Twice Told Tales

Synopsis: 3 horror stories based on the writings of Nathaniel Hawthorne. In the 1st story titled "Dr. Heidegger's Experiment", Heidegger attempts to restore the youth of three elderly friends. In "Rappaccini's Daughter", Vincent Price plays a demented father innoculating his daughter with poison so she may never leave her garden of poisonous plants. In the final story "The House of the Seven Gables", The Pyncheon family suffers from a hundred year old curse and while in the midst of arguing over inheritance, the Pyncheon brother kills his sister.
Director(s): Sidney Salkow
Production: MGM Home Entertainment
  1 nomination.
 
IMDB:
6.8
Rotten Tomatoes:
57%
APPROVED
Year:
1963
120 min
100 Views


Throughout the ages,

the heavens have

unleashed their fury

to make man tremble

in the presence

of the unknown.

And as man has witnessed

the power

of nature's elements,

so have some men

sought desperately

in this infinite power

the secret...

of why they are born

and why they will die.

While the very ground

on which they walk,

the earth that

will bury them,

remains to mock

their existence .

My dear Carl,

only the vicissitudes

of a lifetime,

a long lifetime,

vicissitudes that we have

shared almost as brothers

could have brought me out

on a night such as this

to drink a toast

to your birthday.

Of course,

if you had been

more considerate,

you might have

been born

in better

weather.

Well, perhaps,

perhaps the next time

I am born, Alex

I'll,

I'll make it a day

in spring when

everything else

is being born also.

Then here's to both

of our next birthdays,

so that we may share

an eternity

of the friendship

we have known.

Mmm.

Excellent port, Carl.

Excellent.

Worthy of a man

who has made life

give him full measure

in 79 years.

Full measure?

Oh, how lonely the years

would have been

without you, Alex.

Only one

other person

could've driven

the loneliness

from my life.

But, what will be

will be.

Alex?

Yes?

I wonder,

my old friend,

could you do me

a favor?

Yes, of course, Carl.

Should I not be here

for a rendezvous

with my 80th birthday,

could you please

bury this with me?

A withered rose?

Yes, well,

it's not very much to show

for all those years, is it?

But to me,

this rose is worth more

than all the

world's treasures.

Sylvia gave it to me

almost 40 years ago.

I was to wear it

on my wedding night.

Excuse me,

there's something I must do.

Sylvia.

The time has come again.

Another milestone

has been reached.

I drink to your

infinite Patience.

Wait for me,

Sylvia.

The time cannot be

much longer

when I will

join you there.

Oh, Carl, Carl,

if you only knew

how wrong it was

never to have married

because of a memory.

My dear Alex,

perhaps I was capable

of loving only once.

And if fate decreed

that Sylvia should die

on the eve

of our wedding...

Alex, has man ever

been able to control fate?

Why not?

Nothing ever

stopped me

from living exactly

the kind of life that I wanted.

That all depends on

what one wants from life.

Alex, now, you...

You always needed

to be surrounded

with laughter

and gaiety, music.

Music is good

for the soul.

Nothing melts a lady

with more dispatch

than the sob

of a violin.

Oh, Carl,

what a waste.

Many women

other than Sylvia

would've loved you.

Now there

would be children--

Sylvia shared

everything with me.

Her face filled

my dreams.

Her warmth

gave me courage.

Her memory

gave me life itself.

Do you think I'd allow

another woman to intrude?

But it is not right

to live with a ghost.

That was close.

It was you with

your talk of ghosts.

I apologize.

I promise that I won't bring

such lightning again.

The rain is stopping.

I suppose you're going

to blame that on me, too.

Alex, look.

That door hasn't

been opened in 38 years.

Come, my friend.

Let's see what damage

may have been done.

Carl, do you think

we ought to go in there?

Afraid of dust and

meaningless bones, Alex?

You're a doctor,

you're used to these things.

As a doctor,

I can tell you

you're not so far

removed from dust

and meaningless

bones yourself.

Light the candles,

Alex, please.

Oh.

Two coffins?

The one that has fallen

is Sylvia's.

The other is mine.

You wanted to take

your memories

even to the grave.

Water dripping down.

The storm must've

cracked the ceiling.

Come help me put

the coffin back.

Sylvia!

No, Carl,

it can't be.

Not after

all these years.

She would be dust.

That's all

that would be left.

Yes, I know.

But it is Sylvia.

We both know that.

Just as beautiful.

Oh, Carl, put the lid

back on the coffin

and let's get out of here.

I'm a doctor,

Alex.

I have to know what

preserved her body.

It's sacrilegious.

Perfect.

Perfect.

The flesh is firm,

no decomposition.

But why?

It isn't the air in here.

This vault isn't

a vacuum.

Please, let's--

Alex.

Yes.

Alex.

Look.

It's still wet as though water

had been dripping on it.

But, of course.

It rained hard tonight,

there'd be seepage

from the hill above.

No, no, no,

Alex.

To cause a groove

such as this,

water would've had

to drip on this coffin

for a great number

of years.

38 years,

perhaps.

You mean, ever since

Sylvia was put in here?

Yes.

The coffin is wet inside.

The water must

have seeped in

through that hole,

and kept it saturated.

You can't believe

that just plain water

would keep

Sylvia looking--

I didn't say

it was just plain water.

Old age is

catching up

with you.

I say that we go

inside and finish

our wine. Go!

I thought my enthusiasm

for research

had gone

a long time ago.

And now,

here is a challenge

that tells me

I'm still alive enough

to be curious.

Impossible.

Simply impossible.

This liquid

absolutely defies analysis.

It looks like water.

It tastes like water,

but it isn't water.

At least,

not as man knows it.

You can drink that

if you like.

I need something

more familiar:
whiskey.

Extraordinarily

high mineral content.

Sulfur, and practically

no bacteria count.

Can it be

that this liquid is some

sort of strong germicidal?

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Nathaniel Hawthorne

Nathaniel Hawthorne (; né Hathorne; July 4, 1804 – May 19, 1864) was an American novelist, dark romantic, and short story writer. He was born in 1804 in Salem, Massachusetts to Nathaniel Hathorne and the former Elizabeth Clarke Manning. His ancestors include John Hathorne, the only judge involved in the Salem witch trials who never repented of his actions. He entered Bowdoin College in 1821, was elected to Phi Beta Kappa in 1824, and graduated in 1825. He published his first work in 1828, the novel Fanshawe; he later tried to suppress it, feeling that it was not equal to the standard of his later work. He published several short stories in periodicals, which he collected in 1837 as Twice-Told Tales. The next year, he became engaged to Sophia Peabody. He worked at the Boston Custom House and joined Brook Farm, a transcendentalist community, before marrying Peabody in 1842. The couple moved to The Old Manse in Concord, Massachusetts, later moving to Salem, the Berkshires, then to The Wayside in Concord. The Scarlet Letter was published in 1850, followed by a succession of other novels. A political appointment as consul took Hawthorne and family to Europe before their return to Concord in 1860. Hawthorne died on May 19, 1864, and was survived by his wife and their three children. Much of Hawthorne's writing centers on New England, many works featuring moral metaphors with an anti-Puritan inspiration. His fiction works are considered part of the Romantic movement and, more specifically, dark romanticism. His themes often center on the inherent evil and sin of humanity, and his works often have moral messages and deep psychological complexity. His published works include novels, short stories, and a biography of his college friend Franklin Pierce, the 14th President of the United States. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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