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)

Cool huh?


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 mini-recorder 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...



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.

mov_scene38.jpg (34456 bytes)Southampton, England, April 10, 1912. It is almost noon 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 horse drawn 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 Mauritania.

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 Mauritania, 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.

mov_scene2.jpg (28874 bytes)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.





Sorry squire!


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 fiancée'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.

mov_scene173.jpg (6248 bytes)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.


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.


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.



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 dock workers 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 fish head. I can't believe you bet our tickets.



You lost our money. I'm just trying to get it back. Now shut up 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 countries. 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)

Sorry Fabrizio.



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...

(to Fabrizio)

... 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!!



(to pubkeeper)

Capito?? I go to America!!


No, mate. Titanic go to America. In five minutes.



Shit!! Come on, Fabri!

(grabbing their stuff)

Come on!!

(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!




mov_scene39.jpg (27637 bytes)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?




(lying cheerfully)

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.


Gundersen. And...

(reading Fabrizio's)


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 corridor... grinning from ear to ear.


We are the luckiest sons of bitches in the world!




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.



mov_shipport1.jpg (34158 bytes)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, Fabrizio joins in, adding his voice to the swell of voices, feeling the exhilaration of the moment.



Goodbye! I will never forget you!!