74 INT. RECEPTION ROOM / D-DECK - DAY
Ruth is having tea with NOEL LUCY MARTHA DYER-EDWARDES, the COUNTESS OF ROTHES, a 35ish English blue-blood with patrician features. Ruth sees someone coming across the room and lowers her voice.
Oh no, that vulgar Brown woman is coming this way. Get up, quickly before she sits with us.
Molly Brown walks up, greeting them cheerfully as they are rising.
Hello girls, I was hoping I'd catch you at tea.
We're awfully sorry you missed it. The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck.
That sounds great. Let's go. I need to catch up on the gossip.
Ruth grits her teeth as the three of them head for the Grand Staircase to go up. TRACKING WITH THEM, as they cross the room, the SHOT HANDS OFF to Bruce Ismay and Captain Smith at another table.
So you've not lit the last four boilers then?
No, but we're making excellent time.
Captain, the press knows the size of Titanic, let them marvel at her speed too. We must give them something new to print. And the maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines!
I prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in.
Of course I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best, but what a glorious end to your last crossing if we get into New York Tuesday night and surprise them all.
(Ismay slaps his hand on the table)
Retire with a bang, eh, E.J?
A beat. Then Smith nods, stiffly.
75 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE - DAY
Rose and Jack stroll aft, past people lounging on deck chairs in the slanting late-afternoon light. Stewards scurry to serve tea or hot cocoa.
(girlish and excited)
You know, my dream has always been to just chuck it all and become an artist... living in a garret, poor but free!
You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water, and hardly ever any caviar.
(angry in a flash)
Listen, buster... I hate caviar! And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head.
I'm sorry. Really... I am.
Well, alright. There's something in me, Jack. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist, or, I don't know... a dancer. Like Isadora Duncan.... a wild pagan spirit...
She leaps forward, lands deftly and whirls like a dervish. Then she sees something ahead and her face lights up.
...or a moving picture actress!
She takes his hand and runs, pulling him along the deck toward--
DANIEL AND MARY MARVIN. Daniel is cranking the big wooden movie camera as she poses stiffly at the rail.
You're sad. Sad, sad, sad. You've left your lover on the shore. You may never see him again. Try to be sadder, darling.
SUDDENLY Rose shoots into the shot and strikes a theatrical pose at the rail next to Mary. Mary bursts out laughing. Rose pulls Jack into the picture and makes him pose.
Marvin grins and starts yelling and gesturing. We see this in CUTS, with music and no dialogue.
SERIES OF CUTS:
Rose posing tragically at the rail, the back of her hand to her forehead.
Jack on a deck chair, pretending to be a Pasha, the two girls pantomiming fanning him like slave girls.
Jack, on his knees, pleading with his hands clasped while Rose, standing, turns her head in bored disdain.
Rose cranking the camera, while Daniel and Jack have a western shoot-out. Jack wins and leers into the lens, twirling an air mustache like Snidely Whiplash.
76 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE / AFT - SUNSET
Painted with orange light, Jack and Rose lean on the A-deck rail aft, shoulder to shoulder. The ship's lights come on.
It is a magical moment... perfect.
So then what, Mr. Wandering Jack?
Well, then logging got to be too much like work, so I went down to Los Angeles to the pier in Santa Monica. That's a swell place, they even have a roller coaster. I sketched portraits there for ten cents a piece.
A whole ten cents?!
(not getting it)
Yeah; it was great money... I could make a dollar a day, sometimes. But only in summer. When it got cold, I decided to go to Paris and see what the real artists were doing.
(looks at the dusk sky)
Why can't I be like you Jack? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it.
(turning to him)
Say we'll go there, sometime... to that pier... even if we only ever just talk about it.
Alright, we're going. We'll drink cheap beer and go on the roller coaster until we throw up and we'll ride horses on the beach... right in the surf... but you have to ride like a cowboy, none of that side-saddle stuff.
You mean one leg on each side? Scandalous! Can you show me?
Sure. If you like.
(smiling at him)
I think I would.
(she looks at the horizon)
And teach me to spit too. Like a man. Why should only men be able to spit. It's unfair.
They didn't teach you that in finishing school? Here, it's easy. Watch closely.
He spits. It arcs out over the water.
Rose screws up her mouth and spits. A pathetic little bit of foamy spittle which mostly runs down her chin before falling off into the water.
Nope, that was pitiful. Here, like this... you hawk it down... HHHNNNK!... then roll it on your tongue, up to the front, like this, then a big breath and PLOOOW!! You see the range on that thing?
She goes through the steps. Hawks it down, etc. He coaches her through it (ad lib) while doing the steps himself. She lets fly. So does he. Two comets of gob fly out over the water.
That was great!
Rose turns to him, her face alight. Suddenly she blanches. He sees her expression and turns.
RUTH, the Countess of Rothes, and Molly Brown have been watching them hawking lugees. Rose becomes instantly composed.
Mother, may I introduce Jack Dawson.
Charmed, I'm sure.
