Jeff Wayne's Musical Version of the War of the Worlds: The New Generation (2013) - full transcript

Stage musical adaptation of H.G. Wells' alien invasion novel, recorded live at London's O2 arena in 2012. The reimagined story, which was first released in 1978 as a concept album by Jeff Wayne, is narrated by Liam Neeson and includes performances by Jason Donovan, Marti Pellow and Ricky Wilson.



It can't be.

And yet...

- Vera!
- William?

Vera, have you seen it?
Have you looked at Mars this evening?

Yes, I have.

There's a great light
on the illuminated part of the disc.

It's like a puff of flame,
bursting from the planet.

The Society's in raptures.
I've just left them.

Ah, what can it mean?

- Life, do you think?
- Don't be absurd.

Must I remind you
how unlikely it is for evolution

to have taken place
on two adjacent planets?


But a volcano,
perhaps a lightning storm!

It is possible, William.
Think of it just a moment.

Think of what?

Mars receives barely half
the light and heat of Earth.

Even at the equator at noon,
it's colder than our coldest winter.

What could live?

Something else perhaps.

Something, something older.

If Mars is colder now,
then once it was hotter.

It's cooled, and before we did here,

so maybe life began before us too,
and advanced before us.

We'd be like monkeys to them.

The stuff of dreams, Vera,
of fancy, of femininity.

Mars's oceans have shrunk.

Its snow-caps regularly melt
and devastate its temperatures.

If there was ever life, my dear,
it's at the last of its exhaustion.

Well, perhaps it is.

It's a volcano.

- Such a flash of light.
- Indeed.

Perhaps a storm.

Well, then, what a storm!

My, my! Vera, come quickly!

We should leave!

Mars is no longer capable
of sustaining life.

Our water is depleted.

Temperatures increase annually,
while our populations plummet.

Efforts to stabilise
the atmosphere have failed.

We have arrived at
the only remaining course of action,

the conquest and occupation of Earth.

- Earth.
- Earth.

Earth is abundant with the natural resources
our ancestors squandered.

The environment will seem uncomfortable,
but not inhibitive.

The problem is, of course, the humans.

- The humans.
- The humans.

They have developed
primitive intelligence,

but their young society remains structured
around perpetual conquest and conflict.

- Conflict.
- Conflict.

A rapid offensive to their social
and economic heart

should prevent significant opposition.

- Opposition.
- Opposition.

The means for this attack
are already being realised.

- Realised.
- Realised.

A large scale hydrogen accelerator
will be constructed

to launch suspension pods carrying
the assault forces.

We have not required such destructive
weaponry in over 5,000 years

but modifications
to our current technologies

should overwhelm
the inferior human defences.

- Defences.
- Defences.

It is time for Mars to thrive again,
on Earth's young, unprotected soil.

No one would have believed,
in the last years of the 19th century,

that human affairs were being watched

by intelligences which inhabited
the timeless worlds of space.

No one could have dreamed
we were being scrutinised,

as someone with a microscope
studies creatures

that swarm and multiply
in a drop of water.

Few men even considered the possibility
of life on other planets

and yet, across the gulf of space,

minds immeasurably superior to ours
regarded this Earth with envious eyes,

and slowly, and surely,
they drew their plans against us.

At midnight on the 12th of August,

a huge mass of luminous gas
erupted from Mars and sped towards Earth.

I made contact with Ogilvy, the astronomer,
and we hurried to his observatory.

Across 200 million miles of void,
invisibly hurtling towards us,

came the first of the missiles that were
to bring so much calamity to Earth.

As we watched, there was another jet of gas.
It was another missile, starting on its way.

And that's how it was
for the next 10 nights.

A flare spurting out from Mars,
bright green, drawing a green mist behind it,

a beautiful,
but somehow disturbing sight.

Ogilvy assured me we were in no danger.

Perhaps a huge volcanic explosion
was in progress,

but he was convinced
there could be no living thing

on that remote, forbidding planet.

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still they come

Then came the night
the first missile approached Earth.

