Original subtitles

Arthur. Same

again all

around, Arthur.

Ah, here's Greville.

How are you doing?

Don't worry him. I've got him mated on the move.

Good evening, gentlemen.

Hello there.

What's going on here?

Scott just told us a damn good horror yarn.

Hmm.

Can't say I care for that sort of thing myself.

Give me a good laugh every time.

Oh, I don't know.

You don't get much thrill out of life nowadays.

Talking of horror stories...

The tales of Edgar Allan Poe take a lot of beating.

As a matter of fact, he's rather a weakness of mine.

What I like about his stories is that you're never quite sure what happened in

the end.

It's more or less left to the imagination.

Have you read The Pit and the Pendulum?

That's one of the best.

For sheer unearthly horror, you can't beat The Fall of the House of Usher.

It's a story of a house enshrouded in mystery, of weird happenings.

of the strange wanderings of the Lady Madeline in the woods at night.

If there's a copy here, I'll show you what I mean.

Ah, here it is.

The whole thing centers around the house itself.

There's a sort of uncanny atmosphere about it.

Nothing definite, a suggestion of decay, of approaching dissolution, which is

reflected in the minds of the characters.

The morbid Roderick Usher, last of the line, and his ill-fated twin, the Lady

Madeleine. To this house on a damp, depressing autumn afternoon.

comes Roderick's boyhood friend, Jonathan, the one sane element in the

story which is told in Jonathan's own words.

During the whole of a dull, dark and soundless day, I had been passing alone

on horseback through a singularly dreary tract of country.

The bleakness of the landscape made me feel depressed and dejected.

The dark, low-lying clouds scurrying along seemingly but a few feet from my

head and the monotonous, flat countryside through which I passed.

The twisted branches of the barren trees reached out as if to clutch me.

It was as if nature was asking me to return, to retrace my steps from whence

I came.

Yet some irresistible urge within my soul, whether for good or evil, forced

me onwards to whatever fate awaited me.

Well do I remember that journey and all that followed.

Had I been permitted to see the future, I would have turned back.

Now all that happened is but a memory, a memory so horrible and fantastic, yet so

vivid and real.

it will haunt me for the rest of my life.

As the shades of evening drew on, I found myself within view of the

melancholy house of Usher.

And with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of insufferable gloom

pervaded my spirit.

Good evening, sir.

I beg, sir, to introduce myself.

Dr. Cordwell, physician to the family of Usher. I feel I must tell you, you are

entering a most unhappy house.

Heed my warning and leave, while the chance is yours.

Although I was a little surprised and disturbed at the doctor's words, I had

little time for reflection, as shortly I approached the study of my friend,

Roderick.

Jonathan, my friend, you can't know how I've been awaiting your arrival.

The time has hung so heavily, my head ached with impatience.

How could I refuse to come after your letter?

My letter.

Yes, my letter.

Please, sit down.

You can't know how earnestly I've been waiting for you to come.

I am alone here.

I need your companionship to bring me out of myself.

You mentioned my letter.

Yes, from the sound of your letter you seemed unwell, so naturally I hastened

to come.

I am glad.

My illness is a family evil, and one for which I despair to find a remedy.

It is a mere nervous affection and will undoubtedly soon pass off.

But until it does, I'm sure there is no remedy.

I find only the most insipid food endurable.

I can wear clothes only of a certain texture.

The scent of all flowers is oppressive to me.

My eyes are tortured by the faintest light.

All sounds are horrible, except for my stringed instruments here.

And there, my friend, you can judge how I've been living.

Overshadowed by this illness, which is utterly incomprehensible, sometimes I

despair.

In this unnerved and pitiable condition, I feel that the time will come, sooner

or later, when I must abandon reason and life together.

But an illness such as this, my friend, must have some foundation.

Some reason.

Reason enough there is, Jonathan.

My sister, my sole companion for many years, and my last and only relative,

has been severely ill.

If Lady Madeline dies, she will leave me the last of the ancient race of ushers.

Her disease has long baffled the skill of her physician.

A settled apathy, a gradual wasting away, and frequent, although

passing affections, of a partially cataleptical character.

It's horrible.

after my first meeting with roderick i was conducted to my room where exhausted

by my long journey i slept soundly quite unaware of the evil which was revealed

during the hours of darkness

Yes. I cannot help hearing part of your conversation and am now convinced that

you do not know the true nature of your illness or the mysteries surrounding

this house.

