All language subtitles for The Quatermass Experiment [1953] Part 1 - Contact Has Been Established

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One morning, two hours after dawn,

the first manned rocket
in the history of the world

takes off from the Tarooma range, Australia.

The three observers see on their
scanning screens a quickly receding Earth.

The rocket is guided from the ground
by remote control

as they rise through the ozone layer,
the stratosphere, the ionosphere,

beyond the air.

They are to reach a height
of 1,500 miles above the Earth

and there learn what is to be learnt.

For an experiment is an operation
designed to discover some unknown truth.

It is also a risk.

When it is 1,400 miles up,
all contact with the rocket is suddenly lost.

Right, standing by. Standing by.

Clear radio line to Australia.

They'll be on in a few seconds. Loudspeaker?

- Yes, we're all ready for it.
- Right.

Hello, hello, Tarooma.
Ready to receive your message. Over.

Hello, England. Hello, England.

George Harris reporting from Tarooma.

0330 hours, West Australian time.

1800 hours, Greenwich time.

Doppler monitoring has proceeded
continuously since last report,

but no trace has been recorded or received.

Repeat, no trace.

Message received. Thank you, Harris.
Same this end.

Keep on trying.
Report in six hours, will you? Over.

Message received, and signing off.

OK, Marsh.

- 57 hours now.
- Yes, sir.

What can I say, Judith?

If they were in a plane and it was hopelessly
overdue, we'd know that they were dead.

In that thing, we just don't know.
They may still be alive.

Yes.

What went wrong there?

A point on the orbit that shouldn't have meant
anything. At least, it meant nothing to us.

- We made every foreseeable allowance.
- It's frightening, looking into this for long.

Those tiny marks on the plastic,
they seemed so precise and certain at first.

They come closer and closer
till you see they're only rough scratches.

Could it have been like that
with our calculations?

I should never have subjected you to this.

When you married Victor,
I ought to have taken you off the project.

- I wouldn't have gone.
- I know.

That's what I was selfish enough to tell myself.
You're too valuable to me here.

Listen, my dear. You've been forcing yourself
to face the worst facts. Face the hopeful ones.

Such as?

Your husband and the others
are not merely brave.

They have expert knowledge.
They're resourceful.

Now, you're going to get some sleep.
And under strict orders.

Control room.

One moment. It's for you, sir. The Ministry.

- Not Blaker?
- I'm afraid so, sir.

Come on.

Hello, Blaker. I told you I'd send word
if there was any change. I wish to heaven I...

Report?
I thought there was no question of that yet.

I don't want to visit this on you,
but I've got to keep the committee posted.

Believe me, Quatermass, I'm trying to help you.

The nastier the facts, the more it matters how
they're presented. The future development...

Development be damned. Tell them the facts.

All trace of the rocket was lost
over 57 hours ago,

when it deviated from its estimated path
at 25,000 miles per hour.

I've done so, less bluntly. You're keeping
in touch with the Australian base, of course?

Yes. They haven't got anything to report.
I've had enough of this cross-examination.

Your committee seem concerned, but it's
an investment I was never able to guarantee.

Accept that our sole concern is for the crew.

Frankly, is there any chance of their survival?

Well, equally frankly, I don't...

How can anybody answer a question like that?
What do you imagine MY concern is?

Radio line, quick!

Control room. Yes, put him on.

Hello, Tarooma. Ready to receive you.
Come in, Tarooma.

We're getting a trace. Faint, and the direction
doesn't make any sense, but it's there.

A trace! Oh, thank God.

The rocket's heading back to Earth.
Confirm you're receiving me.

Receiving you loud and clear.
Professor Quatermass is taking over.

Quatermass here. Is the rocket
responding to your remote control? Over.

No response to our radio signals as yet.

Estimated distance from Earth, 29,000 miles.

Sorry, correct that to 28,600 miles.

- They're having difficulty in tracking.
- The direction? Can you give code fixes? Over.

We're going to do our best. Hold on.

Stand by.

29, 34.

Repeat, 29, 34.

106, 259.

106, 259.

Zero, 7. Zero, 7.

Over.

Message received.
Stand by to compare findings.

29, 34. 106, 259.

- Zero, 7.
- Approaching at a very steep angle.

- Straight down?
- Not yet.

If that curve is confirmed, they have a chance.

