POINT BREAK

POINT BREAK   

by James Cameron & Kathryn Bigelow

From the Screenplay by

W. Peter Iliff

FADE IN:

We are in the belly of a wave.

Light refracts in a constant collision of water.

SLOW MOTION, the hallucinatory prisms, like liquid

diamonds taking flight, dreamlike...

EXT. OCEAN - DUSK

Backlit against a flaming sun a solitary SURFER glides

across the green glassy peak. TIME IS STRETCHED until his

movements gain a grace and fluidity not of this world.

Total Zen concentration. Body weight centered, eyes

forward and on the next section.

EXT. URBAN STREET - DUSK

SLOW MOTION ON a black sedan.

Creeping along store fronts. Past a Winchell's.

PEOPLE splash steps down rain-washed sidewalks in DREAM

MOTION. The sedan turns past the FIRST VIRGINIA BANK and

into an alley.

INT. BLACK SEDAN

TWO MEN and ONE WOMAN in SUSPENDED TIME put on overcoats

and hats. Under their hats strips of Scotch tape stretch

taut from the base of their nose to their forehead,

hideously distorting their features. Makes them look like

human PIGS.

EXT. OCEAN

SILVERY in this light, almost metallic, as if from some

future-scape. The lone surfer SHREDS a long, endless

right wall.

ACCELERATING INTO REAL TIME -- as he stares into the pit,

digs in, drops into the sweet spot on the wave, hunkers

down.

His moves becoming aggressive, frenzied--

INT. BLACK SEDAN

An M-16 clip is SMACKED into place and cocked with a

CACHACK! Ammo clips are SNICK-SNICKED into handgun butts

and a long clip is SSSNICKED into an UZI.

Watches are checked. The PIG NOSE people nod to each

other.

EXT. BANK

Pig Nose #1, steals into position near the glass doors,

slams his back to the wall, weapon to cheek, breath fast.

EXT. OCEAN

FAST NOW -- the surfboard rips a brutal gash in the face

of the wave. The surfer TRIMS down the line, pivoting the

board and going straight down, CARVING the bottom. He

slashes viciously back toward the lip and--

In a radical INVERTED AIR ATTACK sails SIX feet above the

wave in an explosion of water--

INT. BANK

--BAAAAAAMMM!

Glass doors explode OPEN and Pig Nose #1 SPINS inside. He

fires a burst into the ceiling. BRRAAMM!!

PIG NOSE #1

EVERYBODY on the floor!

PEOPLE drop.

VERY FAST HERE--

Two bandits handle BANK EMPLOYEES and customers--

Another PIG NOSE watches the door--

Pig Nose #1 moves behind counter, Uzi and canvas sack in

hand.

INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN

Dark. Monitors SHOW SLOW SCANS of the bank INTERIOR.

Two MEN wear headphones and black windbreakers with FBI

stenciled on the back. One watches with binoculars.

BINOCULARS

Bingo. We're on. Let's go.

Where's the big college

quarterback?! Are you with us,

Utah?

EXT. BANK WALL

A MAN in his twenties. His head spins revealing rain-

slicked hair and face, eyes wide, bright. An edgy

handsomeness to him.

He pops a stick of Wrigley's in his mouth, rests a shotgun

on one leg and leans against the wall. He wears a

headset... through which we hear the FBI guy yelling for

him.

This is JOHNNY UTAH.

BINOCULARS (FILTERED)

Utah, where the hell are ya!?

Utah takes his headset off...

INT. BANK

Pig Nose #1 LEAPS over the counter, holds a canvas sack

filled with booty from tellers' drawers.

PIG NOSE #1

Fuckin' shake it!

Pig Nose #2 nods with his snubby nose, hurries toward the

exit.

EXT. FIRST VIRGINIA BANK

The bandits burst through the doors and sprint to the

alley where they jump into the SEDAN. THE DRIVER, the

WOMAN PIG NOSE, punches it and the TIRES WHIRRR on the

slick pavement.

The sedan launches down the alley.

Utah running. Like a freight train. Splashing through a

cross-alley. He doesn't break stride as he slams his

shoulder into a large, steel GARBAGE DUMPSTER.