Hundreds saw it,
but thought it was an ordinary falling star.

Some say it travelled
with a hissing sound,

some that it landed
with a green flash

However, next day there was a huge crater
in the middle of Horsell Common,

and Ogilvy came to examine
what lay there,

a cylinder, 30 yards across, glowing hot

and with faint sounds of movement
coming from within.

Suddenly the top began moving,
rotating, unscrewing,

and Ogilvy feared there was a man inside,
trying to escape.

He rushed to the cylinder,
but the intense heat stopped him

before he could burn himself
on the still glowing metal.

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still they come!

Yes, the chances
of anything coming from Mars

Are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still

They come

It seems totally incredible to me now
that everyone spent that evening

as though it were just like any other.

From the railway station came the sound
of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling,

softened almost into melody
by the distance.

It all seemed so safe and tranquil.

Next morning,
a crowd gathered on the Common,

hypnotised by the unscrewing
of the cylinder.

Two feet of shining screw projected
when, suddenly, the lid fell off!

Two luminous disc-like eyes
appeared above the rim.

A huge, rounded bulk,
larger than a bear, rose up slowly,

glistening like wet leather.

Its lipless mouth quivered and slavered
and snake-like tentacles writhed

as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.

A few young men
crept closer to the pit.

A tall funnel rose, then an invisible ray
of heat leapt from man to man

and there was a bright glare,
as each was instantly turned to fire.

Every tree and bush
became a mass of flames

at the touch of this savage,
unearthly Heat-Ray.

People clawed their way off the Common,
and I ran, too.

I felt I was being toyed with,
that when I was on the very verge of safety,

this mysterious death would leap after me
and strike me down.

At last I reached Maybury Hill

and I looked with astonishment
at the tranquillity of the scene.

Yet once inside,
in the dim coolness of my home,

I wrote an account for my newspaper

before I sank into a restless,
haunted sleep.

I awoke to alien sounds
of hammering from the pit,

and hurried to the railway station
to buy the paper.

Morning paper!
Men from Mars! Men from Mars!

Newsboys exclaimed that
one or two adventurous souls

had crawled near the Martians
in the night, never to be seen again.

Yet around me, the daily routine of life,
working, eating, sleeping,

was continuing serenely
as it had for countless years.

On Horsell Common, the Martians
continued hammering and stirring,

sleepless, indefatigable, at work upon
the machines they were making.

Now and again a light,
like the beam of a warship's searchlight,

swept the Common,

and the Heat-Ray was ready to follow.

In the afternoon,

a company of soldiers came through
and deployed along the edge of the Common,

to form a cordon.

That evening, there was a violent crash

and I realised with horror
that my home was now within range

of the Martians' Heat-Ray.

At dawn, a falling star
with a trail of green mist

landed with a flash
like summer lightning.

This was the second cylinder.

Morning paper!
Men from Mars! Men from Mars!

The hammering from the pit
and the pounding of guns grew louder.

My fear rose at the sound
of someone creeping into the house.

Then I saw it was a young artilleryman,
weary, streaked with blood and dirt.

Anyone here?

Come in.

Here, drink this.

Thank you.

What's happened?

They wiped us out.
Hundreds dead, maybe thousands.

- The Heat-Ray?
- The Martians!

They were inside the hoods
of the machines they'd made,

massive metal things on legs!

Giant machines that walked.
They attacked us! They wiped us out!


Fighting-machines, just hunks of metal,
but they knew exactly what they were doing.


There was another cylinder
that came last night.

Yes. Yes, it looked bound for London.

London! Carrie!

I hadn't dreamed there could be danger
to Carrie and her father, so many miles away.

I must go to London at once.

And me.

Got to report to Headquarters,
if there's anything left of it.

We started out on foot.

At Byfleet we came upon an inn,
but it was deserted.

The Artilleryman found the kitchen
and we filled our stomachs,

and then our pockets,
with everything we could hold.

Look, a bottle of whisky, huh!
That's a lucky find.

We hurried onwards.

There didn't seem
to be a living soul anywhere.

