All language subtitles for Quatermass II [1955] Part 1 - The Bolts.english

- Now, then, m'lad, how goes it?
- All right, Sergeant.

Got these on properly?
Control Room say you keep going faint.

It's me voice, Sergeant.

From so-called song in the village boozer.
Your pal's not much better.

Now...

- Next subject's due any minute.
- BEA plane to Glasgow. I had him yesterday.

Oh. You're going to learn all the targets off
in advance? Useful if war breaks out!

- I never meant...
- Just keep your eyes on that radar tube.

And talk loud and clear.

I'm going to make ruddy BBC announcers
out of you lot

if I have to soften up your gullets
with my bare hands!

Here it comes now, Sergeant.

- That's funny.
- What?

Where he's showed up. Must be right off course.

- Perhaps you learnt it wrong!
- It is.

No, that isn't a plane.
It's far too weak. 10,000 yards?

- No, less.
- TC, calling Control Tower.

Wait a minute. 8,000. Heading this way.

- Quick, get Captain Dillon.
- Eh?

Control, is Captain Dillon there? 6,500.

- Captain Dillon, sir. It's another of them.
- Yes, the other cabin's getting it, too.

5,000 yards now.

- Couldn't be a jet?
- No, nothing so big.

Nothing to be seen with these. Can you get a fix?

It must have hit about 2,500 yards from here.

- Other side of the hill.
- What was it, sir?

Oh, probably nothing. A jettisoned fuel tank.

- Going at that speed?
- Are you an instructor on this course?

Anywhere in that circle, sir.
I'll try to get it more exact.

Do it on the way. My responsibility.

You carry on. Report that plane
when it shows up. Nothing else. Got it?

Yes, Sergeant.

It's the one I learnt yesterday, Sergeant.

TC, calling Control Room...

- Going to manage that?
- Done all I can, sir.

Theoretically, it must have struck
somewhere over that way.

- I just hope we have some luck with this one.
- Yes, sir.

- It's the third, isn't it?
- Since we've been here.

- Still think you've come across one before?
- Yes, sir. Before you joined us, sir.

Down south, early last year. I'd swear.

- When that big flying objects scare was on?
- Yeah, that's right, sir.

All the newspapers full of stories. Suicides,
people thinking it was the end of the world.

One of those periodic alarms. It blew over.

- Things did fall.
- They were all explained away.

Yes, sir.

- See anything?
- Just sheep.

Once they'd got it all tidied up,
they'd want to keep it that way.

That accounts for those... orders.

Orders? On UFOs?

"Unidentified Flying Objects -

"all observations of, reports on
or public mention of strictly forbidden."

Don't want more bods
shoving their heads in the gas oven.

Sir, there's something going on, this next field.

- What?
- A woman, seems sort of excited.

Let's have a look.

Hello there!

Oh, thank goodness.
Thank goodness you've come along.

- What is it?
- Tell him to let it alone, to come away.

Tell him. Tell him to come away.

- Show us.
- Through there.

My husband. Tell him to come away.
You're soldiers, he'll have to take heed.

- He'll have to, he'll have to.
- Look.

He said it come down out of the sky, sir.

What is it?
Is it something he didn't ought to touch?

Tell him, sir.

It's a meteorite, I think.
You were here when this fell?

- Tell him to come away, sir.
- One moment. You found it like this? Broken?

Broken.

Funny smell.

Like...

Like old stables.

He's had a bit of a fright. It must have been this
we tracked. Feel it. It's still slightly warm.

- Think it's an ordinary meteorite, sir?
- I suppose so.

If it wasn't against orders for us to go
any further with this, sir, what might be done?

Well, if...

There's a man I know. His name's Quatermass.

Quatermass?

- Heard of him?
- The rocket man!

Well, Quatermass?

You've checked for yourself now. Satisfied?

There's no spread of radioactivity
outside the shielding.

- Does that help us?
- No.

You're just trying to find a loophole,
some way we might be wrong.

- I'm afraid there isn't going to be any.
- The whole nuclear motor.

- Face it. Exactly like the other one.
- All the signs are there. Now we can read them.

What you've just done, Bernard, was more
than an examination. It was a post-mortem.

Firing Base. Yes, he's here.

I'll tell him. Your daughter, sir.
She has the Australian film set up.

Go ahead, Leo. I want to get out of this gear.

