Original subtitles

Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of H.G. Wells

THE WAR OF THE WORLDS

Mars is incapable of sustaining life.

Our efforts to sustain the biosphere are exhausted.

The water tables and tempratures

decrease annually as does our population.

The only consequential course of action is the conquest

and occupation of Earth, our young, sunward neighbour.

Earth is abundant with life and resources are bountiful.

The environment will seem uncomfortable but not inhibitive.

The problem is of course the humans.

They have developed primitive intelligence.

Yet, their society is structured

around perpetual conquest and conflict.

A rapid offensive to their social and economic heart,

should prevent any significant opposition.

The means and methods for this attack are already being realised.

A large scale hydrogen accelerator will be constructed.

This will launch suspension pods carrying the assault forces.

Part one: The Coming of the Martians

No one would have believed, in the last years of the 19th century,

that human affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.

No one could have dreamed that we were being scrutinized

as someone with a microscope studies creatures that swarm

and multiply in a drop of water.

Few men even considered the possibility of life on other planets.

And yet, across the gulf of space, minds immeasurably superior to ours

regarded this earth with envious eyes,

and slowly and surely, they drew their plans against us.

At midnight, on the 12th of August, a huge mass of luminous gas

erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth.

Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly hurtling towards us,

came the first of the missiles

that were to bring so much calamity to Earth.

As I watched, there was another jet of gas.

It was another missile, starting on its way.

And that's how it was for the next ten nights.

A flare, spurting out from Mars.

Bright green, drawing a green mist behind it;

a beautiful, but somehow disturbing sight.

Ogilby, the astronomer, assured me we were in no danger.

He was convinced there could be no living thing

on that remote,forbidding planet.

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, but still, they come...

Then came the night the first missile approached Earth.

It was thought to be an ordinary falling star,

but next day there was a huge crater in the middle of the common,

and Ogilby came to examine what lay there.

A cylinder, thirty yards across, glowing hot, with faint sounds

of movement coming from within.

Suddenly the top began moving: rotating, unscrewing;

and Ogilby feared there was a man inside trying to escape.

He rushed to the cylinder but the intense heat stopped him

before he could burn himself on the metal.

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, but still, they come...

Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, but still, they come...

It seems totally incredible to me now that everyone spent that evening

as though it were just like any other.

From the railway station came the sound of shunting trains,

ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance.

It all seemed so safe and tranquil.

Next morning a crowd gathered on the common,

hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder.

Two feet of shining screw projected when suddenly,

the lid fell off.

Two luminous, disk-like eyes appeared above the rim.

A huge rounded bulk, larger than a bear, rose up slowly,

glistening like wet leather.

Its lipless mouth quivered and slathered, and snakelike tentacles

writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.

A few young men crept closer to the pit.

A tall funnel rose and an invisible ray of heat leapt from man to man,

and there was a bright glare as each was instantly turned to fire.

Every tree and bush became a mass of flames at the touch of this

savage, unearthly heat ray.

People clawed their way off the common, and I ran too.

I felt I was being toyed with, that when I was on the very verge

of safety this mysterious death would leap after me and strike me down.

At last I reached Maybury Hill, and in the dim coolness of my home

I wrote an account for my newspaper

before I sank into a , haunted sleep.

I awoke to alien sounds of hammering from the pit

and hurried to the railway station to buy the paper.

Around me, the daily routine of life, working, eating, sleeping,

was continuing serenely as it had for countless years.

On Horsell Common, the Martians continued

hammering and stirring, sleepless,

indefatigable, at work on the machines they were making.

Now and again a light like the beam of a warship's searchlight

would sweep the common, and the heat ray was ready to follow.

In the afternoon, a company of soldiers came through

and deployed along the common to form a cordon.

That evening, there was a violent crash and I realized with horror

that my home was within range of the Martian's heat ray.

At dawn, a falling star with a trail of green mist

landed with a flash like summer lightning.

This was the second cylinder.

The hammering from the pit and the pounding of guns grew louder.

My fear rose at the sound of someone creeping into the house.

Then I saw it was a young artilleryman,

weary, streaked with blood and dirt.

Anyone here? -Come in. Here, drink this.

Thank you. -What's happened?

They wiped us out. Hundreds dead, maybe thousands.

The heat ray? -The Martians.

They were inside the hoods of machines they'd made,

massive metal things on legs. Giant machines that walked.

They attacked us. They wiped us out.

Machines? -Fighting machines,

picking up men and bashing them against trees.

Just hunks of metal, but they knew exactly what they were doing.

Hmm. There was another cylinder came last night.

Yes. Yes, it looked bound for London.

