Original subtitles

People ask, where do you get your ideas?

Right here.

All this is my magician's toy shop.

I'm Ray Bradbury, and this is...

I had been passing alone on horseback through a singularly dreary tract of

country, and at length found myself, as the shades of evening drew on,

within view of the melancholy House of Usher.

Behold, Mr. Bigelow, the second House of Usher.

Is it everything you wanted, Mr. Steadman?

Yes. Is it desolate and terrible?

Very terrible.

The walls are bleak?

Amazingly so.

The sedge, we dyed it, you know.

Is it properly hideous?

It's beautiful.

I had to work in total ignorance, you know.

Thank goodness you had the means to pay for it all.

Mr. Bigelow, it was worth every penny.

Now that my job's done, Mr. Stendhal, may I ask what you intend to do with all

this? With Usher.

Haven't you guessed?

No. Does the name of Usher mean nothing to you?

Nothing. What about the name Edgar Allan Poe?

No.

Of course.

How can I expect someone of your generation to know the blessed Mr. Poe?

All his books were banned and then burned in the great fire 20

years ago.

Oh, one of those.

Yes, one of those, Mr. Bigelow, along with Hawthorne, Steinbeck, Vonnegut, and

all the tales of fantasy and horror in the future, all burned heartlessly.

They passed a law.

Oh, it started innocently enough.

With one group or another, political bias, religious prejudice, union

there's always a minority afraid of something.

And a great majority afraid of the past, afraid of the future, afraid of

themselves. I see.

The curse of the census, Bigelow.

With a screw tightened here and a bolt fastened there and a pull and a push.

Art and literature are like a great twine of...

twists it into knots so there's no longer any resiliency or flavor to it

film cameras stop the theaters are dark the printing presses grind to a halt i'm

sorry i don't know what you're talking about but from what i hear the burning

was a good thing get out

Mr. Pike, you are the greatest of them all. The man of a thousand faces.

Fanny Karloff, the ghost of Robert Lay, a comparison to you.

Turn him in, Mr. Stendhal.

Mere plotters after truth.

You must have suffered the night they took your film.

No more than you did the night you watched them burn your life.

Yes, Mr. Pike. Poe, dead and burned, burned and dead.

Dickens and his Scrooge with his Christmas ghosts. And Stevenson with his

treasure island.

Buried and dead.

Oh, Mr. Pikes, they're burning.

Sometimes I think it is turned by mine.

Nonsense, Mr. Stendhal.

Never. You are as lucid as ever you were.

of Usher. Of Usher.

Yes?

Is your name Stendhal?

Yes. Garrett.

Investigate immoral climates.

So you're finally here, you moral climate people. I was wondering when

appear. Word gets around.

Soon everything here will be neat and tidy as a pin.

Now suppose you tell me about this place, Mr. Stendhal.

It's a haunted castle, if you like.

I don't like, Mr. Stendhal.

I don't like.

It's simple enough.

In this year of our Lord, 2 ,125, I have built.

A sanctuary for the imagination.

Come in, won't you?

In this house, copper vans fly in make -believe attics.

Brass rats cuddle in plush ceilings.

Robot skeletons rattle in dreary clodges. Robot skeletons, vampires,

phantoms. Done with chemicals and ingenuity.

I was afraid of that.

We're going to have to tear this place down, you know. What a pity.

I was expecting it.

But I didn't think it would happen so soon. I would have been here earlier,

we at Moral Climates wanted to be sure of your intentions before moving in on

you.

I consider you something of a fool, sir, spending hard -earned money on a folly.

It must have cost millions.

Yes, it did.

But I was left a lot of money when I was very young.

I can afford to spend it as I see fit. We can have the dismantlers and burners

here by sundown.

By midnight, your place will be a memory.

I know all about you, Mr. Stendhal.

I've seen your file.

You caused us a great deal of trouble 20 years ago, you and your library.

My library.

You must put in a full report, Mr. Garrett, mustn't you?

Yes.

Then come and have a look around before you leave.

It'll only take a minute.

All right.

But no tricks.

I was wondering. This place has only just been finished.

Couldn't you let me play with my toy for, what, 24 hours?

Out of the question, Mr. Stendhal.

You know the law.

No books, no films, no houses.

Nothing that in any way suggests ghosts, vampires, or any creature of the

imagination. For 24 hours.

But how can it do?

Amazing.

Just a robot, Mr. Garrett.

Just a robot.

Deplorable.

Exactly the sort of thing we mean.

I'll allow you to burn her personally.

I'm glad you've decided not to oppose us, Mr. Stendhal.

No!

It's enough to know that I created this place.

To be able to say that I did it.

I nurtured a medieval, gothic atmosphere in this modern, sterile world.

I must say I have a certain reluctant admiration for your genius, Mr.

Thank you, Mr. Garrett.

But why, Mr. Stendhal?

Why all this?

What possessed you?

Bureaucracy, Mr. Garrett.

But I haven't time to explain.

No.

Almost ready, Mr. Pike?

Yeah, let me finish wiring this upper quadrant sensor. There we are.

Splendid job, Mr. Pike.

I get splendidly paid for it, Mr. Stendhal. Spitting image of Garrett.

Yes, but what do I do with him?

All better burn him.

