第21页
by, walking three small dogs around the deck. One of them, a BLACK FRENCH
BULLDOG, is among the ugliest creatures on the planet.
TOMMY
That's typical. First class dogs come down here to take a shit.
Jack looks up from his sketch.
JACK
That's so we know where we rank in the scheme of things.
TOMMY
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 gazin 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.
TOMMY
Forget it, boy. You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next
to the likes o' her.
CUT TO:
61 INT. FIRST CLASS DINING SALOON - NIGHT
SLOWLY PUSHING IN ON ROSE as she sits, flanked by people in heated
conversation. Cal and Ruth are laughing together, while on the other side
LADY DUFF-GORDON is holding forth animatedly. We don't hear what they are
saying. Rose is staring at her plate, barely listening to the
inconsequential babble around her.
OLD ROSE (V.O.)
I saw my whole life as if I'd already lived it... an endless parade of
parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches... always the same narrow
people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great
precipice, with no one to pull me back, no one who cared... or even noticed.
ANGLE BENEATH TABLE showing Rose's hand, holding a tiny fork from her crab
salad. She pokes the crab-fork into the skin of her arm, harder and harder
until it draws blood.
CUT TO:
62 INT. CORRIDOR / B DECK - NIGHT
Rose walks along the corridor. A steward coming the other way greets her,
and she nods with a slight smile. She is perfectly composed.
CUT TO: