EXT. SOUTHAMPTON DOCK - DAY
The crowd of cheering well-wishers waves heartily as a black wall of metal moves past them. Impossibly tiny figures wave back from the ship's rails. Titanic gathers speed.
44 EXT. RIVER TEST - DAY
IN A LONG LENS SHOT the prow of Titanic FILLS FRAME behind the lead tug, which is dwarfed. The bow wave spreads before the mighty plow of the liner's hull as it moves down the River Test toward the English Channel.
45 INT. THIRD CLASS BERTHING / G-DECK FORWARD - DAY
Jack and Fabrizio walk down a narrow corridor with doors lining both sides like a college dorm. Total confusion as people argue over luggage in several languages, or wander in confusion in the labyrinth. They pass emigrants studying the signs over the doors, and looking up the words in phrase books.
They find their berth. It is a modest cubicle, painted enamel white, with four bunks. Exposed pipes overhead. The other two guys are already there. OLAUS and BJORN GUNDERSEN.
Jack throws his kit on one open bunk, while Fabrizio takes the other.
(in Swedish/ subtitled)
Where is Sven?
46 INT. SUITE B-52-56 - DAY
By contrast, the so-called "Millionaire Suite" is in the Empire style, and comprises two bedrooms, a bath, WC, wardrobe room, and a large sitting room. In addition there is a private 50 foot promenade deck outside.
A room service waiter pours champagne into a tulip glass of orange juice and hands the Bucks Fizz to Rose. She is looking through her new paintings. There is a Monet of water lilies, a Degas of dancers, and a few abstract works. They are all unknown paintings... lost works.
Cal is out on the covered deck, which has potted trees and vines on trellises, talking through the doorway to Rose in the sitting room.
Those mud puddles were certainly a waste of money.
(looking at a cubist portrait)
You're wrong. They're fascinating. Like in a dream... there's truth without logic. What's his name again... ?
(reading off the canvas)
(coming into the sitting room)
He'll never amount to a thing, trust me. At least they were cheap.
A porter wheels Cal's private safe (which we recognize) into the room on a hand truck.
Put that in the wardrobe.
47 IN THE BEDROOM Rose enters with the large Degas of the dancers. She sets it on the dresser, near the canopy bed. Trudy is already in there, hanging up some of Rose's clothes.
It smells so brand new. Like they built it all just for us. I mean... just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I'll be the first--
Cal appears in the doorway of the bedroom.
(looking at Rose)
And when I crawl between the sheets tonight, I'll still be the first.
(blushing at the innuendo)
S'cuse me, Miss.
She edges around Cal and makes a quick exit. Cal comes up behind Rose and puts his hands on her shoulders. An act of possession, not intimacy.
The first and only. Forever.
Rose's expression shows how bleak a prospect this is for her, now.
48 EXT. CHERBOURG HARBOR, FRANCE - LATE DUSK
Titanic stands silhouetted against a purple post-sunset sky. She is lit up like a floating palace, and her thousand portholes reflect in the calm harbor waters. The 150 foot tender Nomadic lies-to alongside, looking like a rowboat. The lights of a Cherbourg harbor complete the postcard image.
49 INT. FIRST CLASS RECEPTION/ D-DECK
Entering the first class reception room from the tender are a number of prominent passengers. A BROAD-SHOULDERED WOMAN in an enormous feathered hat comes up the gangway, carrying a suitcase in each hand, a spindly porter running to catch up with her to take the bags.
Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, sonny. Take 'em the rest of the way if you think you can manage.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
At Cherbourg a woman came aboard named Margaret Brown, but we all called her Molly. History would call her the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Her husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what mother called "new money".
At 45, MOLLY BROWN is a tough talking straight shooter who dresses in the finery of her genteel peers but will never be one of them.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
By the next afternoon we had made our final stop and we were steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing out ahead of us but ocean...
51 EXT. BOW - DAY
The ship glows with the warm creamy light of late afternoon. Jack and Fabrizio stand right at the bow gripping the curving railing so familiar from images of the wreck. Jack leans over, looking down fifty feet to where the prow cuts the surface like a knife, sending up two glassy sheets of water.
52 INT. / EXT. TITANIC - SERIES OF SCENES - DAY
ON THE BRIDGE, CAPTAIN SMITH turns from the binnacle to FIRST OFFICER WILLIAM MURDOCH.
Take her to sea Mister Murdoch. Let's stretch her legs.
Murdoch moves the engine telegraph lever to ALL AHEAD FULL.
53 NOW BEGINS a kind of musical/visual set piece... 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!
On the catwalk THOMAS ANDREWS, the shipbuilder, watches carefully as 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.
54 IN THE BOILER ROOMS the STOKERS chant a song as they hurl coal into the roaring furnaces. The "black gang" are covered with sweat and coal dust, their muscles working like part of the machinery as they toil in the hellish glow.
