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"It was past midnight, and the fire had died to embers.

A light knock was heard at the door of the library,

and pale as a visitor from a tomb,

a servant entered, walking on tiptoe.

He had a look filled with terror.

He tried to speak to me, but he was unable.

He trembled!

What was he trying to say?

I only picked up fragments of what he was saying.

He spoke of an ungodly scream that lacerated the silence of the night;

of a gathering of all the family members;

of a search in the direction of the sound.

Then...

The sound of his voice

became frighteningly clear,

as he whispered

of a violated grave,

of a body wrapped in a shroud, disfigured but

nevertheless breathing,

nevertheless quivering, nevertheless alive!

He pointed to my clothes.

They were

mud-caked and bloodstained!

I didn't speak.

And he took,

gently, one of my hands,

And horribly, his fingers were all bloody.

He staggered toward the far side of that room and...

And then he grabbed up a poker from the fireplace.

With a scream, I threw myself at the table

and grabbed the box that was on it.

I pulled at the lid, but it didn't open.

The box slid out of my hands. It fell heavily,

and it was smashed.

It was weird.

As we stared at the contents,

we saw instruments that a dentist uses.

Mixed in there, I could see 32 white objects.

They were small and jagged and seemed made of ivory.

The next moment, I held one in my hand, and I remembered it.

I recognized one of the magnificent teeth

of my cousin Berenice.

My obsession of earlier, it was created by her teeth.

The sight of them had consumed me,

and it had been fully six months

since the night of her death...

The night that I had blanked out.

There wasn't a thing that I could recall. Memory failed.

Had I killed her? I wondered."

I recently read that story of yours, Mr. Poe.

It's fiction, but hearing you narrate it,

I begin to believe it could be true. Fascinating!

Who are you, sir?

Alan Foster, writer for The Times.

Ah, the journalist who's been storming me

with letters for the last five days.

Because you've refused me an appointment,

you've forced me to come here to see you.

It doesn't happen very often that Edgar Allan Poe

comes here to London.

This is in fact my first visit to England,

and it will also be my final visit.

Oh? Has London disappointed you?

No, life itself.

Sit down here, please.

Let me inform you, Mr. Foster, that I am not a novelist,

but one of your colleagues, a reporter.

Every story that I've ever written is true.

It really happened. - Oh, yes,

I'm quite sure it did,

with everything that you have written.

You see, it happened in your imagination.

No, it didn't.

It's pure and simple truth. Let me assure you, young man.

I believe there are only seven years

difference between us.

It could be eight.

Eight, then. But to me, it's a lifetime, you see,

and I await here something that doesn't exist: my death.

You're extraordinary.

I'd been led to believe that death is certain,

yet you say it doesn't exist.

It does, though. - You're confusing death

with the tomb, young man.

It's a common mistake.

A sheet of marble that'll cover all of us,

assures us that it's certainly the tomb,

but life has not been ended.

Of the people who are buried,

there are many who haven't died.

They survive. I've researched this.

Oh, I think you're making fun of me.

A man of your great intelligence certainly doesn't believe

that there's a hereafter. Oh, no, no.

I'd like to give you more credit.

My gratitude. You have properly insulted my intelligence

with I'd say an exquisite elegance.

If I've insulted you, I didn't mean to, and I apologize.

You've always had my admiration and all my respect, as well.

And you still do.

However, I disagree with you.

I think life's cycle terminates with death and entombment.

After that, well, there's nothing. It's the end.

If there is some existence after that...

If there is, I firmly believe that it's in the spirit.

That may never die.

Nobody ever returns from the dead, as in your stories.

I admit that I'm afraid,

yet I'm not afraid of the dead.

Not at all. It's the living.

Oh, yes. My fear is of the living.

They're the ones who can harm us.

You must agree.

Pardon me, sir.

I am Sir Thomas Blackwood.

I'll bear a hundred pounds sterling on the theory

that you, sir, cannot spend a single night

in my castle in Providence.

Why?

Do you believe that I might run away from the place?

No, you'd remain there.

Of all those who have agreed to take up my wager,

not one has ever lived to run away.

I'm sorry that I'm unable to take you up on your bet.

Oh, perhaps it's just as well, young man.

I've heard of this castle of Sir Thomas.