106, 259?

That may bring them right round the Earth
instead of smack into it.

It's all right. I'm not letting myself go.

- That curve must be the end of an ellipse.
- Yes.

It doesn't tell us where they've been,
but it can tell us how far they've been.

What's the result?

Something like 380,000 miles into space.

380,000?
But that's more than we'd ever planned for.

Half as far again as the Moon.

You know, I think about them out there.
Even now, I'm jealous.

To be the first, the very first.

- Altitude?
- Oh, yes, altitude.

Altitude, 3,200 miles. If it's going to respond
to our remote control, it should be soon.

Control room.

- Blaker's arrived. He's demanding to see you.
- Oh, damn his demands at a time like this. I...

All right, let him come through.

- Carry on.
- Yes, of course.

- Keep checking that contact by manual.
- Yes, sir.

- Only got a minute.
- You realise...

A trace. The Australians got it first.
It's coming through.

- The rocket?
- We believe so, yes.

I hope you're right. What's being done?

- We're waiting for radio response.
- From the crew?

- From their apparatus. That's more important.
- More important?

Their speech transmitter's dead. To save them
we must attempt separation by remote control.

Separation?

I thought you hadn't understood.

Just take a look at this model. Now...

The rocket's made up of two sections
weighing about 1,000-odd tons altogether.

In front is the crew section
where those three men are.

Behind is the atomic propulsor unit.

Now, our purpose was modest enough.

Gain a height of 1,500 miles,
make certain observations there.

That would take about 47 minutes.

Then, after a single circuit of the Earth,

the crew-containing section
was to be separated and brought back,

leaving the atomic propulsor behind,

940 tons of it, and all dangerously radioactive.

- We wouldn't bring that back even if we could.
- You mean it would just stay there?

Forever, or until called for,
circling the Earth, 1,500 miles up.

- Sounds simple enough. Too simple to accept...
- Well, it wasn't simple.

Something went wrong. We don't know what.
Probably something as simple as valve failure.

- But surely...
- Oh, we had spares, and spares for spares.

But instead of turning into
the prearranged orbit like that,

the rocket kept gaining speed,
shot out into space like that.

And you believe
that what you're tracking now is it?

Well, if the path it took happened to be
a true ellipse, not just a parabola,

then dynamic laws bring it near the Earth again.

But unless we separate the two sections,

they'll just sweep past,
and this time it'll be for good.

- Well, of course...
- 18, 21.

112, 407.

- Zero, minus 4.
- Zero, minus 4.

That's it!

- It's responding!
- Yes, there's no doubt. Control Base to BR7.

- Control Base to BR7. Are you receiving me?
- Hello? Greene? Reichenheim? Carroon?

- Victor?
- Are you able to receive me? Over.

That may be nothing. Try to get control.

- Strong response.
- Position?

- Dopplers working.
- Judith, stand by.

- Yes, I will.
- I'm going to try and regain control.

- No, 419.
- Yes, 419.

- That's it!
- Full response.

- You've got it!
- All right for a start.

- The separation?
- As soon as we get the deviation down to nil.

- Travelling at 25,000 miles an hour.
- 25,000!

- Can we do it?
- Deviation 0.007.

Tarooma, we've made contact with the rocket.
It's obeying remote control.

Professor Quatermass is about to attempt
separation of sections one and two. Stand by.

Deviation 0.002.

0.001.

Nil.

- Yes!
- Wait.

- That's it, that's it!
- He's done it. Stand by.

Keep your eyes on it. Now for reversal.
Check gimbal system.

Eight-nine. Three-zero. Zero.

- Right, full response.
- Zero to 30.

- 40.
- Reversal procedure. Full response.

Blaker, this is how we check velocity.

Turn it about and fire propulsion units
against the direction of the flight.

- Turn completed.
- Speed has been reduced.

Descent has begun. Over.

- Are you directing it down to us?
- No.

No, we can't risk losing control.

- It's up to you. Good luck. Over.
- Thanks.

Please stay in contact. Over.

Well?

You say it.

- For the very first time, they've a chance.
- Yes.

Past the Channel coast now.

- Velocity?
- 840 per hour. Check.

- 845.
- Far too fast for that altitude.

Para-brake is not enough. Use the other.

- Wait. Not too soon.
- It's still ahead of the speed of sound.

