Castle of Blood (1964) Movie Script

There came a light tap

at the library door -

and, pale as the tenant of a tomb,

a menial entered upon tiptoe.

His looks were wild with terror,

and he spoke to me in a voice

tremulous,

husky, and very low.

What said he?

- some broken sentences I heard.

He told of a wild cry disturbing

the silence of the night -

of the gathering together of the household -

of a search in the direction of the sound;

and then his tones grew thrillingly distinct

as he whispered me of a violated grave -

of a disfigured body

enshrouded,

yet still breathing - still palpitating -

still alive!

He pointed to garments;

they were muddy and clotted with gore.

I spoke not,

and he took me gently by the hand:

it was indented with the impress

of human nails.

He directed my attention

to some object against the wall.

I looked at it for some minutes:

it was a spade.

With a shriek I bounded to the table,

and grasped the box that lay upon it.

But I could not force it open;

and in my tremor, it slipped from my hands,

and fell heavily, and burst into pieces;

and from it, with a rattling sound,

there rolled out some instruments

of dental surgery,

intermingled with thirty-two

small, white and

ivory-looking substances

that were scattered to and fro

about the floor.

They were the thirty-two magnificent

teeth of my cousin Berenice,

The teeth that had obsessed me

during her illness,

and which,

six months after her death,

I had found again

during a horrible night

when I no longer remembered

what I had done

and what had befallen me.

I know that story. It's by you.

It almost seems real

when you tell it.

- Who are you?

- Alan Foster, journalist for the Times.

You're the one who's been after me

for the last five days.

You refused to see me. It was the

only way to get an interview.

It's not every day that

Edgar Allan Poe shows up in London.

Yes, it's the first time

I've been in England

and certainly the last.

London has disappointed you so much?

Life has disappointed me.

Please sit down.

I admit that I'm not a fiction writer.

I'm one of your colleagues.

I'm a chronicler.

My tales

are drawn from real facts.

Real in your writer's

teeming imagination.

No. It's simply a matter of

true cases, my young friend.

I'm not a child. There's only

seven years' difference between us.

Seven?

No. Between us, there are centuries

and a word that doesn't exist:

Death.

You're really extraordinary.

If death is really

the only sure thing, then...

You confuse the grave

with death, my young friend.

The marble slab of a sepulcher

proves the existence of the grave,

but not of what lies

beyond the grave,

a world inhabited by an incalculable

number of anonymous beings.

Don't make fun of me.

An intelligent man like you

couldn't believe in the beyond

except for poetic purposes.

I thank you for treating me

like a fool in such an elegant way.

That was not at all my intention.

I admire and respect you too much

to talk to you in such a manner.

But I'm convinced

that the cycle of life

finishes with death, in the grave.

Beyond, there is the void, nothingness.

Therefore, nothing material,

nothing concrete.

The spirit is impalpable

without the body

which is the essence of living beings.

The dead cannot return to earth,

as they do in your stories,

much less frighten us.

As for me, I'm very afraid,

but only of the living,

who stop doing harm

only after their death.

Permit me, sir?

I am Lord Thomas Blackwood.

I wager 100 pounts

that you will not be able

to spend the night in my castle

in Providence.

You think that I would run away,

blinded by fear?

No, you won't run away.

All those who accepted my wager

died in the castle.

I'm sorry, but I can't

accept your wager.

You're right, my young friend.

I heard of this castle

located on Providence hill,

when I arrived in London.

The last ones to enter it were

a young couple on their honeymoon.

The husband was a cousin of my wife.

Lord Thomas will correct me if I'm wrong,

but it's my understanding

that they never left it again.

- They stayed there because they liked it.

I doubt they vanished into thin air!

Dead or alive,

they left the castle.

Forgive me for contradicting you,

but Mr. Poe is right.

They never left the castle.

They are resting there,

in the family cemetery.

Every year, I search for a brave man

to take up my challenge,

in the hope of clearing up the mystery

of this terrifying legend.

You are very nice,

and I'm happy

that you have refused my wager.

It's not that I don't want to,

but I can't, my lord.

