but a short time

since the end of the war between the states.

We, the members of the International Armament Club,

did not make that war.

We made only the weapons and ammunition with which it was fought.

And all of us, myself included,

profited handsomely by making and selling the instruments of war.

Nothing wrong with that.

However...

Am I correct in stating that

since the termination of that war,

most of us have fallen upon evil and unprofitable days?

Here, here.

Which, uh, I dare say,

is one of the reasons you have all responded so graciously

to my invitation.

Not the only reason, Victor.

We had in mind the pleasant thought

that your invitation might have something to do

with the explosive you used against Nicholl.

I'm glad you brought that up, Morgana.

It proves that I am not the only selfish member of our club.

Gentlemen, gentlemen.

What I intend to propose

will guarantee us all

armament orders that will stagger our imagination.

Stagger our profits, as well.

Profits unimaginable.

What you now say strikes me as quite incredible.

I deal almost exclusively with the incredible.

Gentlemen, the reason I have asked you here tonight

is because...

It is now possible for Power X...

Power X to be used in a projectile...

A projectile that can be fired from Washington...

And hit London.

A projectile that can be fired from Rome and hit Tokyo,

fired from the smallest country in the world

and explode over the capital of any nation

which threatens us.

You are pulling our legs, of course, Barbicane.

But... if we could deliver such a missile,

we would be rich beyond our wildest dreams.

Every government would have to have one,

sold by one of us.

Exactly.

Every government would have to have one.

I admit that some of your ideas which sounded hair-brained

you finally brought off.

But for the moment...

what is Power X?

Power X.

Power X, you ask me what it is.

It's a process...

A process so deadly, so powerful,

that placed into the wrong hands,

it could mean the destruction of the whole world.

Look here, Victor.

If this power can destroy the Earth,

how can it conceivably be tested on the Earth?

My dear Morgana, you have gone straight to the heart

of the matter, as always.

You're right.

It cannot be tested on the Earth.

But it can be tested somewhere else.

I propose a completely neutral wasteland.

I intend to shoot a projectile to the Moon.

Now gentlemen, if you'll just seat yourselves comfortably

on either side of the rotunda, please.

A projectile carrying within its warhead

a sufficient reserve of Power X

to produce an explosion on the surface of the Moon

so powerful that it can be visible from any point on Earth.

It's 2 o'clock, gentlemen.

I think it's time we sleep on what we've seen.

I shall not consider this evening wasted...

If I have reduced somewhat your skepticism.

Skepticism we are bound to have,

but, uh, curiosity, we also have.

I say, let us start this project tomorrow.

Many years ago, I learned the foolishness of discounting your ideas.

I paid rather dearly for that lesson.

I dare say I'm not the only one

who had that unhappy experience.

How much money will it take?

Well, aside from your personal pledges for millions,

more millions, and that may not be enough,

we shall have to appeal to the whole world for money.

My personal fortune, everything I possess,

is pledged to this enterprise.

Thank you, gentlemen.

Good night.

I wonder if there wasn't a gathering like this in 1492.

And if the experts at that time

didn't have much to say in opinion of Columbus

as we have of Barbicane now.

Very good.

We'll be ready to pour at midnight.

The castings were excellent, Mr. Hooker.

Absolutely first rate.

I was received yesterday by General Lee.

He said...

Mr. Nicholl!

Yes?

I'm Bancroft,

editor of the syndicated press.

You, uh, wrote me a letter

telling me of a challenge you sent to Victor Barbicane.

A challenge for a duel.

Ah, yes. You want to write a story about it?

Well, that's excellent. I'll say whatever you like.

No, I didn't come for a story.

Uh... pardon my being so blunt, sir,

but you are an honored figure in Virginia.

Not only Virginia, but the entire South.

I have to come to beg you for your own sake

not to release that duel business to the press.

I challenged a man who's swindling widows and orphans the world over.

Oh no, my dear Bancroft, you're wrong.

That story must be published.

I must save the world from these fools and their folly.

I'm sorry, sir, I can't agree.

Publish this story, Mr. Bancroft, I beg of you.

Then Barbicane will either have to fight me

or admit publicly to cowardice.

And people don't contribute money to cowardice.

But the disgrace will lie on you?

Why do you want to carry this burden?

I made the hardest metal the world has ever seen

right here in this plant.

But it wasn't hard enough to withstand the explosive force

that Barbicane applied against it.

Now I don't mind being ruined by Victor Barbicane.

But to have carried the Confederacy down with me,

to have failed in my obligations to my country

all because of one man named Victor Barbicane,

oh, no. I must disgrace him or kill him

before he destroys the world.

