a screenplay by James Cameron
KATE WINSLET... Rose DeWitt Bukater
LEONARDO DICAPRIO... Jack Dawson
KATHY BATES... The Unsinkable Molly Brown
BILLY ZANE... Caledon Hockley
BILL PAXTON... Brock Lovett
Written and Directed by:
Then two faint lights appear, close together... growing brighter. They resolve into two DEEP SUBMERSIBLES, free-falling toward us like express elevators.
One is ahead of the other, and passes close enough to FILL FRAME, looking like a spacecraft blazing with lights, bristling with insectile manipulators.
TILTING DOWN to follow it as it descends away into the limitless blackness below. Soon they are fireflies, then stars. Then gone.
2 EXT./ INT. MIR ONE / NORTH ATLANTIC DEEP
PUSHING IN on one of the falling submersibles, called MIR ONE, right up to its circular viewport to see the occupants.
INSIDE, it is a cramped seven foot sphere, crammed with equipment. ANATOLY MIKAILAVICH, the sub’s pilot, sits hunched over his controls... singing softly in Russian.
Next to him on one side is BROCK LOVETT. He’s in his late forties, deeply tanned, and likes to wear his Nomex suit unzipped to show the gold from famous shipwrecks covering his gray chest hair. He is a wiley, fast-talking treasure hunter, a salvage superstar who is part historian, part adventurer and part vacuum cleaner salesman. Right now, he is propped against the CO2 scrubber, fast asleep and snoring.
On the other side, crammed into the remaining space is a bearded wide-body named LEWIS BODINE, sho is also asleep. Lewis is an R.O.V. (REMOTELY OPERATED VEHICLE) pilot and is the resident Titanic expert.
Anatoly glances at the bottom sonar and makes a ballast adjustment.
3 EXT. THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA
A pale, dead-flat lunar landscape. It gets brighter, lit from above, as MIR ONE enters FRAME and drops to the seafloor in a downblast from its thrusters. It hits bottom after its two hour free-fall with a loud BONK.
4 INT. MIR ONE
Lovett and Bodine jerk awake at the landing.
(heavy Russian accent)
We are here.
EXT. / INT. MIR ONE AND TWO
5 MINUTES LATER: THE TWO SUBS skim over the seafloor to the sound of sidescan sonar and the THRUM of big thrusters.
6 The featureless gray clay of the bottom unrols in the lights of the subs. Bodine is watching the sidescan sonar display, where the outline of a huge pointed object is visible. Anatoly lies prone, driving the sub, his face pressed to the center port.
Come left a little. She’s right in front of us, eighteen meters. Fifteen. Thirteen... you should see it.
Do you see it? I don’t see it... there!
Out of the darkness, like a ghostly apparition, the bow of the ship appears. Its knife-edge prow is coming straight at us, seeming to plow the bottom sediment like ocean waves. It towers above the seafloor, standing just as it landed 84 years ago.
THE TITANIC. Or what is left of her. Mir One goes up and over the bow railing, intact except for an overgrowth of „rusticles“ draping it like mutated Spanish moss.
TIGHT ON THE EYEPIECE MONITOR of a video camcorder. Brock Lovett’s face fills the BLACK AND WHITE FRAME.
It still gets me every time.
The image pans to the front viewport, looking over Anatoly’s shoulder, to the bow railing visible in the lights beyond. Anatoly turns.
Is just your guilt because of estealing from the dead.
CUT WIDER, to show that Brock is operating the camera himself, turning it in his hand so it points at his own face.
Thanks, Tolya. Work with me, here.
Brock resumes his serious, pensive gaze out the front port, with the camera aimed at himself at arm’s length.
It still gets me every time... to see the sad ruin of the great ship sitting here, where she landed at 2:30 in the morning, April 15, 1912, after her long fall from the world above.
Anatoly rolls his eyes and mutters in Russian. Bodine chuckles and watches the sonar.
You are so full of shit, boss.
7 Mir Two drives aft down the starboard side, past the huge anchor while Mir One passes over the seemingly endless forecastle deck, with its massive anchor chains still laid out in two neat rows, its bronze windlass caps gleaming. The 22 foot long subs are like white bugs next to the enormous wreck.
Dive nine. Here we are again on the deck of Titanic... two and a half miles down. The pressure is three tons per square inch, enough to crush us like a freight train going over an ant if our hull fails. These windows are nine inches thick and if they go, it’s sayonara in two microseconds.
8 Mir Two lands on the boat deck, next to the ruins of the Officer’s Quarters. Mir One lands on the roof of the deck hous nearby.
Right. Let’s go to work.
Bodine slips on a pair of 3-D electronic goggles, and grabs the joystick controls of the ROV.
9 OUTSIDE THE SUB, the ROV, a small orange and black robot called SNOOP DOG, lifts from its cradle and flies forward.
Walkin’ the dog.
SNOOP DOG drives itself away from the sub, paying out its umbilical behind it like a robot yo-yo. Its twin stereo-video cameras swivel like insect eyes. The ROV descends through an open shaft that once was the beautiful First Class Grand Staircase.
Snoop Dog goes down several decks, then moves laterally into the First Class Reception Room.
SNOOP’S VIDEO POV, moving through the cavernous interior. The remains of the ornate handcarved woodwork which gave the ship its elegance move through the floodlights, the lines blurred by slow dissolution and descending rusticle formations. Stalactites of rust hang down so that at times it looks like a natural grotto, then the scene shifts and the lines of a ghostly undersea mansion can be seen again.
MONTAGE STYLE, as Snoop passes the ghostly images of Titanic’s opulence:
10 A grand piano in amazingly good shape, crashed on its side against a wall. The keys gleam black and white in the lights.
11 A chandelier, still hanging from the ceiling by its wire... glinting as Snoop moves around it.
12 Its lights play across the floor, revealing a champagne bottle, then some WHITE STAR LINE china... a woman’s high-top „granny shoe“. Then something eerie: what looks like a child’s skull resolves into the porcelain head of a doll.
Snoop enters a corridor which is much better preserved. Here and there a door still hangs on its rusted hinges. An ornate piece of molding, a wall sconce... hint at the grandeur of the past.
13 THE ROV turns and goes through a black doorway, entering room B-52, the sitting room of a „promenade suite“, one of the most luxurious staterooms on Titanic.
I’m in the sitting room. Heading for bedroom B-54.
Stay off the floor. Don’t stir it up like you did yesterday.
I’m tryin’ boss.
