The Most Dangerous Game

Synopsis: After their luxury cabin cruiser crashes on a reef, Bob Rainsford finds himself washed ashore on a remote island. He finds a fortress-like house and the owner, Count Zaroff, seems to be quite welcoming. Apart from Zaroff's servant Ivan, the only other people present are Eve Trowbridge and her brother Martin, also survivors of their own shipwreck. Other survivors are missing however and Rainsford soon learns why. Zaroff releases them into his jungle island and then hunts them down in his grisly "outdoor chess" game! Then after Martin disappears, Bob realizes that he and Eve are to be the next "pawns" in Zaroff's deadly game.
Production: RKO Radio Pictures Inc.
 
IMDB:
7.3
Rotten Tomatoes:
100%
NOT RATED
Year:
1932
63 min
3,870 Views


The channel's here on the chart.

So are the marking lights.

Then what's wrong with them?

Those lights don't seem to be

in just the right place.

They're both a bit out of position,

according to this.

Two light buoys mean a safe channel

between the world over.

"Safe between the world over"

doesn't go in these waters.

Look here. You'll see the water

shoals on the island side...

while the deep soundings

run to the mainland.

Have any of you seen

the captain today?

- No. He wasn't down for dinner.

- No, and he wasn't down for lunch.

He hasn't left the bridge since you

decided to come through the channel.

What are you driving at?

Ever since you gave him those orders

yesterday to cut through these waters...

he's had the jitters.

There's something wrong. I...

Hey, I'm getting nervous myself.

Doc, what do you recommend for nerves?

- Give him a shot of scotch.

- Give the whole bottle.

- No! I've got nerves too.

- Here you are, Doc.

Just what you need.

- Well, maybe you're right.

- And how, boy.

- Good evening, Captain.

- Good evening, sir.

- May I speak with you?

- Why, certainly. Go ahead.

We're heading straight for the channel

between Branca Island and the mainland.

- Good.

- But the lights are just a bit off, according to the chart.

The charts are never up to date in this

part of the Pacific. You know that.

I know, sir, but...

Doesn't Branca Island

mean anything to you?

- Well, not a lot.

- Perhaps if I spoke with Mr. Rainsford...

Bob's not a sailor.

He's a hunter.

He's made many of these trips.

He's young, but he has judgment.

I'll call him.

- Oh, Bob. Bob!

- What is it?

- Come up here, will ya?

- Just a minute.

What's bothering you, Captain?

There are no more coral-reefed, shark-infested

waters in the whole world than these.

Boy! Just take a look at these.

You didn't turn out so hot as a hunter,

Doc, but oh, what a photographer.

If we'd had you to take pictures

on the Sumatran trip...

they might have believed my book.

If you'd had me on the Sumatran trip,

you'd have never had me on this one.

Say, here's a swell one of

the ship, Skipper. What's the matter?

These old sea dogs tell yarns

to kid each other...

and end up

believing it all themselves.

I think that Mr. Rainsford

should know...

that the channel lights aren't just

in the position given on the charts.

Oh. Well, what do you think, fellas?

I think we should turn back

and take the outside course.

We'll go ahead.

Very well, sir.

It's your ship.

"It was the schooner 'Hesperus,'

and she sailed the wintry sea. "

Now, wait a minute, fellas.

Let's talk this over.

- There's no use taking any chances.

- Chances? That's fine talk...

coming from a fella who just got through

slapping tigers in the face.

Get an eyeful of this.

And he talks about taking chances.

Here's the doc charging the enemy

with an unloaded camera.

Get the expression

on Doc's face, Bill.

He looks more frightened

than the tiger.

- He is.

- What'd you have on your mind, Doc?

I'll tell you

what I had on my mind.

I was thinking of the inconsistency

of civilization.

The beast of the jungle killing just

for his existence is called savage.

The man, killing just for sport,

is called civilized.

- Hear! Hear!

- It's a bit contradictory, isn't it?

Now, just a minute.

What makes you think...

it isn't just as much sport

for the animal as it is for the man?

Take that fellow right there,

for instance.

There never was a time

when he couldn't have gotten away.

He didn't want to.

He got interested in hunting me.

He didn't hate me

for stalking him...

any more than I hated him

for trying to charge me.

As a matter of fact,

we admired each other.

Perhaps, but would you change places

with the tiger?

- Well, not now.

- Mm-mm!

Here comes

that bad-luck lady again.

Third time tonight.

- Here. Let me shuffle them.

- Wait a minute. Don't evade the issue.

- Yeah, speak up.

- I asked you a question.

- You did? I forgot.

- Oh, no, you didn't.

I asked you if there'd be

as much sport in the game...

if you were the tiger

instead of the hunter.

- Come on.

- What's your answer now, Bob?

That's something

I'll never have to decide.

Listen here, you fellows.

This world's divided into two kinds

of people... the hunter and the hunted.

Luckily, I'm a hunter.

Nothing can ever change that.

Hang on!

Hello! Hello, down there!

Hello, Engine Room!

- The panel is flooded!

- If the water hits those hot boilers...

Help!

Help!

You trying to drown me?

Where are the others?

See anybody?

Nobody left but us two and...

that fella.

Doc! Help!

- Look!

- Shark!

Ohh! It got me!

Hello!

Is anybody here?

Anybody around, I say.

Oh, hello.

Is this your house?

I'm not trying to break in,

but I've been in a wreck.

Our yacht just sunk

with all hands.

I got ashore and found

your place here by accident.

I'm not trying to intrude,

but I'm in sort of a jam.

Don't you understand

any English?

Lvan does not speak any language.

He has the misfortune

to be dumb.

Oh, hello.

Are you the owner here?

Yes.

Welcome to my poor fortress.

- Fortress?

- It once was.

Built by the Portuguese,

centuries ago.

I have had the ruins restored

to make my home here.

I am Count Zaroff.

My name's Robert Rainsford.

Glad to meet you.

Very glad.

Lvan is a Cossack.

I am afraid, like all my fellow

countrymen, he is a bit of a savage.

Smile, Ivan.

I was trying to make him understand

there'd been a shipwreck in the channel.

But how appalling!

And you mean to say

that you are the only survivor?

Yes, I'm afraid I am.

You're certain?

I'd have never left the spot

if I hadn't been.

The swellest crowd on Earth...

my best friends.

- It's incredible.

- Such things are always incredible.

Death is for others,

not for ourselves.

That is how most

of my other guests have felt.

Your other guests?

You mean this has happened before?

My fellow, we have several survivors

from the last wreck still in the house.

It would seem that this island

were cursed.

That's just what the captain said.

Only he thought

it was uninhabited.

We Cossacks find our inspiration

in solitude.

- Well, it's a break for me, anyway.

- My house is yours.

Oh, by the way. You'll want to change

those wet rags immediately.

Yes. They look

about the way I feel.

Yes.

I have some loose hunting clothes

which I keep for my guests...

that you can possibly

get into.

Lvan will show you

to your room.

- Thank you.

- You'll find a stiff drink there also.

Thanks a lot.

All pleasure is mine.

Come in.

- Ready, Rainsford?

- All set.

I'm afraid

we have finished dinner.

But I have ordered

something for you.

Thanks. I don't feel

like eating, though.

Oh. Well, perhaps later.

Now, then,

what do you say to coffee...

and most charming company?

It is hard to forget

your comrades' fate, I know...

but our feminine guest

is easily perturbed.

If I could beg you to put

a good face upon the matter.

Rate this script:4.3 / 6 votes

James Ashmore Creelman

James Ashmore Creelman (September 21, 1894 – September 18, 1941) was a film writer in Hollywood. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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