Do you really think there's any possibility

of him bringing this moon business off?

I certainly do. Victor Barbicane is

one of the most brilliant men on the face of this planet

and incontestably the most wicked.

Father, here's a telegram for you.

Oh, excuse me, this is my daughter, Miss Virginia.

My pleasure.

How do you do.

My vengeance is being deferred.

He's insolent.

Insolent.

Is that from Barbicane?

Yes.

There will be no duel.

Thank heavens. What a relief.

Good-bye, Mr. Nicholl.

Oh, Lord, deliver mine enemy unto me.

Arm me with the shining sword of thy great faith.

Give me strength, oh, Lord. Give me the strength of lions

and the guile of a serpent

that I may destroy this wicked man and all his works

and save thy blessed Earth.

The fraudulent claims of Victor Barbicane

for his invention Power X

which is supposed to be capable

of destroying an entire city at a single blow,

are dangerous and deceitful!

The mere rumor of such a fearsome explosive

has already inspired morbid desires among certain powers of this wicked world.

Governments which formerly slew thousands on the field of battle

can now look forward to the slaughter of millions,

neigh, tens of millions!

And all this due

to the insane greed of one man.

It has therefore become my life's mission

to destroy this man and all his evil work.

To this end, I have forged,

by secret process,

a slab of metal armor stronger than any substance

previously known upon his Earth.

And I now publicly offer to wager 100,000

that no projectile fired by Power X

can penetrate my armor.

And I make this offer in the presence of one

who is either the world's greatest deceiver

or its most vicious apostle of mass murder, Mr. Victor Barbicane.

I accept.

Military attaches from all the great powers are present

to observe the outcome of this amazing scientific news.

Victor Barbicane so far has refused all questions related to his Power X.

And in a nearby promontory,

Mr. Stuyvesant Nicholl is anchoring in place

the armor which might revolutionize modern theories of warfare.

Mr. Barbicane asked me to make certain

that you were satisfied in every respect

with the placement, sir.

Yes, it's exactly the way I want it.

I'm not so sure that your Mr. Barbicane

will like it this way, though.

Drop her, Doug!

Might knock down that cloth, all right,

and even the scaffolding.

But that's all you're going to knock down.

Whatever happens now, Mr. Nicholl,

it's been a privilege to work with you these past few days...

And to come to know you.

And you, Miss Virginia.

Thank you, Mr. Sharpe.

You're a good sport, anyway, aren't you?

But the explosive hasn't been made

that can even dent that armor plate...

As you'll soon see for yourself.

Personal conflicts, almost fatal,

between two brilliant intellects

will be known in 20 minutes.

You got that?

Where to?

Over here.

That?

You call that a cannon?

You didn't specify that it had to be a large cannon, Mr. Nicholl.

Gentlemen, I'm afraid we're the victims of a practical joke.

I'm afraid my sense of humor is not large enough to afford

a $100,000 joke, sir.

I estimate the wind at, uh... oh, 10 miles an hour

south by southwest.

Final warning, Ben.

Final warning!

Clear the quarry!

Men and horses clear away!

Final warning!

To the bunkers, please!

To the bunkers, please!

Shall we proceed with this demonstration?

Proceed.

Well...

This brings us to the point of firing.

I must ask you all to repair to the bunkers.

Why this insistence on the bunkers?

Is there any reason why we should protect ourselves

from the blast effect of that pop gun?

I take no further responsibility for your safety,

but I do deplore your foolheartedness.

I am on my way to the bunker.

Ready, J.V.?

Yes.

Ben?

And you, sir?

Proceed.

The disk, it's gone!

May God forgive you.

What have you wrought?

We have power plants 1 and 2 up to schedule for the first time tonight.

Number 6 is still lagging.

I should like to see...

18 million cubic feet developed simultaneously.

Six plants operating at capacity equals zero.

Seven plants operating at capacity equal 100.

Don't talk to me about lags.

There's enough power concentrated in that little cube

to obliterate Manhattan Island.

When can you energize Power X?

I'll need a week, perhaps more.

You've got a week, no more.

Although we are honored here today

by the presence of many important personages,

I wish to draw your attention

not to our distinguished guests,

but rather to yourselves.

And to the men who are building this great work...

I shall be eternally grateful.

Mr. Victor Barbicane?

Yes?

May I have a word with you, sir?

Of course, sir.

Ben.

Introduce the next speaker.

Mr. Morgana.

I have been instructed to inform you

that the message contained in this envelope is confidential

and of the most urgent importance.

I am to wait for your reply, sir.

I'm completely at your disposal, Major.

Thank you, sir. Can you come now?

Of course.

Follow me.

Mr. President.