Glinting in the lights are the brass fixtures of the near-perfectly preserved fireplace. An albino Galathea crab crawls over it. Nearby are the remains of a divan and a writing desk. The Dog crosses the ruins of the once elegant room toward another DOOR. It squeezes through the doorframe, scraping rust and wood chunks loose on both sides. It moves out of a cloud of rust and keeps on going.
I’m crossing the bedroom.
The remains of a pillared canopy bed. Broken chairs, a dresser. Through the collapsed wall of the bathroom, the porcelain commode and bathtub took almost new, gleaming in the dark.
Okay, I want to see what’s under that wardrobe door.
SEVERAL ANGLES as the ROV deploys its MANIPULATOR ARMS and starts moving debris aside. A lamp is lifted, its ceramic colors as bright as they were in 1912.
Easy, Lewis. Take it slow.
Lewis grips a wardrobe door, lying at an angle in a corner, and pulls it with Snoop’s gripper. It moves reluctantly in a cloud of silt. Under it is a dark object. The silt clears and Snoop’s cameras show them what was under the door...
Ooohh daddy-oh, are you seein’ what I’m seein’?
CLOSE ON LOVETT, watching his moniteors. By his expression it is like he is seeing the Holy Grail.
Oh baby baby baby.
(grabs the mike)
It’s payday, boys.
ON THE SCREEN, in the glare of the lights, is the object of their quest: a small STEEL COMBINATION SAFE.
14 EXT. STERN OF DECK OF KEDYSH - DAY
THE SAFE, dripping wet in the afternoon sun, is lowered onto the deck of a ship by a winch cable.
We are on the Russian research vessel AKADEMIK MISTISLAV KELDYSH. A crowd has gathered, including most of the crew of KELDYSH, the sub crews, and a hand-wringing money guy named BOBBY BUELL who represents the limited partners. There is also a documentary video crew, hired by Lovett to cover his moment of glory.
Everyone crowds around the safe. In the background Mir Two is being lowered into its cradle on deck by a massive hydraulic arm. Mir One is already recovered with Lewis Bodine following Brock Lovett as he bounds over to the safe like a kid on Christman morning.
Who’s the best? Say it.
You are, Lewis.
(to the video crew)
Brock nods to his technicians, and they set about drilling the safe’s hinges. During this operation, Brock amps the suspense, working the lens to fill the time.
Well, here it is, the moment of truth. Here’s where we find out if the time, the sweat, the money spent to charter this ship and these subs, to come out here to the middle of the North Atlantic... were worth it. If what we think is in that same... is in that safe... it will be.
Lovett grins wolfishly in anticipation of his greatest find yet. The door is pried loose. It clangs onto the deck. Lovett moves closer, peering into the safe’s wet interior. A long moment then... his face says it all.
You know, boss, this happened to Geraldo and his career never recovered.
(to the video cameraman)
Get that outta my face.
15 INT. LAB DECK, PRESERVATION ROOM - DAY
Technicians are carefully removing some papers from the safe and placing them in a tray of water to separate them safely. Nearby, other artifacts from the stateroom are being washed and preserved.
Buell is on the satellite phone with the INVESTORS. Lovett is yelling at the video crew.
You send out what I tell you when I tell you. I’m signing your paychecks, not 60 minutes. Now get set up for the uplink.
Buell covers the phone and turns to Lovett.
The partners want to know how it’s going?
How it’s going? It’s going like a first date in prison, whattaya think?!
Lovett grabs the phone from Buell and goes instantly smooth.
Hi, Dave? Barry? Look, it wasn’t in the safe... no, look, don’t worry about it, there’re still plenty of places it could be... in the floor debris in the suite, in the mother’s room, in the purser’s safe on C deck...
Hang on a second.
A tech coaxes some letters in the water tray to one side with a tong... revealing a pencil (conte crayon) drawing of a woman.
Brock looks closely at the drawing, which is in excellent shape, though its edges have partially disintegrated. The woman is beautiful, and beautifully rendered. In her late teens or early twenties, she is nude, though posed with a kind of casual modesty. She is on an Empire divan, in a pool of light that seems to radiate outward from her eyes. Scrawled in the lower right corner is the date: April 14 1912. And the initials JD.
The girl is not entirely nude. At her throat is a diamond necklace with one large stone hanging in the center.
Lovett grabs a reference photo from the clutter on the lab table. It is a period black-and-white photo of a diamond necklace on a black velvet jeller’s display stand. He holds it next to the drawing. It is clearly the same piece... a complex setting with a massive central stone which is almost heart-shaped.
I’ll be God damned.
A CNN NEWS STORY: a live satellite feed from the deck of the Keldysh, intercut with the CNN studio.
Treasure hunter Brock Lovett is best known for finding Spanish gold in sunken galleons in the Caribbean. Now he is using deep submergence technology to work two and a half miles down at another famous wreck... the Titanic. He is with us live via satellite from a Russian research ship in the middle of the Atlantic... hello Brock?
Yes, hi, Tracy. You know, Titanic is not just A shipwrick, Titanic is THE shipwreck. It’s the Mount Everest of shipwrecks.
17 INT. HOUSE / CERAMICS STUDIO
PULL BACK from the screen, showing the CNN report playing on a TV set in the living room of a small rustic house. It is full of ceramics, figurines, folk art, the walls crammed with drawings and paintings... things collected over a lifetime.
PANNING to show a glassed-in studio attached to the house. Outside it is a quiet morning in Ojai, California. In the studio, amid incredible clutter, an ANCIENT WOMAN is throwing a pot on a potter’s wheel. The liquid red clay covers her hands... hands that are gnarled and age-spotted, but still surprisingly strong and supple. A woman in her early forties assists her.
I’ve planned this expedition for three years, and we’re out here recovering some amazing things... things that will have enormous historical and educational value.
CNN REPORTER (V.O.)
But it’s no secret that education is not your main purpose. You’re a treasure hunter. So what is the treasure you’re hunting?
I’d rather show you than tell you, and we think we’re very close to doing just that.
The old woman’s name is ROSE CALVERT. Her face is a wrinkled mass, her body shapeless and shrunken under a one-piece African-print dress.
But her eyes are just as bright and alive as those of a young girl.
Rose gets up and walks into the living room, wiping pottery clay from her hands with a rag. A Pomeranian dog gets up and comes in with her.
The younger soman, LIZZY CALVERT, rushes to help her.
Turn that up please, dear.