London! Carrie! I hadn't dreamed there could be danger

to Carrie and her father, so many miles away.

I must go to London at once.

And me, got to report to headquarters,

if there's anything left of it.

At Byfleet, we came upon an inn, but it was deserted.

Is everybody dead? -Not everybody, look...

Six cannons with gunners standing by.

Bows and arrows against the lightning.

They haven't seen the heat ray yet.

We hurried along the road to Weybridge.

Suddenly, there was a heavy explosion.

The Ground heaved, windows shatterd

and gusts of smoke erupted into the air.

Look! There they are! What did I tell you!

Quickly, one after the other, four of the fighting machines appeared.

Monstrous tripods, higher than the tallest steeple,

striding over the pine trees and smashing them,

walking engines of glittering metal.

Each carried a huge funnel and I realized with horror

that I'd seen this awful thing before.

A fifth machine appeared on the far bank.

It raised itself to full height,

flourished the funnel high in the air,

and the ghostly terrible heat ray struck the town.

As it struck, all five fighting machines exulted,

emitting deafening howls which roared like thunder.

The six guns we had seen now fired simultaneously,

decapitating a fighting machine.

The Martian inside the hood was slain, splashed to the four winds,

and the body, nothing now but an intricate device of metal,

went whirling to destruction.

As the other monsters advanced, people ran away blindly,

the artilleryman among them, but I jumped into the water

and hid until forced up to breathe.

Now the guns spoke again, but this time the heat ray

sent them to oblivion.

With a white flash the heat ray swept across the river.

Scalded, half blinded and agonized, I staggered through leaping,

hissing water towards the shore.

I fell in full sight of the Martians, expecting nothing but death.

The foot of a fighting machine came down close to my head,

then lifted again as the four Martians carried away the debris

of their fallen comrade, and I realized that by a miracle,

I had escaped.

For three days I fought my way along roads packed with refugees,

the homeless, burdened with boxes

and bundles containing their valuables.

All that was of value to me was in London.

By the time I reached their little red brick house,

Carrie and her father were gone.

The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,

And darker days are drawing near,

The winter winds will be much colder,

Now you're not here.

I watch the birds fly south across the autumn sky

And one by one they disappear,

I wish that I was flying with them

Now you're not here.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away...

Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way,

You always loved this time of year

Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

Fire suddenly leapt from house to house.

The population panicked and ran, and I was swept along with them,

aimless and lost without Carrie.

Finally, I headed eastward for the ocean

and my only hope of survival: a boat out of England.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,

Like a leaf on the breeze you blew away...

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes

As if to hide a lonely tear

My life will be forever autumn,

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

As I hastened through Covent Garden, Blackfriars and Billingsgate,

more and more people joined the painful exodus.

Sad, weary women, their children stumbling in the street with tears,

their men bitter and angry, the rich rubbing shoulders

with beggars and outcasts.

Dogs snarled and whined, the horse's bits were covered with foam,

and here and there were wounded soldiers, as helpless as the rest.

We saw tripods wading up the Thames, cutting through bridges

as though they were paper.

Waterloo bridge, Westminster bridge, one appeared above Big Ben.

Never before in the history of the world,

had such a mass of human beings moved and suffered together.

This was no disciplined march, it was a stampede,

without order and without a goal, six million people unarmed

and unprovisioned driving headlong.

It was the beginning of the rout of civilization,

of the massacre of mankind.

A vast crowd buffeted me towards the already packed steamer.

I looked up enviously at those safely on board...

straight into the eyes of my beloved Carrie.

At sight of me she began to fight her way along the packed deck

to the gangplank.

At that very moment, it was raised, and I caught a last glimpse

of her despairing face as the crowd swept me away from her.

Like the sun through the trees you came to love me,

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away...

Through autumn's golden gown we used to kick our way

You always loved this time of year

Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

Cause you're not here

The steamer began to move slowly away, but on the landward horizon

appeared the silhouette of a fighting machine.

Another came, and another, striding over hills and trees,

plunging far out to sea and blocking the exit of the steamer.

Between them lay the silent, gray, ironclad Thunderchild.

Slowly it moved towards shore, then with a deafening roar

and whoosh of spray it swung about and drove at full speed towards

the waiting Martians.

There were ships of shapes and sizes,

Scattered out along the bay

And I thought I heard her calling,

As the steamer pulled away

The invaders must have seen them

As across the coast they filed

Standing firm between them,

There lay Thunderchild

Moving swiftly through the waters,

Cannons blazing as she came,

Brought a mighty metal warlord

Crashing down in sheets of flame,

Sensing victory was nearing,

Thinking fortune must have smiled,

People started cheering,

"Come on Thunderchild! Come on Thunderchild!"

