Atlantis: The Lost Empire

MEN:
Aah!

[Hitting gong]

Aah!

Mahtim!

Mahtim!

Mahtim!

MILO:
Good afternoon,

gentlemen.

First off, I'd like

to thank this board...

for taking the time

to hear my proposal.

Now, we've all heard

of the legend of Atlantis...

a continent somewhere

in the mid-Atlantic...

that was home

to an advanced civilization...

possessing technology

far beyond our own...

that, according

to our friend Plato here...

was suddenly struck

by some cataclysmic event...

that sank it

beneath the sea.

Now, some of you may ask,

why Atlantis?

It's just a myth, isn't it?

Pure fantasy.

Well, that is

where you'd be wrong.

before the Egyptians...

built the pyramids...

Atlantis had electricity,

advanced medicine...

even the power of flight.

Impossible, you say?

Well, no.

No, not for them.

Numerous ancient cultures

all over the globe agree...

that Atlantis possessed

a power source of some kind...

more powerful than steam,

than... than coal.

More powerful than

our modern...

internal combustion engines.

Gentlemen, I propose

that we find Atlantis...

find that power source...

and bring it back

to the surface.

Now, this is a page

from an illuminated text...

that describes a book called

the Shepherd's Journal...

said to have been

a first-hand account...

of Atlantis

and its exact whereabouts.

Now, based on a centuries-old

translation of a Norse text...

historians have believed

the Journal resides in Ireland.

But after

comparing the text...

to the runes

on this Viking shield...

I found that

one of the letters...

had been mistranslated.

So, by changing this letter...

and inserting

the correct one...

we find that

the Shepherd's Journal...

the key to Atlantis...

lies not in Ireland,

gentlemen...

but in Iceland.

Uhh!

[Softly]

Pause for effect.

Gentlemen, uh,

I'll take your questions now.

[Telephone rings]

Uh, would you gentlemen

please excuse me for a moment?

[Rings]

Cartography and Linguistics,

Milo Thatch speaking.

[Indistinct angry ranting]

Yeah. Uh, just... just a second.

Pardon me, Mr. Hickenbottom.

[Hissing]

How's that?

Is that better?

[Indistinct angry ranting]

Uh-huh. Yeah.

You're welcome.

VOICE:
And don't

let it happen again!

All right, bye.

Now, as you can see

by th...

by this, um, map... map,

uh, that... that...

ahem... that I've drawn,

I plotted the route...

that will take myself

and a crew...

to the southern coast of Iceland

to retrieve the Journal.

[Cuckoos four times]

Ah, showtime.

Well, this is it.

I am finally getting

out of the dungeon.

[Thunk]

[Thunk]

[Whoosh]

"Dear Mr. Thatch,

this is to inform you...

"that your meeting today

has been moved up...

"from 4:
30 P.M.

To 3:
30 P.M."

What?

[Whoosh]

"Dear Mr. Thatch,

due to your absence...

"the board has voted

to reject your proposal.

"Have a nice weekend.

Mr. Harcourt's office."

They can't

do this to me!

HARCOURT:
I swear,

that young Thatch...

gets crazier every year.

If I ever hear the word

"Atlantis" again...

I'll step

in front of a bus!

Ha ha ha!

I'll push you!

MILO:
Mr. Harcourt!

Good Lord!

There he is!

Members of the board...

uh, wait!

HARCOURT:
How did you find us?

MILO:
Mr. Harcourt, wait!

MAN:
Head for the hills!

HARCOURT:
Where is a guard

when you need him?

MILO:
Mr. Harcourt, you

gotta listen to me, sir!

Uh, sir?

Wait! Mr. Harcourt!

Sir, l-I have new evidence

that... Please, Mr. Harcourt!

Stop! Sir, if you...

Could you hold...

Thank you very much.

Look at...

This museum funds

scientific expeditions...

based on facts,

not legends and folklore.

Besides, we need you here.

- We depend on you.

- You do?

Yes! What with winter coming...

that boiler's going to need

a lot of attention.

- Boiler?

- Onward, Heinz!

But there...

there's a journal!

It's in Iceland!

I'm sure of it this time!

[Thud]

Sir, I really hoped

it wouldn't come to this...

but this is... uhh...

a letter of resignation.

If you reject my proposal,

Ill... Whoa!

I'll quit!

I mean it, sir.

If you refuse

to fund my proposal...

You'll what?

Flush your career

down the toilet...

just like

your grandfather?

You have a lot

of potential, Milo.

Don't throw it all away

chasing fairy tales.

But I can prove

Atlantis exists!

You want to go

on an expedition?

Here. Take a trolley

to the Potomac and jump in!

Maybe the cold water will

clear your head. Heinz!

[Car drives off]

[Antique car horn honks]

[Thunder]

I'm home.

Fluffy?

Here, kitty.

[Clicking]

[Thunder]

Milo James Thatch?

Who... who are you?

How did you get in here?

I came down the chimney.

Ho, ho, ho.

My name is

Helga Sinclair.

I'm acting on behalf

of my employer...

who has a most intriguing

proposition for you.

Are you interested?

Your... your...

your employer? Heh.

Who is your employer?

[Thunder]

[Thunder]

This way, please.

And don't drip

on the Caravaggio.

Step lively.

Mr. Whitmore does not like

to be kept waiting.

You will address him as

"Mr. Whitmore" or "Sir."

You will stand unless

asked to be seated.

Keep your sentences short

and to the point.

Are we clear?

[Gulp]

And relax.

He doesn't bite... often.

Grandpa?

Finest explorer I ever met.

Preston Whitmore.

Pleasure to meet you, Milo.

[Crunch]

[Sighs]

Join me in a little yoga?

Uh, no, no.

Thank you.

Did you really

know my grandfather?

Oh, yeah. Met old Thaddeus

back in Georgetown.

Class of '66.

We stayed close friends...

till the end of his days.

[Grunting]

Even dragged me along...

on some of his

danged fool expeditions.

Thatch was crazy

as a fruit bat, he was.

He spoke of you often.

Funny. He... he never

mentioned you.

Oh, he wouldn't.

He knew how much

I liked my privacy.

[Grunting]

I keep a low profile.

Mr. Whitmore, should I be

wondering why I'm here?

Look on that table.

WHITMORE:
Ah!

It's for you.

It's... it's from my grandfather.

He brought that package

to me years ago.

He said if anything

were to happen to him...

I should give it to you...

when you were ready...

whatever that means.

MILO:
It...

It can't be.

It's the Shepherd's Journal.

Mr. Whitmore,

this journal is the key...

to finding the lost

continent of Atlantis!

Atlantis! Ha ha ha!

I wasn't born yesterday, son.

No, no, no.

Look... Look at this.

Coordinates. Clues.

It's all right here.

Yeah, looks like

gibberish to me.

That's because it's

been written in a dialect...

that no longer exists.

- So it's useless.

- No, no, just difficult.

I've spent my whole life

studying dead languages.

It's not gibberish to me.

Ah, it's probably a fake.

Mr. Whitmore, my grandfather

would have known...

if this were a fake.

I would know.

I will stake everything I own,

everything that I believe in...

that this is the genuine

Shepherd's Journal.

All right,

all right.

So what do you want

to do with it?

Well, Ill... Ill...

I'll get funding.

I mean, Ill... The museum...

WHITMORE:
They'll

never believe you.

I'll show them!

I will make them believe.

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