It's on a cliff overlooking the valley

in the Providence vicinity.

Approximately 12 months ago,

a bride and groom visited there.

They were the last. - That's right.

He was a cousin of my wife's.

The information I was given was that,

and Sir Thomas might dispute it,

they were never seen again. - Now, these honeymooners

decided that they'd stay.

Is that it?

You don't want me to think that they disappeared

into nothing.

Whether they still live or if they died,

I'm certain that they left.

Mr. Poe is telling the truth.

He happens to be right.

They remain there.

They are both resting there in the family cemetery.

Each year, I search like this.

I seek to locate a courageous man who will say

that he's willing to spend the night in the castle

and dispel the legend.

But you are quite a nice young man,

and I feel grateful that you've decided

to refuse to accept the wager.

It's not that I don't want to wager, milord.

I'm not a coward.

The fact is I lack the required sum.

You see, most journalists these days don't have money.

Am I right?

For 10, I'd be glad to-- - You'd take the wager

for 10 sterling? - Right away.

Then you will go there tonight...

The Night of the Dead.

It is only from midnight tonight,

the first midnight in November, until the sunrise,

that you may see the dead come back to perform again

those tragedies which had cost them their lives.

Well, you know, this experience is likely to prove

a valuable addition to my thesis.

I have an excellent title already:

"The Castle of Terror."

Please think about whether you really want to go there.

I look forward to it.

But you, sir, I want that interview now.

No, you must go there immediately.

It's a distance away.

It will take us at least about two hours in my carriage.

What about my interview with Mr. Poe here?

If it's so important to you,

perhaps we can talk while we're traveling.

Do you mind if I accompany you? I would like to.

I assure you, I'll be honored.

Come on, I'm ready to go.

Coming, sir?

During the journey, I should be able to get

a good interview tonight.

Of course.

Thank you, gentlemen. Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Have you ever tried to write stories

inspired by reality?

Reality...

Always lies beyond,

on the outside,

or below,

all the stabilized forms,

be they of society

as well as of the spirit.

In the abysses,

at the bottom of the sea,

at the South Pole.

Of all the subjects more or less melancholic,

which one,

if we follow humanity's universal understanding of it,

is the most melancholic?

Death

is the obvious answer.

And when is this most melancholic of subjects

at its most poetic?

When it allies itself to beauty.

Therefore,

the death of a beautiful woman is, undoubtedly,

the most poetic subject in the world.

Gentlemen, we're here.

Mr. Foster, you still have time

if you want to return with us. - No, thank you.

I intend to win the wager.

Please, think it over again.

My thanks for the interview.

I fully expect to return, to be able

to see it published someday. - You may.

We'll be back to pick you up at dawn tomorrow morning.

Let me wish you the best of luck.

You'll find the castle through that gate.

And I also want to wish you good luck.

- Thank you. - Grazie.

Oh.

Hmm.

You mustn't let a mirror frighten you as this dusty one has.

That was just your own reflection there.

Yet you'll have to be suspicious

and search very carefully every room.

You know, it's important to remain calm.

Whatever happens tonight,

you will have to survive 'til morning.

Huh, just a painting.

Hmm. You're a beauty.

I've decided to make notes. Will you mind?

Hmm.

Did my brother send you?

If, uh, if you are referring

to Lord Thomas Blackwood, yes.

I'm Alan, Alan Foster.

My name is Elisabeth.

Your brother led me to believe the castle was uninhabited.

I see.

Dear Thomas tells that to everyone because to him I'm dead.

What?

Yes, because ever since I left his world,

I came here to search for happiness with the man I love.

And you could never succeed in convincing him,

reconciling him. - A Lord will never accept

his own gardener as a brother-in-law.

Since then, I've been alone. - I'll go.

I remind you of the past.

Are you afraid of me?

No.

But if I'd known that you were here,

I wouldn't have accepted your brother's wager.

Ah, yes, of course.

That's the wager my brother makes every year,

so that I may have company for one night.

And also to give credit to all the fantastic stories

that are told about this castle.

Is it fantasy or real?

Like all fantastic stories,

mere coincidence and little reality.

But don't you want to win the wager?

Mm. Ah, is there anyone that has succeeded in the past?

The past doesn't count. You are here tonight.

You'll win and get rich.