Is everybody dead?

Not everybody. Look!
Six cannons with gunners standing by.

- It's bows and arrows against the lightning.
- Mmm.

They haven't seen the Heat-Ray yet.

We hurried along the road to Weybridge.
Suddenly, there was a heavy explosion.

The ground heaved, windows shattered

and gusts of smoke erupted into the air.

Look! There they are!
What did I tell you?

Watch out! They're getting closer!

Quick! Down here, they'll never find us.

Quickly, one after the other,
four of the fighting-machines appeared.

Monstrous tripods,
higher than the tallest steeple,

striding over the pine trees
and smashing them.

Walking engines of glittering metal.

Each carried a huge funnel

and I realised with horror
that I'd seen this awful thing before.

A fifth machine
appeared on the far bank.

In an instant, it raised itself to full height,
flourished the funnel high in the air

and the ghostly, terrible Heat-Ray
struck the town.

As it struck,
all five fighting-machines exulted,

emitting deafening howls
which roared like thunder.

The six guns we had seen
now fired simultaneously,

decapitating a fighting-machine.

The Martian inside the hood was slain,

splashed to the four winds,

and the body,
nothing now but an intricate device of metal,

went whirling to destruction.

As the other monsters advanced,
people ran away blindly,

the Artilleryman among them,

but I jumped into the water...

Until forced up to breathe.

Now the guns spoke again,

but this time the Heat-Ray sent them
to oblivion.

With a white flash,
the Heat-Ray swept across the river.

A huge wave near to boiling point
rushed upon me and I screamed aloud.

Then scalded, half-blinded and agonised,
I staggered through

leaping, hissing water
towards the shore.

I fell helplessly in full sight of the Martians,
expecting nothing but death.

The foot of a fighting-machine
came down close to my head,

then lifted again, as the four Martians
carried away the debris

of their fallen comrade.

And I realised that by a miracle,
I had escaped.

For three days I fought my way along roads
packed with refugees, the homeless,

burdened with boxes and bundles
containing their valuables.

All that was of value to me
was in London,

but by the time I reached
their little red-brick house,

Carrie and her father were gone.

The summer sun is fading
as the year grows old

And darker days are drawing near

The winter winds will be much colder

Now you're not here

I watch the birds fly south across
the autumn sky

And one by one they disappear

I wish that I was flying with them

Now you're not here

Like the sun through the trees
You came to love me

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Through autumn's golden gown
We used to kick our way

You always loved this time of year

Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

George, where are you?

Fire suddenly leapt from house to house,
the population panicked and ran,

and I was swept along with them,
aimless and lost without Carrie.

Finally, I headed eastward
for the ocean,

and my only hope of survival,
a boat out of England.

Like the sun through the trees
You came to love me

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

A gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes

As if to hide a lonely tear

My life will be forever autumn

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

As I hastened through Covent Garden,
Blackfriars and Billingsgate,

more and more people joined
the painful exodus.

Sad, weary women, their children stumbling
and streaked with tears,

their men bitter and angry,

the rich rubbing shoulders
with beggars and outcasts.

Dogs snarled and whined,
the horses' bits were covered with foam

and here and there were wounded soldiers
as helpless as the rest.

We saw tripods wading up the Thames,

cutting through bridges as though
they were paper.

Waterloo Bridge, Westminster Bridge.

One appeared above Big Ben.

Never before in the history of the world

had such a mass of human beings moved
and suffered together.

This was no disciplined march,
it was a stampede,

without order and without a goal.

Six million people unarmed
and un-provisioned,

driving headlong.

It was the beginning
of the rout of civilisation,

of the massacre of mankind.

A vast crowd buffeted me towards
the already packed steamer.

I looked up enviously
at those safely on board,

straight into the eyes
of my beloved Carrie!

At sight of me she began to fight her way
along the packed deck to the gangplank.

At that very moment it was raised,

and I caught a last glimpse
of her despairing face

as the crowd swept me away from her.

