LEVIATHAN

LEVIATHAN 

                            Screenplay by

                          David Webb Peoples

                                 and

                              Jeb Stuart

                                           Revised Draft

                                           September 8, 1987

     FACE IN ON

     THE SURFACE OF THE OCEAN

     sunny and placid then slowly WE BEGIN DESCENDING UNDERWATER

     Moving down from the bright surface waters, through layers
     of fish and marine life...

     A school of vibrantly colored fish move with the current,
     their numbers are enormous, their movements in unison.
     Suddenly out of the darkness a barracuda cuts through the
     school, taking out four or five before disappearing into the
     shadows.  The school moves on as if nothing happened,
     quickly closing ranks where the missing ones swam only
     seconds before.

     WE MOVE DEEPER AND DEEPER

     Fish disappear, darkness envelopes us.  Cold and lifeless
     where light has never penetrated...Five thousand feet, ten
     thousand.  Deeper, where only strange, self-illuminating
     echoniderms move eerily through the currents.  Then suddenly
     WE HEAR STATIC from RADIO TRANSMISSION.  THEN VOICES...

                                JONES
                   Burritos...Enchiladas...

                                DEJESUS
                                (hispanic voice)
                   Oh, gag, man, how can you eat that
                   stuff?...

                                BOWMAN
                                (female)
                   I can't wait for fresh vegetables...

     Several voices suddenly break into argument..."vegetables?"
     "shit," "burgers"...Suddenly another voice rises above the
     others.

                                BECK'S VOICE/ RADIO
                   Okay, cut the chatter.  You're
                   not out of here, yet.  Who's the
                   hook?  Seven?...You got a hook on
                   container 22?

     A pause, then more voices.

                                SIXPACK'S VOICE/ RADIO
                                (redneck drawl)
                   The man's asking if you're hooked
                   on 22, you dumb shit.

                                JONES' VOICE/ RADIO
                   Watch your mouth, Sixpack.  Hello,
                   Shack, Seven, here.  I ain't the hook,
                   over.

     A light flares out of the darkness, suddenly illuminating an
     IMMENSE SHAPE--fifteen hundred pounds of hardened metal
     nearly seven feet tall.  It is a motorized diving suit and
     we see the stenciled name, WILLIE across the front
     breastplate.  As it pivots we see the stationary worklights
     around the base of a large underwater mining operation, THE
     SHACK.  Then a woman's voice.

                                WILLIE'S VOICE
                                (woman's voice)
                   Six to Shack.  I'm the hook.

     INSIDE THE SHACK/ CONTROL ROOM

     littered with papers, half-full coffee cups, and a confusion
     of wires and very low-tech, high-tech equipment BECK sits at
     the monitor controls.  He is younger than we expected,
     twenties, clean cut good looks.  He'll be a hell of a good-
     looking man at thirty-five, he just needs to be hardened.
     From the looks of the coffee cups around him he's on his
     way.

                                BECK'S VOICE/ RADIO
                   Okay, Six, let's wrap this container
                   and call it a day.

     Above him a bank of monitor screens.  Each one labeled with
     a crew member's name and providing a video picture from a
     camera mounted on their helmet.  Beck reaches above him and
     throws a console switch which activates another monitor
     labeled ROV.  With a joystick he manipulates an outside
     camera(the ROV), its picture we see on the monitor.  It is
     moving.

     UNDERWATER

     WILLIE'S POV  The inside of her helmet is a grid of LED
     gauges monitoring air reserve, body temperature,
     atmospheres, heart rate, blood pressure.

     She stops next to a pair of railroad-like tracks and removes
     the tool attached to the end of her arm.  The move is
     practiced and professional, like a cook changing the tool on
     a set of egg beaters.  First, she inserts the existing tool
     into a lock on her opposite arm which holds it while she
     disengages the tool.  Next, she selects the next tool from
     the storage compartment at her waist and punches it into
     position.  Sixpack's voice comes over the radio.

                                SIXPACK'S VOICE
                   Hey, Willie, you trip on a
                   tit or something?  We're all
                   waiting on you, honey.

                                WILLIE
                                (under control)
                   Keep your pants on Sixpack.
                   I promise you'll be inside before
                   "Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood" comes on.

     OVER THE RADIO WE HEAR other men's voices laughing.  They
     like Willie and cheer her on.  "Tell him, Willie," "Atta
     girl," etc...