I'll be truthful. I could wager only 10 pounds.

I'm a poor man.

Then you won't become rich,

but you can help me spite my brother.

Come.

I've prepared your room upstairs.

You knew I'd be here?

Naturally.

Every year on this night, someone arrives.

On this night, eh? The Night of the Dead.

- Afraid? - Who did this?

Nobody.

The candles are being extinguished simply by the wind.

You're trembling.

Oh, it seems cold in here.

Come this way. Must I have to give you courage?

A woman?

That doesn't seem right, now does it?

Look there!

- What is it? - The portrait.

It's affected by the light.

First time that it did that, I'd moved the candles.

What did they do to it?

Made her eyes seem to glow.

This entire painting of your ancestor seemed alive.

Hmm. But Julia isn't a Blackwood,

and she's exactly my age.

Oh.

Forgive me.

I'm making a lot of errors.

I'm truly sorry. I better leave you alone.

Be so good as to make my apologies to Julia,

though I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her.

You're going to meet her very soon.

I found that piece of lace as I came in.

I supposed it belonged to someone here.

Thank you.

This way, Alan.

Come with me.

This is so different from what I expected.

I was prepared to spend the night with horrible ghosts

and instead I find you.

I'm glad you feel that way.

I hope you feel at home because you're nice.

Yes, I like you very much.

And Julia will like you.

But she must realize that my brother sent you to visit me.

In here, the things have been kept

more orderly, as you can see.

I've been without servants ever since

the day that I arrived.

It's not been easy seeing that these things stay

in readiness for a visitor like you, Alan.

Alan, come here and sit next to me.

I want to hear what's happening in the world outside.

Well, there's nothing new.

People are born and others die every day.

Business seems as usual. In fact, the world goes on.

It remains the same.

You haven't missed anything while you've stayed here

in your own world. And you seem content, are you not?

It's a shame, though, that society

is deprived of the pleasure of seeing

such a charming woman as you.

You're very kind.

Do you really consider that I'm an attractive woman, Alan?

Oh, yes, Elisabeth.

I'm being very truthful.

I know you are, but now I'm very anxious

to hear all about you.

I'm afraid there's not much to tell.

But you ask me, so I'll try.

I'm single, never been inside a prison.

In London, I earn a steady living as a writer.

To be honest, I've been very lonely.

Tonight, you won't be so lonely.

I don't believe we've met.

Earlier tonight, I was admiring your lovely portrait.

Yet Elisabeth is the woman you admire.

Ah. Elisabeth is really beautiful, isn't she?

But you are also beautiful, my dear Julia.

Well, you are kind.

I envy you. You know that.

Julia, you better not start trying to cause any trouble.

Elisabeth, really.

That's being quite unjust to me.

Is it?

Just remember, he was sent to see me.

Are you certain, my dear? Is it true, Mr. Foster?

Oh, well, no, no.

I'd been led to believe that it's part of a wager.

That's why I came here. - You see, Elisabeth?

I'm warning you, Julia.

Mind your own business. - Oh, don't threaten me.

As you can see, Mr. Foster is finding this

very embarrassing, Elisabeth.

I have the feeling that he might like to be left alone.

Why don't you leave? - Be still!

You're being childish again.

Well, I'll leave then.

It's getting late and I guess I'd better leave also.

Until tomorrow, then.

And I hope that you'll have a peaceful night.

Will I be seeing you tomorrow morning?

No, I'm sorry. I won't be here in the day.

You mean you're leaving?

Not at all.

I only said I shan't be here tomorrow morning

in the daylight.

Well, goodnight.

That's being unfair. He's my guest.

Will you stop staring at me like that?

He belongs only to me.

You have no right to interrupt our visit.

Oh, yes, I did.

He might've learned the secret.

Yet maybe you'd like that.

Would you like him to learn it? Yes or no?

I can't let him know.

If he did, he'd never be able to face me

and he'd try to leave.

He must never learn the truth about this horrible place.

He will learn the truth.

Just see him again and I will tell him.

Julia, I need him.

I need to be with him.

- Are you in love with him? - Yes, I love him.

Poor dear.

And can you really expect that you'll be happy, Elisabeth?

Happy?

Yes. I'll be happy with him.

No, you won't be happy with any man.