- Connect me to all stations.
- Forewing drag.

- Still not enough. Marsh?
- 810.

- We've got to use...
- Calling all stations.

The rocket is under control. We intend to bring
it down here. There may be some danger.

Go at once to emergency points.
Fire and crash brigades, stand by.

Applying fabric para-brakes.

One.

Two.

Three.

- Great Scott! Three's failed!
- 720. 690.

- It's impossible.
- They must be able to do something!

- Calling BR7! Are you receiving me?
- That's useless. Motors on in seven seconds.

- 490.
- It's going to fall short.

- Two seconds, two seconds.
- 230.

210.

They're nearly down.

They've crashed.

- Yes, but where? Quickly!
- Just getting it, sir.

- Well?
- Only ten miles away.

Just southwest of London. Croydon.
No, nearer than that.

We must know. We must know.
We haven't got a minute to lose. Come on.

What is it? What is it?

- Don't touch it!
- I ain't going to.

It's a bomb.

There was an awful noise.

It's red-hot.

All that smoke! Oh, it's going to go off.

- Come here, Len. Come here!
- Shut up. It looks like steam.

All that just now, roaring flames.

God, Len, it's something dreadful.
Come away, Len. You're out of your mind.

Ring the fire brigade! And the police.

Oh, Len, we'll be done for.

The old girl.
Over there, in the house. She'll be inside.

- You're not going. She's dead. She must be.
- Leave me be.

- What about this?
- Never seen...

- Here, keep clear. It's red-hot.
- It's one of them things. They dropped one.

- It's going to go off!
- There's an old girl in the house.

Why didn't you? Keep away, everybody!
This thing may be dangerous.

You in those next houses,
grab some clothes and get away.

What is it? What is it?

Len! Len, you fool, she's dead. She must be.

Len!

Oh, you've left me. Oh, it's going to go off!
It's going to go off!

- Look, I'll go round the front way and bust in.
- Wait a sec. There's somebody up there.

- Can you get a ladder?
- I know where there's one.

- Ma'am, are you all right?
- Yes.

I was trying to catch Henry
and put him in his basket.

Right, we'll have you down in a moment.

Put it up here.

That's the idea.

- Hope this'll bear me.
- Yeah, be all right.

- Would you take Henry first, please?
- Right.

Thank you.

There you are, my dear.

Gently does it. That's the idea.

Take it easy.

Plenty of time.

Nearly there.

Thank you so much.

- All right? Not hurt?
- She wouldn't know. Shock.

What is it, Officer? Have they started again?

- Is there anybody else in there?
- Oh, no. Who could there be?

- All right.
- I was just going to bed.

Then the noise came, and that bright light,

and poor Henry,
he scampered under the dressing table.

- Oh, dear, oh, dear. Whatever is it?
- Get her to somewhere safe. I'll report this.

- Has that gone off yet?
- No, not yet. Now, come on.

Step. Lift your feet up, now. That's the idea.

Oh, look. Look, my mother's clock.

- Are you sure that thing hasn't gone off?
- No.

But there must be a report in by now. You know
who I am. It's not under Official Secrets.

- Get it out of them.
- No, it was not a guided missile.

But it crashed somewhere in South London.

Listen, you collect all the reports
from squad cars and men on the beat? What?

Oh, all right, I'll hang on.
He says there's a report just coming in. Hello?

- Where? West side of Wimbledon Common?
- Let me.

Here's Quatermass himself. Hold on.

Hello. How bad is it?

Still whole? Much damage?

Any casualties?

Thank God. I'm on my way over. Don't let
anybody touch it. Keep the fire people off it.

Hosing a red-hot rocket will blow it up.
There are three people inside. Right. Come on.

- What is he saying?
- It's in one piece and not too badly buried.

- Anything about them?
- No.

- Car's outside, sir.
- Come on.

What? How many were killed?

Injured?

None? Hello, hello?

Yes, this is still the news desk. Have you seen
the thing yourself? What did it look like?

Ah.

Uh-huh.

Time? What time did all this happen?

- Eh? You must know when.
- All right, Jacko?

Oh, all right, then.

How junior can a junior local correspondent be?

Gone to ask a man when it happened.

What is it? The man with staring eyes,
or robbed while they watched television?

- Something came down.
- Came down?