Don't want two Garrets doing.

True.

You have your orders, Garrett?

Yes, sir.

I'm to return to moral climates and file a complimentary report on your complete

moral and mental rehab... Rehab... Rehab... Rehabilitation.

And invite the members of the committee to a party to celebrate the fall of the

second House of Usher. A symbolic gesture by the rebel Stendhal in

of the fact that fantasy is dead.

Splendid, Garrett.

Off you go.

for jolly time, don't you, Mr. Clines?

Considering we've been waiting and planning for the last 20 years, Mr.

very jolly time indeed.

Our records clearly show that Stendhal has opposed and defied the edicts of

committee for the past 20 years.

However, today I am happy to report that he has seen the error of his ways.

I therefore heartily endorse his invitation to members of this committee

attend the fall of the second House of Usher.

So this is the House of Usher.

Byzantine.

It deserves to be destroyed.

Welcome. Miss Pope, Miss Blunt, Dr. Stephens.

Welcome to the House of Usher.

What is this, Stendhal?

I thought we were here to witness the destruction of this place.

In good time, Dr. Stephens, in good time.

But first...

A costume ball.

I don't know if we should participate.

It verges on blasphemy. Nonsense, Miss Blanche. Enjoy yourself.

Tomorrow, Usher will be a ruin. A memory.

You're here in the line of duty.

Off you go and change.

I've just cleaned out the incinerator.

Look what I found.

Garrett? Garrett.

They've sent an android.

I should have known he wouldn't be fool enough to come in person.

They'll be sending the police along next.

Our whole plan will be ruined.

Maybe not, Mr. Pykes.

Garrett sent us an android.

We sent one back to him.

Unless he looks very closely, he won't notice the switch.

Of course you're right.

That android was perfect.

Next time he'll come himself, because he thinks it's safe.

Mr. Stendhal, you have a genius for seeing the obvious.

That'll be him now.

Mr. Garrett, welcome back.

You're mistaken, Mr. Stendhal.

I've never been here before.

I sent my android to do the preliminary interview.

An excellent likeness.

But somewhat more lenient in his reports than I would have been, I'm afraid, Mr.

Stendhal.

Fortunately, I took the precaution of summoning the dismantlers tonight.

They'll be here in an hour.

Enough time for a splendid party.

Some wine, Mr. Garrett?

No, thank you.

Mr. Thendall, what exactly is going on here?

Murder. Murder? Murder, most foul!

What's happened?

Miss Blood's been strangled and stuffed up the fireplace.

Tyndall, what is the meaning of this? It's odd, but quite clever.

Isn't it fun? Miss Blood?

Good evening, Mr. Garrett.

I just saw you, Grandad. No, an android of myself.

A clever facsimile.

It's quite remarkable, isn't it?

Don't cry, darling.

I'm quite all right.

You see, Mr. Garrett, party games.

Enjoy yourself.

Mr. Garrett?

Thank you.

Aren't they marvellously inventive ways to die, Mr. Garrett?

From all the forbidden books, you know.

The premature burial, hitting the pendulum, murders in the room or...

Books you burned, remember?

I wish we could have burned all memory off them too, Mr. Stendhal.

I'm sure you're working on it, Mr. Garrett.

want to see what we've got planned for you.

You're nasty.

Why not?

We'll be blowing the whole place up in a moment anyway.

Come along then.

What do you want to show me down here?

Yourself being killed.

A duplicate.

that be, Mr. Tenlaw?

This. More wine.

Not just any wine.

Amontillado. The what?

The post book, The Castle of Amontillado.

One prefer to take Fortunato, who's just insulted him, down to a cellar like

this and offer him this very wine.

Really?

Of course, you recognize this.

Should I?

And this.

I'm not an idiot.

Of course not.

What are you doing?

I'm being ironic.

Never interrupt a man for his being.

Ironic. It's not polite.

There. You've locked me in chains.

So I have.

What are you going to do?

Leave you here.

You're joking.

It's a good joke.

What about my duplicate? When do we get to see him killed?

There isn't a duplicate.

What about the others?

The others are dead.

The ones you saw killed were the real people.

But the duplicates stood by and watched.

Now, you're supposed to say, for the love of God, Montresor.

And I say,

Yes, for the love of God.

Won't you say it?

Go on, say it.

Say it. Say it. Say it.

Let me out of here.

What are you doing?

Walling you in.

You're out of your mind.

No arguing at that point.

You'll be prosecuted for this.

Yes, sure.

Help!

That's good, Garrett.

Yes, a little more thrashing.

We need to have a good show.

Oh, Garrett.

Do you know why I've done this to you?

Because you banned and burned books without even reading.

You listened to other people's advice as to whether they were harmful.

Now, if you'd read Mr. Poe's books, you would have realized what I was going to

do when I brought you down here.

Ignorance is fatal, Mr. Garrett.

Jingle your bells softly.

Now, if you'll please stay for the love of God.

I might set you free.

For the love of God.

I want this place totally destroyed by mid... By mid... By mid...

By midnight.

Move!

My brain reeled as I saw the...

mighty walls rushing asunder. There was a long tumultuous shouting sound like

the voice of a thousand waters and the deep and dark town closed sullenly

and silently over the house of Asher.