Mr. Victor Barbicane.

Thank you, Major. That will be all.

I'm honored, Mr. President.

Mr. Barbicane, I am sorry to put you to this trouble.

But there is a matter I wish to speak about with you

which is too urgent to await my return to Washington.

I quite understand, sir.

I know the tremendous work you're carrying on out there.

The world knows it, too.

Well, thank you, sir.

I like to believe that we of the 19th century

are privileged to contribute to the greatest achievement

in the history of man and proud...

That so many Americans are associated with the project.

Mr. Barbicane, that touches upon my reason for bringing you here.

Some of our friends, and some who are not so friendly,

are concerned that the Americans are building a cannon which...

A cannon which may never reach the Moon.

I'm sorry, sir.

Other nations are concerned in what way?

Sit down, Mr. Barbicane.

Your demonstration of this explosive

has caused a tempest...

In every war department in every country in the world.

You will look upon it as a new source of energy.

Nevertheless, every man in uniform

must consider it a means of destruction.

Have you ever thought what might happen, Mr. Barbicane,

if your cannon ball filled with the incredible explosive

should be fired into the atmosphere.

For a variety of reasons,

a shooting star crossing its path,

some slight flaw in the casing of the shell,

whatever.

If the cannonball should fall to Earth

in London, Buenos Aires?

Sir...

In wartime,

I was proud to develop and manufacture

the most efficient implements of war that I could.

Today we're not at war, the world isn't at war.

Am I to stop experimenting, discontinue research

merely because my discoveries may have a military application?

Does the locomotive builder just stop building trains

merely because they might carry troops?

Mr. Barbicane, the power of a cannon to escape the gravity of the Earth

is not exactly the same.

Have you ever considered the possibility of failure?

The projectile won't fall back to Earth, that much is positive.

The only conceivable risk relates to whether or not

it'll reach the Moon. Mr. President...

The power I'm trying to demonstrate

can make a paradise of this Earth.

Or a wilderness.

No matter how positive you are of your success,

are you willing to involve your country in war?

What am I expected to do?

Fire your projectile if you wish!

Aim it at the Moon if it pleases you!

But no charge must be in that projectile.

No explosion when it hits!

Mr. President, if there's no explosion

nobody will know whether I've succeeded or failed.

I understand that.

I realize what a poor reward your country offers

for the honor you have done them.

Nonetheless, I have no choice but to insist.

What about my colleagues?

There are hundreds of people, there are thousands who share my dream,

who've sent money.

Mr. Barbicane, when I asked you to come here,

I asked it so that you could hear from me personally

what no other man outside of my cabinet has ever been told.

22 nations have stated categorically

that they consider the development of this engine of yours

potentially an act of war.

A few have made it clear

that they believe that this government

is actually sponsoring you secretly,

that no one intends to shoot to the Moon,

that we intend to rule the world.

I know the added difficulty of what I am asking you.

But you may never reveal the reason for your decision.

Nothing that I have said must ever leave this room.

That is the reason some precautions were taken in bringing you here.

No one must ever know that...

You have even seen me.

Have you ever asked a man to commit

moral suicide before, Mr. President?

You'll be hated, reviled.

You will be called worse things

than a man can be called.

And only I will know.

Only I in posterity.

Can your government count on you, Mr. Barbicane?

Well, you've seen the papers, you know what they're calling me.

A swindler, a fraud, a thief.

I've sold the explosive and... kept the money.

I ruined tens of thousands of people.

I've corrupted the very name of science.

Do you believe it?

No. Do you?

No.

I thank you both for that one word more than I can say.

We anticipated every contingency except...

The stupidity of men and their fear.

Impossible, Barbicane.

If you have no consideration for us,

in God's name, think of yourself!

Listen to that mob.

They're howling for your blood, Barbicane.

Maybe they have a better method

of getting the truth out of you than we do.

Why don't you come down? What are you afraid of?

Listen to them, Barbicane.

This is happening all over the world.

In London, Paris, St. Petersburg, Berlin, Rome.

A bomb was thrown in the embassy in vienna.

The flag was torn from the consulate's staff in cologne

and burned in the streets.

Don't show yourself, you fool.

They have guns out there.

Victor, they're right to call you a thief

so long as you keep silent.

What are you going to tell them?

Nothing.

Victor... we are your colleagues.

If you care to give no explanation,

well and good.

But you are compelled to share with us

the secret of Power X.

We at least have that right.

Victor, I won't waste words.

How much do you want?

I'm prepared to offer a million.

And I am willing.

I'm a partner, too.

4 million, Victor.

Plus royalties...

For a little piece of paper.

$4 million.

You gentlemen will form a syndicate to exploit this energy?

