Titanic (Scriptment) Page #9

THE TITANIC, framed against the green Irish coast. The sun is westering, painting the ship with golden light. The sea is calm, the weather warm and clear, and the decks are dotted with people strolling or sitting in steamer chairs.

Jack and Fabrizio stand right at the bow gripping the curved railing so familiar from images of the wreck. They are leaning over, looking down fifty feet to where the prow cuts the surface like a knife, sending up two glassy sheets of water.

Her paint new and gleaming, the fresh varnish glistening on her rails, not a speck of rust anywhere, Titanic towers over the sea with absolute dominion. She is so majestic, so perfect.

ON THE BRIDGE, Captain Smith turns from the binnacle to FIRST OFFICER MURDOCH.

CAPTAIN SMITH:

Take her to sea Mister Murdoch. Let's stretch her legs.

Murdoch calls for more boilers to be fired, and moves to the engine telegraph lever to ALL AHEAD FULL.

The following is 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!

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. Oil glistens on the eight-foot diameter main drive gear at the head of each hundred foot long propeller shaft. Everything is massively scaled, and has a kind of Industrial revolution grandeur.

The STOKERS in the stokehold chant a song as they hurl coal into the roaring furnaces. The "black gang" stripped to the waist in the heat, are covered with sweat and coal dust. Their muscles work like part of the machinery as they toil in the hellish glow. The cadence of the engines' march increases as the head of steam builds higher.

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, thicker and blacker than ever before.

The riven water flares higher at the bow as the ship's speed builds. The camera sweeps up the prow to find Jack, the wind streaming through his hair. He feels like he is in an aeroplane flying 60 feet above the water.

Captain Smith steps out of the enclosed bridge onto the wing. He stands with his hands on the rail, looking down as the bow cuts across the golden sea. He takes in the perfect moment with great satisfaction, looking every bit the storybook picture of a Captain... a great patriarch of the sea.

FIRST OFFICER MURDOCH

Twenty one knots, sir!

He nods contendedly, accepting a cup of tea from young FIFTH OFFICER LOWE. All is right with the world, and as it should be. They are invulnerable, towering over the sea. Ploughing her with their grand machinery... their unopposable will.

Below, on the well deck, two twelve year old steerage girls squeal and wave up at Smith, their cries carried away by the wind like the sound of seagulls. He waves jauntily to them. They blush and laugh into each others hair.

Jack, at the bow, grips the rail and leans 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, criss-crossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the juggernaut.

ANGLE ON FABRIZIO AND JACK, with the bridge behind them. Fabrizio looks forward across the sparkling Atlantic, imagining that in the shimmering golden light he can already see the Statue of Liberty. The camera arcs around him and Jack, until they are framed against the sea.

NOW WE PULL BACK, across the forecastle deck. Rising, as we continue back, and the ship rolls endlessly forward underneath until her funnels come INTO FRAME beside us and march past like the pillars of heaven, one by one. 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 charges forward along a golden highway of late afternoon sun-sparkles. End of the ode to Titanic.

AT THE STERN, Tommy watches his beloved Ireland falling away behind them. Its shore is cloaked in an afternoon mist.

Nearby another Irishman plays "Erin's Lament" on his bagpipes.

FRIDAY, APRIL 12

ANOTHER BRIGHT CLEAR DAY.

ON B DECK, on the starboard side, is the CAFE PARISIEN, a novelty which White Star introduced on the Titanic... a sidewalk style cafe on the first class promenade. Ivy grows over whitewashed trellisses behind the Hockley entourage as they have lunch. The French waiter takes their order. Ruth orders for herself, then Cal chooses something for Rose and then himself. He mispronounces the French dishes, and Rose peevishly corrects him, her accent flawless. Ruth shoots her a look for being rude.

Bruce Ismay and THOMAS ANDREWS are at the next table, and Cal goes back to his conversation with them, ignoring Rose. Andrews (late thirties) works for Harland and Wolf, and is the ship's builder. A tireless workaholic, he has supervised every detail of the ship's construction and outfitting. He carries a notebook and is always making little notes about imperfections, ideas for improvement. Where the ship is a great egotistical dream for Ismay, to Andrews it is like a part of him. He lives, eats and breathes this ship.

Andrews is saying that Ismay is being much too modest. The Titanic is his vision. Andrews recalls the fateful dinner at his uncle's house in London (he's referring to LORD PIRRIE, the owner of Harland and Wolff) where Ismay and Pirrie first discussed the ship. Ismay said they must create not one, but two, great steamers, bigger and more luxurious than anything afloat... bigger than the Lusitania and the Mauretania by hundreds of feet... and the larger of these two, the biggest ship in the world, the biggest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history would be called "Titanic".

Ismay puffs up, feigning modesty, but this is what he lives for. Rose, utterly ignored by the group, asks if Mr. Ismay has read any of Freud's work on human sexuality. His discussion of the male preoccupation with size might be of some interest to him.

Andrews chokes on his breadstick, suppressing laughter. Cal is not amused, and Ruth is furious. She apologizes to Ismay and painfully takes Rose's arm, turning her from the other table.

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