Titanic Page #20

TRACKING SLOWLY IN on Rose as Ruth goes on.

REVERSE, ROSE'S POV: A tabeau of MOTHER and DAUGHTER having tea. The four

year old girl, wearing white gloves, daintily picking up a cookie. The

mother correcting her on her posture, and the way she holds the teacup. The

little girl is trying so hard to please, her expression serious. A glimpse

of Rose at that age, and we see the relentless conditioning... the pain to

becoming an Edwardian geisha.

ON ROSE. She calmly and deliberately turns her teacup over, spilling tea

all over her dress.

ROSE:

Oh, look what I've done.

CUT TO:

99 EXT. TITANIC - DAY

TITANIC STEAMS TOWARD US, in the dusk light, as if lit by the embers of a

giant fire. As the ship looms, FILLING FRAME, we push in on the bow. Jack

is there, right at the apex of the bow railing, his favorite spot. He

closes his eyes, letting the chill wind clear his head.

Jack hears her voice, behind him...

ROSE:

Hello, Jack.

He turns and she is standing there.

ROSE:

I changed my mind.

He smiles at her, his eyes drinking her in. Her cheeks are red with the

chill wind, and her eyes sparkle. Her hair blows wildly about her face.

ROSE:

Fabrizio said you might be up--

JACK:

Sssshh. Come here.

He puts his hands on her waist. As if he is going to kiss her.

JACK:

Close your eyes.

She does, and he turns her to face forward, the way the ship is going. He

presses her gently to the rail, standing right behind her. Then he takes

her two hands and raises them until she is standing with her arms

outstetched on each side. Rose is going along with him. When he lowers his

hands, her arms stay up... like wings.

JACK:

Okay. Open them.

Rose gasps. There is nothing in her field of vision but water. It's like

there is no ship under them at all, just the two of them soaring. The

Atlantic unrolls toward her, a hammered copper shield under a dusk sky.

There is only the wind, and the hiss of the water 50 feel below.

ROSE:

I'm flying!

She leans forward, arching her back. He puts his hands on her waist to

steady her.

JACK:

(singing softly)

Come Josephine in my flying machine...

Rose cleses her eyes, feeling herself floating weightless far above the

sea. She smiles dreamily, then leans back, gently pressing her back against

his chest. He pushes forward slightly against her.

Slowly he raises his hands, arms outstretched, and they meet hers...

fingertips gently touching. Then their fingers intertwine. Moving slowly,

their fingers caress through and around each other like the bodies of two

lovers.

Jack tips his face forward into her blowing hair, letting the scent of her

wash over him, until his cheek is agianst her ear.

Rose turns her head until her lips are near his. She lowers her arms,

turning further, until she finds his mouth with hers. He wraps his arms

around her from behind, and they kiss like this with her head turned and

tilted back, surrendering to him, to the emotion, to the inevitable. They

kiss, slowly and tremulously, and then with building passion.

Jack and the ship seem to merge into one force of power and optimism,

lifting her, buoying her forward on a magical journey, soaring onward into

a night without fear.

100 IN THE CROW'S NEST, high above and behind them, lookout FREDERICK FLEET

nudges his mate, REGINALD LEE, pointing down at the figures in the bow.

FLEET:

Wish I had those bleedin' binoculars.

101 JACK AND ROSE, embracing at the bow rail, DISSOLVE SLOWLY AWAY, leaving

the ruined bow of the WRECK--

CUT TO:

102 INT. KELDYSH IMAGING SHACK

OLD ROSE blinks, seeming to come back to the present. She sees the wreck on

the screen, the sad ghost ship deep in the abyss.

ROSE:

That was the last time Titanic ever saw daylight.

Brock Lovett changes the tape in the minicassette recorder.

BROCK:

So we're up to dusk on the night of the sinking. Six hours to go.

BODINE:

Don't you love it? There's Smith, he's standing there with the iceberg

warning in his f***ing hand...

(remembering Rose)

... excuse me... in his hand, and he's ordering more speed.

BROCK:

26 years of experience working against him. He figures anything big enough

to sink the ship they're going to see in time to turn. But the ship's too

big, with too small a rudder... it can't corner worth sh*t. Everything he

knows is wrong.

ROSE is ignoring this conversation. She has the art-nouveau comb with the

jade butterfly on the handle in her hands, turning it slowly. She is

watching a monitor, which shows the ruins of Suite B-52/56. PUSH IN until

the image fills frame.

TRANSITION:

103 INT. ROSE'S SUITE

... 1912. Like in a dream the beautiful woodwork and satin upholstery

emerge from the rusted ruin. Jack is overwhelmed by the opulence of the

room. He sets his sketchbood and drawing materials on the marble table.

ROSE:

Will this light do? Don't artists need good light?

JACK:

(bad French accent)

Zat is true, I am not used to working in such 'orreeble conditions.

(seeing the paintings)

Hey... Monet!

He crouches next to the paintings stacked against the wall.

JACK:

Isn't he great... the use of color? I saw him once... through a hole in

this garden fence in Giverny.

She goes into the adjoining walk-in wardrobe closet. He sees her go to the

safe and start working the combination. He's fascinated.

ROSE:

Cal insist on luggin this thing everywhere.

JACK:

Should I be expecting him anytime soon?

ROSE:

Not as long as the cigars and brandy hold out.

CLUNK! She unlocks the safe. Glancing up, she meets his eyes in the mirror

behind the safe. She opens it and removes the necklace, then holds it out

to Jack who takes it nervously.

JACK:

What is it? A sapphire?

ROSE:

A diamond. A very rare diamond, called the Heart of the Ocean.

Jack gazes at wealth beyond his comprehension.

ROSE:

I want you to draw me like your French girl. Wearing this.

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