Like the sun through the trees
You came to love me

Like a leaf on a breeze you blew away

Through autumn's golden gown
We used to kick our way

You always loved this time of year

Those fallen leaves lie undisturbed now

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

'Cause you're not here

George, my love!

The steamer began to move
slowly away,

but on the landward horizon appeared

the unmistakable silhouette
of a fighting-machine.

Another came, and another,
striding over hills and trees,

plunging far out to sea
and blocking the exit of the steamer.

Between them lay the silent,
grey ironclad Thunder Child.

Slowly it moved towards shore,

then, with a deafening roar
and whoosh of spray,

it swung about and drove at full speed
towards the waiting Martians.

There were ships
of shapes and sizes

Scattered out along the bay

And I thought I heard her calling
As the steamer pulled away

The invaders must have seen them
As across the coast they filed

Standing firm between them

There lay Thunder Child

Moving swiftly through the waters

Cannons blazing as she came

Brought a mighty metal warlord
Crashing down in sheets of flame

Sensing victory was nearing
Thinking fortune must have smiled

People started cheering

Come on, Thunder Child

Come on, Thunder Child

The Martians released their black smoke,
but the ship sped on,

cutting down one of the tripod figures.

Instantly, the others raised their Heat-Rays
and melted the Thunder Child's valiant heart.

Lashing ropes
and smashing timbers

Flashing Heat-Rays pierced the deck

Dashing hopes for our deliverance
As we watched the sinking wreck

With the smoke of battle clearing
Over graves in waves defiled

Slowly disappearing

Farewell, Thunder Child

Slowly disappearing

Farewell, Thunder Child

Farewell, Thunder Child

Farewell, Thunder Child

When the smoke cleared,

the little steamer had reached
the misty horizon,

and Carrie was safe.

But the Thunder Child had vanished forever,
taking with her man's last hope of victory.

The leaden sky was lit by green flashes,
cylinder following cylinder,

and no one and nothing
was left now to fight them.

The Earth belonged to the Martians.

The Earth now belonged to the Martians

and I knew not how the fate
of mankind would end.

But, at least for the moment,

I also knew that my beloved Carrie
and her father were safe,

on another, but distant shore.

George, my love, where are you?

I will not count you yet among the dead.

Not yet.

But my dreams are strange and hideous.

Carrie, do not mourn me.

I will hold your hand again.
I will feel your touch.

I will quench this aching in my heart.

Are you still safe?

Ghastly night. Dark.

And mankind swept from existence.

You swept from me.

But I know. George, I know.

I cannot sleep.

I have found myself praying.
Praying, Carrie.

Not the muttered charms
I uttered when I was in extremity.

But since seeing your face,

pleading steadfastly and sanely,
face to face with the darkness.

Oh, strange, terrible night!

Hideous night.

Not even a pale sliver of light
to help with the finding.


- I will not count you among the dead.
- I will not count you among the dead.

Next day,
the dawn was a brilliant, fiery red

and I wandered through the weird
and lurid landscape of another planet.

For the vegetation which gives Mars
its red appearance

had taken root on Earth.

As man had succumbed to the Martians,

so our land now succumbed
to the red weed.

Wherever there was a stream,

the red weed clung and grew
with frightening voraciousness,

its claw-like fronds choking
the movement of the water.

And then it began to creep
like a slimy red animal across the land,

covering field and ditch
and tree and hedgerow,

with living scarlet feelers, crawling!


it was impossible to recognise the route
I had taken only yesterday,

so engulfed was it by the red weed.

It was like walking
upon gigantic blood drops.

I kept to the road after that,
walking steadily towards London.

I knew a terrible fear.

The red weed had formed
a crimson blanket over our world,

and it threatened
to smother all of mankind.

I suddenly noticed the body of a parson,

lying on the ground
in a ruined churchyard.

I felt unable to leave him
to the mercy of the red weed

and decided to bury him decently.

I gazed down sadly at his ravaged face,

and then reeled with shock as his eyes
flickered open.

He was alive!



No, Nathaniel

Oh, no, Nathaniel

Nathaniel! I saw the church
burst into flame!