- Crashed.
- Ah, mystery plane. Good night, Jacko.

Sounded more like a flying saucer scare.
Lots of stuff about a light in the sky, and smoke.

Hello? Only ten minutes ago?
All right, I'll send somebody.

Get what you can and phone it in. And wake up!

- Flying saucer? Who are you going to send?
- Jackson. Hello?

- I'll do it.
- Hello, is Arthur Jackson there?

You?

But, Jimmy, this is just a straight write-out job.
Not Fullalove stuff at all.

I need something to denounce, Jacko.

After dieticians and graphologists and the
flower show, something that's somebody's fault.

- Lay on a snap-shotter, will you?
- All right. But it's got to be in right away.

Oh, dear. Back on the beat.

If it's not a bomb, why treat it like a bomb?

- I've told you the instructions.
- Leave it dead alone.

But there's still smouldering wood in there
that we can't put out.

- It's not my fault. Keep back, there!
- There'll be a report in about this.

Is it true the bomb disposal people
are on their way?

I told you before, keep back.

Leonard, I suppose.
Everyone calls me Len, though. Matthews.

- Did it make a noise coming down?
- Terrifying, that's the word. Terrifying.

There was this great blare of light, and then
the whole neighbourhood sort of shuddered.

Smoke everywhere. Never met anything like it.

- Get back.
- I've got to get a story.

This is final. Nobody beyond that rope there.

Look, we've got a public duty, too.

Back behind there, please! Tell those people
they can't come through. Sergeant, stop them!

One minute, Inspector. This is Professor
Quatermass. He'll be in charge now.

- Very well.
- Now, then...

- The heat!
- They've got a heavy casing.

- Funny. It looks exactly the same.
- Yes, just a bit darker in colour.

Yet it's been... You can't just say "far".
There isn't a word.

- The transmitter's probably gone, but I'll try.
- Yes, go ahead.

Hello. Hello. This is Marsh speaking.
Are you receiving me? Over.

- No, gentlemen. No statement.
- If it's a weapon, tell us. We use discretion.

- I don't doubt it, but...
- Look, they're using a walkie-talkie.

- There must be somebody inside.
- Stand by for a picture.

- How long do we have to wait?
- A few hours.

- I can't.
- You think it's intact?

- As far as I could see.
- Professor Quatermass!

- British Experimental Rocket Group, isn't it?
- Yes.

- So that's it. Fred!
- Some other time.

- It's all right.
- What is that thing?

- It's a rocket.
- Where was take-off?

- Western Australia.
- Australia!

- It's travelled halfway round the world.
- Further than that.

- You've been conducting an experiment?
- How many aboard?

- Three men.
- Are they safe?

- Their names?
- You got no reply just now.

- Greene, Reichenheim and Carroon.
- What now? What are you waiting for?

What was the object of this experiment?

Stop the noise! Listen.

Do you hear it? The tapping.

They're alive.

This the BBC Light Programme.

Before the late news summary,
here is a special item.

Just over one hour ago,
a British-made rocket vehicle,

the first ever to have succeeded
in reaching outer space,

made a safe crash-landing
in the area of Wimbledon Common.

A product of the British Experimental
Rocket Group, it carries a crew of three men.

They will be unable to leave the rocket
until it has cooled,

but there is reason to suppose
they are in good health.

In view of the importance of this achievement

and because the appearance of the rocket
has given rise to rumours,

we shall be relaying a short description
of the scene at the end of this bulletin.

Pass along, please.

Miss Wilde, you don't remember much about it?

No, except that everything fell down

and then I saw my room
was quite, quite broken.

It's tragic that your house
should have suffered,

but I think we can salute
in this story of brave men a brave little lady.

- Henry was brave, too.
- Henry?

- Yes, my Henry.
- Oh, yes. Miss Wilde has her cat with her.

- He doesn't appear to be at all frightened.
- No, no, not my Henry. No.

The scene here now is one of jubilation.

There's a tremendous crowd,
coming in by car, on foot, from every direction.

People are singing and cheering. I can even see
some barrow boys over there cashing in.

Yes, and here to pick up the story
is Mr Leonard Matthews, who lives nearby,

and was first on the scene, weren't you?

- Yes. I seen this great blare of light...
- Len was out of the house in a flash.