Correct! Everything's arranged.

The members of the Armament Club have first refusal

on the exclusive right to the use.

Well...

It's not for sale.

I'm not for sale.

No one on this Earth will ever know the secret of Power X.

Victor, Morgana has written...

Morgana. I wondered how long it would take him to turn against me.

Better than the rest.

It took him 32 days.

Balls of fire, to be so close.

We didn't intend to shoot to the Moon, JV.

Didn't you read the...

We've wasted three weeks and six days.

Miss Nicholl.

You have no earthly reason to be here, Mr. Barbicane.

Good day.

Is your father in?

He has nothing to say to you.

Haven't you done enough to ruin him?

If he is in, I intend to see him.

Whatever we have to talk about, let's talk about it now.

When can you start working with me, Nicholl?

You don't believe in preliminaries, do you?

We haven't time.

We've only 119 days...

To create a miracle.

Where'd you get this?

It's incredibly light.

It's from your armor plate that you set up at the testing field.

The explosion fused it and that's the result.

When I picked this up off the ground,

the composition of your armor plate became quite clear to me.

Steel fused with glass.

And why are you so interested in this ceramic?

I'm going to the Moon, Nicholl.

And... I'm coming back.

You're mad.

How many times have you been called mad?

And it never stopped you for an instant.

Yes.

I understand that you had all your plans

and specifications some time ago.

To shoot a projectile to the Moon, yes.

But to return... and I have no desire

to spend eternity on that bleak landscape...

I must have a substance that will not burn up from friction

when it reenters the Earth's atmosphere.

Steel will melt.

Any metal devised by man.

Now...

This will get me there, Nicholl,

but it will disintegrate into nothingness

when it returns within a hundred miles of the Earth.

But...

With your fantastic glass... ceramic... call it what you wish,

I can survive the heat,

the friction.

I can land on Earth and I can tell what I've discovered.

You've got it all worked out, haven't you?

With the exception of the glass skin for the projectile, yes.

I have it all worked out.

Once you have a source of infinite power...

And I have discovered the secret to that power.

You saw its effect.

A speck of it no larger than a grain of rice

when the mountain disappeared.

You, Barbicane?

You have discovered the source of infinite energy?

Believe me.

The power of the universe.

I'll use it to explore the heavens,

visit the Moon,

make man's oldest dream a reality.

Will you help me?

I thought the project had been abandoned.

Thanks to your glass, it's been reactivated.

I'll expect you at the project at 6:00 Wednesday morning.

And, uh, what makes you so certain that I shall be there, Mr. Barbicane?

Because you're a scientist.

There's the whole universe waiting to be explored.

Wild horses couldn't keep you away.

Father, what was that man doing here?

What was that, my dear?

What did he want?

Oh, Barbicane?

He's planning a trip to the Moon.

But...

Barbicane's a fool.

Yes. And as a matter of fact,

though he doesn't know it yet,

I'm planning to go with him.

The Lord moves in mysterious ways

his wonders to perform.

Now, do your puddlers understand

that once we start to pour...

We cannot stop until we are finished.

We cannot tolerate a single join. No flaw.

The entire barrel of the cannon.

Must be completely smooth.

They understand that.

You have my word for it.

Every preparation has been made, Victor.

Good.

You may give the signal to pour, Mr. Von Metz.

I make the trip 96 hours and 18 minutes

rather than 96.

How about the return?

20 hours check out.

20 hours...

7 seconds.

Father, Ben's going to take me back to the hotel.

Are you going to stay here again tonight?

No, I shan't be back to the hotel at all.

Will you pack my bags in the morning?

Yes, of course.

I just can't quite believe it.

I guess I don't want to believe it.

You will when it's all over.

This is the beginning of something that man has dreamed about

ever since he dropped out of the trees

and started walking about on two legs.

Yes, or the end of it.

Ben, there's such an awful chance

that none of you will ever get back

or even be heard of again.

Well, a man runs that risk every day of his life.

He walks across the street

or he starts to climb a stair and...

All of a sudden some silly accident has taken his life.

We run that same chance.

But it won't be a silly accident.

This is something worth trading your life for.

Men are always trading their lives for something.

Women are left behind with nothing but

a few heroic speeches to live for.

Well, I didn't mean to make an heroic speech.

Actually, I want very much to come back.

More now than... when we began this project.

Much more.

Why?

Because I've met you.

And I'd like to think that...

when we do come back,

and if we do, of course,

that I could look forward to...

Knowing you better.

Know me better now, Ben...

While there's still time.

You shouldn't have done that.

Why not?

I christen thee Columbiad.

You may clear the field, Mr. Cartier.