Your expedition is at the center of a storm of controversy over salvage rights and even ethics. Many are calling you a grave robber.
TIGHT ON THE SCREEN.
Nobody called the recovery of the artifacts from King Tut’s tomb grave robbing. I have museum-trained experts here, making sure this stuff is preserved and catalogued properly. Look at this drawing, which was found today...
The video camera pans off Brock to the drawing, in a tray of water. The image of the woman with the necklace FILLS FRAME.
...a piece of paper that’s been underwater for 84 years... and my team are able to preserve it intanct. Should this have remained unseen at the bottom of the ocean for eternity, when we can see it and enjoy it now...?
ROSE is galvanized by this image. Her mouth hangs open in amazement.
I’ll be God damned.
18 EXT. KELDYSH DECK - NIGHT
CUT TO KELDYSH. The Mir subs are being launched. Mir Two is already in the water, and Lovett is getting ready to climb into Mir One when Bobby Buell runs up to him.
There’s a satellite call for you.
Bobby, we’re launching. See these submersibles here, going in the water? Take a message.
No, trust me, you want to take this call.
19 INT. LAB DECK / KELDYSH - NIGHT
Beull hands Lovett the phone, pushing down the blinking line. The call is from Rose and we see both ends of the conversation. She is in her kitchen with a mystified Lizzy.
This is Brock Lovett. What can I do for you, Mrs... ?
... Mrs. Calvert?
I was just wondering if you had found the „Heart of the Ocean“ yet, Mr. Lovett.
Brock almost drops the phone. Bobby sees his shocked expression...
I told you you wanted to take this call.
Alright. You have my attention, Rose. Can you tell me who the woman in the picture is?
Oh yes. The woman in the picture is me.
20 EXT. OCEAN - DAY
SMASH CUT TO AN ENORMOUS SEA STALLION HELICOPTER thundering across the ocean. PAN 180 degrees as it roars past. There is no land at either horizon. The Keldysh is visible in the distance.
CLOSE ON A WINDOW of the monster helicopter. Rose’s face is visible, looking out calmly.
21 EXT. KELDYSH - DAY
Brock and Bodine are watching Mir 2 being sweng over the side to start a dive.
She’s a goddamned liar! A nutcase. Like that... what’s her name? That Anastasia babe.
Brock nods and the three of them head forward to meet the approaching helo.
She says she’s Rose DeWitt Bukater, right? Rose DeWitt Bukater died on the Titanic. At the age of 17. If she’d’ve lived, she’d be over a hundred now.
A hundred and one next month.
Okay, so she’s a very old goddamned liar. I traced her as far back as the 20’s... she was working as an actress in L.A. An actress. Her name was Rose Dawson. Then she married a guy named Calvert, moved to Cedar Rapids, had two kids. Now Calvert’s dead, and from what I’ve heard Cedar Rapids is dead.
The Sea Stallion approaches the ship, BG, forcing Brock to yell over the rotors.
And everyobody who knows about the diamond is supposed to be dead... or on this ship. But she knows about it. And I want to hear what she has to say. Got it?
22 EXT. KELDYSH HELIPAD
IN A THUNDERING DOWNBLAST the helicopter’s wheels bounce down on the helipad.
Lovett, Buell and Bodine watch as the HELICOPTER CREW CHIEF hands out about ten suitcases, and then Rose is lowered to the deck in a wheelchair by Keldysh crewmen. Lizzy, ducking unnecessarily under the rotor, follows her out, carrying FREDDY the Pomeranian. The crew chief hands a puzzled Keldysh crewmember a goldfish bowl with several fish in it. Rose does not travel light.
HOLD ON the incongruous image of this little old lady, looking impossibly fragile amongst all the high tech gear, grungy deck crew and gigantic equipment.
S’cuse me, I have to go check our supply of Depends.
23 INT. ROSE’S STATEROOM / KELDYSH - DAY
Lizzy is unpacking Rose’s things in the small utilitarian room. Rose is placing a number of FRAMED PHOTOS on the bureau, arranging them carefully next to the fishbowl. Brock and Bodine are in the doorway.
Is your stateroom alright?
Yes. Very nice. Have you met my granddaughter, Lizzy? She takes care of me.
Yes. We met just a few minutes ago, grandma. Remember, up on deck?
Brock glances at Bodine... oh oh. Bodine rolls his eyes. Rose finishes arranging her photographs. We get a general glimpse of them: the usual snapshots... children and grandchildren, her late husband.
There, that’s nice. I have to have my pictures when I travel. And Freddy of course.
(to the Pomeranian)
Isn’t that right, sweetie.
Would you like anything?
I should like to see my drawing.
24 INT. LAB DECK, PRESERVATION AREA
Rose looks at the drawing in its tray of water, confronting herself across a span of 84 years. Until they can figure out the best way to preserve it, they have to keep it immersed. It sways and ripples, almost as if alive.
TIGHT ON Rose’s ancient eyes, gazing at the drawing.
25 FLASHCUT of a man’s hand, holding a conte crayon deftly creating a shoulder and the shape of her hair with two efficient lines.
26 THE WOMAN’S FACE IN THE DRAWING, dancing under the water.
27 A FLASHCUT of a man’s eyes, just visible over the top of a sketching pad. They look up suddenly right into the LENS. Soft eyes, but fearlessly direct.
28 Rose smiles, remembering. Brock has the reference photo of the necklace in his hand.
Louis the Sixteenth wore a fabulous stone, called the Blue Diamond of the Crown, which disappeared in 1792, about the time Louis lost everything from the neck up. The theory goes that the crown diamond was chopped too... recut into a heart-like shape... and it became Le Coeur de la Mer. The Heart of the Ocean. Today it would be worth more than the Hope Diamond.
It was a dreadful, heavy thing.
(she points at the drawing)
I only wore it this once.
You actually believe this is you, grandma?
It is me, dear. Wasn’t I a hot number?
I tracked it down through insurance records... and old claim that was settled under terms of absolute secrecy. Do you know who the claiment was, Rost?
Someone named Hockley, I should imagine.
Nathan Hockley, right. Pittsburgh steel tycoon. For a diamond necklace his son Caledon Hockley bought in France for his fiancee... you... a week before he sailed on Titanic. And the claim was filed right after the sinking. So the diamond had to’ve gone down with the ship.
See the date?
April 14, 1912.
If your grandma is who she says she is, she was wearing the diamond the day Titanic sank.
And that makes you my new best friend. I will happily compensate you for anything you can tell us that will lead to its recovery.