DRIVING it like a football training sled into the ALLEY

where--

THE SEDAN LOCKS 'EM UP seconds too late as it SKIDS and

SLAMS into it, CRUNCHING into the brick wall and--

Still alive -- GRINDS into reverse back down the alley,

HEADLIGHTS SMASHED, it guns it backward as--

UTAH leaps over the dumpster and sprints after the car.

He has a brick in his right hand. He cocks it back.

Johnny HEAVES the brick thirty yards and--

SMASH! The brick EXPLODES into the windshield,

SPIDERWEBBING the glass.

Lady Pignose flinches from the glass fragments thrown into

her face.

LADY PIGNOSE

Son of a bitch!

The car slews backward onto the street, slamming a parked

car. Lady Pignose slams the thing into DRIVE, cuts the

wheel hard, and punches it, skidding on wet pavement.

UTAH hurtles from the alley. He leaps, somehow TACKLES

the DRIVER'S door handle and is dragged along the street.

He pulls himself up, reaches inside the window, and whips

the steering wheel hard right.

The SEDAN fishtails into a parked Toyota. Utah bounces

forward, slamming into the asphalt. Glass shards and

crushed steel are strewn everywhere, as radiator steam

whistles hot.

Pig Nose #2, riding shotgun, is trapped. Can't get his

crushed door open. The DRIVER pushes open her door.

Gropes for her pistol. Utah springs -- no respect for a

lady. He slams the door, pins her arm and slams again and

again until the gun drops. Utah kicks it away as the

woman collapses in pain.

Pig Nose #1 bails out and runs across parking lot. Utah

leaps up onto the crushed hood and draws down with the

shotgun.

UTAH

Halt. FBI!

Pig Nose #1 spins. We sense reckless anger. He raises

the UZI. Utah squeezes the trigger.

No death. No blood.

Just buzzers and flashing bulbs.

Pig Nose's flak vest lights up like a pinball machine.

Utah's laser weapon hit the "kill zone". Pig Nose rips

the tape off his face and the FBI CADET shakes his head in

disgust.

OBSERVERS step forward. Bank customers. Bank tellers.

All FBI personnel. MEDICAL STAFF offer the woman driver

assistance. Pig Nose #1 heads for Johnny, but is subdued

by other agents.

PIG NOSE #1 (FBI CADET)

I wanna say just two words to you,

asshole, SIMU-LATION!!! Johnny-

fuckin' Utah. Guys like you will do

anything to win!

Utah stares back in defiance.

The SURVEILLANCE van pulls up nearby.

BINOCULARS runs out and pinches two fingers together,

right in Johnny's face.

BINOCULARS

This far, Utah! You're this far

from being the most overqualified

guy Burger King ever had. Get me?!

UTAH

Yes sir. Sir?

BINOCULARS

What?

Johnny gestures to the car.

UTAH

I did stop the perpetrators.

Utah turns to go. As he passes he casually raises his

laser-shotgun and re-triggers Pig Nose's flak vest.

LIGHTS AND BUZZERS.

Pig Nose explodes. More agents restrain him.

Screams and shoving matches and pissed off guys.

Utah walks off, down the simulated street, past a sign

which bears the FBI SEAL and reads "Combat Village,

Quantico, Virginia."

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY

Red sky. A luminous Pacific. Five foot faces. Nice

curl. A lineup of SURFERS wait outside the break.

Silhouetted, bobbing like a pack of sea mammals.

INT./ EXT. TAXI

A flood of orange through the windshield as the cab crawls

down Ocean Park to the sea. CAMERA HANDHELD from the back

seat.

The driver turns to us.

DRIVER

Anywhere? You don't care?

UTAH (V.O.)

Anywhere. I've just never seen the

ocean before.

CUT TO:

EXT. VENICE BEACH

JOHNNY UTAH trudging across the sand, holding his shoes.

Garment bag and a big duffel over his shoulder.

He looks silly in his dark suit, tie loosened, wearing a

turned around baseball cap.