- Are you all right?
- Don't touch me!

But it's me, Beth. Your wife.

No. You're one of them.

- A devil!
- But they're not devils, they're Martians.

Yes, they came from Mars, not from God.

- Lies! I saw the Devil's sign.
- What are you saying?

The green flash in the sky.
His demons were here all along,

in our hearts and in our souls,
just waiting for a sign from him.

And now they're destroying our world.

He's delirious!

Now pull yourself together, man.

What good is religion
if it fails you in a calamity?

It was I who failed.

After all my promises,

I couldn't help the people
when they needed me.

- Take heart, you'll have the chance again.
- No!

But we must leave here. Now!

- No.
- Look! A house still standing!

Come, Nathaniel, quickly!

We took shelter in a cottage
and black smoke spread, hemming us in.

Then a fighting-machine
came across the fields,

spraying jets of steam that turned
the smoke into thick, black dust.

Black dust.

Thick black dust.

Dear God, help us!

The voice of the Devil
is heard in our land!

Listen, do you hear them drawing
near in their search for the sinners?

Feeding on the power of our fear
and the evil within us

Incarnation of Satan's creation
of all that we dread

When the demons arrive
Those alive would be better off dead!

There must be something worth living for

There must be something worth trying for

Even some things worth dying for

And if one man can stand tall

There must be hope for us all

Somewhere, somewhere, in the spirit of man

Once there was a time when I believed
without hesitation

That the power of love and truth
could conquer all

In the name of salvation

Tell me what kind of weapon is love
When it comes to the fight

And just how much protection is truth
against all Satan's might

There must be something worth living for

Beth, no.

There must be something worth trying for

Even some things worth dying for

And if just one man can stand tall

There must be some hope for us all

Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

People loved you and trusted you,

came to you for help.

Didn't I warn them this would happen?

Be on your guard, I said.

For the Evil One never rests.

I said exorcise the Devil.

But no, no, they wouldn't listen.

The demons inside them grew and grew.

Until Satan gave his signal
and destroyed the world we knew.

No, Nathaniel

Oh, no, Nathaniel

No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life

The love we used to know

No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life

The light that we have lost

Now darkness has descended on our land

And all your prayers cannot save us

Like fools we've let the Devil take command

Of the souls that God gave us

To the Altar of Evil like lambs
to the slaughter we're led

When the demons arrive
The survivors will envy the dead!

There must be something worth living for

No, there is nothing!

There must be something worth trying for

I don't believe it is so

Even some things worth dying for

Name me one thing

If just one man could stand tall

There would be some hope for us all

- Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man
- Somewhere, somewhere in the spirit of man

Forget about goodness and mercy,
they're gone!

Didn't I warn them?

- Pray, I said.
- Pray, I said.

Destroy the Devil, I said.

Devil, I said.

No, no they wouldn't listen.

I could have saved the world.

But now it's too late.

Too late!

No, Nathaniel

Oh, no, Nathaniel

No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life

The love we used to know

No, Nathaniel, no

There must be more to life

There has to be a way

That we can restore to life

The light that we have lost

- No, Nathaniel
- Oh, no, Nathaniel


- No, Nathaniel
- No, Nathaniel

Oh, no, Nathaniel


Dear God!
A cylinder's landed on the house!

And we're underneath it, in the pit!

The Martians spent the night
making a new machine.

It was a squat, metallic spider
with huge articulated claws,

but it, too, had a hood
in which a Martian sat.

I watched it pursuing
some people across a field.

It caught them nimbly and tossed them
into a great metal basket upon its back.


She's dead!

Buried underneath the rubble.


Satan, why did you take one of your own?

There is a curse on mankind

We may as well be resigned

To let the Devil
The Devil take The spirit of man

- No, Nathaniel
- No, Nathaniel

- Oh, no, Nathaniel
- Nathaniel

- No, Nathaniel
- No, Nathaniel

Oh, no, Nathaniel

As time passed
in our dark and dusty prison,

the Parson wrestled
endlessly with his doubts.

