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Флэш Гордон

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seems to be no reason
{y:i}for these intergalactic upsets.
{y:i}Only Dr. Hans Zarkov, formerly
{y:i}of NASA, provided an explanation.
{y:i}His ideas, however,
{y:i}have been rejected as irrational.
{y:i}According to NASA, today's
{y:i}solar eclipse is no cause for alarm.
{y:i}A team of scientists has been
{y:i}in conference with the President.
What do you find?
The moon out of orbit?
By more than twelve degrees.
It must be a mistake.
That's no mistake.
It's an attack.
I've been right all these years.
Fragments of moon rock. Our moon
is subjected to some enormous force.
A kind of energy beam.
Time to go, Munson.
I've got the coordinates -
- the direction it's coming from.
This is what we've been waiting for.
We'll go up and counter-attack.
You're crazy.
I'm not going up in that.
- I can't handle the capsule alone.
- You'd better try.
- Get your toothbrush and whatever.
- Right, chief.
Munson!
Why are you running away?
All the frequencies are dead.
- Get a look at the V.O.R.
- Holy cow!
John, ten o'clock!
I'll put this baby down right here.
What the hell?
- My God, where are the pilots?
- Help me pull her up.
Are we coming up?
I can't see.
Me neither. Look for landing lights.
- This isn't my scene. Look where?
- Hit the switches over there.
Did your flying lessons
get as far as landing?
I was afraid you'd ask that. No.
Hang on, here we go.
Munson!
I swear, Munson, I'll shoot!
Get shot, go up,
what's the difference?
You'll give your life to save Earth.
- Haven't you any spirit at all?
- No!
- Dr. Zarkov, listen!
- You're back.
- Dale, you all right?
- I'm terrific.
Let's get out of here
before she blows.
Hold me for a second, then drop me,
I'll kiss the ground.
- You sure you're okay?
- Fine. But no more flying.
- Good morning! Are you injured?
- It seems not.
A miracle.
I expect you'd like to use my phone?
- I would.
- I'm sure the insurance...
- Please, don't mention it.
- What happened to the sun?
- Looks like an eclipse.
- There was nothing about it on TV.
The phone is right in there.
Sorry, Munson.
Missed your opportunity.
- Where's the telephone?
- I'm sure that's Dr. Zarkov.
He's a crazy scientist I saw on TV.
He kept talking about an attack.
They kicked him out of NASA...
- Dr. Zarkov.
- Enough!
- Are you crazy?
- Unfortunately not.
The attack has begun. We have eleven
days before the moon crashes down.
- I need aid in taking off.
- Taking off where?
Up there. I need one person
to keep a foot on that red pedal -
- During blast-off.
You're the lighter. Sit down.
You may leave. Tell the world
what Hans Zarkov has done.
I guess I'll be running along now.
You lunatic!
Flash, the doors!
Sit down! Keep a foot on the pedal,
or the G-forces will kill us all.
My God, we're moving.
For God's sake,
strap yourselves down! Quick!
The red pedal!
Friendship.
Built this to send in friendship...
The end, now...
Unless we three can...
Unless we can...
Strange object
in the imperial vortex.
What distance?
Parallel to star field Zygma 12,
approaching.
{y:i}- Test object for life waves.
{y:i}- Positive, form unknown.
{y:i}Approximate Mong Scale 3.
{y:i}Object entering our control range,
{y:i}approaching the Sea of Fire.
{y:i}Bring it through safely. Land it.
Wake up, Dale. We're okay.
It's me, Flash. Remember?
We're on the ground.
- Back home?
- I don't think so.
Hello. We're from Earth. Friends.
Whoever they are,
it's clear they are highly developed.
- I'm sure we can reason with them.
- Want to bet on it?
- My God!
- Is this a Civic Reception?
- More like a police state.
- That could be our good luck.
It means we'll find allies everywhere.
They're just waiting for someone
to lead them in revolt.
- Are you looking at me, Zarkov?
- Please. I just want to get home.
{y:i}Guards, halt.
{y:i}Prisoners, follow me.
{y:i}Halt, Lizard Man!
{y:i}Escape is impossible. Surrender.
{y:i}Prisoners, march below me
Флэш Гордон Флэш Гордон

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