And prepare for takeoff.

Very good, sir.

They've fired the red rocket.

Thank you.

Where's Nicholl?

Three minutes.

Nicholl!

Mr. Nicholl!

Gentlemen...

I think you should be coming aboard.

You may lower us into the cannon, Mr. Cartier.

Thank you.

Good luck.

Thank you.

Lower away!

Hope I didn't alarm you.

I thought you already knew I was onboard.

Quite all right.

We're ready, gentlemen.

In less than 10 minutes, we shall know.

Either we shall be staring straight into the heart of the universe

and all its secrets...

Or else we shall be dead.

Thank you, Nicholl, for all that you have done.

Perhaps those thanks should be reserved for later.

Thanks to you, Ben.

Now, start the gyroscope.

We'll go below to the acceleration tubes.

Our life preserver...

When they fire the cannon.

These acceleration tubes revolve at a speed of

12,000 times a minute.

You mean we have to get into them?

Well, certainly.

Otherwise, we'd disintegrate at the instant of takeoff.

Just as the gyroscope will compensate for gravity.

Exactly.

The tube fills with gas,

then our hearts slow down

to less than 5 beats a minute.

That's to minimize the shock.

Then 3 minutes and 15 seconds later,

or 720 miles above the Earth,

we will regain consciousness.

See this little black button?

Yes.

Just turn that, and the gas will be

sucked from the tube immediately.

Well, that's all there is to it.

Open the hatch.

Come out.

And what happens if we forget to push the clear button?

Well, you have just 8 seconds to, uh, brood over that error.

After that, you'll be dead.

Well, it's time.

Time to enter.

After you, Nicholl.

There we go.

69...68...67...66...

65...64...63...62...

61...60...59...58...

57...56...55...54...

53...52...51...50...

49...48...47...46...

45...44...43...42...

41...40...39...38...

37...36...35...34...

33...32...31...30...

29...28...27...26...

25...24...23...22...

21...20...19...18...

17...16...15...14...

13...12...11...10...

9...8...7...6...

5...4...3...2...

1...Zero!

We've done it, Ben.

We've done it.

What went wrong?

Nothing.

We're on our way to the Moon.

But there's no evidence of movement.

Something... it must have misfired.

We're still in the cannon.

Nonsense.

You're just befuddled by the gas.

Come on up to the astrodome.

Exactly as I thought.

We're still in the cannon.

Not a sign of life.

On the contrary...

We're now in the upper regions... of eternal night.

It's true.

May heaven forgive us, it's true.

Don't trouble yourself about heaven.

Just look at it and be content.

How does it feel, gentlemen,

to behold a sight

no human eyes have ever seen before?

Ben, start the log.

Take off as scheduled,

sighted the Moon 9 minutes after the hour.

On course.

Nicholl, Ben,

we shall share a bottle of wine.

Now, sit right here, Nicholl.

Thank you.

My favorite vintage.

I toast to death, Mr. Barbicane.

And now I drink to it.

That's one adventure we can all be certain of.

Some sooner, some later.

I admire you greatly as a scientist, Nicholl,

but your sense of humor leaves a great deal to be desired.

Very well.

To death.

The gyro.

Feel it!

Feel the weight of the finger of God?!

Cut the switch.

Two way turn!

It's returning to synchronization!

Nicholl, have you any confidence to impart to me?

Yes.

I made certain that your flight would never succeed.

Just before we took off, when we couldn't find you...

why did you let us get this far?

Why did you let us get off the Earth?

I didn't think that you would get this far, Mr. Barbicane.

And if you did, I had to convince the world

that your mysterious source of power was too dangerous to use.

How long did you allow us to live?

Perhaps 12 hours.

You'll see for yourself.

Maybe just a moment.

There's a gas leak somewhere below.

First get the masks.

Virginia!

Mr. Barbicane!

As I was saying,

once again, Barbicane has proved himself a wizard.

A very clever wizard.

Gentlemen...

The initial hours of the flight

are according to Barbicane's prediction.

A new age has dawned for mankind.

Victor Barbicane is on his way to the Moon!

Father, I'm all right.

All right? You don't know what you've done.

Yes, but I do.

But why? Why?

It's fabulous, Father.

You and Mr. Barbicane, you're the greatest men in the world.

Father, may I tell you something?

Yes, you tell me something.

Well, I... I wanted to be with you because...

Well, I thought that you and Ben, you'd never come back.

But now I see how silly and foolish it was because...

this is no more dangerous than riding on a train together.

All right. I'll just get out now and walk home.

Well... why is everyone so serious?

Deduct the power flow from 1 to 6.

Look at that.

I see you knew exactly where to look.

