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                                 "STILLNESS IN THE WATER"

                                           AKA:

                                          "JAWS"

                                            by

                                      Carl Gottlieb

                                           and

                                      Peter Benchley

                                      From the novel

                                            by

                                      Peter Benchley

                

               OVER BLACK

               Sounds of the innerspaces rushing forward.

               Then a splinter of blue light in the center of the picture.

               It breaks wide, showing the top and bottom a silhouetted 
               curtain of razor sharp teeth suggesting that we are inside 
               of a tremendous gullet, looking out at the onrushing undersea 
               world at night. HEAR a symphony of underwater sounds: 
               landslide, metabolic sounds, the rare and secret noises that 
               certain undersea species share with each other. Also, the 
               hint of familiar music, twisted and distorted by the depths.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               EXT. BEACH  NIGHT  SHARK'S POINT OF VIEW  RISING OUT OF 
               THE WATER, LOOKING AT

               It is a pleasant, moonlit, windless night in mid-June. We 
               see a long straight stretch of white beach. Behind the low 
               dunes are the dark shapes of large expensive houses. Hear a 
               number of voices singing. It sounds like an eastern 
               university's alma mater, no longer distorted.

               EXT. BEACH  NIGHT  ANOTHER ANGLE

               Around a blazing bonfire, a group of young men and women, 
               beer cans (or maybe a keg) in evidence, as well as the bota 
               Spanish leather wine-bag much in favor by beach and ski-bum 
               types.

               The group is swapping sentimental alma maters, weepily singing 
               eastern Ivy League anthems - Dartmouth, Cornell, Harvard, 
               Penn, etc. Two young people break away from the others. They

               are Tom Cassidy and Chrissie. Behind them, there is 
               considerable necking activity; Tom and Chrissie are more 
               serious.

               TOM

               Makes a clumsy attempt at snaring Chrissie, cups her from 
               behind. She squirms playfully out of his grasp. We discover 
               he's not especially sober.

                                     TOM
                         Hey! Hey hey! I'm with you, right?

               EXT. ANOTHER PART OF THE BEACH  NIGHT

               Tom and Chrissie are separated from the others, silhouetted 
               against the fire, she pauses and looks at the ocean, he is 
               plodding along in the sand, winded.

               Chrissie runs down the slope of the dune towards the water, 
               leaving Tom reeling atop the dune. As she runs, she is 
               shedding her clothes. Tom is trying to trail her by her 
               clothes, like Hansel following bread crumbs through the woods.

               But Chrissie is way ahead of him.

                                     CHRISSIE
                         C'mon!

               She runs headlong into the inviting sea, plunges cleanly 
               into the water with a light "Whoops!" as the cold water sweeps 
               over her.

               Behind all this, we continue to hear the sentimental, beery 
               chorus of alma maters.

               Then we see it -- a gentle bulge in the water, a ripple that 
               passes her a dozen feet away. A pressure wave lifts her up, 
               then eases her down again, like a smooth, sudden swell.

                                     CHRISSIE
                         Tommy? Don't dunk me...

               She looks around for him, finds him still on the beach, his 
               feet tangled in his pants, which have dropped around his 
               ankles. She starts to swim back in to him.

               EXT. CHRISSIE IN THE WATER

               Her expression freezes. The water-bulge is racing towards 
               her. The first bump jolts her upright, out of the water to 
               her hips. She reaches under water to touch her leg. Whatever 
               she feels makes her open her mouth to scream, but she is 
               slammed again, hard, whipped into an arc of about eight feet, 
               up and down, submerging her down to her open mouth, choking 
               off any scream she might try to make. Another jolt to her 
               body, driving her under so that only her hair swirls on the 
               surface. Then it too is sucked below in a final and terrible 
               jerking motion. HOLD on the eddies and swirls until we're 
               sure it's all over.

               EXT. CLOSE ON TOM ON BEACH

               In his shorts, laughing to himself, turning in slow stoned 
               circles, held prisoner by his windbreaker which seems to 
               have him in an armlock, as he struggles to free his arm from 
               a tight sleeve. As he turns, we hear the alma maters in the 
               background, from the fire.

               INT. BRODY HOUSE - BEDROOM - EARLY MORNING

               A shaft of morning sun blasts through the crack between the 
               bottom of the shade and the windowsill, falling across the 
               heads of the sleeping couple on the bed. It catches Martin 
               Brody right across the eyes, bringing him up from sleep.  
               The job is completed by the clock radio, which clicks on 
               with local fisherman's report and weather.

                                     RADIO ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
                         Hayes Landing reports conditions 
                         good, with stripers and jacks. The 
                         Coast Guard has no storm warning 
                         from Block Island to Cape Hatteras; 
                         a light chop with freshening winds, 
                         continued clear and mild... (etc.)

               Ellen Brody burrows her head under the covers, avoiding 
               morning for a few precious minutes more.

                                     BRODY
                         How come the sun didn't used to shine 
                         in here?

                                     ELLEN
                         'cause when we bought the house it 
                         was Autumn. This is summer. Feed the 
                         dogs.

               We hear the scampering toenails of two cocker spaniels 
               scrabbling around the foot of the bed. Brody swings out of 
               bed, wearing shorts, socks, and tee shirt.

                                     BRODY
                         Right.

                                     ELLEN
                         Do you see the kids?

                                     BRODY
                         Probably out in the back yard.

                                     ELLEN
                         In Amity, you say 'Yahd.'
                              (she gives it the 
                              Boston sound)

                                     BRODY
                         The kids are in the yahd, playing 
                         near the cah. How's that sound?

                                     ELLEN
                         Like you're from N'Yawk.
                              (gives it Brooklyn 
                              sound)

                                     BRODY
                         Give me 30 years, I'll get it.

               He leads the dogs out of the bedroom and down to the kitchen.

               INT. BRODY KITCHEN - MORNING

               Brody enters, sets down some dog food, goes to make coffee, 
               starts to fill kettle to boil water, the cold water rushes 
               through and out the burnt-out bottom of the kettle.

                                     BRODY
                         Did you burn another kettle? Y'know 
                         you're a fire hazard? This is the 
                         third one!

                                     ELLEN (O.S.)
                         I never hear the whistle.

                                     BRODY
                         Feed the dogs.

               Ellen Brody, a tall, attractive blonde woman, enters from 
               upstairs. She's still slightly sleepy, not what you'd call 
               an "Instant-On" person. Mornings are not her best time.

                                     ELLEN
                         You want to go through those?
                              (she indicates bag of 
                              clothes)
                         I'm taking them to the Thrift Shop.  
                         It's Marcia Vaughn's pet charity.  
                         Pick out what you want to keep -- 
                         it's mostly your city clothes.

                                     BRODY
                              (looking through bag, 
                              remembering)
                         I used to wear this to the Garden. 
                         Garbage strikes. Dog shit. Muggers.
                              (he puts it all behind)
                         Ship it.

                                     ELLEN
                         Don't be silly - You're going to 
                         make summer better for them...

               Before Brody can answer, Michael, his oldest boy, enters, 
               holding his hand. There is bright new blood on it, but he is 
               sensibly unconcerned. It's a normal childhood scrape.

                                     MICHAEL
                         Cut my hand. Hit by a vampire.

                                     BRODY
                         On the swing? I told you not to play 
                         near there until I sanded it down.
                              (to Ellen)
                         See what your son did?

                                     ELLEN
                         Go upstairs and bring Mommy a band-
                         aid.

               Michael goes on out and upstairs. Ellen fumbles in her pocket 
               and produces Brody's new glasses, which she holds out to 
               him.

                                     ELLEN
                         Don't forget these.

                                     BRODY
                         Oh, yeah.
                              (he puts them on)
                         How do I look? Older, huh?

                                     ELLEN
                         I think they make you look sexy.

               Brody reacts to this, and bends to kiss her lightly. Then 
               more seriously.

                                     BRODY
                         Sexy, hm? What was I before?

                                     ELLEN
                         Older, sillier.

                                     BRODY
                              (as he goes to make 
                              coffee, he fumbles 
                              with the new glasses)
                         I don't want to depend on these 
                         things, y'know - sometimes you can 
                         weaken your eyes.

               He looks out the window to the view beyond, discovering some 
               new wonder in the fresh sunlit morning.

               BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW  OUTSIDE THE HOUSE

               Sean, the younger child, is happily romping in the summer 
               air, enjoying the very air he breathes.

                                     BRODY
                         Let's see...

               The phone rings.

               INT. BRODY KITCHEN  DAY

               Brody answers one of two phones on the wall.

                                     BRODY
                         Brody... yeah, what's up... mmm... 
                         Well, what do they usually do, float 
                         or wash up? Really?... okay, I'll 
                         meet both of you at the beach in
                              (checks watch)
                         ...20 minutes, okay? Okay.
                              (hangs up)
                         First goddamn weekend of the summer.

               Michael reenters in bathing trunks, with a towel on his 
               shoulder, his hand washed, holding a band-aid ready for 
               application. Ellen takes it, and bandages the finger with 
               care and affection.

                                     ELLEN
                         There.
                              (to Brody)
                         What was that?

               Michael heads toward the beach.

                                     BRODY
                              (struggling to get 
                              his shirt on over 
                              his glasses)
                         The office.

               He gets his shirt on with Ellen's help. She flicks imaginary 
               dust from the badge on his chest.

                                     ELLEN
                         Be careful.

                                     BRODY
                         Here? You gotta be kiddin'.

               He gives her a light kiss, starts to go, with his cup.

                                     BRODY
                         Love ya.

                                     ELLEN
                              (kissing him back)
                         Hey Chief. Bring my cup back.

               At the door, he takes a windbreaker off a peg and goes on 
               out.

               We can see the Amity Police shoulder patch as he goes to a 
               van parked outside.

               EXT. ISLAND HIGHWAY - MORNING

               Martin Brody's Country Squire police wagon rushes past, taking 
               the view to an enormous billboard depicting a typical summer 
               day in Amity. A beautiful model splashes in the gold surf, 
               languishing in a Solarcaine sun. AMITY WELCOMES YOU is written 
               above her flailing arms.

               EXT. AMITY BEACH - DAY

               Three small figures in the landscape, walking the beach. The 
               surf is rough and there is sea-floor debris strewn about 
               from the receding tide.

               CLOSER ANGLE

               Deputy Hendricks is searching the shore about one hundred 
               yards down wind. Meanwhile, Brody, in his casual police 
               attire, and Tom Cassidy, still in the clothing we saw him in 
               last night, walk down the beach. Brody fingers the missing 
               girl's shoes, purse and clothes. In the daylight, Cassidy 
               misconducts himself, wavering between inflated maturity and 
               tear-blown adolescence.

                                     BRODY
                         Christine what?

                                     CASSIDY
                         Worthingsly... Worthington -- no one 
                         ever died on me before.

                                     BRODY
                         You picked her up on the ferry.

                                     CASSIDY
                         I didn't know her.

                                     BRODY
                         And nobody else saw her in the water?

                                     CASSIDY
                         Somebody could've -- I was sort of 
                         passed out.

                                     BRODY
                         Think she might've run out on you?

                                     CASSIDY
                         Oh, no, sir. I've never had a woman 
                         do that. I'm sure she drowned.

                                     BRODY
                         You from around here?

                                     CASSIDY
                         No. Cambridge. Harvard. My family's 
                         in Tuxedo, New York, though.

                                     BRODY
                         You here for the summer?

                                     CASSIDY
                         Some friends and me took a house.

                                     BRODY
                              (genuinely curious)
                         What d'you pay for a place just for 
                         the summer?

                                     CASSIDY
                         A thousand apiece, something like 
                         that. There's five of us. And we 
                         each kick in a hundred a week for 
                         beer and cleaning, stuff like that.

                                     BRODY
                         Pretty stiff.

               A shrill whistle makes them turn. Hendricks is fifty yards 
               away, on his knees. He blows again, a feeble report this 
               time.

                                     BRODY
                         Maybe that's your girl.

               Brody runs toward Hendricks, Cassidy hesitates, then follows 
               with:

                                     CASSIDY
                              (pathetically)
                         You can't make me look -- !

               MASTER ANGLE - THE SAND DUNE

               A skein of seaweed garnishes the base of this isolated dune.

               The booming waves and fizzing surf make dialogue inaudible.

               Deputy Hendricks on hands and knees, looking white as a sheet.  
               Brody tells Cassidy to wait at the foot of the dune, and 
               ventures up. Hendricks stops him with a wave-off, saying 
               something at the same time. Brody nods understanding and 
               steps up cautiously and looks down. He adjusts his glasses, 
               trying to make sense of what he is looking at.

               Whatever he sees has a marked effect on his entire physique.

               Kicking out with his foot, Brody sends dozens of angry 
               horseshoe crabs into an escape frenzy and they boil over the 
               top of the dune and down its slopes.

               Cassidy takes a few uneasy steps backwards when Brody waves 
               him over. He shakes his head. An awkward moment. Then Cassidy 
               shuffles forward and up the few remaining feet, his eyes 
               looking everywhere but down. Brody says something else and 
               Cassidy shakes his head again, eyes out at sea. Brody puts 
               his hand gently around the quaking man's shoulder.

               Nodding, he starts to look down, an inch at a time. He looks.

               He, too, can't make out what it is at first. Then he 
               understands.

               The jolt that assaults Cassidy is not unexpected. He falls 
               backward in a sitting position as though shot. Nods yes -- 
               it's her. Brody turns and slides off the dune, stumbling 
               close. Hear his breathing. He looks around, envisioning the 
               week ahead of him....

               QUICK SHARP CUT

               Chrissie's remains, incomplete from the chest down, horribly 
               bitten. (NOTE: See Hooper's dialog in Sc. 91 for complete 
               description of corpse.)

               INT. BRODY'S OFFICE - DAY

               Brody walks through the door and enters his office, holding 
               a fizzing glass of Alka-Seltzer. Polly, his sixty-one year 
               old secretary follows close on his heels with her shorthand 
               pad of messages and reminders.

               In the outer office, Hendricks and Cassidy slump into chairs, 
               sipping from fizzing dixie cups.

               Brody dips into file drawers for the appropriate forms. He 
               gently turns on Polly, who is behind him.

                                     BRODY
                         If this is going to work, you've got 
                         to keep current stuff out here, and 
                         put 'closed' files in there. The 
                         'Pendings' stay on my desk, okay?

               Brody slips behind his typewriter, putting paper in the 
               machine with the effortless ease of years of practice. He's 
               obviously no stranger to paperwork. He touch types, hardly 
               ever looking down, checking his notes and listening with one 
               ear to Polly.

               He is affected by what he's seen, but there's work to be 
               done.

                                     POLLY
                         This is in no order of importance, 
                         Chief: There's a meeting on the Amity 
                         Town Council on Aging this Monday 
                         night, Bentoncourt Hall. The Fire 
                         Inspector wants you to go over the 
                         fireworks site with him before he 
                         catches the one o'clock ferry. Mainly, 
                         you have a batch of calls about that 
                         new Karate school.

               CLOSE - ACCIDENT REPORT

               Brody has just typed the girl's name. He skips the space for 
               Cause-of-Death, and just under it types the Next-of-Kin 
               information he has collected from her wallet.

                                     POLLY
                         Searle's Rent-a-Bike, the Rainy Ale, 
                         Tisberry's Hardware... they say it's 
                         those nine-year-olds from the school 
                         practicing karate on all those nice 
                         picket fences.

               The phone rings and Polly picks it up.

                                     POLLY
                         It's the Coroner. Somebody pass away 
                         in the night?

               Brody nestles the phone between ear and collar, listening, 
               as he turns to the typewriter.

                                     BRODY
                         Jesus, Santos.

               INSERT - ACCIDENT REPORT

               Cause-of-Death line rolls into place. The hammers punch out: 
               SHARK ATTACK.

               BRODY

               leans forward, staring at what he just wrote. Polly cocks 
               her head and removes the phone from his ear.

                                     POLLY
                         What's the matter?

               Brody takes a breath. A new resolve comes over him.

                                     BRODY
                         Polly, I want to know what water 
                         recreation is on for today.

                                     POLLY
                         Right this minute?

               Brody gets up and moves hastily toward the door.

               BRODY'S OUTER OFFICE

               Cassidy and Hendricks look up as Brody enters.

                                     BRODY
                              (To Hendricks)
                         Where'd you hide the 'Beach Closed' 
                         signs?

                                     HENDRICKS
                         We never had any. What's the problem?

               A local merchant comes through the door.

                                     LOCAL MERCHANT
                         Glad I caught you. There's a city 
                         truck with New Hampshire plates parked 
                         right in front of my...

               Brody pushes past him and out the door.

               EXT. AMITY MAIN STREET  DAY

               In the busy center of a town preparing for the big Fourth of 
               July weekend, Brody wends his way around sidewalk activity, 
               purpose and haste in each stride. As he turns a corner a 
               little man in a white smock emerges from the Funeral Parlor.