Sir, will there be any further tests?

No, none.

- Your father will be along in a minute.
- How's he taking it?

- How do you expect?
- Outwardly, showing nothing.

- No.
- The worst way. I expected that.

I suppose nothing much harder can hit one
than a setback at an advanced stage.

- We had no way of foreseeing it.
- No?

Now, at last, there's no doubt.

- Everything tallies with what's in here.
- Not a great deal, is there?

All that survived the explosion.
And enough to have saved us.

Did you see this one?

They kept the records straight to the last.

"Now certain nuclear motor
in runaway reaction.

"No response from remote control.

"Evacuation proceeding.

"It now seems possible that con..."

Con?

Conditions, I suppose.

In the middle of a word when it happened.
Poor creatures.

Do you think they had any idea
when they began?

No. Just a routine ground test.

Even when the fuel connector went,

that might have meant danger,
but not complete disaster.

- That broken connection began it?
- Apparently.

We're full of wisdom after the event.

Sudden conditions were set up -
temperatures, pressures.

Coupled with unsuspected instability
of new fissile material...

- Unsuspected? Leo, why won't you admit it?
- Not entirely, then.

There was a remote mathematical possibility,

but with... with normal precautions...

The Australian research team,
there was nothing they could do?

Once the runaway reaction set in, nothing.

They were not testing a rocket motor any
longer. They were stoking up an atomic bomb.

- Horrible.
- Have I kept you waiting?

- No, of course not.
- Ready, Paula? Let's see this thing.

It's very disjointed, according to the note.
Webster in Sydney did the best he could.

This is the Tarooma Range,
Northern Australia.

That's Webster's voice.

All apparatus was transported overland,
not without difficulty.

By the set date, all preparations were completed
for the testing of the Quatermass II rocket.

Here it is on the firing base.

The chemical booster has been removed,
exposing the nuclear motor

for its first test at full power.

Normal precautions were taken

and final checks carried out
according to the practised routine.

Automatic cameras set in position
to record experiments.

This time,
only those furthest away were to survive.

Last shots of Control Centre
shortly before tests began.

On duplicate instruments at a remote point -

five, four, three, two, one, zero.

The rocket actually firing,
caught by telephoto camera.

Shortly afterwards, remote instruments
recorded a fault in the fuel supplies,

a break which was followed very rapidly
by the runaway nuclear reaction.

There is no visual record of the research team's
attempt to evacuate the Control Room.

For this, refer to remote tape recording.

Those recordings...

Two minutes 45 seconds
after the commencement of the test...

The blast was seen
from the far perimeter of the range.

Next day, the devastated firing base
was examined by squads of men

in protective clothing.

Nothing remained of the rocket.

In the whole area of the blast,
no one was found to be alive.

That's all.

Well, it's over.

How much of a hold-up will this be?

Years.

- It would be years.
- Would be?

I said it's over.

The Moon Project.

It was too ambitious, wasn't it?

A fleet of rockets to build a colony on the Moon.

Carrying machinery there,
piece by piece, in hundreds of flights.

To build pressure domes
so that men could live in the world without air.

To do all that. To be the first to do it.

Ever since the days of basketball satellites,
that has been the dream.

It won't be easy, will it,
to face the fact that we're... out of the race?

Father, there have been bad patches before.

This is more than a patch.
The whole project depends on this rocket.

On its design, its special adaptability.
We can't even carry out ground tests.

- You must go on.
- The choice isn't mine.

- What do you mean?
- The Ministry have backed me and for what?

I gave them the first two-stage nuclear
experimental rocket, manned. Before your time.

- You made a successful flight.
- The crew died horribly.

Then the international agreement
on radioactive fallout made the design obsolete.

A total loss to the Ministry.

And now this.

The first nuclear chemical rocket.

Two prototypes -
one destroyed and the other useless.

More dead men.

- The Ministry will draw a neat double line.
- Finish? Of all this?

- They won't go on.
- You're wrong.

No, Paula, the signs have been there -
cuts, delays on vital expenditure.

- You put your case?
- Until they're sick of me.

I suppose there's a wind blowing in a different
direction. New claimants for their favours.

New ideals, new white-headed boys. I'll go up
to London tomorrow, of course, and tackle them.

Bernard, remember you're not alone in this.

Sympathy, Leo? Not just now, please.

It might make me feel a little... tired.

And perhaps a little old.