A hundred pounds,

that's too great a sum

for the pocket of an honest journalist.

- But ten pounds...

- You'll accept for ten pounds?

- Whenever you like.

- It must be tonight...

the night of the dead.

Today is the first of November.

From midnight to dawn,

the dead return to the castle

to relive the tragedies of their deaths.

Very well! Tonight,

my theory will be confirmed,

and I'll write a sensational article

about the castles of terror.

Think well, my young friend.

Everything's been thought of.

I'll finish the interview, and we'll go.

We must leave now.

The castle is far. It will take

at least two hours by coach.

Yes, but I have

to write my article.

If that's the only thing that keeps you,

we can talk on the way,

for I don't mind accompanying you.

It's a great honor, Mr. Poe.

In that case,

let's go. Would you mind if we stop

for a moment at my newspaper?

All right.

Thank you, gentlemen,

good night.

Have you ever tried writing

stories based on reality?

Reality...

always voyages beyond,

outside, or beneath

all the forms established

by society or by the mind,

to the abysses, to the

bottom of the sea, to the South Pole.

Of all melancholy topics, what,

according to the

universal understanding of mankind,

is the most melancholy?

Death is the obvious reply.

And when is this most melancholy of topics

most poetical? When it most closely

allies itself to Beauty.

The death then of a beautiful woman

is unquestionably

the most poetical topic in the world.

We've arrived.

You can still withdraw

and return with us.

Your ten pounds are too tempting.

- Think carefully.

- Thanks for the interview,

and I hope Lord Thomas's ghosts

will let me publish it.

We'll come back at dawn.

Good luck.

Good luck, my young friend.

You'll find torches

under the staircase.

Thank you.

Don't let yourself be influenced

by this atmosphere.

All this is absurd.

These suspicious noises,

these strange apparitions

must have a rational explanation!

To doubt, even if only for a second,

means to be afraid.

It's an optical illusion.

It's very simple.

It's just an optical illusion.

Did my brother send you?

If your brother is

Lord Thomas Blackwood, then yes.

My name is Alan Foster.

My name is Elisabeth.

Your brother told me

that the castle was unoccupied.

Yes, I know what he says.

- To him, I'm dead.

- Dead?

He refuses to see me

ever since I left

his world

to seek happiness here.

Haven't you been able to persuade him

to reconcile with you?

No, I've stayed alone.

Maybe it's better

that I go away.

Are you afraid of me?

No, but if I had known,

I wouldn't have accepted this wager.

Of course...

The famous wager that my brother

offers each year

in order to give me company

for one night

and to nourish the legend

that surrounds this castle.

Are these stories true?

They are fantastic stories.

They're coincidences,

chance occurrences.

Don't you want to win the wager?

Has anyone won it

before me?

The past matters little.

Now, there is just you, me,

and a hundred pounds.

To tell the truth,

I bet only ten pounds.

I'm not as rich

as you think.

You won't become rich,

but you can help me

put one over on milord.

Come.

I've prepared your room

on this floor.

You knew I was coming?

Of course.

You, or someone else...

Every year,

someone comes on this night.

On this night...

the night of the dead!

- Are you afraid?

- Who blew them out?

No one!

Everything goes out and lights up again

sometimes, surely you know that.

You're trembling.

It's cold here.

Must it be up to me,

a woman, to put you at ease?

- I thought you were braver than that...

- Look!

- What?

- The painting.

Once again the candlelight

has played tricks with me.

Tricks?

A simple optical illusion.

The portrait of your ancestor

looked to me

like a living image.

Julia doesn't belong

to the Blackwood family.

And what's more, she's my age.

Forgive me, I keep saying

stupid things.

Please offer my excuses

to Lady Julia,

though I don't have the honor

of knowing her.

I'm sure you'll know her soon.

I found it on the ground

in the stable.

- I brought it up, thinking that...

- Thank you.

I've been looking for it for a long time.

I had lost it.

Strange! I was expecting

to spend a terrifying night

and I find myself

in such charming company.

If you're referring to me,

you won't be disappointed.

