PITCH BLACK

PITCH BLACK  

                           Screenplay

                               by

                           David Twohy

               Based on material by Ken and Jim Wheat
Revised First Draft
                                             3/3/98

Though mentioned often in the script, the creatures in PITCH BLACK are
seldom seen at length; rather, they are glimpsed, they are heard, they are
felt. They are, really, the embodiment of your nocturnal fears: A howling
coyote that jars you awake; the painting on the wall that comes to life
when stared at too long...the sway of your bed just before the earthquake
hits. Chimera of the night. The point is made so the reader appreciates
that the focus of the finished film will not be on what the creatures do,
but on what the creatures do to reveal the inner nature of the characters.
For PITCH BLACK is, at its heart, a story of humanity and courage -- and
lack of the same.

                                                      David Twohy

     CUT IN:

     INT. MAIN CABIN

     A CRYO-LOCKER BLOWS OPEN, spitting out...

     CAROLYN FRY. She hits the deck of the main cabin: Four crew
     lockers in a forward section, countless more in back. But the
     deck is canted at a sick angle and ALARMS SCREAM everywhere:
     The world is dying around her.

     Legs wobbly, shivering like a flu victim, Fry stumbles to the
     next forward locker. It's riddled with holes. One DEAD CREWIE
     is seen through fractured plexi, body pocked and bloodied. But
     in the next cryo-locked...

     The CAPTAIN is struggling awake. Fry's face floods with relief.
     Slapping an intercom:

                              FRY
               Hear me? Cap'n? Some kinda compromise to
               the hull...holding for now, but...Goddamn,
               I'm glad you're alive. Gotta pull your
               E-release...no, red handle, red handle.
               I'll get the warm-ups out while --

     PHFUT-PHFUT-PHFUT-PHFUT: Particles bore through the cabin,
     blasting open the captain's chest, shattering plexi, DETONATING
     INSTRUMENTS on the opposite wall and leaving CONTRAILS
     HISSING in the air.

     Fry lands on her ass, horrified. Suddenly...

     Another LOCKER BLOWS OPEN. A body falls right on top of Fry --
     but this one's still alive. Disoriented, frantic:

                              OWENS
               Why did I fall on you?

                              FRY
               He's dead. Cap'n's dead. Christ, I was
               looking right at him when --

                              OWENS
               I mean, I mean, chrono shows we're 22
               weeks out, so gravity wasn't supposed to
               kick in for another 19. I mean, I mean,
               I mean, why did I fall at all?

                              FRY
               You hear me? Captain's dead. Owens too.

                              OWENS
               Oh, no. Not Owens, not.... Wai', wai',
               wait. I'm Owens. Right?

     They swap nightmare looks, momentarily unsure of their own
     identities.

                              FRY
               Cryo-sleep. Swear to God, it sloughs
               brain cells.

     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN

     They stumble into nav-bay. ALARMS CONTINUE. Fry grabs warm-up
     suits out of storage, pitches one to Owens, checks her screens.

                              FRY
               1550 millibars, dropping 20 MB per minute,
               shit, we're hemorrhaging air. Somethin'
               took a swipe at us.

                              OWENS
               Just tell me we're still in the shipping
               lane. Just show me all those stars, all
               those bright, beautiful, deep-space....

     Owens activates an exterior view: A planet rushes up at us.
     That's why they have gravity.

                              FRY
               Jesus God....

     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY

     The SHIP PLOWS through the upper atmosphere, antennae pylons
     already disintegrating.

     INT. PASSAGE TO FLIGHT DECK

     Heart battering her ribs, Fry runs forward, using hand-holds to
     steady herself. Over a headset:

                              OWENS (V.O.)
               They trained you for this, right? Fry?
               FRY?

     She doesn't answer.

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     Fry harnesses in, starts running switches -- but fumbles a few
     times, making mental errors. Finally she gets crash-shutters
     open to reveal...

     CLOUD STRATA sweeping up past the windscreen like floor-lights
     on a dropping elevator. We're shedding big altitude.