I shouldn't have let Von Metz describe

our firing device in such detail.

Credit me with the ability to have discovered it for myself.

With Von Metz or without him,

I shall have done you in.

Can't we repair it, Victor?

We can try.

What does it all mean?

It means that...

it means we shall all be simply blown into eternity.

Ms. Nicholl...

This ship is propelled by rockets,

fired in sequence.

This central mechanism

was a tiny target no larger than these.

This little piece of steel...

Will cost our lives.

Your father destroyed it.

Why did you do it? Why?

To save the world, my dear.

You self-righteous, contemptible... fool!

If you won't get some rest,

at least drink this coffee.

Thank you.

It sure looks big, doesn't it?

You could almost touch it.

So near...

Yet so far away.

Unless we can create a miracle,

this is the closest we'll ever get to it.

If you two have the time, supper's ready.

It's been 9 hours.

Oh, when we have the time.

Since it... has been 9 hours,

should we be more hopeful?

Well, we're doing everything we can.

Frankly, I'm amazed that we're still alive.

But by all means, be hopeful.

Hope for the best and expect the worst.

That leaves no room for disappointment in either direction.

Anyway, the most important thing for you

is to have a first-rate supper waiting for us.

Thank you.

You will remain in these quarters, Nicholl.

Come on, Ben.

Regardless of your determination for self-destruction,

let me remind you that

the food supplies and oxygen are below.

I shouldn't think you'd care to starve or smother.

Especially knowing that Ben and I are quite comfortable.

You know very well that our deaths would be meaningless while you live.

Well, take hope. There's a strong likelihood...

That you'll never finish that soup.

All right, Ben, hand it down.

Got it?

Got it.

If we time this properly,

we may bypass the firing device altogether.

Fool Nicholl.

Gets you, Ben.

It does.

I'll give you some more slack.

Picking them up now.

All set?

All set.

Are you all right?

Nicholl.

To the left... 2 inches!

Are you hurt?

Turn it!

I must leave.

The man is the devil himself.

It wouldn't surprise me if he managed to repair the damage.

Why don't you say what you're thinking plainly?

That you despise me.

I could understand blowing up the rocket and everyone in it

if you really felt you were saving the world,

but...

Killing one man because you're jealous of him

is nothing but murder.

Do you think that I would stoop to jealousy at a time like this?

I don't know what I think.

Well then, let me tell you.

I am beyond jealousy.

Just as I am beyond good and evil.

It will not be my hand that kills,

it will be the avenging hand of God himself.

You accused Victor Barbicane yourself.

I know, I know.

Oh, I wish this thing would blow up

right now if it's meant to.

Making any progress?

Well, I diverted the power flow through the four systems.

The safety fusing still seems to be in good condition.

What do you think?

You know what I think.

That's a nice girl you've got, Ben.

Makes me wish we were accomplishing something here

instead of... making motions.

Well...

Making motions is something.

Do things seem to be looking any more hopeful?

It took 10 seconds to knock those controls out of commission.

It took 14 weeks to set them.

We won't have that much time.

I... presume it's foolish of me

to apologize for my father, Mr. Barbicane,

but... I'm sure he felt he was doing something noble.

I'm sure he did.

Most mad men do.

Well...

If we're all going to die,

I think I should know at least as much

about how it's going to happen as you do.

Will there be any warning at all?

Perhaps.

The reactor will probably melt.

Then the entire system will short.

For one instant, Virginia,

the Columbiad will be the brightest star in the heavens.

Then it'll dissolve into pure energy.

You know...

If this hadn't have happened,

we... we should probably all die in our beds

old and forgotten.

But now, we shall die like a star,

like a flare of light against the sky.

If one must die, that's the way, isn't it?

Virginia...

If we should come safely back to Earth...

If there should be future voyages to follow this one...

I shall always insist on having one woman among my passengers.

One woman... for courage.

Our automatic direction has been broken.

But our hull stood up under the shocks.

It's a pity that the world will never know

what a truly wonderful ceramic I discovered, Mr. Barbicane.

Speak up, man!

Gentlemen, the Columbiad is no longer visible.

Obscured by a meteor shower.

It's probably our location.

Other observatories could still pick them up, couldn't they?

I'm afraid the Columbiad is finished.

I'm not accustomed to giving up without a fight, sir.

If you're through, I'll take over myself.

Go on.

That was close, wasn't it?

Very. Only a few hundred miles.

Ben.

Mm-hmm?

If that moment that Mr. Barbicane mentioned should happen,

will you do something for me?

Glad to. Name it.

Will you leave whatever you're doing

and come to me?

I want your arms around me when it happens.