               This is Carl Santos, Amity's part-time coroner. Santos looks 
               both ways before crossing Colonial Drive.

               Brody passes Keisel's Bicycle Rental, navigating an awkward 
               course through an odd assortment of Schwinns that line the 
               sidewalk in front of a demolished white picket fence. Keisel 
               intercepts Brody on the run.

                                     KEISEL
                              (he stares at Brody's 
                              face)
                         Wait-a-minute.
                              (stares some more)
                         Glasses, right?

               Brody nods yes, and starts to move away, but Keisel holds on 
               to him.

                                     KEISEL
                         Look at those fences! Little guys 
                         about eight to ten years old. And 
                         look at this!

               He holds up bicycle. The bicycle's spokes are bent and broken 
               from some sort of blows.

                                     KEISEL
                         They did that with their bare hands.

                                     BRODY
                         Call me later in the day, okay, Harry?

               ANGLE - AMITY GAZETTE NEWSPAPER OFFICE - PORCH

               Santos emerges with Ben Meadows, the stylish, late-thirties 
               editor of the Amity Gazette. Together they cut a beeline for 
               the other side of the street.

               ANGLE - AMITY STREET

               Past taverns and chowder shacks, past bleacher construction 
               and July Fourth posters, Brody enters Hardware and Sporting 
               Goods... so overstocked that beach umbrellas, aluminum deck 
               chairs, and rainbow beach towels splash a surplus of color 
               from the display window to the sidewalk.

               INT. HARDWARE STORE  DAY

               The store proprietor is busy at work on an inventory list 
               with a mainland delivery man.

                                     LYNWOOD
                         Stuff's no good to me in August when 
                         the Pilgrims come in June...
                              (to Brody)
                         Go on and help yourself to whatever 
                         you need, Chief. Can you work the 
                         register?

               EXT. HARDWARE STORE AND STREET - DAY

               Brody emerges with enough poster-board, wooden stakes, nails, 
               paint, and brushes to close every beach on the island. He 
               starts back the way he came when Hendricks shoots up the 
               street in the patrol jeep. He stops fast enough to call 
               attention, leans out the window.

                                     HENDRICKS
                         Polly told me to tell you there's a 
                         scout troop in Avril Bay doing the 
                         mile swim for their Merit Badges. I 
                         couldn't call them in, there's no 
                         phone out there.

                                     BRODY
                              (hands him the sign 
                              material)
                         Get out of there  take these back 
                         to the office and make up some 'Beach 
                         Closed' signs, and let Polly do the 
                         printing.

                                     HENDRICKS
                         What's the matter with my printing?

               EXT. VAUGHN'S REALTY  DAY

               Revealing Larry Vaughn, the Mayor of Amity, exchanging 
               anxieties with Ben Meadows and Coroner Santos and two other 
               city Selectmen. They come out in a group, reach the sunlight, 
               and squint down the street as Brody careens around the corner 
               and out of sight. Deputy Hendricks, laden with his arts and 
               crafts, passes them on the street front.

                                     VAUGHN
                         What have you got there, Lenny?

                                     HENDRICKS
                         We had a shark attack at South Chop 
                         this morning, Mayor. Fatal. Gotta 
                         batten down the beach.

               Vaughn and group exchange horrified looks, but we get the 
               impression it is not in response to the shark-attack news.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Who've you told this to, Lenny?

                                     HENDRICKS
                         I just found out about it -- but 
                         there's a bunch of Boy Scouts in the 
                         water a coupla miles down the coast 
                         from where we found the girl. Avril 
                         Bay, thereabouts. Chief went to dry 
                         them off.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (to Meadows)
                         Take my car, okay?
                              (to Hendricks)
                         You come with us, Lenny.

                                     HENDRICKS
                         I've got all these signs here...

                                     VAUGHN
                         C'mon, it'll give us time to think 
                         about what they're going to say.

               They all crowd into a Cadillac El Dorado with Vaughn Realty 
               signs on the doors.

               EXT. AVRIL BAY - DAY

               A flotilla of twenty exhausted Boy Scouts round a buoy that 
               marks the official course. A rowboat with Scoutmaster using 
               a bullhorn keeps pace, and urges the boys on.

                                     SCOUTMASTER
                              (bullhorn effect)
                         Let's go, Robbie. You too, Hofner. 
                         Boyle, keep your head up. Alberts, 
                         keep kicking...
                              (etc., ad lib)

               EXT. ON THE BEACH AT AVRIL BAY - DAY

               Two older Seascouts look on with stop watches and clipboards, 
               while some Parents shade their eyes from the sun, watching 
               their offspring. Brody pulls up in the Amity Police jeep, 
               and starts toward the people. Behind him, Vaughn's Cadillac 
               pulls up and skids to a stop. In it are Vaughn, Meadows, the 
               Doctor, maybe a Selectman, and Hendricks, with his arms still 
               full of sign material. Vaughn intercepts Brody, the others 
               circle around him, effectively slowing his progress through 
               the sand to the scouts.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Martin!
                              (he catches up with 
                              him)
                         Are you going to shut down the beach 
                         on your own authority?

                                     BRODY
                         Do I need any more authority?

                                     MEADOWS
                         Technically, you need the instruction 
                         of a civic ordinance, or a special 
                         meeting of the town selectmen...

                                     VAUGHN
                              (the good guy)
                         That's just going by the book. We're 
                         just a little anxious that you're 
                         rushing into something serious here. 
                         This is your first summer.

                                     BRODY
                         Now tell me something I don't know.

                                     VAUGHN
                         All I'm saying is that Amity is a 
                         summer town -- we need summer dollars, 
                         and if they can't swim here, they'll 
                         use the beaches at Cape Cod, or Long 
                         Island.

                                     BRODY
                         So we should set out a smorgasbord?

                                     MEADOWS
                         We're not even sure what it was.

                                     BRODY
                         What else could've done that?

                                     VAUGHN
                              (to Doctor)
                         Boat propeller?

                                     DOCTOR
                         I think, possibly... sure. A boating 
                         accident.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Some weekend tramp accidentally goes 
                         swimming too far, she's a little 
                         drunk, a fishing boat comes along --

                                     MEADOWS
                         Remember when Fred Ganz went 
                         scalloping in his BVD's? He was going 
                         to swim to New Bedford, he said.

               The men all laugh, ad lib their remembrances of this 
               foolishness.

                                     MEADOWS
                         ...and Bill Mayhew almost caught him 
                         in his net...?

                                     BRODY
                              (interrupting the 
                              merriment)
                         Doctor, you're the one who told me 
                         what it was!

                                     DOCTOR
                         I was wrong. We'll have to amend the 
                         report.

                                     MEADOWS
                         We never had that kind of trouble 
                         here.

                                     VAUGHN
                         I don't think you can appreciate the 
                         gut reaction people have to these 
                         things.

                                     BRODY
                         I was only reacting to what I was 
                         told.

               Brody looks out to the water where the scouts are rounding 
               another buoy on the home stretch.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (taking Brody aside)
                         It's all psychological, anyway. You 
                         yell 'Barracuda' and everyone says 
                         'huh'. You yell 'Shark' and we've 
                         got a panic on our hands. I think we 
                         all agree we don't need a panic this 
                         close to the 4th of July.

               Vaughn indicates the beach where the Scouts are flopping out 
               onto the sand, exhausted, glad to be finished.

                                     BRODY
                         I can't work in a vacuum. Why don't 
                         you make Hendricks Chief? His family's 
                         been here since the Puritans -- half 
                         this island are his cousins.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Martin, we hired the best man we 
                         could find.

               All ad lib agreement.

                                     VAUGHN
                         We need someone who isn't prejudiced 
                         by old feuds or family ties, someone 
                         who can referee things.

                                     MEADOWS
                         You have our complete support.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Now then. We've got a vandalism 
                         problem we ought to talk about...

               The others surround Brody as Vaughn leads the way back to 
               the cars, ad libbing their problem with the little karate 
               choppers.

               Hendricks puts the signs back into the trunk of Vaughn's 
               Cadillac. Vaughn waves casually to the Scouts and swimmers 
               who are vigorously toweling off in the background.

               EXT. AMITY STREET - DAY

               In front of Amity's only Music Store, a battered old pick-up 
               truck pulls in to the curb. Quint and his mate cross silently 
               heading into the music store.

               INT. AMITY MUSIC STORE - DAY

               A gently tinkling bell tolls Quint's entrance. Inside the 
               store, a ten-year-old boy is being shown a clarinet. He is 
               playing a mellow low tone, and running "Ode to Joy." Quint 
               looms past him like Neptune rising from the deep, and lets 
               his hand drop on the counter with a slap that sounds like a 
               club on flesh. The Shopkeeper abandons the little boy and 
               meets Quint.

                                     SHOPKEEPER
                         Hello, Mr. Quint.

                                     QUINT
                         Four spools of Number 12 piano wire, 
                         Okay? I ordered them.

                                     SHOPKEEPER
                              (finding them under 
                              the counter)
                         Yessir, right here. What do those 
                         fish do, eat this stuff?

                                     QUINT
                         They choke on it.

               Without waiting for it to be wrapped, he picks up the gleaming 
               wire in his gnarled fist, and drops a bill on the counter.

                                     SHOPKEEPER
                         Bye now.

               No answer from Quint, who stops and sings along with the 
               boy.

               The little kid's music degenerates into a series of awkward 
               squeaks and blurps, as Quint stares at him. Quint continues 
               out the door, threading his way through the people in the 
               street like some great fish. As he gets up into the cab of 
               his pick-up, its door swings open so we can see a crude 
               stylized shark decorating its side. It slams behind him as 
               Quint gets in and drives away.

               EXT. AMITY BEACH - DAY

               A plump jelly-bowl of a woman plunges into the ocean. There's 
               enough there to satisfy the most gluttonous shark. Buoyant, 
               joyful, she splashes away in abandon. From her, we pan off 
               to reveal other cheerful bathers enjoying that last 
               uncluttered weekend before the season starts in earnest.

               ANGLE ON THE WATERLINE

               A Man and his dog are romping at the water's edge. The Man 
               is throwing a stick out into the surf, the dog, a happy 
               retriever, is bounding into the waves after it.

               TWO YOUNG PEOPLE ON THE BEACH

               A Girl and her Boyfriend leave their blanket and run for the 
               water, playing tag, chasing each other, having a wonderful 
               time.

               ANGLE ON BIRTHDAY PARTY ON THE SAND - MARTIN AND ELLEN BRODY

               He is sitting stiffly in a beach chair, scanning the beach 
               with careful, cautious looks, eyeballing everything that's 
               going on.

               Around their particular blanket and umbrella are a number of 
               adults and their kids, the youngsters gathered to celebrate 
               Michael's birthday. Ellen is dishing out ice cream and cake 
               from a cooler chest to the raucous 10-year-olds. Michael's 
               hand is still bandaged.

                                     MAX TAFT
                              (an adult)
                         Looks like another big season. Gets 
                         worse every year.

                                     MRS. TAFT
                         And none of them from the Island. 
                         Just a lot of bother.

               Brody (and we) hear a shrill scream from the water. He 
               stretches to look past the group, to see what's happening 
               out there.

               BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW - THE WATER

               The young lady is disappearing under the water, pulled under 
               the waves by some force. She is shrieking. She pops right up 
               again riding the shoulders of her boyfriend, who pulled her 
               under. She's laughing hysterically. Brody is unamused.

               THE ADULTS

                                     BRODY
                              (to Taft)
                         What?

                                     TAFT
                         Present company excepted, but off-
                         islanders are a pain in the butt. 
                         Pardon my French.

               Ellen captures Sean, and holds him playfully, an example.

                                     ELLEN
                         What about this kid? What if he were 
                         born here. That make him an islander?

                                     TAFT
                         Just 'cause a cat has kittens in an 
                         oven, it don't make them muffins.

                                     SEAN
                         I'm not a muffin! I'm a boy!

               Brody rumples his hair and sets him off to play.

               ANGLE ON ANOTHER SMALL BOY, PLAYING ALONE

               It's Alex Kintner, and his mother, nearby, reading a novel.

               Alex is towing a funny rubber raft, and headed for the water.

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         Alex! Alex Kintner! Where do you 
                         think you're going?

                                     ALEX
                         Water. Just once more, please?

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         Let me see your fingers --

               He holds out his hands.

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         They're beginning to prune. 10 minutes 
                         more.

               Alex starts for the ocean. Behind him, Michael and his gang 
               are also heading for the inviting waves. Brody is watching 
               them go, his spine rigid with tension.

               MAN AND HIS DOG

               As Alex and the boys hit the water, we see the man throwing 
               his stick into the waves, his dog swimming strongly after 
               it.

               BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW

               Out beyond the kids and the dog, the Fat Lady is bobbing 
               around, out way too far, isolated from the other swimmers.

               UNDERWATER VIEW - EXT. - DAY

               A fish's-eye view of the bathers: lots of little kicking 
               legs, rafts with tasty arms dangling in the blue, slowing 
               circling, favoring one raft (little Alex's). The Kintner 
               boy's legs and arms are kicking and paddling, producing 
               bizarre underwater vibrations of more than passing interest.  
               Dog goes by, dog-paddling along.

               ON THE BEACH

               Brody is half-rising, looking out over the water. The Fat 
               Lady is not where he remembered her. He scans the water 
               anxiously.

                                     ELLEN
                         Do you want the boys to come in? 
                         Honey, if you're worried...

               A Black Object swims across the water. It's the dog, breasting 
               against the surf.

               ANGLE ON THE WATER - BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW

               It's the Fat Lady, floating, relaxing. A black object swims 
               up to her. It's not the dog. It rears up out of the water.

               It's a man in a black bathing cap. They exchange distant 
               pleasantries, he strokes away.

               ANOTHER ANGLE - WATER

               Alex Kintner, paddling around, making boat sounds, tooting, 
               going "vroom, vroom."

               ANGLE ON THE BOY AND GIRL

               They kiss, embrace, kiss again. Strong stuff. They sink 
               beneath the waves, knotted in an embrace.

               ANGLE ON MICHAEL BRODY AND HIS FRIENDS

               He's trying to salvage a soggy piece of birthday cake, holding 
               it above the water, paddling with his other hand. The bandage 
               has come part way loose, and his cut is trailing in the water.

               BRODY AND ELLEN ON THE BEACH

               Ellen is rubbing suntan oil on his back, and he is allowing 
               himself to relax part way. His eyes still nervously scan the 
               beach in a constant surveillance. Mr. Keisel is coming out 
               of the water, toweling off vigorously, exclaiming to himself.

                                     BRODY
                              (to Keisel)
                         How's the water?

                                     KEISEL
                         Too cold. I'm going in again Labor 
                         Day. Hope we get this weather next 
                         weekend.

                                     ELLEN
                         You're very tight, y'know?
                              (digs in)
                         Right there.

                                     BRODY
                         Ow.
                              (he sees something)
                         He's gotta be more careful in the 
                         water...

               ANGLE ON THE GANG PLAYING IN THE WATER

               Michael has just been drenched. He splashes back. A big 
               waterfight ensues, the boys splashing and chopping at the 
               water, shouting battle cries and karate whoops. Alex is 
               paddling around near them, but not involved with them.

               ALONG THE WATERLINE ON THE BEACH

               The Man with the Dog is whistling into the ocean, looking 
               for his dog.

                                     DOG MAN
                         Buster! Hey, Buster! Here boy!
                              (whistles)
                         He continues to ad lib calling his 
                         dog, but there's no answer, no dog 
                         in the water.

               THE WATERFRONT

               A huge splash explodes in the water near the gang, an eruption 
               of foam and spray that stops everyone cold for a moment.  
               They stop to see who was responsible.

                                     A KID (MATHEW)
                         Hey, no fair splashing in the eyes!

               Before anyone can answer, another kid (P.J.) renews the 
               battle, whooping a karate cry, and slashing at the water 
               with his hand like a little kung-fu warrior, advancing through 
               the waves.

               CLOSE ON MATHEW, SPLASHING BACK

               He hits the water, which sprays up suspiciously pink. He 
               stares at it, surprised.

               CLOSE ON P.J.

               His hands are dripping deep pink, the red matting his hair, 
               running into his eyes. He looks down. The boys are surrounded 
               with a deep pink slick, their little bodies ringed by a 
               spreading stain of blood.

               ANGLE ON SHORE, A TOURIST AND HIS WIFE

               He's pointing frantically out to sea.

                                     TOURIST
                         Something in the water. Right there! 
                         Didn't anyone see it?

                                     WOMAN
                         There's blood in the water.

               ANGLE ON BRODY

               He leaps to his feet, nearly knocking Ellen over, and starts 
               for the water.

                                     ELLEN
                         What is it...?

               Brody is pelting towards the water. He kicks sand over an 
               annoyed Mrs. Kintner, who looks up, just in time to hear 
               Brody's bellow.

