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Last updated 5.2.99
Leonardo DiCaprio and Oscar®-nominee Kate Winslet light up the screen as Jack and Rose, the young lovers who find one another on the maiden voyage of the "unsinkable" R.M.S. Titanic. But when the doomed luxury liner collides with an iceberg in the frigid North Atlantic, their passionate love affair becomes a thrilling race for survival.
From acclaimed filmmaker James Cameron comes a tale of forbidden love and courage in the face of disaster that triumphs as a true cinematic masterpiece.
--From the Titanic home video cover
Click here for memorable scenes from TITANIC.
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Jack is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing gloriously overhead. Thinking artist
thoughts and smoking a cigarette.
JACK
She whips her head around at the sound of his voice. It takes a second for her eyes to focus.
ROSE
Jack sees the tear tracks on her cheeks in the faint glow from the stern running lights.
JACK
ROSE
JACK
ROSE
JACK
Rose is confused now. She can't see him very well through the tears, so she wipes them with one hand,
almost losing her balance.
ROSE
JACK
He takes off his jacket.
JACK
He starts unlacing his left shoe.
ROSE
JACK
She looks down. The reality factor of what she is doing is sinking in.
ROSE
JACK (taking off his left shoe)
He starts unlacing his right shoe.
JACK
ROSE (perplexed)
JACK
ROSE
JACK
ROSE
JACK
JACK
Rose stares at this madman for a long time. She looks at his eyes and they somehow suddenly seem to fill
her universe.
ROSE
She unfastens one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. He reaches out to take it, firmly.
JACK
ROSE (voice quavering)
Rose starts to turn. Now that she has decided to live, the height is terrifying. She is overcome by vertigo as she
shifts her footing, turning to face the ship. As she starts to climb, her dress gets in the way, and one foot slips
off the edge of the deck.
ROSE
JACK
CUT TO:
BLACKNESS
310 THE WRECK OF TITANIC looms like a ghost out of the dark. It is lit by a
kind of moonlight, a light of the mind. We pass over the endless forecastle deck
to the superstructure, moving faster than subs can move... almost like we are
flying.
WE GO INSIDE, and the echoing sound of distant waltz music is heard. The rust
fades away from the walls of the dark corridor and it is transformed... WE
EMERGE onto the grand staircase, lit by glowing chandelier. The music is vibrant
now, and the room is populated by men in tie and tails, women in gowns. It is
exquisitely beautiful.
IN POV we sweep down the staircase. The crowd of beautiful gentlmen and
ladies turn as we descend toward them. At the bottom a man stands with his
back to us... he turns and it is Jack. Smiling he holds his hand out toward us.
IN A SIDE ANGLE Rose goes into his arms, a girl of 17. The passengers, officers
and crew of the RMS Titanic smile and applaud in the utter silence of the abyss.
Hearing something, he turns as Rose runs up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the stern
deck, except for QUARTERMASTER ROWE, twenty feet above them on the docking bridge catwalk. She doesn't see Jack in the shadows, and runs right past him.
TRACKING WITH ROSE as she runs across the deserted fantail. Her breath hitches in an occasional sob,
which she suppresses. Rose slams against the base of the stern flagpole and clings there, panting. She
stares out at the black water.
Then starts to climb over the railing. She has to hitch her long dress way up, and climbing is clumsy. Moving
methodically she turns her body and gets her heels on the white-painted gunwale, her back to the railing,
facing out toward blackness. 60 feet below her, the massive propellers are churning the atlantin into white
foam, and a ghostly wake trails off toward the horizon.
IN A LOW ANGLE, we see Rose standing like a figurehead in reverse. Below her are the huge letters of the
name "TITANIC".
She leans out, her arms straightening... looking down hypnotized, into the vortex below her. Her dress and hair
are lifted by the wind of the ship's movement. The only sound, above the rush of water below, is the flutter and
snap of the big Union Jack right above her.
Don't do it.
Stay back! Don't come any closer!
Take my hand. I'll pull you back in.
No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go.
No you won't.
What do you mean no I won't? Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me.
You would have done it already. Now come on, take my hand.
You're distracting me. Go away.
I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go I have to jump in after you.
ROSE
Don't be absurd. You'll be killed.
I'm a good swimmer.
The fall alone would kill you.
It would hurt. I'm not saying it wouldn't. To be honest I'm a lot more concerned about the water being so cold.
How cold?
Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over.
Ever been to Wisconsin?
No.
Well they have some of the coldest winters around, and I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. Once when I was a kid me and my father were ice-fishing out on Lake Wissota... ice-fishing's where you chop a hole in the--
I know what ice fishing is!
Sorry. Just... you look like kind of an indoor girl. Anyway, I went through some thin ice and I'm tellin' ya, water
that cold... like that right down there... it hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. You can't breath, you
can't think... least not about anything but the pain.
(takes off his other shoe)
Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in after you. But like I said, I don't see a choice. I guess I'm
kinda hoping you'll come back over the rail and get me off the hook here.
You're crazy.
That's what everybody says. But with all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship.
He slides one step closer, like moving up on a spooked horse.
Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand.
Alright.
I'm Jack Dawson.
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson.
She plunges, letting out a piercing SHRIEK. Jack, gripping her hand, is jerked toward the rail. Rose barely
grabs a lower rail with her free hand.
QUARTERMASTER ROWE, up on the docking bridge hears the scream and heads for the ladder.
HELP! HELP!!
I've got you. I won't let go.
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.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
That was the last time I ever saw him. He married, of course, and inherited his
millions. The crash of 28 hit his interests hard, and he put a pistol in his mouth
that year. His children fought over the scraps of his estate like hyenas, or so I
read.
301 ANGLE ON ROSE, at the railing of the Carpathia, 9pm April 18th. She gazes
up at the Statue of Liberty, looking just as it does today, welcoming her home
with her glowing torch. It is just as Fabrizio saw it, so clearly, in his mind.
302 LATER CARPATHIA DISCORGES THE SURVIVORS at the Cunard pier,
Pier 54. Over 30,000 people line the dock and fill the surrounding streets. The
magnesium flashes of the photographers go off like small bombs, lighting an
amazing tableau.
Several hundred police keep the mob back. The dock is packes with friends and
relatives, officials, ambulances, and the press--
Reporters and photographers swarm everywhere... 6 deep at the foot of the
gangways, lining the tops of cars and trucks... it is the 1912 equicalent of a
media circus. They jostle to get close to the survivors, tugging on them as they
pass and shouting over each other to ask them questions.
Rose is covered with a whoollen shawl and walking with a group of steerage
passengers. Immigration officers are asking them questions as they come off the
gangway.
IMMIGRATION OFFICER
Name?
ROSE
Dawson. Rose Dawson.
A GRACEFUL PAN across Rose's shelf of carefully arranged pictures:
Rose as a young actress in California, radiant... a theatrically lit studio publicity
shot... Rose and her husband, with their two children... Rose with her son at his
college graduation... Rose with her children and grandchildren at her 70th
birthday. A collage of images of a life lived well.
THE PAN STOPS on an image filling frame. Rose, circa 1920. She is at the
beach, sitting on a horse at the surfline. The Santa Monica pier, with its
rollercoaster is behind her. She is grinning, full of life.
We PAN OFF the last picture to Rose herself, warm in her bunk. A profile shot.
She is very still. She could be sleeping, or maybe something else.
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