The Martians released their black smoke, but the ship sped on,

cutting down one of the tripod figures.

Instantly, the others raised their heat rays,

and melted the Thunderchild's valiant heart.

Lashing ropes and smashing timbers,

Flashing heat rays pierced the deck,

Dashing hopes for our deliverance,

As we watched the sinking wreck,

With the smoke of battle clearing,

Over graves and waves defiled,

Slowly disappearing, farewell Thunderchild!

Slowly disappearing, farewell Thunderchild!

Farewell Thunderchild!

Farewell Thunderchild, child, child, child, child...

When the smoke cleared, the little steamer had reached

the misty horizon, and Carrie was safe.

But the Thunderchild had vanished forever, taking with her

man's last hope of victory.

The leaden sky was lit by green flashes, cylinder following cylinder,

and no one and nothing was left now to fight them.

The earth belonged to the Martians.

Part Two: The Earth Under the Martians

Next day, the dawn was a brilliant, fiery red and I wandered

through the weird and lurid landscape of another planet,

for the vegetation that gives Mars

its red appearance had taken root on earth.

As man had succumbed to the Martians,

so our land now succumbed to the red weed.

Wherever there was a stream the red weed clung

and grew with frightening voraciousness,

its claw-like fronds choking the movement of the water.

And then it began to creep like a slimy red animal

across the land covering field and ditch and tree and hedgerow

with living scarlet feelers, crawling, crawling.

I suddenly noticed the body of a parson lying on the ground

in a ruined churchyard.

I felt unable to leave him to the mercy of the red weed,

and decided to bury him, decently.

Nathaniel! Nathaniel!

The parson's eyes flickered open. He was alive!

Nathaniel, I saw the church burst into flame, are you all right?

Don't touch me!

But it's me, Beth! Your wife!

No! You're one of them- a devil!

He's delirious! -Lies! I saw the devil's sign!

What are you saying? -The green flash in the sky.

His demons were here all along, in our hearts and souls,

just waiting for a sign from Him. And now they're destroying our world!

But they're not devils, they're Martians.

We must leave here. -Look, a house still standing,

come Nathaniel, quickly.

We took shelter in a cottage, and black smoke spread, hemming us in.

Then a fighting machine came across the field spraying jets of steam

that turned the smoke into thick, black dust.

Dear God, help us!

The voice of the Devil is heard in our land!

Listen, do you hear them drawing near

In their search for the sinners?

Feeding on the power of our fear

And the evil within us?

In carnation of Satan's creation of all that we dread

When the demons arrive those alive will be better off dead

There must be something worth living for

There must be something worth trying for

Even something worth dying for

And if one man can stand tall

There must be hope for us all

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

Once, there was a time when I believed without hesitation

That the power of love and truth could conquer all

In the name of salvation

Tell me what kind of weapon is love when it comes to the fight?

And just how much protection is truth against all Satan's might?

There must be something worth living for

There must be something worth trying for

Even some things worth dying for

And if one man could stand tall

There must be some hope for us all

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

People loved you, and trusted you, came to you for help...

Didn't I warn them this would happen? Be on your guard, I said,

for the Evil One never rests...

I said exorcise the devil! But no, they wouldn't listen,

the demons inside them grew and grew,

until Satan gave his signal and destroyed the world we knew!

No Nathaniel, oh no Nathaniel,

No Nathaniel, no, there must be more to life,

There has to be a way that we can

Restore to life the love we used to know

Nathaniel, no, there must be more to life,

There has to be a way that we can

Restore to life the light that we have lost

Now darkness has descended on our land

And all your prayers cannot save us

Like fools we've let the devil take command

Of the souls that God gave us

To the altar of evil like lambs to the slaughter were led

When the demons arrive the survivors will envy the dead!

There must be something worth living for

No, there is nothing!

There must be something worth trying for -I don't believe it's so!

Even something worth dying for

If just one man could stand tall

There would be some hope for us all,

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

Forget about goodness and mercy, they're gone!

Didn't I warn them? Pray, I said!

Destroy the devil, I said! They wouldn't listen!

I could have saved the world! But now it's too late...

too late!

No Nathaniel, oh no Nathaniel,

No Nathaniel, no, there must be more to life,

There has to be a way that we can

Restore to life the love we used to know

Nathaniel, no, there must be more to life,

There has to be a way that we can

Restore to life the light that we have lost...

Dear God! A cylinder's landed on the house,

and we are underneath it, in the pit!

The Martians spent the night making a new machine.