I don't disappoint

people I like...

And I like you.

But Julia is very mistrustful,

especially toward men.

Here we are.

Here things are a little more in order.

I have no servants anymore,

and I've neglected the ground floor.

But these rooms are still pleasant.

Come close to me, Alan.

Tell me about the world outside,

and tell me about yourself.

There's nothing new in London.

Fog, boredom,

and eternal traditions.

You see, London hasn't changed.

You haven't missed anything

by staying in this castle.

It's we Londoners who have been deprived

of the pleasure of admiring your charm

and your beauty.

You are very nice,

and you have the art

of making yourself agreeable

in a woman's eyes.

I say what I think.

It's not a compliment.

It's been a long time

since I felt myself so much a woman.

You wanted me

to speak of myself, too.

I am poor, a bachelor,

and without family.

I'm thirty years old, I'm a journalist,

and I feel terribly alone.

I'm desperately alone, too.

May I join you?

Happy to make your acquaintance.

Miss Julia.

Elisabeth has told you about me?

She only satisfied my curiosity,

because your portrait interested me.

But you are even more beautiful.

You flatter me.

What did she tell you?

Your name. Only your name.

Should I be grateful,

and thank you for your discretion?

No. It would have been better

if you hadn't come.

Why? Perhaps I'm bothering you?

Not at all. We were talking about London

and about me, before going to bed.

Together, of course.

What are you saying?

Excuse me, I didn't mean to

refer to what Elisabeth was imagining.

I meant "at the same time,"

- and not in the same bed.

- Stop it!

Good night, Foster.

Good night.

I, too, wish you a good night

even if it's without her.

I don't understand you.

Don't lie, Alan.

You don't know how to lie.

Who told you my first name?

No one. I heard Elisabeth

say it when I came in.

Good night.

I'm telling you

for the last time:

stop insulting me, humiliating me,

persecuting me.

You don't know

what I'm capable of.

I know you.

What can you do to me?

Kill me, perhaps?

You can't.

- And so?

- Be quiet!

It's not enough for you

that you've ruined my life?

Why do you persecute me like this?

You like Alan, don't you?

- Admit you like him.

- Yes! I like him.

- And I desire him!

- You don't love him...

Yes, yes, I love him!

You poor thing, if I hadn't been there,

you'd be happy in his arms.

Happy?

Maybe with him

I would have been happy.

No, it's not true.

You've never been happy.

But, this time,

I had a kind of premonition.

Julia, I beg you,

I entreat you,

leave me one last chance.

No, you will only be happy

beside me.

Get out! I am a woman,

do you understand?

A real woman.

Get out of my life!

What life, Elisabeth ?

Do you know

what you're saying?

I despise you, I hate you, Julia!

"I'll wait for you at midnight

in the park under the big oak tree. Herbert."

Excuse me, I wanted to see

if you were sleeping.

I was going to go back to bed

without waking you.

I was going to read

a very interesting book.

I never sleep before dawn

because I spend all my nights

at the newspaper.

- May I stay a little while?

- Of course.

One would have to be stupid

or abnormal to refuse

the company of

a beautiful woman like you.

"Carmus."

This isn't the best thing before sleeping.

But if you were going to read, I'll go...

No, please stay.

There are so many things

to read in your eyes.

The things that are written

in my eyes, Alan:

"Kiss me."

"Hold me close to you."

"I'm yours."

"Take me" -

that's what's written there.

Yes, take me.

Maybe your warmth can save me

from this cold that imprisons me

hopelessly.

Take me, kiss me,

my love.

Alan, I'm alive

only when I love.

Bitch! I knew it.

I knew

it would end with this.

- Where are you going?

- Let me go.

This doesn't concern you.

I still love her.

Don't do this.

Why? So that I can always be

treated like this?

Herbert must know about it,

immediately!

We met each other too late.

My love, the main thing

is that I've found you.

Now we'll be together always.

Always separated.

I, in my world, and you...

in yours, far from here.

My world will be yours, Elisabeth.

I can't go back.

I don't belong to it anymore.

Elisabeth !

- What is it, Alan?