I'm certain that with Alan here, I can really be happy.

You're speaking like this, Julia,

only because you're so jealous.

That's the only reason you're so against us.

No. You're liable to feel disappointed.

I'll not be. I've dreamed of this night.

At last, I can go away with the man I love.

You can't leave, Elisabeth.

You're trapped in this castle.

Trapped here? No, it's not true.

It can't be! It can't be!

"I'll wait for you at midnight in the park under the big oak. Hector."

CARMUS - INTRODUCTION TO METAPHYSICAL MEDICINE

Oh, you're still up, I see.

I feared you'd be asleep.

I hope you won't be too angry. I wanted to see you.

I'm pleased you're here.

I wanted to see you again.

You've made me feel so much at home tonight.

And I'm very attracted to you, my dear.

Alan, dear, are you really?

Yes, Elisabeth.

Thank you.

Your hair, it's lovely.

Your beauty is strange and very unusual.

Carmus. I see that you were planning to read this.

In that case, I will leave-- - No, please stay here.

Promise?

Elisabeth, I must tell you that I think

you're the loveliest girl on this earth.

Oh, Alan, I'm so very happy you said that.

Kiss me?

If you mind, then...

Kiss me.

Love me, Alan. Love me.

Oh, yes, my dearest.

Keep on embracing me.

I want to absorb the warmth of your body.

Kiss me, kiss me, warm me, dearest Alan.

Alan, my dearest, you will give me life.

Yes...

Ah, yes...

Yes...

Alan...

My love...

Yes...

Yes...

I tried telling her. I tried.

I'll make her remember this night.

Did you see her?

Elisabeth? Yes, she went back in there again.

I knew she'd see him and she did.

It's too late. - She'll be sorry she did,

pretending to be something that she isn't.

I'd better tell Herbert. Excuse me.

We've met too late, my love.

If that's true, I've not been happier.

Besides, dear, we'll be together from now on.

No, apart.

Your life is today, but mine is the past.

I don't believe that, Elisabeth.

I can't be in your world, I remain in mine.

Elisabeth!

Yes, Alan?

Oh, thank heavens.

For a moment, I thought that your heart had stopped.

My heart isn't beating, Alan.

It hasn't beaten for 10 years.

I'm dead, Alan...

Dead.

Elisabeth!

No! No, Herbert, no!

Oh!

Uh!

Elisabeth?

Elisabeth!

Elisabeth!

Elisabeth! Elisabeth!

Elisabeth.

Elisabeth!

It's not possible.

Everything is possible here tonight.

You must not be concerned about Elisabeth.

What happened? She disappeared!

- Yes, yes, she did. - It was horrible.

Where is she? I must find her.

- It's no use. - You mean she's dead?

But if she was killed, I will have to find her body.

You will not find it.

It does not exist in your world.

You, sir. Who are you?

I am Dr. Carmus.

Carmus? The famous doctor and scientist?

Yes.

There's been no news of you for years

and I concluded that you had died.

Did you?

Perhaps it's accurate to say that I stopped

surviving in your world.

I wanted to try some experiments

and I wasn't allowed to do it.

But you've suffered a shock.

I want to prescribe something to drink.

This way.

I have an excellent whiskey in my study.

Come in, won't you?

The drink will relax your nerves, Foster.

Your name is Foster, isn't it?

How'd you know?

I overheard you speaking to Elisabeth.

- You heard everything? - Yes.

I heard every word, and I also saw what happened.

But I was unable to intervene in any way.

You will understand the reason.

Sit down, please. Sit down and let the drink relax you.

It's impossible.

It seems as if this is a nightmare.

I feel convinced Elisabeth's alive.

I held her in my arms. I felt life in her body.

I saw her living!

It's because at that moment she lived with the strength

of her senses and they never can die.

I don't understand.

In all human beings,

There are three forms of life.

The weakest of them is the human body.

Then the spirit, that is indestructible.

Then the senses. I've proved that they're not eternal,

but continue normally after death in some bodies.

Experimenting with this theory, I proved

that the senses remain strongest when a human being

is torn from life by an act of violence.

I've seen this frequently when there is emotion.

In other words, death isn't completely accepted

unless the victim is ready to die.

Hmm. I think that's completely absurd.

I'll prove my thesis, then.