     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN

                              OWENS
               ... crisis program selected Number Two of
               this system because it shows at least some
               oxygen and more than 1,500 -- would you
               SHUT THE FUCK UP!
                         (hammers a button,
                          SILENCES ALARMS)
               -- more than 1,500-millibars of pressure
               at surface-level. Okay, so maybe the ship
               did something right for a change....

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     As Fry runs more switches.

     INT. SHIP - DAY

     As JETTISON DOORS CLOSE around the ship.

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     As Fry flips up a security-latch -- and thumbs the switch below.

     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY

     MULTIPLE SHOTS: EXPLOSIVE BOLTS RAPID-FIRE around the ship's
     skin, blowing away non-essentials that hinder aerodynamics --
     including big deep-space drives. But this last separation puts
     the ship into a dangerous roll.

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     Out the windscreen, cloud strata roll vertiginously. Fry throws
     actuators...

     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY

     And airbrakes deploy. She manages to kill the roll. But the
     ship's still coming in nose-high.

     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN

                              OWENS
               ...showing no major water bodies...maximum
               terrain, 220 meters over mean surface...
               largely cinder and gypsum with some
               evaporite deposits....

     JETTISON DOORS CLOSE behind Owens, segregating him from the
     passenger compartment. It scares him for a new reason.

                              OWENS
               Fry? What're you doing?

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     Fry flips up a new security-latch. INTERCUTTING:

                              OWENS
               Fry?

                              FRY
               Can't get my nose down...too much load
               back there....

                              OWENS
               You mean that "load" of passengers?

                              FRY
               So what, we should both go down too?
               Out of sheer fucking nobility?

     Tortured silence. Fry's thumb moves to the switch that will
     jettison the passenger cabin. Jettison 50 people.

     INT. MAIN CABIN

     SELECTED SHOTS of faces inside cryo-lockers, among them JOHNS.
     He's prime-of-life, badge on display, some kind of cop. Shaken
     awake, he clears condensation to check the locker directly across
     from his, finding...

     RIDDICK. Small black goggles hide his eyes. A metal bit wedged
     in his mouth lends a perpetual grimace. A read-out admonishes
     "LOCK-OUT PROTOCOL IN EFFECT. ABSOLUTELY NO EARLY
     RELEASE."

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

                              OWENS
               Look, Fry. Company says we're responsible
               for every one of those --

                              FRY
               Company's not here, is it?

                              OWENS
               When captain went down, you stepped up --
               whether you like it or not. Now they
               train you for this, so --

                              FRY
               And there wasn't a simulated cockroach
               alive within 50 clicks of the simulated
               crash site! That's how they train you!
               On a fucking simulator!

     Owens unbuckles from his chair.

                              OWENS
               Don't touch that switch!

     Overcome by guilt, Fry retracts her thumb of mass destruction.
     But a HUGE JOLT puts the thumb right back.

                              FRY
               I'm not dying for them.

     She pushes it. But this time...

     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY

     No bolts fire. Nothing separates from the SHIP THAT SCREAMS DOWN
     through the clouds.

     INT. NAV-BAY - MAIN CABIN

     Now we see why: Owens reopened the jettison doors locally -- and
     blocked them open.

                              FRY
               Owens!

                              OWENS
               70 seconds! You still got 70 seconds to
               level this beast out!

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     Seething anger and guilt, Fry pops more airbrakes, shedding more
     speed, more heat. The ship does level -- but it's still being
     pounded hellishly. She tries to get a stable view out...

     The windscreen. We're breaking through cloud-bottoms. There's
     just a glimpse of landscape before...

     EXT. SHIP - PLANET'S ATMOSPHERE - DAY

     An airbrake fails. It shears off and pinwheels into...

     INT. FLIGHT DECK - DAY

     The windscreen. It cracks into a thousand spiderwebs -- but
     impossibly it holds. For now.

                              OWENS (V.O.)
               What the shit was that?

     Sunlight flares from every fractured edge: It's like looking
     into burning diamonds, and Fry can only get an impression
     of the outside world. Now she has to rely on...

     A ground-mapping display. 120 meters altitude. And dropping.

     INT. CRYO-LOCKER - DAY

     INTERCUT Johns. Realizing he's in some kind of shit-storm, he
     claws at safety restraints.