Jack has a little spit running down his chin. He doesn't know it. Molly Brown is grinning. As Rose proceeds with the introductions, we hear...
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
The others were gracious and curious about the man who'd saved my life. But my mother looked at him like an insect. A dangerous insect which must be squashed quickly.
Well, Jack, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot--
They all jump as a BUGLER sounds the meal call right behind them.
Why do they insist on always announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?
Shall we go dress, mother?
(over her shoulder)
See you at dinner, Jack.
(as they walk away)
Rose, look at you... out in the sun with no hat. Honestly!
The Countess exits with Ruth and Rose, leaving Jack and Molly alone on deck.
Son, do you have the slightest comprehension of what you're doing?
Well, you're about to go into the snake pit. I hope you're ready. What are you planning to wear?
Jack looks down at his clothes. Back up at her. He hadn't thought about that.
77 INT. MOLLY BROWN'S STATEROOM
Men's suits and jackets and formal wear are strewn all over the place. Molly is having a fine time. Jack is dressed, except for his jacket, and Molly is tying his bow tie.
Don't feel bad about it. My husband still can't tie one of these damn things after 20 years. There you go.
She picks up a jacket off the bed and hands it to him. Jack goes into the bathroom to put it on. Molly starts picking up the stuff off the bed.
I gotta buy everything in three sizes 'cause I never know how much he's been eating while I'm away.
She turns and sees him, though we don't.
My, my, my... you shine up like a new penny.
78 EXT. BOAT DECK / FIRST CLASS ENTRANCE - DUSK
A purple sky, shot with orange, in the west. Drifting strains of classic music. We TRACK WITH JACK along the deck. By Edwardian standards he looks bad ass. Dashing in his borrowed white-tie outfit, right down to his pearl studs.
A steward bows and smartly opens the door to the First Class Entrance.
Good evening, sir.
Jack plays the role smoothly. Nods with just the right degree of disdain.
79 INT. UPPER LANDING / GRAND STAIRCASE AND A-DECK
Jack steps in and his breath is taken away by the splendor spread out before him. Overhead is the enormous glass dome, with a crystal chandelier at its center. Sweeping down six stories is the First Class Grand Staircase, the epitome of the opulent naval architecture of the time.
And the people: the women in their floor length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewelry... the gentlemen in evening dress, standing with one hand at the small of the back, talking quietly.
Jack descends to A deck. Several men nod a perfunctory greeting. He nods back, keeping it simple. He feels like a spy.
Cal comes down the stairs, with Ruth on his arm, covered in jewelry. They both walk right past Jack, neither one recognizing him. Cal nods at him, one gent to another. But Jack barely has time to be amused. Because just behind Cal and Ruth on the stairs is Rose, a vision in red and black, her low-cut dress showing off her neck and shoulders, her arms seethed in white gloves that come well above the elbow. Jack is hypnotized by her beauty.
CLOSE ON ROSE as she approaches Jack. He imitates the gentlemen's stance, hand behind his back. She extends her gloved hand and he takes it, kissing the back of her fingers. Rose flushes, beaming noticeably. She can't take her eyes off him.
I saw that in a nickelodeon once, and I always wanted to do it.
Cal, surely you remember Mr. Dawson.
(caught off guard)
Dawson! I didn't recognize you.
Amazing! You could almost pass for a gentlemen.
80 INT. D-DECK RECEPTION ROOM
CUT TO THE RECEPTION ROOM ON D DECK, as the party descends to dinner. They encounter Molly Brown, looking good in a beaded dress, in her own busty broad-shouldered way. Molly grins when she sees Jack. As they are going into the dining saloon she walks next to him, speaking low:
Ain't nothin' to it, is there, Jack?
Yeah, you just dress like a pallbearer and keep your nose up.
Remember, the only thing they respect is money, so just act like you've got a lot of it and you're in the club.
As they enter the swirling throng, Rose leans close to him, pointing out several notables.
There's the Countess Rothes. And that's John Jacob Astor... the richest man on the ship. His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it. Quite the scandal.
(nodding toward a couple)
And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucile, Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents. Very popular with the royals.
Cal becomes engrossed in a conversations with Cosmo Duff-Gordon and Colonel Gracie, while Ruth, the Countess and Lucille discuss fashion. Rose picots Jack smoothly, to show him another couple, dressed impeccably.
And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs. Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course.
Cal, meanwhile, is accepting the praise of his male counterparts, who are looking at Rose like a prize show horse.
Hockley, she is splendid.
Cal's a lucky man. I know him well, and it can only be luck.
Ruth steps over, hearing the last. She takes Cal's arm, somewhat coquettishly.
How can you say that Colonel? Caledon Hockley is a great catch.
The entourage strolls toward the dining saloon, where they run into the Astor's going through the ornate double doors.
J.J., Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson.
(shaking his hand)
Good to meet you Jack. Are you of the Boston Dawsons?
No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually.
J.J. nods as if he's heard of them, then looks puzzled. Madeleine Astor appraises Jack and whispers girlishly to Rose:
It's a pity we're both spoken for, isn't it?