                                     BRODY
                         Michael! Sean! Out of the water. 
                         Everybody out of the water! Michael! 
                         Get out!

               His urgency communicates itself to the others. Ellen snatches 
               Sean up from where he's been playing in the sand. Other 
               parents are calling their kids, hysteria mounting. People 
               rush into the water, dragging their children and families 
               bodily out of the ocean. The first kids coming out of the 
               surf are frantically trying to wash the sticky blood off 
               their bodies. The sight of the red sends the beach into a 
               full panic.

               CLOSE ON BRODY

               He rushes into the water, up to his ankles, and suddenly 
               stops, unable to move into deeper water. He is urging Michael 
               out, holding his hands out to his son, who is slogging through 
               the surf towards his dad. He stands there immobilized by the 
               water, nervously helping people out of it onto the beach.

               ANGLE ON MICHAEL

               As he emerges from the water, Alex Kintner's raft washes in 
               behind him, ripped in half, the water pink, the foam spreading 
               the stain onto the sand as the wave breaks.

               ANGLE ON MRS. KINTNER

               Her voice rising into panic and hysteria with each unanswered 
               cry.

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         Alex! Alex? Alex...!

               EXT - THE COUNTY COURTHOUSE AND COUNTY OFFICES - DAY

               We are looking at the closed double white front doors of the 
               building, through which we can hear a rolling boil of agitated 
               conversation. After a beat, they open to reveal Mrs. Kintner, 
               looking as though she has been visited by the wrath of God; 
               in effect, she has. Her eyes are puffy and swollen from 
               weeping, her clothing is put on and fastened awkwardly, her 
               gait is not normal. As she walks toward us, Quint enters 
               with his back to us, they pass without notice; Mrs. Kintner 
               moving out of sight, Quint leading us through the doors into 
               the town hall.

               INT. COUNTY COURTHOUSE - DAY

               A crowd of angry men and women throng the central hallway, 
               their voices a babble of confusion. Many of them are gathered 
               around a roughly lettered notice that has been posted on the 
               town's official bulletin board. It reads.

               "A $3000 BOUNTY TO THE MAN OR MEN WHO CATCH AND KILL THE 
               SHARK THAT KILLED ALEX M. KINTNER ON SUNDAY, JUNE 29, ON THE 
               AMITY TOWN BEACH."

               Vaughn and Brody are on the outskirts of the crowd, which 
               includes Meadows, some selectmen, and others.

                                     BRODY
                         Look, I've got to talk to her. This 
                         isn't a contest we want the whole 
                         country entering.

                                     MEADOWS
                         I agree. If she's going to advertise, 
                         I wouldn't recommend out-of-town 
                         papers. Amity people could take care 
                         of this.

                                     BRODY
                         I'm responsible for public safety 
                         around here...

                                     VAUGHN
                         Then go out tomorrow and make sure 
                         no one gets hurt.
                              (addressing the crowd)
                         Everybody, could I have your 
                         attention? Since this affects all of 
                         us, I suggest we move into council 
                         chambers, where there's more room...

               There is a flurry and a bustle as everyone rearranges 
               themselves and makes their way into the Amity Selectmen's 
               Council Chambers.

               INT. COUNCIL CHAMBER - DAY

               The crowd is thronging into the large room. Already in the 
               room is a solitary figure, standing all the way in the rear, 
               watching everyone as they enter. Against the back wall is a 
               large blackboard used for town business during meetings.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Well, here we all are; anyone have 
                         any special questions?

                                     DENHERDER
                         Is that $3000 bounty on the shark in 
                         cash or check?
                              (laughter from all)

                                     VAUGHN
                         That's private business between you 
                         brave fishermen and Mrs. Kintner.
                              (to Brody)
                         -- Chief --

                                     BRODY
                              (stepping in)
                         I'd like to tell you what we're doing 
                         so far. These are some of the steps 
                         I've taken as Chief of Police...

                                     MEADOWS
                              (leading the direction 
                              of the discussion)
                         What's going on with the beaches, 
                         Chief?

               All react.

                                     BRODY
                         I'll get to that in a minute. First, 
                         I plan to start our seasonal summer 
                         help early, and to use shark spotters 
                         on beaches open to the sea. I'd like 
                         cooperation from local fishermen, 
                         and I've also contacted the 
                         Oceanographic Institute over on the 
                         mainland.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (Interrupting -- sotto 
                              voice to Brody)
                         No need to involve outsiders in our 
                         business, Martin.

                                     WOMAN
                         Are you going to close the beaches?

                                     BRODY
                         Larry and I have also decided to 
                         close the beaches for a short time.

               Pandemonium. A collective nerve has been touched.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Only 24 hours!

                                     BRODY
                         I didn't agree to that!

                                     MRS. TAFT
                         That official business could take 
                         all summer!

                                     MR. KEISEL
                         Maybe it's better to close.

               Two opinions have been expressed, and the crowd takes sides 
               vociferously, ad libbing assent or dissent depending on the 
               point of view held forth.

                     THOSE IN FAVOR

                         MR. WISEMAN
                 We should make sure 
                 there is no danger.

                         MR. HASSETT
                 I didn't raise my kids to be some 
                 fish's lunch! 

                                                       THOSE OPPOSED

                                                       MRS. TAFT
                                               The motel is all I own -- 
                                               you pull the plug on this 
                                               town and I go down the 
                                               drain with it.

                                                       MR. POSNER
                                               Nobody's seen a shark.

                                                       MR. POLK
                                               We'll lose business, we 
                                               lose taxes, we lose our 
                                               shirts!

               ANGLE ON QUINT, THE MAN IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM

               He has just run his large, coarse fingernails over the 
               blackboard. He is a large, rough man, a professional fisherman 
               marked by daily physical toil, About 45 or 50, it's hard to 
               tell where the scars leave off and the wrinkles begin. There 
               is a bit of the showman in him, as well as a bit of killer-
               whale.

                                     QUINT
                              (after taking a deep 
                              breath)
                         You all know me. You know what I do 
                         for a living. I'll go out and get 
                         this bird for you. He's a bad one 
                         and it's not like goin' down the 
                         pond chasing blue-gills and tommy-
                         cods. This is a fish that can swallow 
                         a man whole. A little shakin', a 
                         little tenderizing and down ya' go.
                              (a look to Vaughn)
                         You gotta get this fellow and get 
                         him quick. If you do, it'll bring a 
                         lot of tourist business just to see 
                         him and you've got your business 
                         back on a paying basis.
                              (beat)
                         A shark of that size is no pleasure 
                         and I value my neck at a hell of a 
                         lot more'n 3,000 bucks.
                              (a deadly look)
                         I'll find him for three. But I'll 
                         kill him for ten.

               Crowd reaction.

                                     QUINT
                              (he rises up)
                         The bastard is costing you more'n 
                         that every day. Do you wanna stay 
                         alive and annee up the ten or play 
                         it cheap and be on welfare next 
                         winter.
                              (a final moment)
                         I'm gonna kill this thing... just a 
                         matter of whether I do it now -- or 
                         at the end of summer.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Thank you very much, Mr. Quint, the 
                         Selectmen will take your offer under 
                         advisement

               INT. BRODY'S STUDY AT HOME - SUNSET

               A riffly blur, color alternating with black and white. The 
               dizziness stops on a book page showing a black and white 
               rendering of eight species of shark. The banner at the top 
               of the page reads: THE KNOWN AND REPUTED MANEATERS.

               The riffling begins again, stops on a grizzly photograph of 
               scar tissue on six former shark victims. Riffling -- stop.

               Photograph of five Ichthyologists posing on wooden stools, 
               framed by the enormous jaws of a prehistoric shark from the 
               family Carcharodon charcharias.

               BRODY

               his reading glasses reflecting a stack of twelve library 
               books, all on the subject of sharks and shark attacks. The 
               door opens and Ellen enters, quietly, in respect for Brody's 
               mood.

                                     ELLEN
                         Can you stand something to eat?

                                     BRODY
                         Love a cup of tea. With lemon.

               Ellen walks past Brody to the window and looks out the window 
               which overlooks the south bay. It is the hour of dusk.

                                     ELLEN
                         Mikey loves his birthday present.

                                     BRODY
                         Where is he?

                                     ELLEN
                              (with a slight laugh)
                         He's sitting in it.

               Brody gets up, concerned, and joins her at the window.

                                     ELLEN
                         Honey. He has it tied up to the jetty 
                         with a double-knot.

               BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW

               Michael is sitting in the boat, but two of his young school 
               chums are in the water, swimming around it. Brody opens the 
               window and calls down:

                                     BRODY
                         Son! -- Out of the water now!

                                     MICHAEL
                         My boat's neat, dad!

                                     BRODY
                              (turning to Ellen)
                         I want him out of the ocean.

                                     ELLEN
                         It's three feet deep, Martin

                                     BRODY
                              (angry now)
                         Michael! Come inside!

                                     ELLEN
                         It's his birthday present, and you 
                         closed the beach, Honey. I told him 
                         not to go in the water after what 
                         happened yesterday. I don't believe 
                         he'll ever do it again.

                                     BRODY
                         I told him not to go out until he 
                         memorized the handbook and the safety 
                         safety regulations, until he was 
                         sure of himself...

               Ellen's eyes drift down to the open book, which is displaying 
               a reproduction of the famous painting "The Gulf Stream," 
               showing a black fisherman in a small dinghy similar to 
               Michael's being assaulted by the jaws of three man-eating 
               sharks, circling his boat.

                                     ELLEN
                         You heard your father! Out right 
                         now!

               SUNSET ON THE BEACH

               Hendricks and another deputy are assisting Brody. Silhouettes 
               of townspeople look on like mourners at a funeral.

               In the background some workmen are taking down the shutters 
               from a quaint summer cottage. They pause to watch the 
               declining moments of the day.

               Three Selectmen also stand watching. One of them seems to be 
               whispering bounty news to three youngish men on a nearby 
               dune.

               Sounds: Surf and hammering.

                                                                    CUT TO:

               EXT. OCEAN AND PIER - NIGHT

               Selectman Denherder and his buddy, Charlie, a professional 
               angler, row towards a tumble-down jetty that leads fifty 
               feet out into the black water.

                                     DENHERDER
                         You wanna call it a night after here?

                                     CHARLIE
                         It's only two-thirty. What, are you 
                         tired?

                                     DENHERDER
                         Yeah, Charlie, I got my second wind 
                         three nibbles back.

               Denherder hefts a bloodstained laundry bag from the 
               wheelbarrow, revealing about a hundred feet of coiled dog 
               chain and a large patched inner tube. Charlie takes out a 
               monster hook and together they push the wheelbarrow onto the 
               rickety pier that is only about five feet across.

                                     DENHERDER
                              (reaching into the 
                              bag)
                         Leg of lamb this time?

                                     CHARLIE
                         Screw lamb -- let's shoot the sirloin!

                                     DENHERDER
                              (a hyena laugh)
                         We're blowin' half the bounty on 
                         bait --

               The splintered pier sways to and fro as the men reach the 
               end and start to work. Charlie baits the hook with a massive 
               chunk of sirloin while Denherder secures the loose end of 
               chain to a skinny piling. Charlie then fastens the inner 
               tube to the chain five feet from the end of the hook.

                                     DENHERDER
                         One more after this, then I'm going 
                         home.

                                     CHARLIE
                         Set?

               Denherder tugs the chain against the piling to prove that it 
               is. Charlie heaves the bait. Splash! The inner tube follows 
               and both men eagerly watch as it floats seaward, the chain 
               playing out from the wheelbarrow.

                                     CHARLIE
                         Tide's taking it right out.

               Charlie lights his pipe and sits back against a piling. He 
               turns on his transistor radio and loops one end around a 
               fractured board. Denherder paces, bored to death.

                                     DENHERDER
                         You do this all the time, right, 
                         Charlie?

                                     CHARLIE
                         Twenty years.

                                     DENHERDER
                         I can't believe that people pay money 
                         to go fishing. This is really dumb. 
                         This isn't even relaxing... it's 
                         just boring.

               CLOSE - CHAIN IN WHEELBARROW

               Suddenly zipping out, faster and faster, as both men 
               straighten.

               Denherder is goggle-eyed.

                                     DENHERDER
                         Hey! What's this?

               The chain is coming out so fast that it begins to drag the 
               wheelbarrow to the end of the jetty. A section of chain 
               tangles around the handle and flips the entire machine into 
               the air. Both men watch dumbfounded as the inner tube, racing 
               out to sea in a wake of white water, suddenly dips under.

                                     CHARLIE
                         Look at him take it!

                                     DENHERDER
                         Do I set the goddam hook?

                                     CHARLIE
                         Let him do it! Go-go-go-go-go!

               It is then that the chain whips taut against the narrow 
               pilings.

               CLOSE - PILING

               A lineup of five decrepit 2 x 4 inch pilings SNAP with a 
               resounding CRACK.

               ANGLE - JETTY

               The end of the jetty is yanked loose. Denherder is flipped 
               like a chip over the side and into the cold night water, 
               where he manages to snag hold of a splintered timber.

               DENHERDER'S POINT OF VIEW

               The severed section of jetty, a joined platform of footboards, 
               is being dragged seaward with Charlie sitting dazed on top 
               of it, his lit pipe still going.

                                     DENHERDER
                         CHARLIE! JUMP!

               Charlie rolls into the water, sputters, turns to watch the 
               flotilla of wood draw away.

               CLOSE - CHARLIE

               looking seaward.

               CHARLIE'S POINT OF VIEW

               The end of the jetty makes a 180-degree turn and heads back 
               in his direction.

                                     CHARLIE
                         Holy Jesus Christ!

               Denherder steps up on the broken-off piling just to be out 
               of the water.

                                     DENHERDER
                         Get the hell out! Charlie! Swim!

               Charlie, inhaling terror, trying to slog to shore. The jetty 
               is getting closer. Suddenly, an enormous black fin breaks 
               water like a periscope, making course corrections as it comes 
               for Charlie.

               Denherder jumps from piling to piling, almost losing his 
               balance on his way to help Charlie. Charlie has reached the 
               last pylon toward open sea, and his hands clamber for a hold. 
               But --

               INSERT - CHARLIE'S HANDS

               The algae is too slippery, and his fingers keep sliding back.

               That's when the fin behind him seems to reach up to the sky 
               and Charlie manages, with Denherder's desperate help, to 
               make it safely to shore. The remains of the pier float belly-
               up in the inlet.

               CLOSE ON THE HARBORMASTER OF AMITY - DAY

               He is sitting on a little canvas folding chair, eating a 
               bowl of Cheerios with milk and sugar, watching a panorama of 
               ineptitude and greed unfold before his old seaman's eyes.

               The Amity Pier area is a minor madhouse: out-of-state cars 
               elbow local vehicles for parking space at the foot of the 
               dock, and a parade of bounty-hunting townspeople, islanders, 
               off-islanders, tourist, and others shout and push their way 
               onto the crowded pier, each carrying some bizarre or 
               appropriate tool for the real or imagined capture of an 
               unarmed shark of indeterminate size.

               Rods and reels, drop lines, crossbows, slingshots, harpoons, 
               shotguns, rifles, nets and tridents; every fishing supply 
               store and sporting goods house within a hundred miles has 
               been cannibalized to equip this weird array.

               ANGLE ON BRODY AND HENDRICKS ARRIVING ON THE SCENE

               Not having room to bring their police vehicle anywhere near 
               this mess, they are proceeding on foot into the confusion.

                                     HENDRICKS
                         ...So then Denherder and Charlie sat 
                         there trying to catch their breath, 
                         and figuring out how to explain to 
                         Charlie's wife what happened to her 
                         freezer full of meat.

                                     BRODY
                         That wasn't funny.

               Some of the locals greet Hendricks with occasional nods of 
               recognition, or an ad libbed "Hi, Lenny," or "Hey, Lenny."

                                     HENDRICKS
                         Mrs. Kintner must've put her ad in 
                         Field and Stream.

                                     BRODY
                         Looks more like the readers of the 
                         National Enquirer.

               ANGLE ON BOAT RENTAL - PIER

               An argument is in progress between and Out-of-Towner and the 
               Boat Rental Man.

                                     OUT-OF-TOWNER
                         You're charging me double the usual 
                         rent! I didn't come up here all the 
                         way from New Rochelle to be gouged 
                         by some Yankee Cracker!

                                     BOAT RENTAL MAN
                         Prices go up June First every year. 
                         You want a nice cheap, leaky boat, 
                         you go down to the Hamptons.
                              (he sees Brody)
                         Right, Chief?

               ANGLE LOOKING OUT TO SEA

               Making its way through the channel towards the dock is a 
               sleek, expensive runabout with the name "Fascinatin' Rhythm" 
               on the stern. It's professionally handled, and rumbles in as 
               it coasts in towards the dock area. Some other boats clear 
               the way for it, zig-zagging in the harbor, causing an annoying 
               chop.