Professor Quatermass's office.

Yes, speaking. Who?

There now? Oh, tell him to...
No, I'll come through and meet him.

It's Johnny Dillon.
He must have got leave. He sent no word.

Does he have to?
Tell him to take you somewhere cheerful.

- I might do that.
- And don't keep him waiting.

Father, you won't start getting rid of me now?
For my own good?

Don't.

Darling.

- You cheated me out of expecting you.
- I'm sorry. It was a rush. Is your father here?

- Yes.
- I'd like to see him.

- You sound so... Is it something bad?
- I don't think so. Probably nothing. He'd know.

What have you got there?

- Just a box.
- Come in.

- Oh, hello. How are you?
- Fair enough, sir. And you?

Dr Leo Pugh, Captain Dillon.

- How do you do?
- Father, he wants to talk about something.

No, not that. You're not getting rid of me.

- Sit down.
- Thank you, sir.

- I've really no right to impose on you, sir.
- No, go on.

Straight in. I'm right, aren't I, that you people
make a special study of meteorites?

They're hazards a rocket meets in space.

Grit, dust, stones, boulders flying
at 30 miles a second. That needs studying.

- He's the expert.
- That's done it!

From this moment I am to be revealed as a
mass of ignorance. What did you want to know?

About a year ago,
there was a general scare. Do you remember?

- Reports of things falling.
- A lot of that was imagination.

- How can you tell?
- Our records. It would have been some display.

There was nothing unusual.
People like these stories. You get a lot.

Dr Pugh, how many meteorites
reach the ground in one piece?

It doesn't happen.
Perhaps one in a billion. In a billion, mind.

And the odds against three of them striking
an area 20 miles across in a single week?

Perhaps you'd better explain.

I'm liable to court martial for this.
It's against orders, but... I had to find out.

We'll respect your confidence.
Meteoric fragments. Found where?

Near where I'm stationed.
My unit tracked the fall.

- You got a signal off this?
- I didn't make myself clear.

This thing didn't break up until it hit the ground.

- What? I told you it doesn't happen.
- It did.

Assemble those pieces
and you get a single smooth shape.

Have you got one, darling? I'm right out.

Thanks. I've practically given myself the jitters.

- Stupid, isn't it?
- Not stupid.

I still don't see how you tracked it.
The speed would be too great.

- It was slower than a jet plane.
- And there were others?

Two on other days, but we couldn't find them.
Tell me, is that normal meteoric stone?

Looks like one of the many varieties.
Enstatite, I think.

Mm.

Interesting shape.

Who else saw this?

A sergeant instructor, the man who found it -
a ploughman - and his wife. That's all.

Really? Somebody outside this odd army order.

- How long will it take us to drive there?
- A couple of hours.

Can you spare the time?

- I'm sorry, darling. We'll celebrate another time.
- Of course.

I'd like to look into this further.

John...

- Be careful.
- Why did you say that?

- I don't know.
- Captain Dillon!

- Are you sure you've got all the fragments?
- Yes.

Why, Leo?

In that case...

it's hollow.

I bet you never breathed it like I said.

Afraid it would do you some good!

That's a car, isn't it?

You just keep your feet in that mustard bath
till I see if it's the parson.

Nay, it's strangers. Lost their way, perhaps.

Good evening. We met yesterday. Remember?

- Why, of course. Come in, won't you?
- Thank you.

I'm sorry. We're a bit upset.

- Fred's got a sort of... a kind of chill.
- Sorry to hear that.

We thought you must be the parson.

See who's here, Fred?

- Don't you remember? The fella that...
- Captain Dillon.

- Funny seeing you without the uniform.
- And this is Professor Quatermass.

- How do you do?
- Oh... Professor.

I'd better explain. I'm a scientist.

Mr Large, I wonder if you'd tell me
about the object you found yesterday.

Go on, Fred.

He's not himself. It's the chill.

He'll have thrown it off by tomorrow.
Can I get you a cup of tea?

No, thank you.
Mr Large, this object, this stone.

- Were you there when it fell?
- Of course he was. Tell them, Fred.

You saw it fall? Mr Large, this isn't
just curiosity. It may be important.

Was it in fragments? Broken up?

Fred?

Perhaps we can agree on what you told Captain
Dillon yesterday. There was an odd smell?

- He said it was like old stables.
- When did you notice this?