55 UNDERWATER 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 as--
56 The risen water flares higher at the bow as the ship's speeds builds. THE CAMERA SWEEPS UP the prow to find Jack, the wind streaming through his hair and--
57 Captain Smith steps out of the enclosed bridge onto the wing. He stands with his hands on the rail, looking every bit the storybook picture of a Captain... a great patriarch of the sea.
FIRST OFFICER MURDOCH
Twenty one knots, sir!
She's got a bone in her teeth now, eh, Mr. Murdoch.
Smith accepts a cup of tea from FIFTH OFFICER LOWE. He contentedly watches the white V of water hurled outward from the bows like an expression of his own personal power. They are invulnerable, towering over the sea.
58 AT THE BOW Jack and Fabrizio lean 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, crisscrossing in front of the bow, dancing ahead of the juggernaut.
FABRIZIO looks forward across the Atlantic, staring into the sun sparkles.
I can see the Statue of Liberty already.
(grinning at Jack)
Very small... of course.
THE CAMERA ARCS around them, until they are framed against the sea.
NOW WE PULL BACK, across the forecastle deck. Rising, as we continue back, and the ships rolls endlessly forward underneath. Over the bridge wing, along the boat deck until her funnels come INTO FRAME besides us and march past like the pillars of heaven, one by one. We pull back and up, until we are looking down the funnels, and the people strolling on the decks and standing at the rail become ant like.
And still we pull back until the great lady is seen whole in a gorgeous aerial portrait, black and severe in her majesty.
She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all history...
59 INT. PALM COURT RESTAURANT - DAY
CLOSE ON J. BRUCE ISMAY, Managing Director of White Star Line.
...and our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here, designed her from the keel plates up.
He indicates a handsome 39 year old Irish gentlemen to his right, THOMAS ANDREWS, of Harland and Wolf Shipbuilders.
WIDER, showing the group assembled for lunch the next day. Ismay seated with Cal, Rose, Ruth, Molly Brown and Thomas Andrews in the Palm Court, a beautiful sunny spot enclosed by high arched windows.
(disliking the attention)
Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is...
(he slaps the table)
...willed into solid reality.
Why're ships always bein' called "she"? Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in tonnage?
(they all laugh)
Just another example of the men settin' the rules their way.
The waiter arrives to take orders. Rose lights a cigarette.
You know I don't like that, Rose.
Cal takes the cigarette from her and stubs it out.
(to the waiter)
We'll both have the lamb. Rare, with a little mint sauce.
(to Rose, after the waiter moves away)
You like lamb, don't you sweetpea?
Molly is watching the dynamic between Rose, Cal and Ruth.
So, you gonna cut her meat for her too there, Cal?
(turning to Ismay)
Hey, who came up with the name Titanic? You, Bruce?
Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury... and safety--
Do you know of Dr. Freud? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay.
Andrews chocks on his breadstick, suppressing laughter.
My God, Rose, what's gotten into--
She stalks away.
I do apologize.
She's a pistol, Cal. You sure you can handle her?
(tense but feigning unconcern)
Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on.
60 EXT. POOP DECK / AFTER DECKS - DAY
Jack sits on a bench in the sun. Titanic's wake spreads out behind him to the horizon. He has his knees pulled up, supporting a leather bound sketching pad, his only valuable possession. With conte crayon he draws rapidly, using sure strokes. An emigrant from Manchester named CARTMELL has his 3 year old daughter CORA standing on the lower rung of the rail. She is leaned back against his beer barrel of a stomach, watching the seagulls.
THE SKETCH captures them perfectly, with a great sense of the humanity of the moment. Jack is good. Really good. Fabrizio looks over Jack's shoulder. He nods appreciatively.
TOMMY RYAN, a scowling young Irish emigrant, watches as a crewmember comes by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of them, a BLACK FRENCH BULLDOG, is among the ugliest creatures on the planet.
That's typical. First class dogs come down here to take a shit.
Jack looks up from his sketch.
That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things.
Like we could forget.
Jack glances across the well deck. At the aft railing of B deck promenade stands ROSE, in a long yellow dress and white gloves.
CLOSE ON JACK, unable to take his eyes off of her. They are across from each other, about 60 feet apart, with the well deck like a valley between them. She on her promontory, he on his much lower one. She stares down at the water.
He watches her unpin her elaborate hat and take it off. She looks at the frilly absurd thing, then tosses it over the rail. It sails far down to the water and is carried away, astern. A spot of yellow in the vast ocean. He is riveted by her. She looks like a figure in a romantic novel, sad and isolated.
Fabrizio taps Tommy and they both look at Jack gazing at Rose. Fabrizio and Tommy grin at each other.
Rose turns suddenly and looks right at Jack. He is caught staring, but he doesn't look away. She does, but then looks back. Their eyes meet across the space of the well deck, across the gulf between worlds.
Jack sees a man (Cal) come up behind her and take her arm. She jerks her arm away. They argue in pantomime. She storms away, and he goes after her, disappearing along the A-deck promenade. Jack stares after her.
Forget it, boyo. You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next to the likes o' her.