- I was so frightened.

It seemed as if

your heart wasn't beating.

My heart doesn't beat.

It hasn't beaten for ten years.

I am dead.

Elisabeth!

It's not possible!

Yes, everything is possible, tonight.

Don't worry about Elisabeth.

But she's disappeared!

She'll come back.

She's wounded. We must take care of her.

- It's useless.

- Useless?

You're all mad here.

When will you understand that...

She's already being taken care of.

Trust me.

Who are you?

- I am Dr. Carmus.

- Carmus?

- The famous medical researcher?

- Yes.

We had no news of you for some time.

We thought you were...

Dead?

I stopped living a futile existence

in a world that made it impossible

for me to complete my studies.

You have had a shock.

You need to drink something strong.

Come.

There's a stock

of excellent whisky in my study.

Sit down.

Relax, Foster.

- Your name is Foster, isn't it?

- How did you know?

I heard you speaking

with Elisabeth.

- You...

- Yes, I saw everything.

I heard everything,

but there was no way for me

to intervene.

You'll understand why.

Sit down, relax, and drink your whisky.

I don't understand.

It's as if I were living

in a nightmare!

Yet I'm convinced, I'm sure, that

Elisabeth is alive.

I felt her body trembling,

I felt her warmth.

At this moment, she's alive

thanks to the power of her senses

that do not wish to die.

What do you mean?

Three forms of life

exist together in every human being.

That of the body

is the most fragile form.

Next, there is the spirit,

which is indestructible.

Finally, there are the senses,

which are not eternal,

but which can survive

long after death.

Especially when a human being

is torn from life

by an act of violence

in a moment

when the senses are undergoing

an intense emotion.

In short,

one does not entirely die

when one is not ready to die.

That is a totally absurd theory.

But I can demonstrate.

Be careful,

this reptile is very poisonous.

At this moment,

all its senses are mobilized

by a profound

instinct of defense.

Theoretically,

the snake should have died

when I struck the blow.

But it continues to live.

I did this experiment

when I was a child,

with lizards.

It's true, the body struggles for

a few seconds, but then...

There.

Now it has completely

ceased living.

Move your hand closer to it.

Be careful!

Its glands are still secreting

venom.

The reptile is dead, but

its defense instinct survives.

Not for long.

When the blood circulation stops,

decomposition begins,

leading to the death

of the sensory-motor system.

I don't believe your theory

can apply to human beings.

You should believe it,

because you've seen the proof of it.

You've seen Elisabeth.

You've spoken with her.

You've felt her body

trembling in your arms.

Yet,

Elisabeth is buried over there,

in the park cemetery.

And the others?

They too are buried there.

They are victims of

the same destiny.

What destiny?

Follow me, and you'll find out.

Soon, the dead

will relive once again

the final episode

of their earthly existence.

Only Lord Thomas's perversity

could have made you come here

tonight.

He takes after his great-grandfather,

the first Count of Blackblood.

Blackwood!

He took the name Blackwood.

"Wood" instead of "blood."

He was made a nobleman because

he hanged opponents of the Crown.

He was the executioner of London.

Don't be surprised, Foster.

You have many more things to see.

Doctor, I beg you,

tell me about Elisabeth.

It's time.

From now on, words are useless.

Look.

- Do you want something to drink?

- Yes, thanks.

- What do you want?

- Leave. Don't stay with him.

Wait for me in the stable.

Go.

I lost sight of you.

- I'm keeping an eye on her.

- Thank you, Julia.

You took over for me while I was gone.

Now, it's my turn.

What a magnificent family portrait!

You're going?

Yes, I'm going back to London.

I have to work tomorrow,

and I hate not getting enough sleep.

Before, you used to get up early

to hunt. The city has changed you.

I've given up

the pleasure of hunting.

It's been a pleasure for me

to see you reunited again.

William,

try not to leave her alone anymore.

I've sold all my possessions

in America.

Now, I travel

only for pleasure.

What if we went on a cruise,

to visit France, Italy...

That's a good idea.

We'll come see you in London

and talk about it again.

