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63 INT. ROSE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
She enters the room. Stands in the middle, staring at her reflection in the
large vanity mirror. Just stands there, then--
With a primal, anguished cry she claws at her throat, ripping off her pearl
necklace, which explodes across the room. In a frenzy she tears at herself,
her clothes, her hair... then attacks the room. She flings everything off
the dresser and it flies clattering against the wall. She hurls a handmirror
against the vanity, cracking it.
CUT TO:
64 EXT. A DECK PROMENADE, AFT - NIGHT
Rose runs along the B deck promenade. She is dishevelled, her hair flying.
She is crying, her cheeks streaked with tears. But also angry, furious!
Shaking with emotions she doesn't understand... hatred, self-hatred,
desperation. A strolling couple watch her pass. Shocked at the emotional
display in public.
CUT TO:
65 EXT. POOP DECK - NIGHT
Jack is kicked back on one of the benches gazing at the stars blazing
gloriously overhead. Thinking artist thoughts and smoking a cigarette.
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
Atlantic 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.
JACK
Don't do it.
She whips her head around at the sound of his voice. It takes a second for
her eyes to focus.
ROSE
Stay back! Don't come any closer!
Jack sees the tear tracks on her cheeks in the faint glow from the stern
running lights.
JACK
Take my hand. I'll pull you back in.
ROSE
No! Stay where you are. I mean it. I'll let go.
JACK
No you won't.