               CLOSE ON BOAT

               Matt Hooper, a bearded, bespectacled young man with an intent 
               look, is maneuvering the vessel peering through his windscreen 
               at the ragtag collection of seafaring loonies all around 
               him.

               BACK TO DOCKSIDE

               Hendricks is mediating the argument between the two men, and 
               we can hear a plaintive "But Lenny," from the local as Brody 
               sees something that makes him move towards the other side of 
               the dock. We see him cross to a little boat built for two or 
               three that is settling low in the water as a seventh man 
               climbs in with his gear.

                                     BRODY
                         Hey! You know how many men that's 
                         supposed to hold?

                                     MAN IN BOAT (WALTER)
                         Whatever's safe, right?

                                     BRODY
                         What you got ain't safe. You take 
                         some guys off or you don't go out.

               BEN GARDNER AND HIS BOAT, FLICKA

               Matt Hooper is gliding into the dockside, and Ben throws him 
               a line to help make fast as he moors. It's a small island of 
               courtesy in an otherwise discourteous mob. Hooper nods 
               politely as he ties his boat up and steps onto the dock.

                                     HOOPER
                         Hello.

                                     GARDNER
                         Hello, back.

               He's standing near where Brody is finishing after his 
               encounter with the chummers.

               Brody approaches Ben Gardner.

                                     BRODY
                         You going out too, Ben?

                                     GARDNER
                         Might give it a try. That three 
                         thousand bounty beats working for a 
                         living.
                              (yells to his Mate)
                         We ready?

               The Mate nods "Yes" and starts to prepare to get under way.

               Ben and his Mate move away from the dock, headed towards the 
               channel and the open sea leaving Felix and Pratt to scamper 
               around the dock looking for another ride.

               ANOTHER DOCK AREA, CLOSE BY

               A particularly awkward moment between a small sailboat and a 
               couple of powerboats. The sailboat is trying to hoist sail 
               to make it away from the pier under sail, a real yachtsman's 
               conceit, since Hornblower himself probably couldn't navigate 
               through this mess. Brody, a landlubber for sure, is trying 
               to direct traffic to untangle this new mess.

                                     BRODY
                         Just back up! No, the other way! Cut 
                         it to your left! Your other left! 
                         The big boat, your front end is out 
                         way too far. Little boat, stay still!

               Amidst all this, we can hear the angry shouts of the entangled 
               crews.

                                     SKIPPER 1 (THE SAILBOAT)
                         Dammit, a vessel under sail has the 
                         right of way!

                                     SKIPPER 2 (MOTORBOAT)
                         You schmuck, you ain't under sail, 
                         you're goddam drifting!

                                     HOOPER
                              (stepping in to help)
                         Ahoy, sail! You got an oar? Well, 
                         scull it out!

                                     SAILBOAT SKIPPER
                         Tell that stinkpotter to belay!

                                     MOTORBOAT SKIPPER
                         Tell that ragsetter I'm going to 
                         poke him in the snoot!

                                     HOOPER
                         Just cast off in turn and make for 
                         the channel, OK?

                                     BRODY
                         Thanks.

               Brody starts back towards the shore, Hooper is by his side.

                                     HOOPER
                         Excuse me, I wonder if you could 
                         tell me...

               Before he can finish, Brody spots something on shore that 
               moves him to shout to his deputy.

                                     HOOPER
                              (noticing something)
                         Is that dynamite?

               Brody looks, and stops by a boat that's about to cast off.

               He holds out his hand.

                                     BRODY
                         If that's dynamite, give it here, or 
                         don't leave port.

                                     MAN
                         Aw, c'mon, it's just fireworks. Sharks 
                         like fireworks, it attracts them.

                                     BRODY
                         Hand it over.

               The man passes Brody a cigar box filled with dynamite sticks.

               Brody tucks the dynamite under his arm, and continues down 
               the pier. Hooper is still with him.

               All around them are two distinctly different breeds; the 
               quiet pros, like Ben Gardner, in well-worn, comfortable 
               clothes, with efficient, sensible gear, and the amateur 
               crazies, with all manner of weapons and impractical, silly 
               tourist clothing.

               INT. DOCK SHED - DAY

               Brody is on the phone, talking to his office, trying to get 
               Hendricks' attention. He throws a handful of washers at the 
               window.

                                     HOOPER
                         There's a fantail launch out there 
                         that won't make it beyond the 
                         breakwater.

                                     BRODY
                         You're tellin' me. I swear, this 
                         town has gone crazy.

                                     HOOPER
                         Officer, I wonder if you could tell 
                         me where I could find Chief Brody?

                                     BRODY
                         Who are you?

                                     HOOPER
                         Hooper, Matt Hooper. From the 
                         Oceanographic Institute.
                              (holds out his hand)

               EXTERIOR - OCEAN - DAY

               Ben Gardner's boat is in the lead with Gardner's shouting 
               derisive comments at the crowd headed out from land. The 
               armada is spread out and moving in a ragged circle, fifteen 
               boats in all. One man heaves cherry bombs into the water. A 
               smaller boat going in the opposite direction offers us 
               Barwood, forking spaghetti leftovers into the ocean while 
               his friend pours out a bottle of ketchup.

               A speedboat chugs by, one of the occupants reading 
               instructions aloud from a book entitled "Sharks - East Coast, 
               Vol. I."

               boatload of impoverished scallop fishermen throw a net 
               overboard, full of gaps and split ends. The professionals 
               look professional, but the landlubbers out for the $3000 
               make it impossible for everybody. Collisions are barely 
               averted.

               THE RUBE GOLDBERG ERROR

               The Out-of-Towner in a small boat is bent over in a life and

               death struggle, his rod in a tight arc. His buddy leaps across 
               to lend a hand.

               Twenty yards away in another boat the same struggle ensues.

               This time it's the overloaded boat with the poor scallop 
               fishermen. Shouts of I'M ON! DIG IN! STRIKE! Then a tangle 
               of tackle springs from the water. They have hooked each other.

               Joy turns to swearing.  Arnold Felix stands up to applaud 
               the mishap, while his buddy Pratt takes careful aim with his 
               Remington 1100 12-gauge and blasts at the tackle as if it 
               were a clay pigeon.  The tangle explodes --

               Both the Out-of-Towners and the Scallop Fisherman falls over 
               backward --

               ANGLE - HARRY'S BOAT

               Three men are aboard, one holding a rod which holds a fast 
               arc. A few yards off stern we see a triangular dorsal fin 
               crossing back and forth, struggling, jerking, the mighty 
               tail threshing. One man is screaming success, the other two 
               slapping the angler on the back.

               CLOSE - PRATT AND FELIX

               They spot it and sour.

                                     PRATT
                         Well, get over there! He ain't caught 
                         it yet!

               The owner of Pratt's boat throws it forward and Pratt removes 
               a .45 automatic from the holster of his belt. He tests it, 
               firing once in the air. As they near the scene of the 
               struggle, eleven other boats begin converging, until --

               HARRY'S BOAT

               Everyone wants to get into the act. They are attacking the

               threshing beast with all they've got. Pratt uses his 
               automatic, another blasts point blank with a shotgun. There 
               are occasional water ricochets and the bounty hunters duck 
               from time to time as bullets skip by. Finally, the shark 
               stops threshing.

               FELIX AND PRATT

               Their boat has moved close to the shark, closer than Harry's.

                                     PRATT
                              (exultant)
                         Hand me that pole! Quick!

               One of his party in the over-filled boat grabs a gaff and 
               leans out to grab the moribund shark. But Harry won't give 
               up the line, still reeling in.

                                     HARRY
                         Beat it! I hooked him!

                                     PRATT
                         How's the family, Harry?
                              (to the man with gaff)
                         Go on and do it!

                                     MAN WITH GAFF
                         We split down the middle?

               Pratt nods reluctantly. The man swings, lodges the gaff and 
               hauls the shark up onto the gunwale. A paroxysm of cheers 
               from the surrounding boats. Smoke flares are fired into the 
               air.

                                     HARRY
                              (a tug-of-war)
                         Let go my shark!

               It is a ten-foot tiger, and what a mess -- splattered with 
               bullet punctures, gashes, bleeding from several orifices. 
               But it is not dead -- it kicks back to life and threatens to 
               capsize the boat. Pratt panics and fires six times with his 
               .45. The bullets pierce the shark's head, pass through, and 
               split the fiberglass hull through which a flood of water 
               rises. Everybody stands up as the boat slips beneath them.

               INT. MORGUE - DAY

               The Amity Morgue is also the Amity Funeral Home, a Victorian 
               house that normally serves as the community's mortuary. The 
               Coroner, a professional small-town GP, is standing by as 
               Hooper is speaking into a sophisticated cassette recorder 
               with a headpiece that leaves his hands free for measurement 
               with a calibrator or calipers.

                                     BRODY
                         Let's show Mr. Hooper our accident.

               With a shrug, the Coroner slides open the drawer.

               CLOSE ON HOOPER

               He is looking down as the drawer slides past him, still matter-
               of-fact, turning on his recorder.

                                     HOOPER
                         Victim One, identified as Christine 
                         Watkins, female Caucasian...

               The sheet has just been lifted, and Hooper stares down at 
               the lump on the slab. He stops, turns off his recorder as 
               emotions wage war with his senses. Rationality wins, and he 
               turns on the recorder again.

                                     HOOPER
                         ...height and weight may only be 
                         estimated from partial remains. Torso 
                         severed in mid-thorax, eviscerated 
                         with no major organs remaining. May 
                         I have a drink of water? Right arm 
                         severed above the elbow with massive 
                         tissue loss from upper musculature. 
                         Portions of denuded bone remaining.
                              (tense, to Brody)
                         -- did you notify the coast guard?

                                     BRODY
                         No, it was local jurisdiction.

                                     HOOPER
                         Left arm, head, shoulders, sternum 
                         and portions of ribcage intact.
                              (to Brody)
                         Please don't smoke. With minor post-
                         mortem lacerations and abrasions. 
                         Bite marks indicate typical non-frenzy 
                         feeding pattern of large squali, 
                         possibly carchaninus lonimanus, or 
                         isurus glaucas. Gross tissue loss 
                         and post-mortem erosion of bite 
                         surfaces prevent detailed analysis; 
                         however, teeth and jaws of the 
                         attacking squali must be considered 
                         above average for these waters.
                              (to Brody again)
                         -- Did you go out in a boat and look 
                         around?

                                     BRODY
                         No, we just checked the beach...

                                     HOOPER
                              (turns off the recorder)
                         It wasn't an 'accident,' it wasn't a 
                         boat propeller, or a coral reef, or 
                         Jack the Ripper. It was a shark. It 
                         was a shark.

               EXT. DOCK AREA - DAY

               We open close on ugly, open shark's jaws, still oozing blood 
               and gore. As the shark is hoisted up into the air on a gin-
               pole hoist dockside, Meadows is seen passing with his 
               secretary and a photographer from the Amity Gazette. A crowd 
               of returning fishermen from the Armada and townspeople are 
               gathering around the fish as it is hoisted tail-up into the 
               classic sports fisherman's trophy shot.

                                     MEADOWS
                         Ginny, get this out on the state 
                         wire to AP and UPI in Boston and New 
                         York. Have one of them pick it up 
                         for the national and call Dave Axelrod 
                         in New York and tell him this is 
                         from me and he owes me one... let's 
                         get a picture.

               As he and the photographer turn to mob, we see Hooper and 
               Brody arriving from the morgue. Hooper immediately heads 
               towards the shark, while Brody pauses and we see a look of 
               relief and delight cross his features.

                                     HOOPER
                         Well, if one man can catch a fish in 
                         50 days, then I guess 50 of these 
                         bozos can catch a fish in one day -- 
                         beginner's luck.

                                     BRODY
                              (crossing to men around 
                              shark)
                         You did it! Did Ben Gardner catch 
                         this?

               Men ad lib "No, I caught it..." "I hooked him," etc.

                                     MEADOWS
                         Okay, everybody, I want to get a 
                         picture for the paper -- could 
                         everyone clear out of the way?

               He continues to call directions and move people out of the 
               way to set up his shot. Hooper is measuring the shark.

                                     MEADOWS
                         Could you get out of the shot, young 
                         man?

                                     HOOPER
                         Who, me? Okay...
                              (he drifts off)

               The men (Felix, Pratt, et al) get Brody to join them in the 
               shot. The whole town and the Armada fishermen all line up in 
               a classic "high school" graduating class shot with the 
               victorious fishermen kneeling in front, and the rest of the 
               Armada and Townspeople arranged behind them. Hendricks hold 
               up the "Beach Closed" sign in ironic victory.

               ANGLE SHOWING VAUGHN APPROACHING THE DOCK

               Brody spots the Mayor coming towards the dock, and detaches 
               himself from the group to join him.

                                     BRODY
                         Larry, if you'd see these clowns 
                         leave, you'd never believe they'd 
                         come back with anything. But they 
                         got him!

                                     VAUGHN
                         That's good. That's real good. Ben 
                         Meadows getting pictures for the 
                         paper.

                                     BRODY
                         Sure he is.

               HOOPER AND THE FISHERMEN

               The men who landed the monster are in a tight cluster, 
               debating something with Hooper, who is dwarfed by the big 
               beer bellies and ham-fisted hands all around him. It's 
               probable we don't even see him.

               The Men ad lib "What kind of shark is this?" "It's a shark 
               like in the movies they got sharks." "It's a man-eater, for 
               sure." "I bet it's a record-breaker," etc.

                                     HOOPER (O.S.)
                         It's a tiger shark. Very rare in 
                         these waters, and definitely a 
                         maneater.

               Hooper enters the circle, and picks up where he left off, 
               measuring the shark's teeth. Others watch him. Charlie and 
               Denherder walk over to the shark. Charlie punches it.

               BRODY AND VAUGHN

               They are walking down to the shark together.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Who's that young man?

                                     BRODY
                         Matt Hooper, the specialist they 
                         send down from the Oceanographic 
                         Institute.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (speaking to everyone)
                         I think we all owe a debt of gratitude 
                         to these men for catching this 
                         monster.

               Brody and Vaughn are by now near the circle of fishermen, 
               who are surrounding Hooper, raising their voices at him.

                                     PRATT
                         Whadya mean, 'Bite Radius?' What's 
                         that?

                                     GAFFER
                         Teeth are teeth, right?

                                     HOOPER
                         I didn't say this wasn't the shark, 
                         I just said I wasn't sure this was 
                         the one...

                                     BRODY
                         What d'ya mean?

                                     HOOPER
                         There are hundreds of different kinds 
                         of sharks; makos, blues, hammerheads, 
                         white-tips... any one of them could've 
                         attacked. Look -- shark digestion is 
                         slow. We could open this one up, and 
                         find whatever he's been eating is 
                         still inside.

                                     VAUGHN
                         That's disgusting! This is the 
                         largest, meanest, most vicious shark 
                         ever landed off Amity Island, and a 
                         known maneater!

                                     HOOPER
                         Let's just cut him open and see what's 
                         inside...

                                     BRODY
                         Why not, Larry? We could get a 
                         positive confirmation that way.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Be reasonable, boys -- this isn't 
                         the time or the place to do some 
                         kind of half-assed autopsy on a fish. 
                         Ben...
                              (to Meadows)
                         do you have all the pictures you 
                         need?

                                     MEADOWS
                         Plenty.

                                     HOOPER
                         Wait a minute...

               Felix, Pratt and the others ad lib disagreement. "You're not 
               gonna cut up my trophy," etc.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (seeing something 
                              offstage, with low 
                              intensity)
                         I am not going to stand here and 
                         watch this fish cut open and see 
                         some kid fall out on the dock. 
                         Besides...
                              (he indicates off)

               We see Mrs. Kintner approaching, dressed in black.

                                     VAUGHN
                              (to Brody)
                         Chief, I'll take responsibility for 
                         this. Boys, cut this ugly sonofabitch 
                         down before he stinks up the whole 
                         island. Harve, tomorrow you and Carl 
                         take him out and dump him right in 
                         the drink.

               MRS. KINTNER JOINS THE GROUP

               She seeks out Brody, and stops in front of him.

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         Chief Brody?

               He nods, she slaps him full across the face. There is an 
               embarrassed silence. Some people leave, following a trend 
               that began with the first mention of cutting open the shark.

                                     MRS. KINTNER
                         My Alex was a beautiful little boy 
                         and you killed him. Did you know 
                         that? You knew there was a shark out 
                         there. You knew a girl got killed 
                         here last week. I just found that 
                         out. But you knew. You knew it was 
                         dangerous, but you let people go 
                         swimming anyway. You knew all those 
                         things, and still my boy is dead now 
                         and there's nothing you can do about 
                         that. My boy is dead. I wanted you 
                         to know that.