Will you come to the control room with me,

I've got something I'd like you to read.

Certainly.

What are we waiting for?

Von Metz has told us

the first meteor shower wiped them out.

Well, that's good enough for me.

The rest of them are still watching.

Yeah. I think there's a bigger story here

than any of us realize.

What do you mean by that?

I don't think that anybody went up in that projectile.

We all know they went in.

Yes, sure. But they could have been gotten out somehow.

And bang, off she goes,

and Barbicane is lost in a meteor shower.

Maybe he and Sharpe and Nicholl are off somewhere

counting all that money. Right?

Yeah.

And nobody'll look for them

because they've vanished in a meteor shower.

Nobody, that is, except myself.

I'm gonna do a lot of looking.

Now do you see the point, my friend?

I most certainly do.

Mr. Barbicane has been good enough

to let me study his plans for the disposition of Power X.

Former plans.

They were predicated on our returning safely to the Earth.

But since your father has seen to it

that we shall not return,

the plans are meaningless.

The plans, as he chooses to call them,

are nothing more than a scheme

to make himself rich.

Oh, I'd have gotten rich, all right. Nothing wrong with that.

As a matter of fact, I rather like being rich.

No human being has the moral right to gamble

with the future of mankind and make money out of it.

Oh, calm down, Nicholl.

Certainly you see the point in what I...

Really intend to do.

Very clearly.

Since I have unknowingly sacrificed your life, Virginia,

I think that you have every right to know the reason.

Mr. Barbicane's plans are simply a scheme

to sell his secret explosive

to every government on this Earth.

Had I not done what I felt compelled to do,

the next war would have resulted in

the destruction of the entire human race.

On the contrary...

With the whole world is possession of Power X,

there would have been no next war.

The world cannot be trusted with such a force.

The human race isn't ready for it. Not for Power X.

It wouldn't have mattered whether they are ready for it or not.

It would have been there just as gravity is there.

Mankind's basic instinct to live

would have compelled them to use Power X constructively.

In destroying us, Nicholl,

you have not destroyed Power X.

You have merely suppressed it.

The secret lies in nature.

And somewhere, sometime,

perhaps a hundred years from now,

some other man will stumble across it just as I have done.

How many human beings do you think will be killed

during the next hundred years?

Millions.

Millions.

And their deaths will be on your soul,

every one of them...

On your miserable soul.

Why didn't you tell me?

Why didn't you tell me before...

Before you sabotaged us?

Because you didn't ask me.

Because I didn't think you capable

of such... treachery.

However, let us not concern ourselves

with circumstances over which we have no control.

Actually, uh...

we should all be dead already.

What's happened to the Moon?

It's gone.

Mr. Barbicane!

What's that?

I believe...

It's the Earth.

It can't be.

You mean like a good many other things

that have happened on this journey, it shouldn't be.

Nevertheless, it is.

Well, what does it mean?

I would give an informed guess that we are...

Slowly revolving in space.

My watch has stopped. What time is it?

That's odd. Mine's stopped, too.

Yours, Ben?

Hmm.

Our watches have stopped, too.

All at the same time.

Wait here.

Ben! Ben!

Help! Ben!

Secondary control behind me!

No!

Cut the power, Mr. Barbicane! Stop the reactor!

And run wild through space?

What's the difference now?

Father, no!

Oh!

Well, at least I did one thing right.

Something very odd's happening here.

We're positively within the gravitational field of the Moon,

yet we're not falling.

We're approaching it at an oblique angle,

which may cause us to miss it altogether.

How can we miss it?

Gravity always pulls down and the Moon is below us.

Then we're orbiting.

Precisely.

Although we appear to be approaching the Moon,

we are merely orbiting it.

Well.

Confound you, Nicholl.

If it weren't for you, we could disengage the compartments,

use our rocket systems for landing.

What's the difference?

We could never get back to the Earth anyhow.

We'd have done it. That's the important thing.

We'd have done it.

Whether anybody else knows it or not, we'd know.

Centrifugal force is thrusting us away from the Moon

while the Moon's own gravity is holding us nearer.

If we can't break this balance,

we shall orbit out here, until we disintegrate.

And without the use of our rocket system,

without any means of slowing our speed,

we shall soon begin to feel the heat,

the terrible heat of friction.

Then the red glow.

Then... nothing.

Now check my thinking.

Our only hope now

lies in breaking the present deadlock

between centrifugal force and gravity.

Clearly, I understand.

And the only way to produce that

is in this wiring.

If we can bypass the firing device...

The magnets will disengage.

And at that point, the rockets will fire.

Well, that'd put us right back where we started.

All the rockets would fire in a single blast

and we'd be blown to dust.