I don’t want your money, Mr. Lovett. I know how hard it is for people who care greatly for money to give some away.
You don’t want anything?
(indicating the drawing)
You may give me this, if anything I tell you is of value.
(crossing the room)
Over here are a few things we’ve recovered from your staterooms.
Laid out on a worktable are fifty or so objects, from mundane to valuable. Rose, shrunken in her chair, can barely see over the table top. With a trembling hand she lifts a tortoise shell hand mirror, inlaid with mother of pearl. She caresses it wonderingly.
This was mine. How extraordinary! It looks the same as the last time I saw it.
She turns the mirror over and looks at her ancient face in the cracked glass.
The reflection has changed a bit.
She spies something else, a silver and moonstone art-nouveau brooch.
My mother’s brooch. She wanted to go back for it. Caused quite a fuss.
Rose picks up an ornate art-nouveau HAIR COMB. A jade butterfly takes flight on the ebony handle of the comb. She turns it slowly, remembering. We can see that Rose is experiencing a rush of images and emotions that have lain dormant for eight decades as she handles the butterfly comb.
Are you ready to go back to Titanic?
29 INT. IMAGING SHACK / KELDYSH
It is a darkened room lined with TV monitors. IMAGES OF THE WRECK fill the screens, fed from Mir One and Two, and the two ROVs, Snoop Dog and DUNCAN.
Live from 12,000 feet.
ROSE stares raptly at the screens. She is enthraled by one in particular, an image of the bow railing. It obviously means something to her. Brock is studying her reactions carefully.
The bow’s struck in the bottom like an axe, from the impact. Here... I can run a simulation we worked up on this monitor over here.
Lizzy turns the chair so Rose can see the screen of Bodine’s computer. As he is calling up the file, he keeps talking.
We’ve put together the world’s largest database on the Titanic. Okay, here...
Rose might not want to see this, Lewis.
No, no. It’s fine. I’m curious.
Bodine starts a COMPUTER ANIMATED GRAPHIC on the screen, which parallels his rapid-fire narration.
She hits the berg on the starboard side and it sort of bumps along... punching holes like a morse code... dit dit dit, down the side. Now she’s flooding in the
forward compartments... and the water spills over the tops of the bulkheads, going aft. As her bow is going down, her stern is coming up... slow at first... and then faster and faster until it’s lifting all that weight, maybe 20 or 30 thousand tons... out of the water and the hull can’t deal... so SKRTTT!!
(making a sound in time with the animation)
... it splits! Right down to the keel, which acts like a big hinge. Now the bow swings down and the stern falls back level... but the weight of the bow pulls the stern up vertical, and then the bow section detaches, heading for the bottom. The stern bobs like a cork, floods and goes under about 2:20 a.m. Two hours and forty minutes after the collision.
The animation then follows the bow section as it sinks. Rose watches this clinical dissection of the disaster without emotion.
The bow pulls out of its dive and planes away, almost a half a mile, before it hits the bottom going maybe 12 miles an hour. KABOOM!
The bow impacts, digging deeply into the bottom, the animation now follows the stern.
The stern implodes as it sinks, from the pressure, and rips apart from the force of the current as it falls, landing like a big pile of junk.
(indicating the simulation)
Thank you for that fine forensic analysis, Mr. Bodine. Of course the experience of it was somewhat less clinical.
Will you share it with us?
Her eyes go back to the screens, showing the sad ruins far below them.
A VIEW from one of the subs TRACKING SLOWLY over the boat deck. Rose recognizes one of the Wellin davits, still in place. She hears ghostly waltz music. The faint and echoing sound of an officer’s voice, English accented, calling „Women and children only“.
30 FLASH CUTS of screaming faces in a running crowd. Pandemonium and terror. People crying, praying, kneeling on the deck. Just impressions... flashes in the dark.
31 Rose Looks at another monitor. SNOOP DOG moving down a rusted, debris-filled corridor. Rose watches the endless row of doorways sliding past, like dark mouths.
32 IMAGE OF A CHILD, three years old, standing ankle deep in water in the middle of an endless corridor. The child is lost alone, crying.
33 Rose is shaken by the flood of memories and emotions. Her eyes well up and she puts her head down, sobbing quietly.
(taking the wheelchair)
I’m taking her to rest.
Her voice is surprisingly strong. The sweet little old lady is gone, replaced by a woman with eyes of steel. Lovett signals everyone to stay quiet.
Tell us, Rose.
She looks from screen to screen, the images of the ruined ship.
It’s been 84 years...
Just tell us what you can--
(holds up her hand for silence)
It’s been 84 years... and I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in.
He switches on the minirecorder and sets it near her.
Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams. And it was. It really was...
As the underwater camera rises past the rusted bow rail, WE DISSOLVE / MATCH MOVE to that same railing in 1912...
34 EXT. SOUTHAMPTON DOCK - DAY
SHOT CONTINUES IN A FLORIOUS REVEAL as the gleaming white superstructure of Titanic rises mountainously beyond the rail, and above that the buff-colored funnels stand against the sky like the pillars of a great temple. Crewmen move across the deck, dwarfed by the awesome scale of the steamer.
Southanmpton, England, April 10, 1912. It is almost nnon on ailing day. A crowd of hundreds blackens the pier next to Titanic like ants on a jelly sandwich.
IN FG a gorgeous burgundy RENAULT TOURING CAR swings into frame, hanging from a loading crane. It is lowered toward HATCH #2.
On the pier horsedrawn vehicles, motorcars and lorries move slowly through the dense throng. The atmosphere is one of excitement and general giddiness. People embrace in tearful farewells, or wave and shout bon voyage wishes to friends and relatives on the decks above.
A white RENAULT, leading a silver-gray DAIMLER-BENZ, pushes through the crowd leaving a wake in the press of people. Around the handsome cars people are streaming to board the ship, jostling with hustling seamen and stokers, porters, and barking WHITE STAR LINE officials.
The Renault stops and the LIVERIED DRIVER scurries to open the door for a YOUNG WOMAN dressed in a stunning white and purple outfit, with an enormous feathered hat. She is 17 years old and beautiful, regal of bearing, with piercing eyes.
It is the girl in the drawing. ROSE. She looks up at the ship, taking it in with cool appraisal.
I don’t see what all the fuss is about. It doesn’t look any bigger than the Mauretania.
A PERSONAL VALET opens the door on the other side of the car for CALEDON HOCKLEY, the 30 year old heir to the elder Hockley’s fortune. „Cal“ is handsome, arrogant and rich beyond meaning.