But now the time has come, my friend, when I think you should know the truth.

Mystery? But why haven't you told me of this before?

It is a sad and horrible story.

but one I fear that you must face before it is too late.

Your illness and that of your sister is the result of a curse put on the house

of Usher and its descendants by a man whom your father murdered many years

ago. A man whom my father murdered?

But I don't understand.

If you allow me, I will explain it to you. But how do you know all this?

Your father told me the secret just before he died.

You remember that since you were children, he always impressed on you

that you must never go into the marshes and woodlands that lie to the south of

your estate because they are so treacherous that no one has ever come

out of them alive.

Yes, I remember.

That was partly true, but there was another reason why he wanted you to

avoid those marshes.

Beyond them is a temple which conceals a torture chamber.

built by your ancestors many years ago.

It is there I must take you to learn the secret of your illness.

I have here a plan which your father drew for me while telling me the secret.

It shows the only safe path through the woods to the temple.

Well, will you come with me?

Thank you.

The story I am about to tell you begins many years ago, when your mother was a

young and beautiful woman.

She had a secret lover whom she used to meet in this temple.

This became known to your father, and one day he followed her, and, hiding

in the woods over there, watched them meet.

and enter through this door.

Prepare yourself for a great shock, as the sight you are about to see is

unutterably evil.

in your father, and he burst open the door and rushed at the lover whom he

easily overpowered.

He strapped him into this rack and made him watch while he beat your mother.

This enraged the lover who put a curse on the ushers, saying that neither you

nor your sister would live longer than thirty years, and then the house of

usher would finally fall.

At this your father swung round, and drawing his sword with a mighty blow

beheaded him.

But it was too late. The curse was spoken.

The sight and horror of all this was too much for your mother.

She was driven completely insane.

Lost all powers of speech.

That is your mother.

Oh, she's harmless enough.

But should you attempt to touch the head, she has the strength to tear you

to pieces.

The body decayed, but the head lives on and has aged with time.

Where is he?

There.

What are we going to do?

I have done all I can for you, but medical aid is useless against this

curse. It is stronger than any human power and is slowly taking your lives.

But we are both thirty next month.

You must do something to save us.

The only way to stop the curse taking effect is to burn the head.

Yes, it is a dangerous task.

But I think it can be done if we can get one other person to help us.

Do you think your friend Jonathan would be willing to come with us?

No, I would rather Jonathan knew nothing of this.

But there is the God, Richard.

He would help me, I'm sure.

Good. Now, this is my plan.

Two of us must try to overpower your mother while the other destroys the

head. But supposing we fail?

The alternative is to take the life of Lady Madeline.

We must burn the head.

You both know exactly what to do?

Yes.

Richard? Yes, sir.

Very well, then.

It's no use!

Come on!

No!

Mr. Richard, have you seen him?

I sent him away early this morning.

When will he be back?

He will not be coming back.

Is there anything troubling you, Lady Madeline?

No.

No, nothing, thank you.

I was just looking at the horses.

Have you seen Richard?

Not this morning, my lady.

When did you last see him?

Louise, tell me, when did you last see Richard?

Last night, my lady. Where?

I saw him from my window, going towards the woods with the master and Dr.

Cordwell. Then about an hour later, I saw the doctor helping the master back

to the house.

Richard was not with them.

Louise?

I'm afraid something terrible has happened to Richard.

I shall need your help.

Tonight after Charles has given me my drink, I shall leave by the back stairs.

You must meet me in the courtyard with my cloak.

Yes, my lady. I will be there.

Will there be anything more this evening my lady?

No, thank you

Now, Louise, I want you to go back to the house.

But, my lady, where are you going?

To try and find out what has happened to Richard.

Oh, no, my lady, don't go, love.

I must try.

My lady, there's a danger.

Louise, you can help me most by going to your room and waiting for my return.

If I'm not back within an hour, go to the master and tell him that I've gone

to the temple.

Tell the master that you've gone to the temple.

Farewell, my lady.

Thank you.

What is the matter? I fear this would

happen. They took every precaution.

I do not understand how she entered the house.

We must be on our guard in case she makes another attempt.

For several days, I have tried to alleviate the melancholy of my friend.

We painted and read together, or I listened as if in a dream to the wild

improvisations of his guitar.

And the more a closer intimacy admitted me into the recesses of his spirit, the

more I realized the futility of any attempt to cheer his darkened mind.