His outcries invited death for us both

and yet I pitied him.

Then, on the ninth day,
we saw the Martians eating.

Inside the hood of their new machine,

they were draining the fresh, living blood
of men and women

and injecting it into their own veins.

It's a sign! I've been given a sign!

They must be cast out

and I have been chosen to do it.

I must confront them now!

Those machines are just demons
in another form!

I shall destroy them with my prayers!

I shall burn them with my Holy Cross!

- I shall, I'll try, if I can just...
- No, Parson, no!

The curious eye of a Martian
appeared at the window-slit,

and a menacing claw explored the room.

I dragged the Parson down
to the coal cellar.

I heard the Martian
fumbling at the latch.

It understood doors!

In the darkness
I could see the claw touching things,

walls, coal, wood,
and then it touched my boot!

I almost shouted!

For a time it was still and then, with a click,
it gripped something.

The Parson!

With slow deliberate movements,

his unconscious body was dragged away.

And there was nothing
I could do to prevent it.

I crept to the blocked window-slit
and peered through the creeper.

The Martians
and all their machinery had gone!

Trembling, I dug my way out
and clambered to the top of the mound.

Not a Martian in sight!

The day seemed dazzling bright
after my imprisonment,

and the sky a glowing blue,

red weed covered every scrap of ground,

but a gentle breeze kept it swaying

and, oh, the sweetness of the air!

Again, I was on my way to London,

through towns and villages
that were blackened ruins,

totally silent, desolate, deserted.

Only the red weed lived.

I felt a sense of dethronement,

a realisation that
I was no longer a master,

but a puppet,
under Martian domination.

Man's empire had passed away,
taken swiftly and without error,

by these creatures
who were composed entirely of brain.

Unhampered by the complex systems
which make up man,

they made and used different bodies
according to their needs.

In a sexual world,
they were without sex,

without the tumultuous emotions
that arise between man and woman.

They never tired, never slept
and never suffered,

having long since eliminated
from their planet

the bacteria which cause all fevers,
cancers and other morbidities.

Halt! Who goes there?

- Friend.
- Be on your way.

This is my territory.

Your territory? What do you mean?

Wait a minute, it's you!

The man from Maybury Hill!

Good heavens! The Artilleryman!

I thought you surely burned.

I thought you surely drowned.

- Is this your house?
- Well, it is now.

Have you seen any Martians?

Everywhere. We're done for all right.

- You mean the war is lost?
- There never was a war.

There's no war between men and ants
and that's what we are now. Ants!

We can't just give up!

Correct. But squealing
and panicking don't help.

I've been in sight of death before,

and you know who always comes through?

- The man who keeps on thinking.
- Uh-huh.

What brought you to Islington?


Everyone was rushing away,
so I headed right for the Martians,

like a sparrow goes for the crumbs.

Now, people are starving
in heaps out there,

treading on each other,
but I've everything I need,

till the Martians are ready.

Ready for what?

The next stage, bringing over
the rest of their people.

After that, they won't go catching us
one at a time.

They'll do it systematic.

Laying traps and storing us
in cages and things.

So we'll have to fix up
a new kind of life for ourselves,

and there'll be none of your
namby-pamby civilisation and stuff,

that game's over.

Then what is there to live for?

The breed, man!

We can't let ourselves be
caught and fattened like cattle.

But how can we prevent it?

I've got a plan!

We're gonna build
a whole new world for ourselves.

Look, they clap eyes on us
and we're dead, right?

So we gotta make a new life
where they'll never find us.

You know where?


You should see it down there,
hundreds of miles of drains,

sweet and clean now after the rain.

Dark, quiet, safe.

We can build houses and everything,
start again from scratch.

And what's so bad
about living underground, eh?

It's not been so great living up here,
if you want my opinion.

Take a look around you

At the world we've come to know

Does it seem to be much more

Than a... crazy circus show

But maybe from the madness

Something beautiful will grow

In a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start, we'll start all over again

All over again

All over again

All over again

We'll build shops and hospitals
and barracks right under their noses,

right under their feet!