You can be blase about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic. It’s over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian cafe... even Turkish baths.
Cal turns and fives his hand to Rose’s mother, RUTH DEWITT BUKATER, who descends from the touring car being him. Ruth is a 40ish society empress, from one of the most prominent Philadelphia families. She is a widow, and rules her household with iron will.
Your daughter is much too hard to impress, Ruth.
(indicating a puddle)
Mind your step.
(gazing at the leviathan)
So this is the ship they say is unsinkable.
It is unsinkable. God himself couldn’t sink this ship.
Cal speaks with the pride of a host providing a special experience.
This entire entourage of rich Americans is impeccably turned out, a quintessential example of the Edwardian upper class, complete with servants. Cal’s VALET, SPICER LOVEJOY, is a tall and impassive, dour as an undertaker. Behind him emerge TWO MAIDS, personal servants to Ruth and Rose.
A WHITE STAR LINE PORTER scurries toward them, harried by last minute loading.
Sir, you’ll have to check your baggage through the main terminal, round that way--
Cal nonchalantly hands the man a fiver. The porter’s eyes dilate. Five pounds was a monster tip in those days.
I put my faith in you, good sir.
(curtly, indicating Lovejoy)
See my man.
Yes, sir. My pleasure, sir.
Cal never tires of the effect of money on the unwashed masses.
(to the porter)
These trunks here, and 12 more in the Daimler. We’ll have all this lot up in the rooms.
The White Star man looks stricken when he sees the enormous pile of steamer trunks and suitcases loading down the second car, including wooden crates and steel safe. He whistles frantically for some cargo-handlers nearby who come running.
Cal breezes on, leaving the minions to scramble. He quickly checks his pocket watch.
We’d better hurry. This way, ladies.
He indicates the way toward the first class gangway. They move into the crowd. TRUDY BOLT, Rose’s maid, hustles behind them, laden with bags of her mistress’s most recent purchases... things too delicate for the baggage handlers.
Cal leads, weaving between vehicles and handcarts, hurrying passengers (mostly second class and steerage) and well-wishers. Most of the first class passengers are avoiding the smelly press of the dockside crowd by using an elevated boarding bridge, twenty feet above.
They pass a line of steerage passengers in their coarse wool and tweeds, queued up inside movable barriers like cattle in a chute. A HEALTH OFFICER examines their heads one by one, checking scalp and eyelashes for lice.
They pass a well-dressed young man cranking the handle of a wooden Biograph „cinematograph“ camera mounted on a tripod. NANIEL MARVIN (whose father founded the Biograph Film Studio) is filming his young bride in front of the Titanic. MARY MARVIN stands stiffly and smiles, self conscious.
Look up at the ship, darling, that’s it. You’re amazed! You can’t believe how big it is! Like a mountain. That’s great.
Mary Marvin, without an acting fiber in her body, does a bad Clara Bow pantomime of awe, hands raised.
Cal is jostled by two yelling steerage boys who shove past him. And he is bumped again a second later by the boys’ father.
The Cockney father pushes on, after his kids, shouting.
Steerage swine. Apparently missed his annual bath.
Honestly, Cal, if you weren’t forever booking everything at the last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family.
All part of my charm, Ruth. At any rate, it was my darling fiancee’s beauty rituals which made us late.
You told me to change.
I couldn’t let you wear black on sailing day, sweetpea. It’s bad luck.
I felt like black.
Cal guides them out of the path of a horse-drawn wagon loaded down with two tons of OXFORD MARMALADE, in wooden cases, for Titanic’s Victualling Department.
Here I’ve pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites... and you act as if you’re going to your execution.
Rose looks up as the hull of Titanic looms over them...a great iron wall, Bible black and sever. Cal motions her forward, and she enters the gangway to the D Deck doors with a sense of overwhelming dread.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
It was the ship of dreams... to everyone else. To me it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains.
CLOSE ON CAL’S HAND IN SLOW-MOTION as it closes possessively over Rose’s arm. He escorts her up the gangway and the black hull of Titanic swallows them.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
Outwardly I was everything a well brought up girl should be. Inside, I was screaming.
35 CUT TO a SCREAMING BLAST from the mighty triple steam horns on Titanic’s funnels, bellowing their departure warning.
36 EXT. SOUTHAMPTON DOCKS / TITANIC - DAY
A VIEW OF TITANIC from several blocks away, towering above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a city. The steamer’s whistle echoes across Southampton.
PULL BACK, revealing that we were looking through a window, and back further to show the smoky inside of a pub. It is crowded with dockworkers and ship;s crew.
Just inside the window, a poker game is in progress. FOUR MEN, in working class clothes, play a very serious hand.
JACK DAWSON and FABRIZIO DE ROSSI, both about 20, exchange a glance as the other two players argue in Swedish. Jack is American, a lanky drifter with his hair a little long for the standards of the times. He is also unshaven, and his clothes are rumpled from sleeping in them. He is an artist, and has adopted the bohemian style of art scene in Paris. He is also very self-possessed and sure-footed for 20, having lived on his own since 15.
The TWO SWEDES continue their sullen argument, in Swedish.
You stupid fishhead. I can’t believe you bet our tickets.
You lost our money. I’m just trying to get it back. Now shutup and take a card.
Hit me again, Sven.
Jack takes the card and slips it into his hand.
ECU JACK’S EYES. They betray nothing.
CLOSE ON FABRIZIO licking his lips nervously as he refuses a card.
ECU STACK in the middle of the table. Bills and coins from four counrties. This has been going on for a while. Sitting on top of the money are two 3RD CLASS TICKETS for RMS TITANIC.
The Titanic’s whistle blows again. Final warning.
The moment of truth boys. Somebody’s life’s about to change.
Fabrizio puts his cards down. So do the Swedes. Jack holds his close.
Let’s see... Fabrizio’s got niente. Olaf, you’ve got squat. Sven, uh oh... two pair... mmm.
(turns to his friend)
What sorry? What you got? You lose my money?? Ma va fa’n culo testa di cazzo--
Sorry, you’re not gonna see your mama again for a long time...
He slaps a full house down on the table.
‘Cause you’re goin’ to America!! Full house boys!
Porca Madonna!! YEEAAAAA!!!
The table explodes into shouting in several languages. Jack rakes in the money and the tickets.
(to the Swedes)
Sorry boys. Three of a kind and a pair. I’m high and you’re dry and...