It was a squat, metallic spider with huge, articulated claws,

but it, too, had a hood in which a Martian sat.

I watched it pursuing some people across a field.

It caught them nimbly and tossed them

into a great metal basket upon its back.

Beth? She�s dead!

Buried under the rubble. Why?

Satan! Why did you take one of your own?

There is a curse on mankind We may as well be resigned

To let the devil, the devil take the spirit of man

As time passed in our dark and dusty prison,

the parson wrestled endlessly with his doubts.

His outcries invited death for us both, and yet I pitied him.

Then, on the ninth day, we saw the Martians eating.

Inside the hood of their new machine they were drawing the fresh,

living blood of men and women and injecting it into their own veins.

Aaah! It's a sign! I've been given a sign!

They must be cast out, and I have been chosen to do it!

I must confront them now! -No, parson, no!

Those machines are just demons in another form.

I shall destroy them with my prayers,

I shall burn them with my holy cross. I shall...

The curious eye of a Martian appeared at the window slit,

and a menacing claw explored the room.

I dragged the parson down to the coal cellar.

I heard the Martian fumbling at the latch.

In the darkness I could see the claw touching things,

walls, coal, wood.

And then, it touched my boot. I almost shouted.

For a time it was still, and then, with a click,

it gripped something: the parson!

With slow, deliberate movements, his unconscious body was dragged away,

and there was nothing I could do to prevent it.

I crept to the blocked window slit and peered through the creeper.

The Martians, and all their machinery, had gone!

Trembling, I dug my way out and clambered to the top of the mound:

not a Martian in sight!

The day seemed dazzling bright after my imprisonment

and the sky a glowing blue.

Red weed covered every scrap of ground but a gentle breeze

kept it swaying, and oh, the sweetness of the air.

Again, I was on my way to London through towns and villages

that were blackened ruins, totally silent,

desolated, deserted.

Man's empire had passed away, taken swiftly and without error

by these creatures who were composed entirely of brain.

Unhampered by the complex systems which make up man,

they made and used different bodies according to their needs.

They never tired, never slept, and never suffered,

having long since eliminated from their planet the bacteria

which cause all fevers and other morbidities.

Halt! Who goes there? -Er, a friend...

Be on your way, this is my territory!

Your territory? What do you mean?

Wait a minute... it's you! The man from Maybury Hill!

Good heavens, the artilleryman. I thought you'd surely burned.

I thought you'd surely drowned. -Have you seen any Martians?

Everywhere. We're done for all right. -We can't just give up.

`Course we can't. It's now that we've got to start fighting.

Not against them, cause we can't win.

Now, we've got to fight for survival.

I reckon we can make it. I've got a plan.

We're gonna build a whole new world for ourselves.

Look, they clap eyes on us and we're dead, right?

So, we gotta make a new life where they'll never find us.

You know where? Underground.

You should see it down there, hundreds of miles of drains,

sweet and clean now after the rain, dark, quiet, safe.

We can build houses and everything, start again from scratch.

And what's so bad about living underground, eh?

S'not been so great living up here, if you want my opinion.

Take a look around you at the world we've come to know

Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show

Maybe from the madness, something beautiful will grow

In a brave new world, with just a handful of men,

We'll start... we'll start all over again!

All over again! All over again! All over again!

We'll build shops and hospitals and barracks,

right under their noses, right under their feet.

Everything we need: banks, prisons and schools.

We'll send scouting parties to collect books and stuff,

and men like you we'll teach the kids.

Not poems and rubbish; science, so we can get everything working!

We'll build villages and towns, and...

and we'll play each other at cricket!

Listen, maybe one day we'll capture a fighting machine,

learn how to make `em ourselves, and then: WALLOP!

Our turn to do some wiping out!

WHOOSH! With our heat ray! Whoosh!

And them running and dying, beaten at their own game,

man on top again!

Now our domination of the earth is fading fast,

And out of the confusion a chance has come at last,

To build a better future from the ashes of the past,

In a brave new world, with just a handful of men,

We'll start all over again!

Look, man is born in freedom, but he soon becomes a slave,

In cages of convention from the cradle to the grave,

The weak fall by the wayside but the strong will be saved,

In a brave new world, with just a handful of men,

We'll start all over again!

I'm not trying to tell you what to be,

Oh no, oh no, not me...

But if mankind is to survive, the people life alive,

They're gonna have to build this world anew

And it's going to have to start with me and you... YES!

I'm not trying to tell you what to be,

Oh no, oh no, not me...

But if mankind is to survive, the people left alive,

They're gonna have to build this world anew

Yes and we will have to be the chosen few...