The painting over which his elaborate fancy brooded made me shudder.

His work arrested attention by its utter simplicity and the barrenness of his

designs. If ever a mortal painted an idea, that man was Roderick Usher.

I shall always bear the memory of the solemn hours I spent alone with the

master of the House of Usher.

After several days, he came to me.

Lady Madeline is dead.

Dead?

Yes. She had been confined to her bed for seven days.

She grew weaker on the very night you came, after you saw her.

She drew her last breath only a few minutes ago.

I was with her when she died.

As I watched the life of my beloved sister fade away, I was grimly reminded.

that when I too pass from this earth, the ancient family of ushers would pass

with me and would crumble into the dust on which it was made.

The ushers will soon pay the penalty for their pride.

You wonder, Jonathan, how I felt at that bedside, hardly venturing to move,

hardly daring to breathe.

My friend, I experienced not only pity, sorrow and regret

but also and worst of all i felt alone and in the cold grip of

fear perhaps not alone jonathan for now that you are here

my loneliness is softened but when you are gone i shall dread the future

more than ever before the judgment of the ushers is beginning our long line

is about to fall

Lady Madeline is no more.

I intend to preserve the body in one of the vaults.

There are many in the walls of this house.

Considering the unusual character of her illness and of certain inquiries by her

physician and the remote exposed position of the family burial ground, I

have decided to do so.

I should appreciate your help, my friend, in the arrangements.

I will do whatever I can.

You can rely on my assistance, Roderick.

At the request of Usher, I personally aided him in the arrangements for the

temporary entombment.

Then, the body having been placed in the coffin, we bore it to its rest.

Bye.

I could see no way to relieve the distress of my friend.

I could find no solution to his problem.

It was late one night, some eight days after we had placed the body of Lady

Madeline in the vault, a night when I was unable to sleep for a fast rising

storm of a freak nature.

could not rest.

I struggled to reason off the nervousness which gripped me.

A disturbing influence, I knew not what was at work in the house of Usher.

I listened.

I know not why.

Instinctively, I felt that Roderick was uneasy too.

I thought it was her.

I thought it was Madeline.

What? What are you saying?

Haven't you heard her?

Haven't you heard the noises from the vault?

Come. Sit down here and rest.

I know what to do.

I think I can help you.

to Caldwell.

Where are you going with that gun?

To the temple.

Don't worry.

You leave this to me.

No, you mustn't kill her.

Don't touch that door.

Keep away from that

The storm.

I can't sleep.

The noise.

Let us close the window.

The air is chilling and dangerous.

I will read to you.

Here is one of your favorite books.

Perhaps it will help us pass this dreadful night together.

And Ethelred, on account of the powerfulness of the wine he had drunk,

waited no longer to speak to the hermit, who in truth was of an obstinate and

maliceful turn.

But feeling the rain upon his shoulders and fearing the rising of the tempest,

uplifted his mace and with blows quickly made room for his gauntleted hand.

And pulling sturdily, he cracked and ripped and tore asunder.

that the noise of the dry and hollow sounding wood reverberated throughout

the forest.

But the good champion Ephraim, now entering within the door, was enraged

and amazed to perceive no signal of the hermit. But instead was a dragon of a

scaly and prodigious demeanor and with a fiery tongue, which sat on guard before

a palace of gold with a floor of silver.

And Ephraim uplifted his club and struck the dragon on the head with a shriek so

horrible and piercing.

Didn't you hear it? I've heard it for a long time.

Yet I dare not.

I dare not speak.

She's alive, I tell you.

We have put her living in the tomb.

I tell you, I heard her first feeble movements in the hollow coffin many

hours ago.

Yet I dare not speak.

And now, tonight...

Ethelred! And the breaking of the hermit's door!

The death cry of the dragon and the clang of the shield!

Say, rather, the rending of her coffin!

And the breaking of the iron hinges of her prison!

And her struggles within the coppered archway of her vault!

Haven't I heard her footsteps on the stairs?

Haven't I heard the horrible, heavy beating of her heart?

Magman!

I tell you, she is now standing outside the door.

And that is the end of the story.

Buried alive?

That takes a bit of swallowing.

Talking swallowing, how about another drink?

Just to take the taste away.

Ah, but... Well, I don't understand.

Did they know she was alive when they put her in the coffin?

Was she being slowly poisoned?

What really killed them?

I don't know.

Your guess is as good as mine.