     Willie CLICKS in her last tool and turns.  Expertly she
     hooks a large dumpster-like container, the container to what
     looks like an underwater parachute--A CONTAINER
     TRANSPORTER--which when filled with oxygen it lifts the
     massive container onto the tracks where it can be hauled-in
     by a winch.

                                WILLIE'S VOICE
                   Six to Shack...Hook's on.  Ready
                   to winch.

     UNDERWATER MACHINERY

     Halogen lights illuminate bits and pieces of dredges and
     dumpsters squatting in the gloom.  A winch begins grinding
     and the big, newly hooked container lurches down the tracks.
     It comes to the end where a winch fits it into place with
     several others to complete a set.  We hear BECK'S VOICE.

                                BECK/ RADIO
                   Ok, that's it.  Come on in.

     More motor suited DIVERS appear, their helmet lights
     glaring.  Their breastplate names catch in the dim lights:
     COBS, BOWMAN, WILLIE.

     As they approach the UNDERWATER LOCK, where an elevator will
     transport them up into the Shack, we see signs of human
     life:  a basketball goal attached to the side of the
     building; stickers and signs:  "No Bozos," etc.  A formal sign
     towers over the entrance.  It says: TRANSOCEAN CORP. SHACK 6.

     ON ONE OF THE CREW

     He moves behind the others.  Suddenly he freezes in his
     tracks and slowly rotates his helmet--on his shoulder in the
     glare of his helmet beam WE SEE the a hideous looking SEA
     SPIDER.  It's thick legs moving eerily down his arm.

     Carefully, so as not to disturb the creature, a mechanical
     motor hand moves into position below it, and in one quick
     movement, snares it.

     CLOSE ON METAL WAIST POCKET.  The latch opens and the
     writhing sea spider is shoved inside.  From the pocket WE
     MOVE UP the diver's suit until we see the name SIXPACK on
     the breastplate.  He looks around to see if anyone has
     noticed then continues on toward the shack.

     ON TWO DIVERS(JONES AND DEJESUS)

     They walk together to the Shack.  A Latino VOICE, DEJESUS,
     comes over the radio singing an old Miller Beer jingle in an
     exaggerated accent.

                                DEJESUS
                   When it's time to relax....
                   One thing stands clear...

     INSIDE ON BECK

     As he listens to the singing over the tinny speaker, we see
     he aches to be a part of their comaraderie, but is alienated
     by age and rank.  He is the shack boss, management.  He
     listens as a BOOMING BLACK VOICE joins in off-key.

                                JONES' VOICE(O.C.)
                   Mil-ler's tastes too good to
                   hurry through...

     As the singing continues, Beck looks over at an empty chair
     in front of a bank of equipment monitors.  The vital signs
     of each miner and his equipment are registered on this
     console.  The chair in front of them sits conspicuously
     empty.  This doesn't please Beck, neither does a hand
     written sign under the console which states:  THE DOCTOR IS
     OUT.

     DEJESUS' POV

     Inside his helmet we see the grid of LED gauges monitoring
     vital signs.

                                DEJESUS
                   ...beer after beer...

     Suddenly a red warning light begins blinking in the bottom
     corner inside DeJesus' helmet.  The words to the song freeze
     in his mouth.  His voice becomes edged with panic.

                                DEJESUS(cont'd)
                   Oh, shit...

                                JONES/ RADIO
                                (to DeJesus)
                   Hey, Hazy, I'm not that bad, man.

                                DEJESUS
                                (rising terror)
                   Jonesy!  I'm losing compression...
                   I'm going to blow my suit, man!
                   Beck!  Doc!  Help me!...

     INSIDE

     Beck grabs his microphone.  He tries to remain calm but
     there is a definite tremble in his voice.

                                BECK
                   Give me a readout, DeJesus.

                                DEJESUS(ON RADIO)
                                (gripped with panic)
                   Ahhhh!

     OUTSIDE

     The other divers move quickly to DeJesus.

                                BECK (ON RADIO)
                   DeJesus!  A readout!

                                JONES
                   He don't need a readout,
                   man, he needs help!

                                BECK(RADIO)
                                (anything but calm)
                   Stay calm!

                                BOWMAN
                   Calm!?  Where's Doc?

     INSIDE

     Beck stands in front of the equipment monitors, lost.