- Let me.

- No, I can go with them.

Stay here with the other guests.

Good night.

- Goodbye, Thomas.

- Good night, William.

- Goodbye, my dear.

- Goodbye.

Goodbye, Elisabeth,

and have a good time hunting.

- Don't go back to him.

- Stop being stupid, he's my husband.

George, the coach!

come on.

You can't go back to him.

You belong to me.

We love each other. We've experienced

unforgettable moments.

He'll go away again, Herbert.

Let me go.

No. I know

you'll leave with him.

I'll kill you

if you go back to him!

- Let me go!

- No!

No, I don't want to.

What you have seen

belongs to the past of the Blackwoods.

And it is only a prologue.

The real tragedy begins now.

Come.

I am alive

only when I love.

Don't cry, Elisabeth.

I beg you.

It's all over. I'm here.

Don't cry anymore.

- Please, Elisabeth.

- Go away!

- Please.

- Go away.

- Don't push me away.

- I hate you, I despise you.

I like men, do you understand?

No, it's not true.

I hate you, you're a murderess!

Leave me alone.

I can't live with you anymore.

I won't leave you again.

We'll stay together forever.

I'd rather die!

You can't say that,

because I -

I love you, Elisabeth.

Stop!

Let me go, Carmus!

No one is holding you.

You are the prisoner of the present.

You cannot cross

the threshold of the past.

That's not true.

That's all a lot of nonsense.

The dead live

in another space,

in another dimension.

I must convince you!

Let me go, and I'll convince you

of the contrary, Carmus.

You're wrong again, Foster.

Look, there is nothingness

behind you.

Let me go!

Don't try to hide, Carmus!

Where are you, Carmus?

Show yourself, I beg you.

Tell Lord Thomas

he has won the wager.

I want to get out of here.

I can't stand it anymore!

Open it!

I know you're there! Open!

I've lost the wager.

I give up!

I'm going mad!

Look out, Carmus!

You have seen how and why

I died.

"Blood is the source of life:

only blood revives the dead!

We will drink your blood!"

Marvelous! Our first night

will be unforgettable!

A night of love and terror

if Lord Blackwood is telling the truth.

Don't leave me.

You are afraid, Mrs. Perkins?

Yes, I'm afraid of cheating on you

with a ghost.

Don't go in.

Stop!

Let me do it.

Don't go up.

You'll be killed!

You want to keep me from leaving.

Very well.

You don't frighten me!

You're dead!

I'm alive!

What was it?

A ghost

spying on us through the keyhole.

- Don't be stupid. Go see.

- All right.

I'll be right back.

Elsi!

Now it's your turn,

Foster.

Your hour has struck.

Run away, Alan.

They want your blood.

I beg you, run away!

Follow me. Quickly!

In one hour, it will be dawn.

From now on,

you are in our hands.

You can't escape us.

Your fate is sealed.

We don't want to give up life.

Your blood will be our life.

Where were you?

Maybe I can save you. Come.

- You're not with the others?

- I love you.

I've never loved anyone

as much as you.

But you're alive!

No, I wanted to be.

I beg you, run away.

Hurry, before it's too late.

They're coming.

Go through the park.

Your life will be safe

beyond the gate.

- Come with me.

- No.

You can't take me into a world

that is no longer mine.

Let me go!

I'm dead, you must understand!

No, you're alive!

Believe me, you're alive!

- Come.

- No, Alan !

Let me go, please!

I can't follow you!

Let me go!

- I can't go any further.

- Come.

I beg you, let me go.

My love.

You can't escape us.

Your fate is sealed.

We don't want to give up life.

Now your blood is ours.

Your blood will be our life.

You won't escape.

You can't escape us, Alan!

He made it!

He's waiting for us in front of the gate.

Stop, Laster.

Foster!

No one has ever

survived the night of the dead.

Unfortunately, you've lost

the wager, my boy.

Let's go.

I'll have him buried in the park.

When I write this story,

no one will believe it.

As always.

Did you stay for me, Alan?

Yes, Elisabeth.

Castle of Blood (1964) - full transcript