To conduct my experiments in privacy,

I rented this castle from Lord Blackwood years ago,

away from a suspicious world.

You will now see how successful I was.

Now, be careful because he's very dangerous.

At this moment, the snake here is ready

to strike in his own defense.

I'll take its life,

yet it will continue to live through the senses

even though life is out of the body.

And survival through the senses is even stronger in humans.

Doctor, I have seen Elisabeth, and alive,

and I feel she didn't die.

You have not proven your theory,

because I still feel unconvinced she's been killed.

It's over.

The serpent must be dead.

See if it is.

Put out your hand.

It's still dangerous.

As you can see, the senses are still living.

Its flesh has been killed,

but the senses can live on indefinitely.

- You may be right. - This is only

a small illustration of theories I have proven here.

You've been a witness to life after death.

Are you persuaded now the theory is correct?

A reptile perhaps can exist

after death, but tell me, doctor, can a human?

You don't believe it.

Then I'll show you further proof.

You've already seen Elisabeth.

You have held her closely and you felt the reactions

of a living body as you embraced her.

However, Elisabeth rests there beneath the earth.

She's been dead many years.

And the others?

They are there also, victims of their destiny.

What destiny?

Come with me. I shall explain.

In a few minutes more,

the dead will relive their last five minutes

in which they encountered their destiny.

Only a man as sick as Lord Thomas would send you here

on the 2nd of November.

He's as sadistic as his grandfather,

the first Count of Blackblood.

Blackwood.

He had the name changed to Blackwood,

but the first Count was known as Blackblood originally.

He was made a Lord when he became a hangman

and hung criminals from the trees.

He was infamous as the Hangman of London.

In many ways, Lord Thomas is even worse than his ancestor.

Please, doctor, I beg of you.

Tell me of Elisabeth.

It is the hour.

Words have no meaning. Look in there.

- Oh! - Would you like some water?

Yes, thank you.

What do you want? - I must talk to you.

Please don't say no.

I'll try to meet you later. Go away.

Elisabeth.

Here, sip this.

Thank you.

So nice to see you home again, William.

Thank you, Julia.

I feel very glad to be here once again,

and to be with my lovely wife...

My Elisabeth.

A magnificent party, William.

Are you leaving?

Yes, I'm sorry, I have to be in London

for a conference in the morning,

so we'll have to start early.

Do you really have to be going?

Couldn't you stay longer?

I would like to. Thank you, my dear.

The castle seems so gay tonight.

Thanks to you, it's filled with life.

William, we really must be going home.

I was impressed with America.

I found there a certain driving force.

I noticed there much more vitality than in Europe,

more than I've seen in France or Italy.

Then you had a good journey.

But I'm glad that my husband has returned safely to me.

Naturally.

- Oh, allow me. - No, no.

I want to show them out, if you don't mind, my dear.

Thank you.

- Goodnight, Thomas. - And to you, William.

- Goodnight, my dear. - Goodnight, Cynthia.

Goodnight, Elisabeth.

I trust we'll see you - Goodnight.

- Again soon. - Goodnight.

I must talk to you. I told you that.

Not now. My husband will be looking for me.

- I'll call you a carriage. - Thank you.

- No. - Your carriage is coming,

Sir Neville.

- No. - Yes.

Over here.

While your husband was gone, you swore you'd love me,

me and not him! And now that he's come back,

I can't bear the thought of you in his arms.

I won't allow it!

He's my husband. Did you forget that?

Let go of me. - I'm warning you,

before it's too late, give him up.

I'll kill you if you go back with William!

No! Let me go!

No!

No!

I don't want to!

I don't want to...

No...

It's getting late.

They have a rendezvous with death.

They'll keep it. They have to.

Every death is repeated tonight.

Come.

Yes...

Yes...

I live only when I love.

I love you, my husband.

You're everything to me.

Elisabeth... Elisabeth...

Oh.

No!

Oh... no!

Don't cry. You're safe now.

He won't harm you again.

I've killed him. It's all right.

I knew this was going to happen.

I knew he would try to hurt you, but it's all over now.

I beg you, Elisabeth.

Go away! Begone! - No... I beg you...

Go away!

Don't reject me.

I hate you, I despise you!

I love men.

Men! Do you understand?!