... we’re going to--
Olaf balls up one huge farmer’s fist. We think he’s going to clobber Jack, but he swings round and punches Sven, who flops backward onto the floor and sits there, looking depressed. Olaf forgets about Jack and Fabrizio, who are dancing around, and goes into a rapid harangue of his stupid cousin.
Jack kisses the tickets, then jumps on Fabrizio’s back and rides him around the pub. It’s like they won the lottery.
Goin’ home... to the land o’ the free and the home of the real hot-dogs! On the TITANIC!! We’re ridin’ in high style now! We’re practically goddamned royalty, ragazzo mio!!
You see? Is my destinio!! Like I told you. I go to l’America!! To be a millionaire!!
Capito?? I go to America!!
No, mate. Titanic go to America. In five minutes.
Shit!! Come on, Fabri!
(grabbing their stuff)
(to all, grinning)
It’s been grand.
They run for the door.
‘Course I’m sure if they knew it was you lot comin’, they’d be pleased to wait!
38 EXT. TERMINAL - TITANIC
Jack and Fabrizio, carrying everything they own in the world in the kit bags on their shoulders, sprint toward the pier. They tear through milling crowds next to the terminal. Shouts go up behind them as they jostle slow-moving gentlemen. They dodge piles of luggage, and weave through groups of people. They burst out onto the pier and Jack comes to a dead stop... staring at the cast wall of the ship’s hull, towering seven stories above the wharf and over an eighth of a mile long. The Titanic is monstrous.
Fabrizio runs back and grabs Jack, and they sprint toward the third class gangway aft, at E deck. They reach the bottom of the ramp just as SIXTH OFFICER MOODY detaches it at the top. It starts to swing down from the gangway doors.
Wait!! We’re passengers!
Flushed and panting, he waves the tickets.
Have you been through the inspection queue?
Of course! Anyway, we don’t have lice, we’re Americans.
(glances at Fabrizio)
Both of us.
Right, come aboard.
Moody has QUARTERMASTER ROWE reattach the gangway. Jack and Fabrizio come aboard. Moody glances at the tickets, then passes Jack and Fabrizio through to Rowe. Rowe looks at the names on the tickets to enter them in the passenger list.
He hands the tickets back, eyeing Fabrizio’s Mediterranean looks suspiciously.
(grabbing Fabrizio’s arm)
Come on, Sven.
Jack and Fabrizio whoop with victory as they run down the white-painted corridero... grinning from ear to ear.
We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!
40 EXT. TITANIC AND DOCK - DAY
The mooring lines, as big around as a man’s arm, are dropped into the water. A cheer goes up on the pier as SEVEN TUGS pull the Titanic away from the quay.
41 EXT. AFT WELL DECK / POOP DECK - DAY
JACK AND FABRIZIO burst through a door onto the aft well deck. TRACKING WITH THEM as they run across the deck and up the steel stairs to the poop deck. They get to the rail and Jack starts to yell and wave to the crowd on the dock.
You know somebody?
Of course not. That’s not the point.
(to the crowd)
Goodbye! Goodbye!! I’ll miss you!
Grinning, Fabrixio joins in, adding his voice to the swell of voices, feeling the exhilaration of the moment.
Goodbye! I will never forget you!!
EXT. SOUTHAMPTON DOCK - DAY
The crowd of cheering well-wishers waves heartily as a black wall of metal moves past them. Impossibly tiny figues wave back from the ship’s rails. Titanic gathers speed.
44 EXT. RIVER TEST - DAY
IN A LONG LENS SHOT the prow of Titanic FILLS FRAME behind the lead tug, which is dwarfed. The bow wave spreads before the mighty plow of the liner’s hull as it moves down the River Test toward the English Channel.
45 INT. THIRD CLASS BERTHING / G-DECK FORWARD - DAY
Jack and Fabrizio walk down a narrow corridor with doors lining both sides like a college dorm. Total confusion as people argue over luggage in several languages, or wander in confusion in the labyrinth. They pass emigrants studying the signs over the doors, and looking up the words in phrase books.
They find their berth. It is a modest cubicle, painted enamel white, with four bunks. Exposed pipes overhead. The other two guys are already there. OLAUS and BJORN GUNDERSEN.
Jack throws his kit on one open bunk, while Fabrizio takes the other.
(in Swedish/ subtitled)
Where is Sven?
46 INT. SUITE B-52-56 - DAY
By contrast, the so-called „Millionaire Suite“ is in the Empire style, and comprises two bedrooms, a bath, WC, wardrobe room, and a large sitting room. In addition there is a private 50 foot promenade deck outside.
A room service waiter pours champagne into a tulip glass of orange juice and hands the Bucks Fizz to Rose. She is looking through her new paintings. There is a Monet of water lilies, a Degas of dancers, and a few abstract works. They are all unknown paintings... lost works.
Cal is out on the covered deck, which has potted trees and vines on trellises, talking through the doorway to Rose in the sitting room.
Those mud puddles were certainly a waste of money.
(looking at a cubist portrait)
You’re wrong. They’re fascinating. Like in a dream... there’s truth without logic. What’s his name again... ?
(reading off the canvas)
(coming into the sitting room)
He’ll never amount to a thing, trust me. At least they were cheap.
A porter wheels Cal’s private safe (which we recognize) into the room on a handtruck.
Put that in the wardrobe.
47 IN THE BEDROOM Rose enters with the large Degas of the dancers. She sets it on the dresser, near the canopy bed. Trudy is already in there, hanging up some of Rose’s clothes.
It smells so brand new. Like they built it all just for us. I mean... just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, Iill be the first--
Cal appears in the doorway of the bedroom.
(looking at Rose)
And when I crawl between the sheets tonight, I’ll still be the first.
(blushing at the innuendo)
S’cuse me, Miss.
She edges around Cal and makes a quick exit. Cal comes up behind Rose and puts his hands on her shoulders. An act of possession, not intimacy.
The first and only. Forever.
Rose’s expression shows how bleak a prospect this is for her, now.
48 EXT. CHERBOURG HARBOR, FRANCE - LATE DUSK
Titanic stands silhouetted against a purple post-sunset sky. She is lit up like a floating palace, and her thousand portholes reflect in the calm harbor waters. The 150 foot tender Nomadic lies-to alongside, looking like a rowboat. The lights of a Cherbourg harbor complete the postcard image.
