All language subtitles for From.the.Earth.to.the.Moon.1958 Eng

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.

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.