Just think of all the poverty, the hatred and the lies,

And imagine the destruction of all that you despise,

Slowly from the ashes the phoenix will arise,

In a brave new world, with just a handful of men

We'll start all over again!

Take a look around you at the world you've loved so well,

And bid the aging empire of man a last farewell

It may not sound like heaven but at least it isn't hell

It's a brave new world with just a handful of men,

We'll start, we'll start all over again!

All over again! All over again! All over again!

I'VE GOT A PLAN!

Can't you just see it?

Civilization starting all over again! A second chance!

Heh- we'll even build a railway and tunnel to the coast,

go there for our holidays!

Nothing can stop men like us!

I've made a start already.

Come on down here and have a look.

In the cellar there was a tunnel scarcely ten yards long.

It had taken him a week to dig.

I could have dug that much in a day, and I suddenly had

my first inkling of the gulf between his dreams and his power.

It's doing the working and the thinking that wears a fellow out.

I'm ready for a bit of a rest. How about a drink, eh?

Nothing but champagne now I'm the boss.

We drank, and then he insisted upon playing cards.

With our species on the edge of extermination,

with no prospect but a horrible death, we actually played games.

Later he talked more of his plan, but I saw flames flashing

in the deep blue night, red weed glowing,

tripod figures moving distantly, and I put down my champagne glass.

I felt a traitor to my kind,

and I knew I must leave this strange dreamer.

Take a look around you at the world we've come to know

Does it seem to be much more than a crazy circus show?

Maybe from the madness something beautiful will grow...

There were a dozen dead bodies in the Euston road,

their outlines softened by the black dust.

All was still, houses locked and empty, shops closed,

but looters had helped themselves to wine and food,

and outside a jewelers some gold chains and a watch

were scattered on the pavement.

I stopped, staring towards the sound.

It seemed as if that mighty desert of houses had found a voice

for its fear and solitude.

The desolating cry worked upon my mind.

The wailing took possession of me.

I was intensely weary, footsore, hungry and thirsty.

Why was I wandering alone in this city of the dead?

Why was I alive when London was lying in state in its black shroud?

I felt intolerably lonely, drifting from street to empty street,

drawn inexorably towards that cry.

I saw, over the trees on Primrose Hill,

the fighting machine from which the howling came.

I crossed Regent's Canal.

There stood a second machine, upright, but as still as the first.

Abruptly, the sound ceased.

Suddenly the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable.

While that voice sounded London still seemed alive,

now suddenly there was a change, the passing of something,

and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.

I looked up, and saw a third machine.

It was erect and motionless, like the others.

An insane resolve possessed me: I would give my life to the Martians,

here and now.

I marched recklessly towards the titan and saw that a multitude

of black birds were circling and clustering about the hood.

I began running along the road. I felt no fear, only a wild,

trembling exultation as I ran up the hill

towards the motionless monster.

Out of the hood hung red shreds,

at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.

I scrambled up to the crest of Primrose hill,

the Martian's camp was below me.

A mighty space it was, and scattered about it,

in their overturned machines, were the Martians, dead,

slain after all man's devices had failed

by the humblest creatures on the earth: bacteria.

Minute, invisible, bacteria.

Directly the invaders arrived and drank and fed,

our microscopic allies attacked them.

From that moment, they were doomed.

The torment was ended.

The people scattered over the country,

desperate, leaderless, starved,

the thousands who had fled by sea including the one most dear to me;

all could return, the pulse of life growing stronger and stronger

would beat again.

As life returns to normal, the question of another

attack from Mars causes universal concern.

Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve?

It may be that across the immensity of space,

they have learned their lessons, and even now await their opportunity.

Perhaps the future belongs not to us, but to the Martians.

Looking good, going good, we're getting great pictures

here at NASA control Pasadina.

Landing craft touched down on Mars 28 kilometers from the aim point.

We're looking at a remarkable landscape,

littered with different kinds of rocks.

Red, purple... how about that, Burmuda?

Fantastic. Look at that dune field!

Hey, wait, I- I'm getting a no-go signal.

Now I'm losing one of the craft. Hey Burmuda, you getting it?

Nah, lost contact. There's a lot of dust blowing up there.

Now I lost the second craft. We got problems.

Full contact lost, Pasadina. Maybe the antenna's...

What's that flare? See it? A green flare coming from Mars.

Kind of a green mist behind it. It's getting closer.

You see it, Burmuda? Come in, Burmuda!

Houston, come in! What's going on...

tracking station 43 Canberra, come in Canberra!

tracking station 63, can you hear me Madrid...

can anybody hear me? Come in...!

Come in...