49 INT. FIRST CLASS RECEPTION/ D-DECK
Entering the first class reception room from the tender are a number of prominent passengers. A BROAD-SHOULDERED WOMAN in an enormous feathered hat comes up the gangway, carrying a suitcase in each hand, a spindly porter running to catch up with her to take the bags.
Well, I wasn’t about to wait all day for you, sonny. Take ‘em the rest of the way if you think you can manage.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
At Cherbourg a woman came aboard named Margaret Brown, but we all called her Molly. History would call her the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Her husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what mother called „new money“.
At 45, MOLLY BROWN is a tough talking straightshooter who dresses in the finery of her genteel peers but will never be one of them.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
By the next afternoon we had made our final stop and we were steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing out ahead of us but ocean...
51 EXT. BOW - DAY
The ship glows with the warm creamy light of late afternoon. Jack and Fabrizio stand right at the bow gripping the curving railing so familiar from images of the wreck. Jack leans over, looking down fifty feet to where the prow cuts the surface like a knife, sending up two glassy sheets of water.
52 INT. / EXT. TITANIC - SERIES OF SCENES - DAY
ON THE BRIDGE, CAPTAIN SMITH turns from the binnacle to FIRST OFFICER WILLIAM MURDOCH.
Take her to sea Mister Murdoch. Let’s stretch her legs.
Murdoch moves the engine telegraph lever to ALL AHEAD FULL.
53 NOW BEGINS a kind of musical/visual setpiece... an ode to the great ship. The music is rhythmic, surging forward, with a soaring melody that addresses the majesty and optimism of the ship of dreams.
IN THE ENGINE ROOM the telegraph clangs and moves to „All Ahead Full“.
CHIEF ENGINEER BELL
All ahead full!
On the catwalk THOMAS ANDREWS, the shipbuilder, watches carefully as the engineers and greasers scramble to adjust valves. Towering above them are the twin RECIPROCATING engines, four stories tall, their ten-foot-long connecting rods surging up and down with the turning of the massive crankshafts. The engines thunder like the footfalls of marching giants.
54 IN THE BOILER ROOMS the STOKERS chant a song as they hurl coal into the roaring furnaces. The „black gang“ are covered with sweat and coal dust, their muscles working like part of the machinery as they toil in the hellish glow.
55 UNDERWATER the enormous bronze screws chop through the water, hurling the steamer forward and churning up a vortex of foam that lingers for miles behind the juggernaut ship. Smoke pours from the funnels as--
56 The riven water flares higher at the bow as the ship’s speeds builds. THE CAMERA SWEEPS UP the prow to find Jack, the wind streaming through his hair and--
57 Captain Smith steps out of the enclosed bridge onto the wing. He stands with his hands on the rail, looking every bit the storybook picture of a Captain... a great patriarch of the sea.
FIRST OFFICER MURDOCH
Twenty one knots, sir!
She’s got a bone in her teeth now, eh, Mr. Murdoch.
Smith accepts a cup of tea from FIFTH OFFICER LOWE. He contentedly watches the white V of water hurled outward from the bows like an expression of his own personal power. They are invulnerable, towering over the sea.
58 AT THE BOW Jack and Fabrizio lean far over, looking down.
In the glassy bow-wave two dolphins appear, under the water, running fast just in front of the steel blade of the prow. They do it for the sheer joy and exultation of motion. Jack watches the dolphins and grins. They breach, jumping clear of the water and then dive back, crisscrossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the juggernaut.
FABRIZIO looks forward across the Atlantic, staring into the sunsparkles.
I can see the Statue of Liberty already.
(grinning at Jack)
Very small... of course.
THE CAMERA ARCS around them, until they are framed against the sea.
NOW WE PULL BACK, across the forecastle deck. Rising, as we continue back, and the ships rolls endlessly forward underneath. Over the bridge wing, along the boat deck until her funnels come INTO FRAME besides us and march past like the pillars of heaven, one by one. We pull back and up, until we are looking down the funnels, and the people strolling on the decks and standing at the rail become antlike.
And still we pull back until the great lady is seen whole in a gorgeous aerial portrait, black and severe in her majesty.
She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history...
59 INT. PALM COURT RESTAURANT - DAY
CLOSE ON J. BRUCE ISMAY, Managing Director of White Star Line.
...and our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here, designed her from the keel plates up.
He indicates a handsome 39 year old Irish gentlemen to his right, THOMAS ANDREWS, of Harland and Wolf Shipbuilders.
WIDER, showing the group assembled for lunch the next day. Ismay seated with Cal, Rose, Ruth, Molly Brown and Thomas Andrews in the Palm Court, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows.
(disliking the attention)
Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay’s. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is...
(he slaps the table)
...willed into solid reality.
Why’re ships always bein’ called „she“? Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in tonnage?
(they all laugh)
Just another example of the men settin’ the rules their way.
The waiter arrives to take orders. Rose lights a cigarette.
You know I don’t like that, Rose.
Cal takes the cigarette from her and stubs it out.
(to the waiter)
We’ll both have the lamb. Rare, with a little mint sauce.
(to Rose, after the waiter moves away)
You like lamb, don’t you sweetpea?
Molly is watching the dynamic between Rose, Cal and Ruth.
So, you gonna cut her meat for her too there, Cal?
(turning to Ismay)
Hey, who came up with the name Titanic? You, Bruce?
Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury... and safety--
Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay.
Andrews chockes on his breadstick, suppressing laughter.
My God, Rose, what’s gotten into--
She stalks away.
I do apologize.
She’s a pistol, Cal. You sure you can handle her?
(tense but feigning unconcern)
Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on.
60 EXT. POOP DECK / AFTER DECKS - DAY
Jack sits on a bench in the sun. Titanic’s wake spreads out behind him to the horizon. He has his knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad, his only valuable possession. With conte crayon he draws rapidly, using sure strokes. An emigrant from Manchester named CARTMELL has his 3 year old daughter CORA standing on the lower rung of the rail. She is leaned back against his beer barrel of a stomach, watching the seagulls.
THE SKETCH captures them perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. Jack is good. Really good. Fabrizio looks over Jack’s shoulder. He nods appreciatively.
TOMMY RYAN, a scowling young Irish emigrant, watches as a crewmember comes by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of them, a BLACK FRENCH BULLDOG, is among the ugliest creatures on the planet.
That’s typical. First class dogs come down here to take a shit.
Jack looks up from his sketch.
That’s so we know where we rank in the scheme of things.
Like we could forget.
Jack glances across the well deck. At the aft railing of B deck promenade stands ROSE, in a long yellow dress and white gloves.