- When you first examined the pieces?
- No, sir, it wasn't...

- Stop! Stop!
- Mr Large, for heaven's sake! No need for that.

- Have you seen a doctor?
- No.

- I think it would be wiser.
- No! Send them... send them away!

Nothing to do with it! Nothing!

- Perhaps we'd better go.
- Yes, go. Go!

- Dear, oh, dear.
- Go away from here. Go from this house!

- She'd only be the one to suffer later.
- I'm sorry.

That's all right. We'd no right to impose.

- It's not like him. I wish you knew...
- What?

It's only just this chill. He must have caught it
in the field yesterday, sitting there, sweaty, like.

Go away from here!

That's all it is. Isn't it, Fred?

Just a chill.

You'll be as right as rain in the morning.

- I'm sorry that was so unproductive.
- It wasn't.

Could anything have happened in that field
before either she or you got there?

I can't imagine. Why shouldn't he talk about it?

- I don't know.
- Of course, they're country folk.

- There's always a lot of superstition...
- Yes, yes, yes.

Was that a pub we passed on the road?

Feel like a drink?

I feel like... talking to people.

Fred Large?

- Well, I didn't know that. Did you, Robert?
- What? Fred?

No, no, I never heard nothing.

What's the matter with him?

- Nothing serious. Just a chill.
- Ah, thank you.

You a relation of his?

No, it was just a friendly call.
We were passing through, looked him up.

- Knew Fred in the Army, maybe?
- Something like that.

He's not an easy man to know. A bit touchy.

Liable to fly off the handle.

Fred? Oh, I wouldn't say that.
Would you, Robert?

No, no. Them Larges is a steady lot,
Fred more than any.

- What did you say to him?
- Asked how he was, if he'd seen a doctor.

Ha-ha! That might have done it.

He don't hold with doctors any more than I do.

Government men!

- Who?
- Doctors. They all work for the government.

So Robert's agin them, too!

When there was less government about,
things was better, I know that.

He came across something odd in a field.

- Odd?
- A stone or stones that had just fallen.

- Out of the sky, do you mean?
- Ever seen anything? Fireballs? Meteorites?

Oh, a long while back.

Stories.

Hey, do you think this might have had
something to do with Fred being sick?

Do you think it possible?

All right, sir. All right.

Evening, Will. The usual?

- The things... falling on the Earth.
- What do you know about it?

- It be the government.
- No, not this time.

- You think I'm just a silly old man, don't you?
- Now, now, Robert.

Well, I'm not. They spoil and destroy.

- Who?
- The government men!

You tell him about Winnerden Flats!

No, you tell me.

Oh, a village.

It was a village.

12, 15 miles out on the sea.

I remember going there fishing sometimes
when I was a boy.

I courted a girl from Winnerden Flats.

- Married her.
- The village. The village?

Oh, well, there was
a government place there for research.

- Research into what?
- I don't know.

A little place, a few sheds,

but it seemed to content them. Until last year.

- And then...
- Go on.

- They run mad! Tore the whole village down!
- Tore it down?

With them bull... dozers.

And then they built a big place...

with great iron round things on top.

- Do you know anything about this?
- No.

It's secret. No one let near.

- Guards with guns to keep 'em away.
- Guns?!

I know a fella went by there
and they nearly set on him.

If you want odd things to happen,
well, just ask the government.

- Is this true?
- It's what they call a Security Area.

I expect there's some good reason for it.

Yes, I expect so.

- Well, we'll be off. Goodbye.
- Goodnight.

- You really think there could be a connection?
- We'll just have a look.

From a distance.
I don't want to get you into trouble.

As long as I'm in civvies, they'll forgive me.

But surely it's just a refinery?

I hope so.

What else could it be?

I think I'm going mad.

Let's try and get closer.

- Yes.
- Won't you tell me?

Just a coincidence.

Coincidence of what?

Of shapes.

- We're getting pretty close.
- I don't see any guards yet.

Listen!

It's over there.

If we can get to it...

- Is that it?
- Something's there, about six inches down.

- Here, let me.
- No, I can do it.

There's some sort of alarm!

- Here!
- It's just like the other one. I was right.

I want to get some measurements, quickly.

Some men are coming.
I hope they realise it's for their benefit.

- It's starting to... break up!
- Smell it?

- Yes!
- Ammonia?

Dillon! There's something on your face!