               She stops, unable to continue. Her father takes her arm and 
               leads her away. Pratt, Harry and the others trail off after 
               her. During the rest of the scene, the camera tightens in on 
               Brody to the exclusion of the others.

                                     VAUGHN
                         I'm sorry, Martin. She's in a sick, 
                         terrible state.

                                     HOOPER
                         Look, maybe this is the wrong time 
                         to pursue this, but I'm not sure...

               Before Hooper can finish, Brody's shoulders slump and he 
               goes slack.

                                     BRODY
                              (almost to himself)
                         She's right.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Let's all get out of here, this place 
                         stinks.

                                     BRODY
                         I'm going home.

               He turns and leaves abruptly, surrendering the dock to Vaughn 
               and Hooper, who eye each other with mutual dis-admiration.

               INT. BRODY HOUSE - NIGHT - DINING ROOM

               Brody and Ellen, Sean and Michael, have all finished dinner.

               Brody's plate is untouched, a virgin meatloaf. His glass, on 
               the other hand, is well used, with the remnants of a stiff 
               scotch and ice. He is staring across the table at the 
               youngest, Sean, who makes a face at him. He makes a face 
               back.

               They play this game together for a few minutes.

                                     BRODY
                         C'mere and give Daddy a kiss.

                                     SEAN
                         Why?

                                     BRODY
                         Because he needs it.

               Sean gives Daddy the kiss. Brody shoos him and Michael off 
               to bed. Ellen, who is feeling progressively more left out 
               with each passing moment, gets up abruptly and clears a few 
               dishes. Brody is not letting her into his world for the 
               moment, and it shows. There's a knock at the door.

                                     HOOPER (O.S.)
                         Martin Brody residence?

               Ellen opens the door for him.

                                     HOOPER
                         Hi. I'm Matt Hooper. If your husband 
                         is here, I'd like to talk to him.

                                     ELLEN
                         So would I. Come on in.

               Hooper enters. He's carrying a couple of bottles of wine 
               which he picked up in town. He sits down near Brody.

                                     ELLEN
                         Would you like something? Some coffee?

                                     HOOPER
                              (seeing Brody's plate)
                         Is anyone having this...?

               He starts in on it, as soon as someone has indicated "go 
               ahead."

                                     HOOPER
                         Dynamite!
                              (to Brody)
                         How was your day...?

                                     BRODY
                         Swell.

               They exchange a long look that evolves into a slightly 
               desperate, but shared laughter.

                                     HOOPER
                              (producing wine)
                         Here... one red, one white.

               They laugh some more. Ellen is again left out of it.

                                     HOOPER
                              (boning his fish)
                         Ummm. Really good.

               Brody begins stripping the foil off the wine, screwing in a 
               corkscrew, etc.

                                     ELLEN
                         My husband tells me you're in sharks.

                                     HOOPER
                         I wouldn't put it that way. But I 
                         love sharks.

                                     ELLEN
                         You love sharks?

                                     HOOPER
                         I do.
                              (he tells a story 
                              about his boyhood 
                              and a shark)
                         But you've still got a problem here, 
                         there's a shark just off the island 
                         somewhere.

                                     BRODY
                         How come you have to tell them that?

                                     ELLEN
                         Excuse me, but what are you talking 
                         about? Didn't they catch the shark 
                         this afternoon? It was on the Cape 
                         station news.

                                     HOOPER
                         They caught a shark, not the shark. 
                         Big difference. I could've proved it 
                         this afternoon, by cutting that one 
                         open and examining his stomach 
                         contents. Also, his bite was too 
                         small.

               Brody has the cork out of the wine. Pop.

                                     HOOPER
                         I was lucky to find that in town -- 
                         it's an estate bottled vintage year...

               Brody takes the fine wine, and pours it into his drink glass 
               filling the tumbler to the top with ice cubes, diluted scotch, 
               and the wine.

                                     HOOPER
                              (as Brody pours)
                         We ought to let it breathe... 
                         Whatever.

                                     BRODY
                         Let's all have a drink.

               He extends the bottle to Hooper, who politely accepts a token 
               sip. He takes some for himself, and offers some to Ellen.

                                     BRODY
                         You too, sweetheart...

                                     ELLEN
                         Thank you.

                                     HOOPER
                              (toasting)
                         Here's to your husband, the only 
                         other rational man on the island. 
                         Day after tomorrow, I'll be gone, 
                         and he'll be the only one.

                                     ELLEN
                         You're leaving?

                                     HOOPER
                         Going out on the 'Aurora.'

                                     ELLEN
                         Is that a boat?

                                     HOOPER
                         Is it! The best-funded research 
                         expedition to ever study the shark... 
                         around the world in 18 months.

                                     ELLEN
                         Like those Cousteau specials on 
                         television? I think it's for the 
                         kids, but I love them.

                                     HOOPER
                         Better than Cousteau, or Compagno 
                         with computers, telemetry, Defense 
                         Department funding...

                                     ELLEN
                         I saw a show with sea otters, and a 
                         big turtle... Mikey loved it. Made 
                         me promise to get him one. Will you 
                         live on the boat?

                                     HOOPER
                         Yep.

                                     ELLEN
                         Martin hates boats. Hates the water. 
                         On the ferry to the mainland, he 
                         sits in the car the whole way over. 
                         He's got this childhood thing, there's 
                         a clinical word for it.

                                     BRODY
                         Drowning. Lemme ask you something. 
                         Is it true most attacks take place 
                         in three feet of water, around 10 
                         feet from the beach?

                                     HOOPER
                         Yeah. Like the kid on your beach.
                         I wish I could've examined that shark 
                         they caught...

                                     BRODY
                         Something else. Do most attacks go 
                         unreported?

                                     HOOPER
                         About half of them. A lot of 'missing 
                         swimmers' are really shark victims.

                                     BRODY
                         There's a kind of a lone shark, 
                         called, uh...

                                     HOOPER
                         Rogue?

                                     BRODY
                         Yeah. Rogue. Picks out an area where 
                         there's food and hangs out there as 
                         long as the food supply lasts?

                                     HOOPER
                         It's called Territoriality. It's a 
                         theory.

                                     BRODY
                         And before 1900, when people first 
                         starting swimming for recreation, 
                         before public bathing and resorts, 
                         there were very few shark attacks, 
                         cause sharks didn't know what they 
                         were missing?

                                     HOOPER
                         You could say that.

               Brody digests all this; confirmation of facts he has gleaned 
               in his newly acquired knowledge of the shark species.

               There is a long pause.

                                     BRODY
                         Why don't we have one more drink, 
                         you and I, and then we go down and 
                         cut open that old shark and see for 
                         sure what's inside him, or not.

                                     ELLEN
                         Can you do that?

                                     BRODY
                         I am Chief of Police. I can do 
                         anything I want.
                              (to Hooper)
                         You want to come?

                                     HOOPER
                         I'm flattered you should ask.

               He gets up and they both start out. Ellen watches them go.

               INT. BOAT SHED - NIGHT

               Dark, spooky shed, with shadows of boats and strange 
               silhouettes of boat parts and scaffolding. At one end, the 
               large, symmetrical bulk of the shark's carcass lies on a 
               tarp. A single dark figure is bending over the dead shark.

               The large double doors at one end of the shed squeak open, 
               and the Shadowy Figure moves abruptly away from the shark.

               The new entrants move into the shed. It is Hooper and Brody 
               and they are continuing the conversation begun in the car on 
               the way over.

               As the Shadowy Figure moves silently into a vantage point 
               against one wall, he passes through the light from a window; 
               it is Quint, and we only see him long enough to recognize 
               him as he backs against the wall.

                                     HOOPER
                         ...And it was Dartmouth Winter 
                         weekend, and she was Homecoming Queen, 
                         and I was her date; then she got 
                         into the fact that her family had 
                         more money than my family, and she 
                         was right -- her great-grandfather 
                         was in mining, and my ancestors were 
                         Yankee shipbuilders. So we broke up 
                         and I went home with some beatnik 
                         from Sarah Lawrence.

                                     BRODY
                         What stinks so bad?

                                     HOOPER
                         Our friend, the shark.

               They bend over the shape like 18th century graverobbers.

                                     HOOPER
                         We always had a summer place on the 
                         water -- Newport, the Vineyard, so I 
                         figured I'd major in something I 
                         knew about. Oceanography, marine 
                         biology. It was that, or design racing 
                         yachts like my older brother. Hmmm. 
                         He we go. Up the old alimentary canal. 
                         Hold the light.

               We hear a slurp and a squish as Hooper produces a big knife 
               and dips into the shark with a major incision.

                                     HOOPER
                         We open the abdominal cavity and 
                         check the digestive tract. Simple.
                              (he attends to his 
                              work)

               From his vantage point, Quint watches, unseen by the two 
               men.

               Brody is holding the light, fighting the gag reflex, 
               fascinated by the bizarre ritual.

                                     BRODY
                         What's that?

                                     HOOPER
                         Half a flounder. Hmmm... a burlap 
                         bag... a paint can... aha!

                                     BRODY
                         What? What?!

                                     HOOPER
                         Just as I thought. He drifted up 
                         here with the Gulf Stream, from 
                         southern waters.

                                     BRODY
                         How can you tell?

                                     HOOPER
                              (showing it)
                         Florida license plate.

                                     BRODY
                         He ate a car?

                                     HOOPER
                              (laughs)
                         No, but Tiger sharks are the garbage 
                         cans of the ocean. They eat anything. 
                         But this one didn't eat any people. 
                         There's nothing here...

               He kicks the remains around below camera.

                                     HOOPER
                         ...Nothing.

                                     BRODY
                         What do we do?

                                     HOOPER
                         If you're looking for a shark, you 
                         don't look on land. You go out and 
                         chum for him.

                                     BRODY
                         Chum?

                                     HOOPER
                         Only one sure way to find him -- 
                         offer him a little something to eat. 
                         Chum -- blood, waste meat, fish, 
                         anything. They can sense it miles 
                         away. If he's out there, we might be 
                         able to get a closer look at him.
                              (checks his watch)
                         It's a good time, too. They're night 
                         feeders...

               EXT. ABOARD HOOPER'S BOAT - NIGHT (TANK)

               We see Brody, looking sick and nervous, holding on anxiously 
               as the "Fascinatin' Rhythm" moves slowly ahead trolling at 
               night. His glasses are already flecked with the white salt 
               of dried seawater. He is wearing a life-preserver.

               Hooper is at the wheel, a chart spread in front of him, his 
               eyes scanning the sea restlessly, checking the dials and 
               gauges in front of him as well as the electronic depth-finding 
               and "fish-finder" gear mounted in the cockpit. A green glow 
               shines from the instruments on his face. Two closed-circuit 
               TV cameras mounted below the hull flash their pictures onto 
               monitors in the dash.

               In the aisle between the seats is a large container filled 
               with unpleasant-looking bait; Hooper is long-lining for signs 
               of shark, and chumming.

                                     HOOPER
                              (indicating distant 
                              flashing beacon)
                         That's the Cape Light -- we're on 
                         the stretch where he's feeding, if 
                         he's still here.

               Brody, bored, tired, and slightly queasy, is trying to 
               concentrate on anything but the motion of the boat. He stares 
               at the sophisticated electronics displays.

                                     BRODY
                         What is all this stuff?

                                     HOOPER
                              (ticking them off)
                         Depth-finder, fathometer, sonar, 
                         closed-circuit TV -- fore and aft -- 
                         RDF, single side band...
                              (points to themselves)
                         And two loose nuts behind the wheel.

                                     BRODY
                         Can you tell from that if a big man-
                         eater is around?

                                     HOOPER
                         Sometimes.
                              (indicates display)
                         Look here -- something big, probably 
                         a school of mackerel clumped together. 
                         And staying right with us.

               INSERT - ELECTRONICS SCREEN

               It's blipping and peeping.

               CLOSE ON THE TWO MEN

                                     BRODY
                         Where'd you get all this?

                                     HOOPER
                         I Bought it.  Both sets of 
                         grandparents set up trust funds for 
                         me; stocks went up, so I don't have 
                         to touch my principal.

                                     BRODY
                         You're at the Institute full time? 
                         Or do you have a job?

                                     HOOPER
                              (a nerve has been 
                              touched)
                         It is a job. I'm not fooling around 
                         like some amateur. It's my life!

                                     BRODY
                         We gotta get back soon...

               WIDE ON THE "FASCINATIN' RHYTHM" AS IT SWINGS AROUND

               The two men looking very small and vulnerable in the open 
               sea, the low-hanging mist obscuring their visibility in the 
               night.

               CLOSE ON BRODY

               He hears something, his eyes widen. It is the "bump-thump" 
               of something scraping the hull.

                                     BRODY
                         Hey!

               Hooper looks up and cuts the wheel hard, as the same time 
               dropping the engines into neutral, and then reverse. The 
               sudden change throws Brody to his knees.

                                     BRODY
                         What the hell?

               ANGLE FROM HOOPER'S BOAT: GARDNER'S BOAT "FLICKA" AWASH AND 
               FLOATING DEAD IN THE SEA

               It's what they've just run into -- flooded to the gunwales, 
               loose debris floating around, a tangle of lines and gear 
               looking like floating garbage in the cockpit. Hooper's light 
               sweeps across it.

                                     BRODY
                         That's Ben Gardner's boat! It's the 
                         Flicka! Ben? Ben!

               Hooper cuts his engines and drifts in; he scampers out to 
               the bow of his boat and makes a line fast to the Flicka.

               INSIDE THE COCKPIT OF HOOPER'S BOAT

               The electronic display is showing increased activity, but 
               only Brody, who is clinging to a support for dear life, can 
               see the blips and hear the chatter. Hooper is leaning out to 
               look at the Flicka.

               THE TWO BOATS

               Hooper is examining the Flicka, tying a towline to it.

               INSERT HIS POINT OF VIEW

               The light picks its way across the ruined boat. The rail 
               where a cleat once was is broadly scarred down to the raw 
               timber, and the heady cleat has been torn bodily out of the 
               hull, ripped out screws and all.

               HOOPER'S BOAT

               Something he has seen moves Hooper.

                                     BRODY
                         What happened?

                                     HOOPER
                         I want to check something. Hold my 
                         feet.

               He sticks his head over the side, into the black water.

                                     BRODY
                         Don't they have lifejackets or 
                         something? An extra boat?

                                     HOOPER
                              (surfacing)
                         They must've hit something.

               INSERT, ELECTRONICS DISPLAY

               Blip, chatter, blip, chatter.

               BRODY AND HOOPER

               Hooper moves to get a better look, the boat rocks in the 
               swell and from his movement, Brody clutches the rail in a 
               death-grip.

               Hooper goes below decks, getting into his wet suit, buckling 
               on a weighted belt, holding a mask and hot flashlight.

                                     HOOPER
                         He didn't have a dinghy aboard. I'm 
                         going down to take a look at his 
                         hull.

                                     BRODY
                         Why don't we just tow it in?

                                     HOOPER
                              (hyperventilating)
                         We will. There's something I've got 
                         to find out.

                                     BRODY
                         Be careful, for chrissake.

               Hooper takes a last few breaths, orients himself, takes a 
               long, hard look at the quiet, open ocean, and falls into the 
               sea.

               CLOSE ON BRODY

               He is studying the surface, trying to follow Hooper's 
               movements. Brody is forcing himself to stay at the edge of 
               the boat by sheer willpower and grim determination. Brody is 
               fascinated by the sea like a bird facing a cobra. He is very 
               much alone. He grasps a flashlight or boathook as a fragile 
               defense against the unknown.

               PAST BRODY'S BACK TO THE ELECTRONICS

               Beep, chatter, blip.

               UNDERWATER SEQUENCE - HOOPER

               Hooper descends in a froth of bubbles. Warily he turns a 
               full circle with his hotlight. At first we see nothing out 
               of place about the Flicka except that it is lying so low in 
               the water. But as Hooper travels the bottom looking for 
               damage, he comes across a jagged hole two-thirds of the way 
               forward.

               The hole is about the size of a basketball, and the wood 
               around it has been bashed and splintered. Hooper explores 
               the hole with his hands, then takes the knife from its sheath 
               and begins to dig at something. Whatever it is comes free in 
               his hand. As he studies his find, his light wanders upward, 
               pointing directly into the dark hole. Hooper looks up...

               CLOSE - HOLE

               Ben Gardner's dead face stares out through the hole in the 
               Flicka, eyes and mouth gaping in frozen horror, his skin 
               pinched like a prune.

               CLOSE - HOOPER

               bumps his head in trying to get away, seems to yell through 
               escaping bubbles. We hear the gasping shout as a bubbling 
               roar in the ears. His mask fills with water as he flails for 
               the surface. Miscalculating, he bumps into the hull of his 
               own boat, shocked, dismayed, his system jangling with 
               adrenaline shock, his hands open, and the object he pried 
               loose from the hull drifts down and out, falling into the 
               eternity of the ocean bottom. He finally bursts through the 
               surface.