CLOSE ON JACK, unable to take his eyes off of her. They are across from each other, about 60 feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. She on her promontory, he on his much lower one. She stares down at the water.
He watches her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. She looks at the frilly absurd thing, then tosses it over the rail. It sails far down to the water and is carried away, astern. A spot of yellow in the vast ocean. He is riveted by her. She looks like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.
Fabrizio taps Tommy and they both look at Jack gazin at Rose. Fabrizio and Tommy grin at each other.
Rose turns suddenly and looks right at Jack. He is caught staring, but he doesn’t look away. She does, but then looks back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.
Jack sees a man (Cal) come up behind her and take her arm. She jerks her arm away. They argue in pantomime. She storms away, and he goes after her, disappearing along the A-deck promenade. Jack stares after her.
Forget it, boyo. You’d as like have angels fly out o’ yer arse as get next to the likes o’ her.
61 INT. FIRST CLASS DINING SALOON - NIGHT
SLOWLY PUSHING IN ON ROSE as she sits, flanked by people in heated conversation. Cal and Ruth are laughing together, while on the other side LADY DUFF-GORDON is holding forth animatedly. We don’t hear what they are saying. Rose is staring at her plate, barely listening to the inconsequential babble around her.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
I saw my whole life as if I’d already lived it... an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches... always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great precipice, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared... or even noticed.
ANGLE BENEATH TABLE showing Rose’s hand, holding a tiny fork from her crab salad. She pokes the crab-fork into the skin of her arm, harder and harder until it draws blood.
62 INT. CORRIDOR / B DECK - NIGHT
Rose walks along the corridor. A steward coming the other way greets her, and she nods with a slight smile. She is perfectly composed.
63 INT. ROSE’S BEDROOM - NIGHT
She enters the room. Stands in the middle, staring at her reflection in the large vanity mirror. Just stands there, then--
With a primal, anguished cry she claws at her throat, ripping off her pearl necklace, which explodes across the room. In a frenzy she tears at herself, her clothes, her hair... then attacks the room. She flings everything off the dresser and it flies clattering against the wall. She hurls a handmirror against the vanity, cracking it.
64 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE, AFT - NIGHT
Rose runs along the B deck promenade. She is dishevelled, her hair flying. She is crying, her cheeks streaked with tears. But also angry, furious! Shaking with emotions she doesn’t understand... hatred, self-hatred, desperation. A strolling couple watch her pass. Shocked at the emotional display in public.
65 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT
Jack is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Thinking artist thoughts and smoking a cigarette.
Hearing something, he turns as Rose runs up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the stern deck, except for QUARTERMASTER ROWE, twenty feet above them on the docking bridge catwalk. She doesn’t see Jack in the shadows, and runs right past him.
TRACKING WITH ROSE as she runs across the deserted fantail. Her breath hitches in an occasional sob, which she suppresses. Rose slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings there, panting. She stares out at the black water.
Then starts to climb over the railing. She has to hitch her long dress way up, and climbing is clumsy. Moving methodically she turns her body and gets her heels on the white-painted gunwale, her back to the railing, facing out toward blackness. 60 feet below her, the massive propellers are churning the atlantin into white foam, and a ghostly wake trails off toward the horizon.
IN A LOW ANGLE, we see Rose standing like a figurehead in reverse. Below her are the huge letters of the name „TITANIC“.
She leans out, her arms straightening... looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below her. Her dress and hair are lifted by the wind of the ship’s movement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, is the flutter and snap of the big Union Jack right above her.
Don’t do it.
She whips her head around at the sound of his voice. It takes a second for her eyes to focus.
Stay back! Don’t come any closer!
Jack sees the tear tracks on her cheeks in the faint glow from the stern running lights.
Take my hand. I’ll pull you back in.
No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I’ll let go.
No you won’t.
What do you mean no I won’t? Don’t presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don’t know me.
You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand.
Rose is confused now. She can’t see him very well through the tears, so she wipes them with one hand, almost losing her balance.
You’re distracting me. Go away.
I can’t. I’m involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you.
Don’t be absurd. You’ll be killed.
He takes off his jacket.
I’m a good swimmer.
He starts unlacing his left shoe.
The fall alone would kill you.
It would hurt. I’m not saying it wouldn’t. To be honest I’m a lot more concerned about the water being so cold.
She looks down. The reality factor of what she is doing is sinking in.
(taking off his left shoe)
Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over.
He starts unlacing his right shoe.
Ever been to Wisconsin?
Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishing’s where you chop a hole in the--
I know what ice fishing is!
Sorry. Just... you look like kind of an indoor girl. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I’m tellin’ ya, water that cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can’t breath, you can’t think... least not about anything but the pain.
(takes off his other shoe)
Which is why I’m not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don’t see a choice. I guess I’m kinda hoping you’ll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.
That’s what everybody says. But with all due respect, I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship.
He slides one step closer, like moving up on a spooked horse.
Come on. You don’t want to do this. Give me your hand.
Rose stares at this madman for a long time. She looks at his eyes and they somehow suddenly seem to fill her universe.
She unfastens one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. He reaches out to take it, firmly.
I’m Jack Dawson.
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson.
Rose starts to turn. Now that she has decided to live, the height is terrifying. She is overcome by vertigo as she shifts her footing, turning to face the ship. As she starts to climb, her dress gets in the way, and one foot slips off the edge of the deck.
She plunges, letting out a piercing SHRIEK. Jack, gripping her hand, is jerked toward the rail. Rose barely grabs a lower rail with her free hand.
QUARTERMASTER ROWE, up on the docking bridge hears the scream and heads for the ladder.
I’ve got you. I won’t let go.
Jack holds her hand with all his strength, bracing himself on the railing with his other hand. Rose tries to get some kind of foothold on the smooth hull. Jack tries to lift her bodily over the railing. She can’t get any footing in her dress and evening shoes, and she slips back. Rose SCREAMS again.
Jack, awkwardly clutching Rose by whatever he can get a grip on as she flails, gets her over the railing. They fall together onto the deck in a tangled heap, spinning in such a way that Jack winds up slightly on top of her.
Rowe slides down the ladder from the docking bridge like it’s a fire drill and sprints across the fantail.
Here, what’s all this?!
Rowe runs up and pulls Jack off of Rose, revealing her dishevelled and sobbing on the deck. Her dress is torn, and the hem is pushing up above her knees, showing one ripped stocking.