Everything we need,
banks, prisons and schools.

We'll send scouting parties
to collect books and stuff,

and men like you will teach the kids.

Not poems and rubbish,

science, so we can get
everything working.

We'll build villages and towns,

and we'll play each other at cricket!

Listen, maybe one day
we'll capture a fighting-machine, eh?

Learn how to make 'em ourselves

and then wallop!

Our turn to do some wiping out!

Whoosh with our Heat-Ray, Whoosh!

And them running and dying,
beaten at their own game.

Man on top again!

Now our domination of the Earth
is fading fast

And out of the confusion
the chance has come at last

To build a better future
from the ashes of the past

In a brave new world

Give me a handful of men

We'll start all over again

- Look!
- Look!

Look, man is born in freedom
But he soon becomes a slave

In cages of convention
From the cradle to the grave

The weak fall by the wayside
But the strong will be saved

In a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start all over again

I'm not trying to tell you what to be

Oh, no, oh, no, not me

But if mankind is to survive

The people left alive

They're gonna have to build this world anew

And it's going to have to start
with me and you


I'm not trying to tell you what to be

Oh, no, oh, no, not me

But if mankind is to survive

The people left alive

They're gonna have to build this world anew

Yes and we will have to be the chosen few

Just, just, just, just, just

Just think of all the poverty
The hatred and the lies

And imagine the destruction
of all that you despise

Slowly from the ashes

A phoenix will arise

In a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start all over again

Take a look around you

At the world you've loved so well

And bid the ageing Empire of Man
A last farewell

It may not sound like Heaven

But at least it isn't Hell

It's a brave new world

With just a handful of men

We'll start, we'll start all over again

All over again

All over again

All over again

I've got a plan!

Can't you just see it?

Civilisation starting all over again,
a second chance!

We'll even build a railway
and tunnel to the coast,

go there on our holidays.

Nothing can stop men like us.

I've made a start already.

Come on down here. Have a look.

In the cellar was a tunnel
scarcely 10 yards long,

that had taken him a week to dig.

I could have dug that much in a day,

and I suddenly had my first inkling of the gulf
between his dreams and his powers.

It's doing the working and the thinking
that wears a fellow out.

I'm ready for a bit of a rest.
How about a drink, eh?

Nothing but champagne, now I'm the boss.

We drank and then
he insisted upon playing cards.

With our species
on the edge of extermination,

with no prospect but a horrible death,
we actually played games.

Later, he talked more of his plan,

but I saw flames flashing
in the deep blue night,

red weed glowing,
tripod figures moving distantly,

and I put down my champagne glass.

I felt a traitor to my kind

and I knew I must leave
this strange dreamer.

Take a look around you

At the world we've come to know

Does it seem to be much more

Than a crazy circus show

But maybe from the madness

Something beautiful will grow

There were a dozen dead bodies
in the Euston Road,

their outlines softened
by the black dust.

All was still, houses locked
and empty, shops closed,

but looters had helped themselves
to wine and food,

and outside a jewellers'

some gold chains and a watch
were scattered on the pavement.

In Bloomsbury, the stillness grew
even more profound.

An odd, unnerving feeling of suspense,

as though the destruction
which had annihilated the countryside

might at any moment strike these
gracious houses in the very heart of London,

and leave all in smoking ruins.

I stopped, staring towards the sound.

It seemed as if that
mighty desert of houses

had found a voice
for its fear and solitude.

The desolated cry worked upon my mind.

The wailing took possession of me.

I was intensely weary, footsore,
hungry and thirsty.

Why was I wandering alone
in this city of the dead?

Why was I alive, when London
was lying in state in its black shroud?

I felt intolerably lonely,

drifting from street to empty street,

drawn inexorably towards that cry.

I saw over the trees,
glittering in the sunlight,

the hood of the Martian fighting-machine
from which the howling came.

I crossed Regent's Canal,

now a spongy mass
of dark red vegetation,

and pushed on towards Primrose Hill.

There stood a second fighting-machine,
upright, but as still as the first.