No, that's not true.

Yes, it is! I hate you. You're a murderer! Leave me!

I can't live only with you anymore.

I will never leave you ever again.

We will always be together!

I'd rather die

than do this.

No, don't say that.

You can't...

Because...

...Elisabeth...

I love you!

Ghastly.

Oh.

I beg you, let me out. I can't watch.

No one is holding you here.

You wanted to witness this, Foster,

but everything you see is in the past now.

It's obvious. This is merely a trick.

Just some magic is all.

Be convinced the dead are in a different dimension.

They are dwelling beyond our reach.

You must learn to accept it.

Go away! Carmus, I'm sick of your horrors tonight.

There is more for you to see, Foster.

Watch closely. - I wish--

The dead are living on this night.

I don't want to see!

I want no more of your tricks!

Carmus!

Carmus!

Elisabeth.

Carmus!

Carmus.

No use hiding!

You won't be able to frighten me anymore.

This is only a play, I say, it's no more than that!

Carmus!

Where are you hiding? You must be here.

Carmus! Carmus, I, I beg you, Carmus!

I want to talk to you. I must!

Open up! Open up!

Carmus!

I'm sorry that I made the bet.

I must get out!

Carmus!

He wins the wager.

I admit I've lost.

Carmus!

Carmus!

Carmus! Carmus, look out!

It is over now, Foster.

You have seen how I met my destiny.

"Blood is the source of life:

Only blood makes the dead come back to life!

And we will drink from your spring!"

Oh, it's marvelous!

Perfect for our wedding night.

A night of love and terror,

according to what Sir Thomas told us earlier.

Don't leave me alone.

Why? Are you really afraid, Mrs. Perkins?

Yes, but not of you.

Ahh.

They'll be killed.

No, come back. I warn you!

You can't carry everything!

You're going to your death! Come back!

I've been locked in. Trapped here.

I've had enough!

I want to get out!

I will get out alive! I'm not afraid at all!

Mm.

Ah,

Did you hear that?

Are you telling me you are afraid of a few ghosts?

I heard a sound.

I'm sure I did.

Eh, I better check.

Better not run away.

Elsi!

Elsi!

Tonight, it is your turn, Foster.

And now, you are next.

Alan, they need your blood

so that they can return to life next year.

You must run. Please, that way!

Elisabeth!

This way, Alan.

Follow me.

Elisabeth!

Elisabeth!

Soon now, it will be light.

You're in our hands now.

You cannot escape your destiny.

Your blood means our life.

No!

Your blood means life a year from now.

It's blood that is the fountain.

Elisabeth, what do they want?

Quickly! I will try to save you.

- Tell me what they want. - Blood to live.

The same blood I must have to give my body

one more night of life.

- I don't believe it. - Alan...

How I love you, Alan.

Uselessly, absurdly, as I wasn't able in my life.

It'll mean their deaths if you escape.

Through here. I want you to go back

to where life is denied me. Go quickly!

- We must escape together. - I can't.

No! No, please!

I can't go back. Your world's not mine.

Alan, I can't!

I can't! - You can.

- No! - Elisabeth, I can feel

the life in your body. You must come with me!

- I can't, Alan! - Yes.

I can't go with you!

I beg you!

Let go of me, please.

I'm dead, Alan.

I can't leave here. I can't!

Alan, it's impossible. - This way!

Our worlds could never be together.

- Hurry! - No, Alan!

No, Alan! I'm dead, I'm dead!

Goodbye, Alan.

Your blood will be ours.

You cannot escape us.

It is your destiny.

Your blood will be ours.

Your blood will be our life.

Your blood will be ours.

You cannot escape us.

Through you, we will live! - You cannot escape.

Your blood will be our life.

- You cannot escape. - No!

Your blood will be our life.

You cannot escape!

Your blood will be ours!

Your blood will be our life.

Ah!

He's waiting! So you can see, he's won the bet.

Rafe, stop by the gate.

Foster?

The Night of the Dead has claimed another victim.

I'm sorry, but I have to collect my wager.

Now we're even.

Come, Poe.

I will arrange to have him buried in the cemetery in there.

When I finally write this story,

I'm afraid they'll say it's unbelievable.

You have stayed with me, Alan.

Yes, Elisabeth.

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