               END OF UNDERWATER SEQUENCE

               THE BOAT, HOOPER EMERGING FROM THE WATER

               He is gasping for breath, his whole body vibrating with 
               urgency. The salt water in his lungs combines with the 
               adrenaline in his blood to deprive him of speech.

                                     BRODY
                         You all right?

                                     HOOPER
                         A White! A Great White, I found a 
                         tooth buried in the hull. He must've 
                         attacked... I knew it... Gardner's 
                         dead in there. I didn't see the 
                         mate...

                                     BRODY
                         No shark did that to a boat!

               Hooper, despite his shock and surprise, is strangely elated, 
               almost giddy with the wonder of his discovery.

                                     HOOPER
                         Jesus Christ! A Great White! Who'd 
                         believe it! We're not talking about 
                         a shark, we're talking about a Shark!

               Brody sinks weakly into a chair. Brody huddles in the stern, 
               Hooper kicks the engine in with a roar, and still a-shiver 
               with excitement, turns the boat and its grim tow back to 
               port.

               EXT. ISLAND HIGHWAY - THE BILLBOARD - DAY

               Next to the "Amity Welcomes You" billboard is a group of 
               selectmen, Vaughn, Meadows, Hendricks, and another deputy 
               standing by with paint and brushes. Brody's wagon is there, 
               along with a few other cars. Busy late afternoon traffic is 
               starting to pile up as early weekenders and curiosity seekers 
               slow down to see what's happening.

               Behind the billboard, Brody and Hooper have gotten Vaughn to 
               one side. They are making a closely reasoned presentation to 
               him.

                                     BRODY
                         There is a kind of shark called a 
                         Great White Shark that every expert 
                         in the world agrees is a maneater.

                                     HOOPER
                         You're situation here suggests that 
                         a Great White has staked out a claim 
                         in the waters around Amity Island, 
                         and that he will continue to feed 
                         here as long as there is food in the 
                         water.

                                     BRODY
                         There's no limits to where he can 
                         strike, and we've had three attacks 
                         and two deaths in the past few days. 
                         It happened like this before, in 
                         1916, when a Great White killed five 
                         swimmers at Jones Beach, in Long 
                         Island.

                                     HOOPER
                         A shark's attack is stimulated by 
                         the kind of splashing and activity 
                         that occurs whenever humans go 
                         swimming -- you can't avoid it!

                                     BRODY
                         A 4th of July beach is like ringing 
                         a dinner bell, for Chrissake!

                                     HOOPER
                         I just pulled a shark tooth the size 
                         of a shot glass out of the hull of a 
                         wrecked boat out there.

                                     BRODY
                         We towed Ben Gardner's boat in, Larry; 
                         he was dead and his boat was all 
                         chewed up.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Is that tooth here? Did anyone see 
                         it?

                         HOOPER
                 I don't have it.

                                                       BRODY
                                               He lost it on the way up.

                                     VAUGHN
                         What kind of a shark did you say it 
                         was?

                                     HOOPER
                         Carcaradon carcharias. A Great White.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Well, I'm not going to commit economic 
                         suicide on that flimsy evidence. We 
                         depend on the summer people for our 
                         lives, and if our beaches are closed, 
                         then we're all finished.

                                     BRODY
                         We have got to close the beaches. We 
                         have got to get someone to kill the 
                         shark, we need non-corrosive mesh 
                         netting, we need scientific support... 
                         It's gonna cost money just to keep 
                         the nuts out and save what we have.

                                     VAUGHN
                         I don't thing either of you is 
                         familiar with our problems...

                                     HOOPER
                         I'm familiar with the fact that you 
                         are going to ignore this thing until 
                         it swims up and bites you on the 
                         ass! There are only two ways to solve 
                         this thing: you can kill it, or you 
                         can cut off its food supply...

                                     BRODY
                         That means closing the beaches.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Come here, I want to show you 
                         something.

               He leads Brody around to the front of the billboard, on which 
               we see that some pranksters have painted a huge shark fin in 
               the water behind the swimmer, so she looks now like a frantic 
               bather fleeing a pursuing monster.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Sick vandalism! Brody, that's a 
                         deliberate mutilation of a public 
                         service message! I want those little 
                         paint-happy bastards caught and hung 
                         up by their baby Buster Browns!

                                     HOOPER
                              (who has followed 
                              them around)
                         That's it! I'm standing here arguing 
                         with a guy who can't wait to be a 
                         hot lunch. Goodbye.

                                     BRODY
                         Wait a minute! I need you.

                                     HOOPER
                         Out there is a Perfect Engine, an 
                         Eating Machine that is a miracle of 
                         evolution -- it swims and eats and 
                         that's all. Look at that! Those 
                         proportions are correct.
                              (indicates fin)
                         I know sharks.

                                     VAUGHN
                         You'd love to prove that. Getting 
                         your name in the National Geographic.

                                     BRODY
                         Larry, we can re-open the beaches in 
                         August.

                                     VAUGHN
                         August! Tomorrow is the 4th of July, 
                         and we are going to open for business.  
                         It's going to be our best summer in 
                         years. If you're so concerned about 
                         the beaches, you two, you do whatever 
                         you have to to keep them safe, but 
                         with you or without you, the beaches 
                         stay open this weekend.

               INT. FERRY BOAT - DAY

               Two cavernous iron doors. Then a crack of vertical light as 
               six burly crewmen muscle them apart. The Amity ferry landing 
               is approaching, people in colorful outfits waiting dockside 
               for the first filled-to-capacity shuttle of the summer season 
               and --

               Bach's Little Fugue is the musical accompaniment to this 
               wholly visual montage of disembarkation. The next two minutes 
               should be treated like a "short film" taking into account 
               all of the colors, episodes, faces and behavior of a variety 
               of Americans who colonize Eastern resort communities for the 
               ninety-day season.

               Intercut with this montage is Brody's home, where Ellen, 
               Hooper and Brody are in sweaty, gritty all-out effort to 
               enlist some support. Elements in this montage include:

               A.  A train of cars trundling down the ramp, bumper to bumper.

               B.  Young Beautiful People from Princeton, Yale, NYU, wearing 
               knapsacks, toting luggage, babies riding in papoose rigs, 
               energized children, senior citizens holding hands on the 
               pedestrian ramp, a few wheelchairs.

               C.  Hooper, bent over the phone: "I know it's a long weekend, 
               could you get me his home phone number?

               D.  Sidewalk vendors hawking "Shark Killed" souvenirs, big 
               photo "Personality Posters" of the dead tiger shark hung on 
               the dock.

               E.  Brody: "You're acting senior officer? Where's Chief Petty 
               Officer Feldman? Where's the Coast Guard Executive Officer?"

               F.  Souvenir stands selling Genuine Sharks Teeth from The 
               Amity Killer Shark, Captured This Week.

               G.  Amity Cab Company, small blue Toyotas lined up with their 
               college student drivers like a bomber wing.

               H.  Hooper:  "Well then, operator, could you try him in the 
               dining room?"

               I.  Brody: "All I get is a recording. Is there some other 
               number I could try...?"

               J.  Station wagons with pale winter faces pressed anxiously 
               to the window. Cadillacs with Rear Admirals at the helm, 
               their wives with blue hair remembering the way from years 
               before.

               K.  Hooper: "When did he check out? Did he leave another 
               phone number?"

               L.  Brody: "How can I reach him in Chambers if he's not in 
               Chambers?"

               M.  Little Karate Hands breaking picket fences.

               N.  Some local delinquents about 10 or 12 years old, towing 
               behind their bicycles a little dead sand shark with signs: 
               "Amity Monster Shark." "Killed Here." 5 Cents a Hit." Etc.

               Then six blonde and tanned Coney Island meatballs descend 
               the ramp. They all wear Men's Club Lifeguard patches and 
               matching collegiate windbreakers. They scour the landing, 
               looking for someone to save.

               The boat is empty. Everybody heading inland, anticipating 
               the best Fourth of July ever. Already there is debris on the 
               docks and the cleaning crew works away at it.

               INSIDE THE FERRY

               As Bach's Little Fugue ends, the six burly crewmen lean their 
               combined weight against the Cathedral doors, closing out the 
               light and locking in the trade. The doors latch shut with a 
               resounding clang!

               ANGLE ON BRODY, NERVOUSLY WATCHING THE BEACH

               He is studying everything, trying to make sure he has it 
               covered as well as possible. He almost doesn't hear the 
               approaching roar of a small helicopter until it settles down 
               behind him, and a Flying Officer gets out, starched, pressed 
               fatigues, a flawless fatigue baseball cap, and slick dark 
               aviator's sunglasses. The Steve Canyon of Amity. He presents 
               Brody with a clipboard.

                                     OFFICER
                         Martin Brody?
                              (Brody nods)
                         I'll need your signature here... 
                         here... and here.

                                     BRODY
                         What is this?

                                     OFFICER
                         Authorization for direct payment of 
                         flight expenses not directly connected 
                         to a normal mission of this command.
                              (Brody doesn't 
                              understand)
                         You pay for the gas.

               Brody signs. The Officer shakes his head as Brody makes an 
               error.

                                     BRODY
                         I signed on the wrong line...

                                     OFFICER
                         Just erase your signature and initial 
                         your erasure.

               Brody complies, shaking his head. The Officer snaps him a 
               salute, jogs lightly back to his idling copter, buckles in, 
               and gives Brody a "thumbs up" as he lifts off in a flurry of 
               sand and ice-cream wrappers.

               EXT. BEACH PARKING LOT - EARLY MORNING

               And this is it -- the Dawn Patrol, the only forces that the 
               frantic phone calling produced. Hendricks, and the regular 
               summer extra deputies. The lifeguards. Half a dozen state 
               troopers. Some deputies from neighboring towns, and a Coast 
               Guard ensign with a handful of regulars in work dungarees.

               Some of Hooper's friends from the institute.

               Brody and Hooper, badly in need of sleep, are watching the 
               crew straggle in. Already the first of the holiday beach-
               goers are piling out of their cars in a brightly colored 
               cascade of beach balls, umbrellas, blankets, portable bar-b-
               ques, radios, sun visors, reflectors, rafts, balls, tubes, 
               and newspapers.

               Hooper watches one such group: A Family of Ten getting out 
               of a camper-van. He watches in dismay as the family bumbles 
               onto the beach for a day of fun in the sun.

               Brody addresses his troops, such as they are.

                                     BRODY
                         I want to thank you guys from local 
                         agencies for cooperating, and I hope 
                         we won't actually be needing your 
                         services. But I'm glad to have you 
                         here.

               The Men ad lib responses: "Happy to do it," "Any time," 
               "When's lunch?" "I hate holidays," etc.

                                     ENSIGN
                         I want to get our lines and repellent 
                         out, so we better shove off.

               He nods to his men, who head for some Boston Whalers (or 
               similar boat with surf-riding capability) and push off into 
               the surf to patrol the swimming areas.

                                     BRODY
                              (a last caution)
                         We're all on one channel, so let's 
                         keep radio traffic to a minimum, 
                         okay?

               Everyone kind of nods acknowledgment.

                                     HOOPER
                         I hope we get some more help.

                                     BRODY
                         I wish it would rain...

               EXT. BEACH - AMUSEMENT AREA - CLOSE OF SHARK MACHINE

               In a shed near the bandstand, a half-dozen pinball and arcade 
               machines sucking quarters from holiday beach-goers. A 
               mechanical shark traverses the screen, is hit with an electric 
               harpoon and red "blood" blossoms from its side, indicating a 
               hit.

               Sounds of electronic gadgetry, people having fun. Meadows is 
               there writing it all up for the paper. A move away from the 
               screen of this particular machine reveals the arcade, the 
               parking lot, and, finally, the beginnings of the panorama of 
               the beach that July 4th has created.

               EXT. SOUTH BEACH - THE FOURTH OF JULY

               four foot surfer's swell curls and crashes on shore, 
               riderless. The broad sandy beach is a mosaic of summer color 
               as one thousand vacationers practice fun in the sun, but not 
               in the water. Hot dog stands and ice cream vendors are 
               everywhere.

               ANGLE - LIFEGUARD STATIONS

               A half-dozen lookout lofts. As many handsome lifeguards with 
               Walkie-Talkies strapped to their trunks and loud-hailers at 
               arm's reach. Bored, two of the hot dogs train their binoculars 
               on some local color.

               ANGLE ON TV MOBILE UNIT

               A TV Mobile Unit Van is setting up: cables snaking to cameras, 
               a camera with a big sports zoom sitting on the platform atop 
               the truck, a spiffy announcer-type in a blazer with his 
               station's call letters on the pocket. Inside the darkened 
               control room, we can see the pale blue squares of monitors 
               in a mosaic against one wall, facing the switcher.

               AT SEA

               Hooper is methodically patrolling in his boat. Tactically 
               flanking a three-hundred-yard apron of black repellent are 
               four small watch-boats. A tiny pleasure boat darts around 
               the repellent line. Farther out, crossing back and forth, 
               are patrol boats. To top it all off, a Coast Guard helicopter 
               hovers and patrols three hundred feet above.

               INT. TELEVISION MOBILE UNIT

               At least eight monitors, reflecting the outputs of three 
               cameras and two tape machines, as well as line, preview, and 
               effects monitors.

               MONITOR: CAMERA 1: Holding on a group of happy citizen-bathers 
               as they unpack their gear, wave to camera, run into the water.

               MONITOR: CAMERA 2: The Repellent Line, set in place by Coast 
               Guardsmen in small boats, setting out floats, dumping 
               repellent into the ocean.

               MONITOR: CAMERA 3: Close on the Bandstand, where Amity's 
               band is playing lilting patriotic airs.

               After we've seen this activity, we can take a look at what's 
               going on: the preparation of the tape segment for the six 
               o'clock news.

                                     TV DIRECTOR
                         Put 1 on the line. In five. 4. 3. 2. 
                         1. Roll.

               On the "Tape 1" and "Line" monitors, we see Vaughn being 
               interviewed by the Announcer in the blazer.

                                     ANNOUNCER
                         ...and with me is the Mayor of Amity, 
                         Lawrence Vaughn. Mr. Vaughn, how 
                         about those rumors?

                                     VAUGHN
                         How about them indeed. I'm pleased 
                         and happy to repeat the news that we 
                         have, in fact, caught and killed a 
                         large predator that supposedly injured 
                         some bathers here. As you can see, 
                         it's a beautiful day, the beaches 
                         are open, and the folks here are 
                         having a wonderful time. Amity, 
                         y'know, means 'Friendship.'

               MONITOR: CAMERA 1: As Vaughn speaks to us on the monitors, 
               the monitor for Camera 1 pans over to show a Sightseeing Bus 
               pull up in the parking area, and a horde of media vultures 
               spilling out, carrying cameras with long lenses and tripods, 
               telescopes, sunshades and parasols, all the equipment of the 
               curious and none of the equipment of the holiday bather or 
               swimmer.

               TAPE 1 AND LINE MONITORS: Close on the Announcer, Vaughn out 
               of the picture.

                                     ANNOUNCER
                         Also here today is a Marine Biologist 
                         and Research Fellow from the 
                         Oceanographic Institute, Matthew 
                         Hooper. Mr. Hooper, what've you heard?

                                     HOOPER
                         What I've heard and what I've seen 
                         are two different things. I believe 
                         there is a large Great White Shark -- 
                         Carcharodon Cacharias - in the waters 
                         off this very beach, that he has 
                         killed and that he will kill again...

               Hooper's voice fades off as someone at the mixer panel dials 
               his mike off, and brings up the Announcer's lavalier.

                                     ANNOUNCER
                              (moving into center 
                              frame)
                         And there you have it -- two different 
                         opinions, by men of good will. The 
                         holiday crowd here at Amity seems to 
                         be making up its own mind...

               The camera pans off him to a happy family headed for the 
               beach.

               MONITOR: CAMERA 3: Zooms in on the puffing face of the tuba 
               player.

               MONITOR: CAMERA 2: Brody and the Announcer.

               MONITOR: TAPE 1 and LINE: Back on the Announcer, his lips 
               moving, but his sound turned off. We hear, instead, the sound 
               from Monitor Camera 2, Brody and the same Announcer.

                                     BRODY
                         I'm sorry, I just don't have the 
                         time.

                                     TV DIRECTOR
                         Recue the machines. 2, pan off the 
                         Chief and show me some tits and ass. 
                         1, get me some cute kids. 3... see 
                         if you got a shot at the water.

               MONITORS: CAMERAS 1, 2 and 3: The cameras seek out the 
               appropriate activity as the Director calls for it.

                                     ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
                              (holds up stopwatch)
                         Mayor, 43 seconds, Biologist 45 
                         seconds. That's equal time, right?

                                     DIRECTOR
                         Right.
                              (he presses "Talkback" 
                              button to his 
                              announcer)
                         Jerry, come on in and look at this.
                              (to his headset)
                         Roll 2. In five, 4. 3. 2. 1.