Abruptly, the sound ceased.

Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude,
became unendurable.

While that voice sounded,
London had still seemed alive.

But suddenly, there was a change,

the passing of something,
I knew not what.

Except now all that remained
was this gaunt quiet.

I looked up and saw a third machine.

It was erect and motionless,
like the others.

An insane resolve possessed me.

I would give my life to the Martians,
here and now.

I marched recklessly towards the titan

and saw that a multitude of black birds
was circling and clustering about the hood.

I began running along the road.

I felt no fear, only a wild,
trembling exultation,

as I ran up the hill towards
the motionless monster.

Out of the hood hung red shreds,

at which the hungry birds
now peeked and tore.

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still they come!

I scrambled up
to the crest of Primrose Hill,

and the Martians' camp was below me.

A mighty space it was,

and scattered about it,
in their overturned machines,

were the Martians, dead.

Slain, after all man's devices
had failed,

by the humblest things upon the Earth,

bacteria, minute, invisible, bacteria!

These germs have plagued us
since life began.

Through millions of years
we've developed a resistance to them.

But there are no bacteria on Mars.

Directly the invaders
arrived and drank and fed,

our microscopic allies attacked them.

From that moment, they were doomed!

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still they come!

Yes, the chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one, he said

The chances of anything coming from Mars
are a million to one

But still

They come!

My heart lightened gloriously
as the rising sun struck the world to fire.

The shadow had at last been rolled back

and I felt a wave of emotion
close to tears.

Yes, the torment had ended.

The people scattered over the country,

desperate, leaderless, starved.

The thousands who had fled by sea,

including the one most dear to me,
all would return.

The pulse of life, growing stronger
and stronger, would beat again.

Ladies and gentlemen,

please show your appreciation
for our cast of players...

Vera May and William Rowland,

Lily Osborne and Michael Falzon.

The Sung Thoughts of the Journalist,
Marti Pellow.

The Voice of Humanity, Will Stapleton.

The Artilleryman, Ricky Wilson.

Beth, the Parson's wife, Kerry Ellis.

Parson Nathaniel, Jason Donovan.

Ladies and gentlemen, Jeff Wayne.

The ULLA dub ULLA Strings.

The Black Smoke Band, Kennedy Aitchison,

Accy Yeats,

Julia Thornton,

Laurie Wisefield,

Tom Woodstock,

Steve Turner,

Neil Angilley, Chris Spedding,

and Herbie Flowers.

Ladies and gentlemen,

please show your appreciation
for the on-screen ensemble.

Carrie, the Journalist's fiancée,
Anna-Marie Wayne.

And the Journalist, Liam Neeson.

No one would have believed.

As life returns to normal,
and man is again supreme,

the question of another attack from Mars
causes universal concern.

Is our planet safe,

or is this time of peace
merely a reprieve?

It may be that across
the immensity of space,

they have learned their lessons
and even now await their opportunity.

Perhaps the future belongs not to us,

but to the Martians.

It's looking good.

It's going good.

We're getting great pictures here
at NASA Control, Pasadena.

The landing-craft touched down on Mars
28 kilometres from the aim point.

We're looking at a remarkable landscape,

littered with different kinds of rocks,
red, purple...

How about that, Bermuda?

Fantastic! Look at that dune-field.

Now wait, I'm getting a no-go signal.

Now I'm losing one of the craft.

Hey, Bermuda, you getting it?

No, I lost contact.
There's a lot of dust blowing up there.

Now I've lost the second craft.

We got problems.

All contact lost, Pasadena.

Maybe the antenna's...

What's that flare? You see it?

A green flare, coming from Mars.

Kind of a green mist behind it.

It's getting closer!

You see it, Bermuda?

Come in, Bermuda!

Houston, come in!

What's going on?

Tracking Station 43, Canberra,
come in Canberra!

Tracking Station 63,
can you hear me, Madrid?

Can anybody hear me?

Come in, come in, come in,
come in, come in, come in,

...come in, come in, come in.

The problem is,
of course, the humans!