- Mrs Matthews.
- No hesitation. Just as he was in the Blitz.

- I think he ought to have a medal.
- Oh, I dunno.

Mr Matthews, what did you see, exactly?

There was all this here smoke,
and I got busy putting out the fire.

Can't we signal again to let them know
where they are, that we're here?

Hammering on the hull might be dangerous.

- Professor Quatermass? BBC interviewer.
- I can't be bothered.

- You ought to.
- Oh, all right.

This way, please.

# We're making history, we're making history

# We're making history... #

It's very difficult for me to say.
I'm not in a senior position.

My dear fellow, you know what's the matter
with you, don't you? You're too modest.

You're... You're too modest.

Go on, tell them.
Tell them that you invented it.

- But I didn't.
- Take a jump!

Yes, you did. You're too modest.

He did it, really.
But you're too modest altogether.

You ought to be not so modest as you are.

Professor, it's true to say, isn't it,
that this atomic rocket, the very first of its kind,

is a tremendous technical advance?

- I dare say we have surprised people.
- I should say so.

Designed and built by British brains and muscle.

Professor, can you tell us about the crew?

- Well, we shan't know that for a few hours.
- No, I meant personal details.

- Who are they?
- Oh, I'm sorry.

The senior member
is my friend Charles Greene.

He's responsible for navigation, although
we employ automatic piloting and remote control.

- I see. Is Mr Greene married?
- Yes. His wife arrives tomorrow from Australia.

- I see. Who else?
- Then there's Dr Ludwig Reichenheim.

You remember his experiments
with rockets in Germany?

- Yes, indeed, I do.
- The youngest is Victor Carroon.

He's responsible for...
Engineer and radio operator.

Sort of general gadgets. Is he married?

- Yes. His wife is my first assistant.
- Oh, really?

- Yes. She's over there.
- Must be an anxious time for her, for you all.

We hope soon to have good news
of these three valiant Britons, or British subjects.

Thank you, Professor.
Yes, here is the wife of one of them. Mrs?

- Carroon.
- Mrs Carroon.

- All listeners sympathise with your anxiety.
- Thank you.

How does it feel to be married to one
of the first three men to reach outer space?

- I'll know that when I see him.
- Yes. You weren't able to go to Australia?

- No. My work here.
- Of course.

If you don't mind my asking,
what was your farewell message?

Oh, it was silly. Just the sort of thing
people always say at a serious time like that.

I think I said, "Take care of yourself, darling,
and don't forget to bring me something back."

- A present from outer space, so to speak.
- Yes.

Thank you very much indeed, Mrs Carroon.

Now, as nothing more is going to happen here
for some hours, I'm returning you to the studio.

Well, thank you very much, everybody.
Thank you very much. OK, pack up.

- The trouble with you is you're too modest.
- Sir, no.

- Give me that. You're too modest!
- Officer.

How dare you put your hands on me like that?
How dare you?

You're a lot of ruddy modest English violets,
the whole lot of you.

All right, keep it quiet.

It's fascinating.

That elemental excitement children feel
with a parcel that's waiting to be opened.

The longer you wait, the more exciting it gets.

Is that why you don't pull the string?

That'll sound better in your column tomorrow.

I expect so, if I'm not frozen stiff before then.

- Touching. They've sent an ambulance for me.

- Check the temperature again.
- Yes, sir.

- Quite cool. About 100 degrees.
- Ambulance standing by.

- Thank you.
- How do you mean to do it?

By remote control, as soon as I get contact.

Otherwise you'll have to tear the parcel open.
Is that it?

Just look at that crowd watching in dead silence.

- Boys who look anxiously over your shoulder.
- Sir, sir!

See them watching now, standing on tiptoe,
pressing forward, not a word spoken.

That's it! That's it!

It is Victor! Victor!

He's alive. Thank God. Take that.

Marsh.

- Breathing normally.
- You're safe.

He'll be all right.

Quick, the access chamber.

Mr Greene. Dr Reichenheim.

I don't understand. How could they?

- Nobody there. No sign of either of them.
- What's that?

They're gone. They're gone!

- What's going on?
- Picture, Fred!

As a matter of interest, this happens to be news.

- What is it?
- They're not inside.

- Opened the door and got swept away?
- This door hasn't been opened till now.

Victor, where are the others?

Victor?

Victor! What happened?

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