We have so little time.

Yes.

It's strange how one hesitates to destroy one's own flesh and blood,

even when there's no choice.

If the explosion were heavy enough,

this disengagement might separate all four compartments

rapidly enough to avoid complete disintegration,

at which event, the main cabin would be

the safest point on the projectile.

It's worth a try.

Virginia, what are you doing here?

I'm sorry, Father, but I had to hear.

We're all in it together.

Besides, I can be useful.

Remember, I helped Von Metz put this system together.

You take Virginia back to the cabin

and see that she stays there.

I'm sorry, sir, but I think I should stay here.

Father!

I'm sorry, my dear,

but since this young man won't take care of you,

it appears that you will have to take care of him.

Give me a hand, Mr. Barbicane.

Very adroit of you, Nicholl.

You're not fair at all.

Oh, he'll be all right.

Good-bye, my dear.

Well... that ought to take care of those troublesome intellects.

Oh.

Don't touch it.

Well, if they think they can get away with this.

They already have. We're locked in.

Oh.

Nothing shows.

Not a single new pulse.

I wonder how soon.

All we can do is wait.

Nothing like a good cigar to relax a man.

What could be humorous under the circumstances?

When these rockets blast,

they'll make a flash that's big enough to be seen

by half the observatories on the Earth.

Can't you...

Can't you just picture the stampede to buy those...

useless cannons?

The reactor's the same.

Nothing's happening.

It will.

When we get there, Nicholl,

I'll plant one of these on the Moon.

It's beginning.

What does it mean?

It means that your father has succeeded,

at least in the first step.

It shouldn't be long now before we find out

how he did in the second.

A signal! A signal!

We have received a signal!

Tell us exactly what you saw.

It's a signal.

They've made the splash.

Barbicane has reached the Moon.

No, gentlemen.

No! A flash in the sky

was not Mr. Barbicane's signal.

What else could it be?

It's disaster.

This could be it.

Barbicane made it.

A signal from the observatory.

There's a follow-up.

What's this about Barbicane?

The observatory got his flash.

He's on the Moon.

Here's the follow-up.

The flash observed was not... repeat...

not the signal arranged by Barbicane and his associates.

Projectile is presumed to have exploded with loss of all aboard.

Ah, that's better.

He had to arrange that blow-up

so nobody could check the story.

Victor Barbicane's the greatest swindler of the century.

That man is alive and we're going to say so.

Couldn't the Armament Club sue us for libel if we're wrong?

How can they prove he's dead with no body?

By the time this blows over, there won't be any club.

I don't want any more questions around here.

I want leads on Victor Barbicane.

Virginia!

Is... is it over?

Yes.

I don't even remember.

That's one of the nice things about explosions.

Often you don't.

What about my father and Mr. Barbicane?!

They're gone.

The projectile split into four segments,

each with its own secondary rocket system.

So... so the chances are it...

Oh, no!

Father!

Whether he found the Moon or death,

he'd know how to deal with it.

So would Victor Barbicane.

There's only you and me.

I think...

whatever happens,

we'll know how to deal with it, too.

I wonder if we'll ever see the right side of the Moon again,

the side we're used to.

I think we will.

We're passing out of its orbit now.

Then won't we be falling?

If I'm right, toward the Earth.

And this time we can use our secondary rocket system

to slacken speed.

We just possibly could make it.

Look!

Barbicane's signal!

Then they're alive.

They're alive and on the Moon!

Alive and working!

How did they make the signal?

Barbicane had three Power X flares in the storeroom.

They used the landing rockets on the secondary system just as we will.

They have enough supplies to last them for days, at least.

And they guarantee you they're happier now

than they ever dreamed of being.

And the whole world saw the signal.

No. That's the wrong side of the Moon, remember?

It's just passing out of view.

They knew the world wouldn't see it.

They meant it for us.

Yes, but someday, just as Mr. Barbicane said,

someone will discover it all over again.

And then when they reach the Moon,

they'll know the truth.

The reporters out there are getting ugly.

This hoax rumor's got through to them.

I've received telegraphic queries on that from New York.

Apparently, the morning newspapers there replied

that nobody was aboard the Columbiad.

So I heard, but the devil of it is

we'll never be able to prove it.

Of course, we will.

They haven't even been sighted since that meteor shower.

You begin to doubt, too, Mr. Von Metz?

Yes.

I think Victor Barbicane is no longer alive.

Do you?

I am certain he's alive.

The trouble with scientists is, Mr. Von Metz,

that they only deal with facts.

Oh.

And what do you deal with,

Mr. Jules Verne?

Something much more real than facts.

Imagination, Mr. Von Metz.