He wiggles his toes in the sand, looks around like a kid.

A pack of BOUNCING BEAUTIES jog through frame.

Utah grins, reaches up and turns his cap around.

It reads "I Love L.A."

CUT TO:

EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING

Looking down the face of the concrete monolith at Wilshire

and Veteran. Ant-like, Johnny Utah's tiny figure moves

toward the entrance.

VOICE (OVER)

Day One in LA, special agent Utah.

You may have been top two percent of

your class at Quantico but you have

exactly zero hours in the field

here. You know nothing...

INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - FBI BULLPEN

Supervising Agent BEN HARP leads Utah across the bullpen.

Rows of desks. Agents sitting at computer terminals.

Data hell. Looks like he got a job at Xerox.

HARP

You know less than nothing. If you

even knew that you knew nothing, at

least that would be something, but

you don't.

UTAH

Yes, sir.

Utah is wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase. Harp is

mid-thirties, confident of stride, tanned of skin, perfect

of hair. GQ. Aggressive.

HARP

Eating solid breakfasts, Utah?

UTAH

Sir?

HARP

All the food groups? Avoiding

sugar? Caffeine? I see to it that

my people maintain cardiovascular

fitness. We stay off hard liquor,

cigarettes...

UTAH

(poker face)

I take the skin off chicken.

Harp glances at him, eyes narrowing. They reach a

glassed-in compound of small offices. Harp swings the

door open and the other agents look up as Utah enters.

HARP

This is us. Bank Robbery. And

you're in the bank-robbery capital

of the world--

UTAH

1322 last year in LA county. Up 26

percent from the year before.

HARP

That's right. And we nailed over a

thousand of them. We did it by

crunching data. Good crime-scene

work, good lab work, good data-base

analysis. Nobody had to tackle a

car once. You getting the signal,

special agent?

UTAH

Zero distortion, sir.

He picks up a donut from someone's desk, a succulent

glazed jelly.

UTAH

I love these things.

He looks right at Harp. Takes a big fuck-you bite.

HARP

You're a real blue-flame special,

aren't you, Utah? I don't know why

they sent you to LA. Must be an

asshole shortage.

UTAH

Not so far.

CUT TO:

UNDERWATER

A blue field with a pulsing network of rippling lines.

VOOM! A figure rockets down INTO FRAME in a curtain of

bubbles. A gawky AGENT, in less than stylish FBI trunks,

flails around blindfolded looking for bricks at the bottom

of a pool.

INT. GYMNASIUM POOL - DAY

The pool casts wavy distortions upon TWO DOZEN MEN, all

grumbling as they stand in line, wearing T-shirts with FBI

logos, sweats and sneakers. We hear a splash, and the men

shuffle forward.

PAPPAS (V.O.)

The dolls love this baby. It brings

them luck when they rub it -- right

between their buttons.

CLOSE ON tape measure wrapped around a generous belly.

PULL BACK to reveal VETERAN AGENT COREY measuring the

ample waist of ANGELO PAPPAS. This 54 year old silver

haired Greek stands rubbing his belly like a Zulu chief.

COREY

Angelo, we need a bigger tape.

PAPPAS

Just read the goddamn number.

COREY

Still a 46. Maybe we can cinch it

down, wear a girdle--

PAPPAS

Screw you and this holistic fitness

crap! At least my arms don't flap

in the wind.

Corey secretly squeezes his bicep as...

A whistle blows. A broad shouldered MAN wearing an FBI

cap barks at the Greek.

BIG SHOULDERS

Okay, Pappas, let's put on the

blindfold. Wanna see you retrieve

at least two bricks from the bottom.

JOHNNY UTAH enters the pool area in the distance. Says

something to one of the agents. Is pointed toward us as--

Corey ties the blindfold and guides Pappas to the edge of

the pool.

PAPPAS

I've been in the field 33 years,

fired my piece 23 times in the line

of duty, and I got no idea what a

blind man fetching bricks has gotta

do with being a Special Agent!

Johnny has walked up. Pappas, blindfolded, turns directly

to Utah as he continues, thinking it's Corey.