               TAPE 2 - MONITOR:

               Starts showing us the assembled interview segment we've just 
               seen, starting with the Announcer's opening remarks.

                                     ANNOUNCER (V.O. MONITOR)
                         Amity Island is famed for its clear 
                         air and white sand beaches. But a 
                         cloud appeared...

               His voice is dialed under as the Announcer himself appears 
               in the control room to watch himself on the monitors.

                                     ANNOUNCER (LIVE)
                         Look at that shine on my nose. It's 
                         a beacon.

                                     DIRECTOR
                         Close enough for remote.

               As Vaughn begins his spiel again, the other monitors show us 
               the action on the beach.

                                     VAUGHN (V.O.)
                         ...I'm pleased and happy...

                                     DIRECTOR
                         Think we ought to stick around?

                                     ANNOUNCER
                         What else you got?

                                     ASSISTANT DIRECTOR
                         Teachers' strike downtown.

                                     CAMERAMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
                         Christenson, this is Al. Union says 
                         time for Engineering Five.

                                     DIRECTOR
                         That's five minutes, guys. Coffee.

               ANGLE ON THE BEACH

               Vaughn is in his shirtsleeves, having slipped out of his 
               jacket.

               He mops his brow, and surveys the beachfront. At this moment, 
               there's nobody swimming. He approaches a familiar Selectman, 
               nods hello, and squats beside him on the sand.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Why don't you get in the water?

                                     SELECTMAN
                         I don't want to wash off my suntan 
                         lotion. I'll get a burn...

                                     VAUGHN
                              (some urgency)
                         Nobody's going in!

               On an adjoining blanket, a spirited Ruth Gordon type is 
               sitting, watching brightly as her manservant, a polished 
               Eric Harrison type, prepares some tea from a thermos.

                                     WOMAN
                         Is there nobody going in? What a 
                         shame. Arthur, should I be going in?

                                     ARTHUR (THE BUTLER)
                              (pouring tea)
                         If you'd like.

               He puts down the tea service, and leads her towards the water.

               At the edge of the sea, she stops, and he walks in.

                                     ARTHUR
                              (as he enters the 
                              waves)
                         It's very nice. Not too cold... Quite 
                         refreshing... Very pleasant....

               He ducks his head under for a final look around. His dripping 
               head rises triumphantly from the surf.

                                     ARTHUR
                         No sharks, m'lady.

               She starts into the water, he takes her parasol, escorting 
               her the rest of the way into the ocean.

                                     WOMAN
                         This is marvelous! Arthur, I want to 
                         come back to this very spot. Will 
                         you make a note of where we are?

               WIDE - ON THE BEACH

               Encouraged by the sight of the Woman and Arthur, and Vaughn's 
               quiet urgings, people begin to wander into the surf, a few 
               at first, and then a rush, as people plunge in and begin 
               enjoying the pleasures of ocean bathing. The Selectman goes 
               in, his family follows, Vaughn watches it all, beaming.

               BOAT #7

               Hendricks is on the radio while a Coast Guard spotter works 
               the sonar.

                                     HENDRICKS
                         Anything? Thought I saw a shadow. 
                         Over.

               Pan to the water.

               UNDERWATER

               As before, 400 pairs of enticing, yummy swimmers' legs, 
               kicking like animated hors d'oeuvres.

               INT. HELICOPTER - AERIAL VIEW

               A breathtaking view. The copter spotter looks down with naked 
               eye and binoculars.

                                     COPTER SPOTTER
                         Nothing from up here, Daisy. Over.

               CLOSE - HENDRICKS

                                     HENDRICKS
                              (into walkie-talkie)
                         False alarm. Must be this glare.

               ANGLE - BEACH - CLOSE ON BRODY

               He is walking down the beach, threading his way through the 
               happy hordes. Meadows nods "hello."

                                     VOICES
                         Who's scared to go in! I was in! Up 
                         to your knees, yeah -- So come with 
                         me -- I'll go again.

                                     MEADOWS
                         Beautiful day, Chief!

               A group of youngsters playing with Michael Brody's dinghy.

               They are hauling it toward the surf.

                                     BRODY
                         Hey Mikey -- !

               Michael turns as Brody trots toward him.

                                     BRODY
                         You're not going to the ocean with 
                         that, are you son?

                                     MICHAEL
                         I'm all checked out for light surf 
                         and look at it.

                                     BRODY
                         Do me this favor just once. Use the 
                         ponds.

                                     MICHAEL
                         Dad, the ponds are for old ladies.

                                     BRODY
                         Just a favor for your old man.

                                     MICHAEL
                              (confused)
                         Sure, Dad.

               TV CREW - NEAR WATER

               TV cameramen are packing up their gear. For them it's a wrap

               REPELLENT LINE - COUNTY POLICEMAN

               Suddenly his Walkie-Talkie fizzes, and the Copter Spotter's 
               voice overloads the speaker.

                                     COPTER SPOTTER
                         Copter to Daisy! Red Four, Red Four!

               BOAT #7 - HENDRICKS

               Guns are up, heads turning everywhere.

                                     HENDRICKS
                              (into walkie-talkie)
                         Where -- ?

                                     COPTER SPOTTER
                         Went under your -- There!

               The Coast Guard sonar operator spots it and pales. A slick 
               black dorsal fin is slicing a wake toward the swimming area.

                                     SONAR OPERATOR
                         Jesus Christ -- Shark!

               BEACH - BRODY

               Rigid and choked, he almost breaks the "send" button trying 
               to transmit.

                                     BRODY
                         Everybody out! Out of the water, 
                         please -- leave the water, please --

               A lifeguard in a loft behind him begins blowing on his 
               whistle.

               CLOSE - BRODY

               shouting hysterically.

                                     BRODY
                         No whistles! No whistles!

               THE BEACH

               Dozens of bathers halfway out of the water, turn to see. 
               More whistles, and they start toward shore. We hear panicky 
               voices ad-libbing; "Shark," "Look Out," etc. The loudhailers 
               sounding more urgent now, and a contagious dread seizes one 
               person after another. Entire groups of people begin pulling 
               toward shore, some of them obviously trying to control a 
               growing hysteria in others.

               BOATS #6 AND #7

               are converging, heading toward the repellent line as if 
               tracking an underwater shadow. The fin is beyond the repellent 
               cordons and heading into the crowds.

               HOOPER'S BOAT

               Caught on the other end of the line, he is wheeling in a 
               broad, hot-dogger's circle turn, headed back.

               THE WATER - BATHERS

               People begin screaming. Kids are suddenly separated from 
               their parents. Others seem to forget how to swim. One myopic 
               little girl has her glasses bumped off and she begins to cry 
               in blinded panic. Ellen Brody looks around frantic.

               BOATS #2, #3, #4

               The riflemen in the boats are trying to get a bead, but too 
               many civilians create a hazard. The Coast Guardsmen attempt 
               to sever the repellent cord to gain access to the bathing 
               area and the heaving fin.

               THE WATER - BATHERS

               This is a confirmation of our worst dread -- a full-blown 
               headlong water panic. Screaming vacationers claw their way 
               over the bodies of the less able. Some literally attempt to 
               walk over the bobbing heads and glistening backs of others 
               pulling for dry land.

               CLOSEUPS - PANIC

               Horrified faces. Some are stunned and wandering in slow, 
               tentative circles, while others are helped out by friends.

               Five people try to mount a rubber raft.

               Ugly reminders that each of us is Number One.

               Brody enters shot, yelling into his walkie-talkie, someone 
               charges past him to help an old man out of the water.

               EXT. THE BEACH

               Dragging the helpless from the surf. Tears well in Brody's 
               eyes. The screaming is deafening. The TV unit is hopping up 
               and down in rage and frustration.

                                     TV DIRECTOR
                         Why did we wrap? Get that! Somebody 
                         get that!

               One thousand survivors pack the beach, standing absolutely 
               still. A numbing cold sets in, and people shiver against 
               each other.

               Muted sobs, whimpering, coughing.

               The six burly lifeguards huddle together like Cub Scouts.

               ANGLE - BATHING AREA

               The monstrous black fin turns a slow circle as two Coast 
               Guardsmen manage to cut their own repellent line. All boats 
               converge on the dynamic fin. Men raise their guns to fire. 
               Others adlib nautical commands in a uniquely calculated 
               fashion.

               CLOSE - FIN

               It slips sideways, revealing for the first time a tiny blue 
               snorkel. Then appears the faces of two youngsters whom we 
               will recall from the coven behind the dune. The fin bobs 
               back, a beaverboard replica attached to a partially submerged 
               surfboard. One youngster looks up and is greeted by:

               YOUNGSTER'S POINT OF VIEW

               Twenty rifles and shotguns pointed directly at him. 
               Surrounding him on three sides. Some of the policemen start 
               to lower their guns -- struck dumb.

               HOOPER IN HIS BOAT

               He throttles back suddenly, subsiding into his own wake, his 
               eyes still restlessly searching.

               CLOSE - YOUNGSTER

               his only defense, he begins to cry -- and feebly raises his 
               hands in unconditional surrender.

               ANGLE - ESTUARY

               The narrow estuary leading into the half-mile is rough today.

               Two children digging in the sand and unaware of the beach 
               panic one hundred yards away look up, and the little girl 
               points.

               BLACK DORSAL FIN

               is cruising through the narrows and toward the busy pond.

               HOOPER IN HIS BOAT AGAIN

               He sees it, and jams his throttle forward. He steers with 
               one hand, fumbling urgently for his walkie-talkie with the 
               other.

               AERIAL VIEW

               The circle of boats around the little pranksters, the crowds 
               huddled on the beach, Hooper's boat suddenly arrowing towards 
               the estuary, leaving a huge boiling wake.

               CLOSE ON VAUGHN

               He catches Hooper's boat out of the corner of his eye. 
               Curious, he follows its progress. It's urgency finally 
               communicates itself to Vaughn, who begins a shambling trot 
               across the dunes towards a rise overlooking the estuary.

               OVERLOOKING THE ESTUARY

               Vaughn gets there just in time to see the disaster. He 
               watches, helpless, trying to shout, out of breath. Stunned.

               ANGLE - POND

               Michael is tacking full-sail in his boat with a friend, Kit.

               Kit is admiring the shark's tooth necklace around his own 
               neck while Michael rubs some water on the scratches left by 
               it.

               The fin, huge, black and real, crosses behind them. They are 
               not yet aware. The fin seems to circle and return. It heads 
               toward Michael's boat when another small dinghy gets in its 
               way -- a weekend novice just finishing a thermos of coffee 
               when he is "bumped." The entire boat is overturned. Michael 
               sees the fin now as it collides with him, the entire bow 
               lifting out of the water and rolling over on the port side.

               Michael and Kit are thrown head first.

               Three heads in the water come up sputtering, the fin between 
               them crossing back. Michael freezes. The fin comes directly 
               at him, growing into the sky, passing him so close he could 
               touch it, but ignoring him as it follows the flailing and 
               panicked weekend novice. Catches him. Michael watches. That 
               all too familiar explosion of water -- a choked off scream -- 
               the head and upper torso of the novice passing Michael swiftly 
               as though being carried off -- a current of blood trailing 
               behind.

                                     THE VICTIM
                              (passing a horrified 
                              Michael, who half 
                              extends one hand, as 
                              if to help)
                         It's no good. I'm dead...
                              (and he is)

               A renewed cry of shark!

               CLOSE - BRODY

               He turns. Oh God! Running through the slogging sand.

               CLOSE - ELLEN

               A sudden turn. She runs.

               CLOSE - HOOPER IN BOAT

               He's got the walkie-talkie to his mouth.

                                     HOOPER
                         Block the estuary! The estuary!

               Three boats racing to carry out the orders. The black fin re-
               passing the two children, racing to get out. Hooper reaches 
               the mouth before the others. The fin won't veer off. It smacks 
               into the little vessel, bumping it aside. The fin is left 
               racing into open water. Blood leavings. Hooper leaping over 
               the side, slogging towards Michael.

               WIDE ON WATER

               Copter roars in buzzing the shark, but too late.

               CLOSE - BRODY AND ELLEN

               They are pulling Michael out of the water as Hooper splashes 
               up. Michael is conscious but in shock -- his eyes staring at 
               nothing.

                                     BRODY
                              (feeling his face)
                         He's in shock. Get blankets!

               People gather and Brody snatches beach towels out of their 
               hands. They cover Michael and carry him off the beach, feet 
               raised above his head.

               INT. HOSPITAL - DAY

               Michael is wheeled out in the bed. Brody and Ellen are there.

               Sean is sleepy in Brody's arms. Vaughn is waiting in the 
               hall.

                                     NURSE
                         The doctor said it's okay -- mild 
                         shock. He can come home in the 
                         morning.

                                     ELLEN
                              (to Michael)
                         Hey, big guy -- you want anything 
                         from home?

                                     MICHAEL
                         My cars. And a comic book.

                                     BRODY
                              (sees Vaughn)
                         Here --
                              (gives baby to Ellen)
                         Take him home.

                                     ELLEN
                         Home... New York?

                                     BRODY
                         No. Home here.

               Ellen exits.

                                     BRODY
                              (crossing to Vaughn)
                         Got a pen on you?

                                     VAUGHN
                         Why?

                                     BRODY
                         There's only one thing you're good 
                         for anymore -- signing a damn voucher. 
                         Here. It's an authorization to employ 
                         a contractor.

                                     VAUGHN
                         I don't know if I can do that without 
                         a...

                                     BRODY
                              (interrupting)
                         I'm going to hire Quint to kill the 
                         fish. I want to see that shark dead.

                                     VAUGHN
                         Maybe we can save August...

                                     BRODY
                         Forget it. This summer's had it.
                         Next summer's had it. You're the 
                         mayor of Shark City. You wanted to 
                         keep the beaches open. What happens 
                         when the town finds out about that?

                                     VAUGHN
                         I was acting in the town's best 
                         interests...

                                     BRODY
                         The best interest in this town would 
                         be to see that fish belly-up in the 
                         water with a hole in his head. You 
                         do the right thing. You authorize 
                         me.
                              (indicates paper)
                         Right there. Whatever it costs.

                                     VAUGHN
                         My kids were on that beach...

                                     BRODY
                         Just sign it, Larry.

               Vaughn signs, and Brody takes the paper and exits.

               QUINT'S HOUSE - DAY

               Brody and Hooper are approaching Quint's house. They enter 
               through the big wooden doors, into another circle of Hell.

               Smoke and steam from two big oil drums sitting over fires 
               fills the air. Quint and his mate, Herschel, are grinding 
               pieces of pilot whale into chum. The whale lies bloody on 
               the floor, its ruined carcass adding to the stench of other 
               sharks being boiled in the drums, their tails suspended in 
               the air.

               Diesel fumes and decay fill the air, and tools, ropes, broken 
               bits of iron and engine parts litter the floor. Wall hangings 
               of rope and floats, and buoys, barrels, tackle and gear all 
               conspire to frame the killing floor.

               Brody and Hooper navigate the obstacle course.

                                     BRODY
                         This has got to be one big 
                         violation...

                                     HOOPER
                              (handling some gear)
                         This is quite a place.

                                     QUINT'S VOICE
                         Keep your hands off my stuff.

               He emerges from the steam and smoke.

                                     QUINT
                         Did you bring a check?

                                     BRODY
                         What?

                                     QUINT
                         Cash? Or do we do this on a handshake 
                         and a promise?

                                     BRODY
                         I'm authorized by the township of 
                         Amity to hire you as an independent 
                         contractor. We'll meet your price. 
                         $10,000.

                                     QUINT
                         And my regular daily rate -- $200, 
                         whether we catch him or not.

                                     BRODY
                         You got it.

                                     QUINT
                         And incidental damages, if any...

                                     BRODY
                         You got it.

                                     QUINT
                         And you get the Mayor off my back 
                         with this zoning crap. Nobody tells 
                         me how to run my property.

                                     BRODY
                         You got it.

                                     QUINT
                         And, uh, a case of apricot brandy 
                         and you buy the lunch.

                                     BRODY
                         Two cases. And dinner when you land.

                                     QUINT
                              (pours drink)
                         Try some of this. I made it myself.

               Brody tastes.

                                     QUINT
                         Here's to swimmin' with bowlegged 
                         women.

               Herschel interrupts. He's stopped working, and is wiping his 
               hands on a bloody rag.

                                     HERSCHEL
                         Mr. Quint...

               Quint wheels to face him.

                                     HERSCHEL
                         I'm not goin'. No sir.

                                     QUINT
                         You want to get paid, you go.

                                     HERSCHEL
                         Forget the money. You can't pay me 
                         enough. I ain't crazy. I worked some 
                         big mean fish with you, but I ain't 
                         goin' on this one.

                                     QUINT
                         This is the last time I hear from 
                         you. I don't want anyone with piss 
                         for blood on my vessel. Put that 
                         blackfish on board, pump the bilges, 
                         and top off the fuel tanks, and finish 
                         up in the morning. Then you're on 
                         the beach.

                                     HOOPER
                         You're going to need an extra hand...

               Quint turns to see this new voice, and starts walking towards 
               him.

                                     BRODY
                         This is Matt Hooper...

                                     QUINT
                         I know who he is...

                                     BRODY
                         He's from the Oceanographic Institute.

                                     HOOPER
                         I've been to sea since I was 12. 
                         I've crewed three Trans-pacs --

                                     QUINT
                         Transplants?

                                     HOOPER
                         -- and an America's Cup Trials...

                                     QUINT
                         I'm not talking about day sailing or 
                         pleasure boating. I'm talking about 
                         working for a living. Sharking.

                                     HOOPER
                         And I'm not talking about hooking 
                         some poor dogfish or sand shark. I'm 
                         talking about a Great White.

                                     QUINT
                         Are you now. I know about porkers in 
                         the water --
                              (throws him some rope)
                         Here. Tie me a sheepshank.

               Hooper ties the knot effortlessly.

                                     HOOPER
                         I don't need to pass basic seamanship.

                                     QUINT
                         Let me see your hands...

               He takes Hooper's hands in his own big bloody fists, and 
               feels them as he talks.

                                     QUINT
                         Ha. City hands. You been counting 
                         money. If you had a $5000 net and 
                         $2000 worth of fish in it, and along 
                         comes Mr. White, and makes it look 
                         like a kiddy scissors class has gone 
                         to work on it and made paper dolls. 
                         If you'd ever worked for a living, 
                         you'd know what that means.

                                     HOOPER
                         Look, I don't need to hear any of 
                         this working class hero crap. Some 
                         party boat skipper who's killed a 
                         few sharks...

                                     BRODY
                              (interrupting)
                         Hey. Knock it off. I don't want to 
                         have to listen to this while we're 
                         out there...

                                     QUINT
                         What do you mean 'We...?'

                                     BRODY
                         It's my charter. My party.

                                     QUINT
                         All right, Commissioner. But when 
                         we're on my ship, I am Master, Mate 
                         and Pilot. And I want him...
                              (indicates Hooper)
                         ...along for ballast.

                                     BRODY
                         You got it.

               EXT. QUINT'S DOCK - MORNING

               The Mate is loading. He hands Quint the items on his check 
               list as Quint takes them aboard.

                                     QUINT
                         5 lengths of 1/2-inch, 20 number 
                         14's, straight gaff, flying gaffs, 
                         tail rope, eye splice, M-1, 20 clips, 
                         pliers, irons...

               As he talks, we see Hooper coming down to the dock. Wheeling 
               a wagon behind him are two long-haired Research Assistants 
               from the Institute. On the wagon, among other things, is a 
               big shark cage. At dockside, Hooper checks his list, as he 
               signs for his issue.

                                     HOOPER
                         Powerhead, CO2 darts, hypo, regulator, 
                         tanks, depth gauge, camera, extra 
                         magazines, cage...

               CLOSE - ON HOOPER AND RESEARCH ASSISTANT

                                     ASSISTANT
                         You got everything you asked for?

                                     HOOPER
                         All of it. And thank Dr. Miro for 
                         me. And tell Borack I'll catch up 
                         with them in New Zealand.

                                     ASSISTANT
                         This is actually a killing expedition?

                                     HOOPER
                         An eye for an eye, you know.

                                     QUINT
                         Hey, Squirt! You want to stow this 
                         gear or you want me to use it for 
                         ballast? It ain't good for much but 
                         bait.

                                     HOOPER
                              (to Assistant)
                         I'll see ya. Tell Dorothy hello.

               Hooper sees his gear approaching.

               ANGLE ON DOCK AND ORCA

               Quint sees Hooper approaching with the large cage.

                                     QUINT
                         Hello, Junior. What are you? Some 
                         kind of half-assed astronaut?
                              (to himself)
                         Jesus Christ, when I was a kid, every 
                         little squirt wanted to be a harpooner 
                         or a sword fisherman. What d'ya have 
                         there -- a portable shower?

                                     HOOPER
                         Anti-Shark cage.

                                     QUINT
                         Who's inside, you or the shark?

               Hooper indicates "me."

                                     QUINT
                         You're in the cage?
                              (Hooper nods)
                         The cage is in the water?
                              (Hooper nods)
                         The shark is in the water too?
                              (Hooper nods)
                         You're in the water with the shark.

               Hooper nods. Quint sings "Spanish Ladies" half to himself.

                                     HOOPER
                         Comin' aboard...

               ANGLE ON DOCK, BRODY AND ELLEN APPROACHING

               She's carrying a little plastic shopping bag, he's wearing 
               shiny new foul weather gear, bundled up, sweaty, 
               uncomfortable.

               She gives him as good a hug as she can manage under the 
               circumstances.

                                     ELLEN
                         Did you take your dramamine?
                              (Brody nods)
                         Here.

               She straightens his coat, and gives him a shaving kit to 
               carry aboard with his toiletries. From the deck, Quint 
               whistles derisively.

                                     QUINT
                         Hurry up, Chief, daylight's a wastin'.

                                     ELLEN
                         Is that him?

                                     BRODY
                              (to Ellen)
                         Colorful, isn't he?

                                     ELLEN
                         You going to be all right?

                                     BRODY
                         Nothing to worry about -- I'll survive 
                         this.

                                     ELLEN
                         I'll see you back soon. There's an 
                         extra pair of glasses in your black 
                         socks, and there's some suntan lotion 
                         and blistex in your kit.

               Brody nods, and holds her hand for a wordless moment.

                                     QUINT (O.S.)
                              (sings)
                         'Here is the body of Mary Lee. For 
                         15 years she kept her virginity. Not 
                         a bad record for this vicinity.'

               There is a sputter and roar as the Orca's diesels kick on.

                                     BRODY
                         Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum.

                                     ELLEN
                              (hugging him)
                         What'll I tell the kids?

                                     BRODY
                         Tell 'em I went fishin'!

               They laugh together, and exchange a short, fierce kiss.

                                     QUINT
                         Cast off the bow line! Now your stern!

               Its diesels chugging, the Orca pulls away from the pier.

               Ellen has already resolutely turned her back on it, and is 
               walking off the dock back onto dry land.

               ABOARD THE ORCA

               Quint has set a course out towards the open sea. He lashes 
               the wheel, and jumps down to address Hooper and Brody, who 
               are standing together in the stern.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Front-Bow, Back-Stern, Port, 
                         Starboard. Aloft, Below. It's not a 
                         staircase, it's a ladder, it's not a 
                         rope, it's a line, and if you don't 
                         get it right...
                              (indicates porthole)
                         I'll throw your ass through that 
                         little round window.

               He laughs at his joke. This is probably something he tells 
               all his charters.

                                     QUINT
                         Now hear this. You're aboard the 
                         fishing vessel 'Orca,' and I'm her 
                         Captain, Master, Mate, and Owner. 
                         You'll jump when I holler. We're 
                         doin' a job here, and Christ, I ain't 
                         got time to watch you birds get hooks 
                         in your ass and fall overboard. Ship 
                         with me, and you'll do all right. 
                         Cross me, and I'll slap you upside 
                         your heads. Now -- if you boys are 
                         ready -- let's go fishin'.

               He starts moving gear around, preparing chum barrels, setting 
               hooks, Hooper gives him a hand, Brody stays out of the way.

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               EXT. THE OCEAN - NOON

               It is quiet as the Orca drifts along in the current, a wide 
               chum slick spreading behind it. A couple of flag buoys spread 
               along our perspective show us the miles the boat has gone.

               Quint spots something in the water -- a small blue shark 
               attracted by the chum. He rigs a small pole with a piece of 
               bait, and throws it over the side.

                                     QUINT
                         Here's something for you...

               The shark takes the bait, Quint brutally and efficiently 
               sets the hook, and reels the shark alongside. He hauls it 
               part way out of the water, and sticks it with a gaff. Hooper 
               and Brody watch.

               INSERT - SHARK WRIGGLING ON HOOK

               Tailrope dropping on him. Gaffed and bleeding, the shark is 
               immobilized by Quint's practiced hands. He takes one of his 
               big knives and poses for a moment beside the struggling fish.

                                     QUINT
                         These greedy sons-a-bitches will eat 
                         their own guts.

               He slices into the shark's underbelly. We hear the sound of 
               entrails plopping into the water. Brody is almost retching, 
               and Hooper is just displeased.

               ANGLE ON THE WATER

               The gutted shark swimming in circles biting at its own 
               entrails.

               ANOTHER ANGLE

               Fins closing in on the wounded shark.

                                     QUINT
                         Go ahead, you cannibals. Tell 'em 
                         where you got it!

               SHARK FRENZY

               A boil of water and the flash of fins and teeth as the local 
               sharks erupt in a feeding frenzy, jaws snapping, blood 
               spewing, a sudden display of the fury and blind predatory 
               drive of the fearsome species.

                                     HOOPER
                         What's that supposed to prove?

                                     QUINT
                         Just a little appetizer. I want our 
                         porker to know we're serving. I want 
                         to put some iron into that big yap...

               HOOPER AND BRODY REACT AS WE

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               EXT. THE OCEAN - AFTERNOON

               The Orca is drifting in neutral. The ocean is like gelatin, 
               the sun sucking heat waves from its surface. Brody at the 
               stern, handkerchief on his head to protect from further 
               sunburn, has been handed the slimiest job on a shark hunt:  
               the ladling out of chum. There are several empty chum barrels. 
               A flag buoy bobs in the wake of the boat, another waits to 
               be tossed over the side. Brody is reeling with nausea. He 
               opens his overnight kit and takes out a handkerchief and 
               some Old Spice after-shave. He pours the after-shave into 
               the cloth, presses it to his nose. Hooper is also in the 
               stern.

                                     QUINT
                         Keep that chum line going -- we've 
                         got five good miles. Don't break it.

                                     BRODY
                         Who's driving the boat?

                                     QUINT
                         Nobody. We're drifting with the 
                         current.

                                     HOOPER
                              (using the fish finder)
                         Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Hell, in the old days we went out 
                         with good charts, good sounding lead, 
                         and a damn good compass. Nowadays, 
                         these kids are afraid to go out 
                         without depth finders, radar, radio, 
                         electric toothbrush, every stupid 
                         thing...

               Quint opens a can of beer and drains it in one long pull, 
               crushing the empty and throwing it over the side. Hooper 
               drains his coffee from a styrofoam cup, and cracks it in his 
               hand with a silly "plup." He stows the pieces in an empty 
               chum barrel.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Get a fresh barrel.

               Brody goes to unlash a fresh barrel, but can't figure out 
               the knots. He finally tugs on a piece of rope, and it all 
               comes loose... barrel, shark cage, and, most important, 
               Hooper's tanks, clattering and rolling on the deck.

                                     HOOPER
                              (jumping up)
                         Watch it! Compressed air -- you screw 
                         around with one of those and Boom! 
                         Careful, huh?

                                     QUINT
                              (mutters)
                         Real fine stuff but it won't mean a 
                         thing to Mr. Whitey, of course... he 
                         didn't go to schools in electronics. 
                         He was born with what he does best. 
                         Eat. He's a swimming appetite. 'Course 
                         he might eat this stuff, but then 
                         I've seen him eat a rocking chair, 
                         too.
                              (to Brody)
                         Next time, ask me.

                                                              DISSOLVE TO: 

               LATER

               The men are in different positions on the boat. Hooper on 
               the flying bridge. Quint in the stern, Brody hanging over 
               the rail, puking.

               Quint takes a wide red strip of whale meat and a gnarled 
               squid from the garbage pail, and searches for a No. 2 hook 
               rig. He holds up a strip of whale.

                                     HOOPER
                              (eyeing bait)
                         That's pilot whale, isn't it?

                                     QUINT
                         It ain't a Big Mac.
                              (to Brody)
                         The expert don't approve. What do 
                         you thing? You're closer to the 
                         situation.
                              (laughs)

               Brody shades his eyes from the white sun as Quint baits up.

                                     BRODY
                              (croaky)
                         Why are we way out here, when the 
                         shark's back there?

                                     QUINT
                              (snapping bait to his 
                              leader)
                         ...'cause this is where he lives. 
                         You gotta think like they do.

                                     HOOPER
                              (to himself)
                         Easy for you -- they got a brain the 
                         size of a radish.

               Quint sits in the fighting chair. He casts off, murmuring as 
               the line feeds out.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Now if he weren't around, we'd of 
                         hooked something else by now, wouldn't 
                         we? But he scared 'em all away. Big 
                         lonesome son of a bitch...

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               LATER

               Quint at ease in his chair, Brody near him, practicing tying 
               knots. The line starts to move, a few feet at a time; both 
               men watch. Then the line whizzes off the reel. Brody jumps 
               up. Hooper springs to the deck. Quint puts his hand on the 
               drag and addresses the situation softly.

                                     QUINT
                         -- he'll gulp it down now...
                              (making gulping noises)
                         Hooooooo!

               Quint tightens drag and strikes. The line goes whizzing out.

               Brody runs to Quint's side. Hooper springs up to the flying 
               bridge.

                                     BRODY
                         You got it?

                                     QUINT
                              (turning with the 
                              pull)
                         Get behind me, dummy!
                              (shouts to Hooper)
                         Reverse her and turn -- he's taking 
                         too much line!
                              (to Brody)
                         Wet my reel, quick!

               Brody goes to get water, the boat surges, he staggers. Brody 
               pours water on the screaming reel, nearly unspooled now.

               Hooper is turning the boat around and the line changes 
               direction.

                                     QUINT
                              (straining, muscles 
                              popping)
                         Starboard, for Chris'sake --

               Hooper steers it sharply.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Hey, you! Farmer! Half-speed there...

                                     HOOPER
                              (almost to himself)
                         Aye, Aye SIR. Stand by to repel 
                         boarders. Poop the mainsail. Argh, 
                         Jim Boy.

               Again the line changes direction, down this time.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Neutral!
                              (to himself)
                         Where the hell is he going?

               Quint reeling in like mad.

                                     QUINT
                         Oh, this ain't foolin' me --
                              (rod arcs down with a 
                              surge)
                         Sure -- try it!

               He ad libs brief instructions to Brody as the line rushes 
               out and there is less tension. Quint is horsing up and down, 
               reeling in.

                                     QUINT
                         Makin' believe it's easy now.

               The line is almost vertical, and Quint shows a hint of 
               bafflement. He reels in suspiciously.

                                     QUINT
                         Gettin' ready to run again -- no? 
                         No?
                              (suspicious)
                         What's he playin' here?
                              (reels in furiously, 
                              to Brody)
                         Put the gloves on!
                              (to fish)
                         Let's see who's gonna tease who now!

                                     HOOPER
                         Let it go, don't waste your time.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Down here, Hooper!

               Hooper is rushing down.

                                     HOOPER
                         I don't know what it is, but it's 
                         not a shark.

                                     QUINT
                              (bathed in sweat; 
                              hauling, reeling)
                         Look -- you may be a big Yahoo in 
                         the lab, but out here you're just 
                         supercargo, and you'll do as I say, 
                         or you can take your gear and 
                         backstroke home. Now get down here!

               The leaders show above the water line. Brody is wide-eyed, 
               waiting for that first look.

                                     BRODY
                         The wire's showing!

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Unbuckle me -- fast!
                              (to Hooper)
                         Grab the leader. He ain't normal, 
                         this one... they never --

                                     HOOPER
                         It's too wild, too erratic. It's a 
                         marlin or a stingray. It's a gamefish.

               Hooper snaps the rope onto the leader and holds on.

                                     QUINT
                         Watch your hands --
                              (suddenly to Brody)
                         Grab onto this!

               Before he realizes what's happening, Brody is clumsily 
               clutching at the big rod, appalled. Quint skips away for a 
               flying gaff. He picks one, turns...

               That's when the leader lashes free, sending Hooper crashing 
               backward in a serious fall, and the rod whips at Brody's 
               forehead, drawing blood. Quint snatches up the rod and reels 
               in.

               The wires have been bitten through.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         A marlin, or a stingray. Huh. Don't 
                         ever tell me my business again. Get 
                         back up on the bridge.

                                     HOOPER
                              (stunned)
                         I'm okay...

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Fasten the pole.

                                     BRODY
                         What's the point with hooks and Lines? --

                                     QUINT
                         Don't tell me my business!
                              (to Hooper, points)
                         Quarter-mile, that way. Full throttle.

               Hooper shakes off his dizziness and obeys. Brody watches 
               Quint rig up a new leader, hook up the same bait.

                                     BRODY
                              (nursing forehead, 
                              gesturing at rod and 
                              reel)
                         How -- if they're gonna keep on 
                         breaking?

                                     QUINT
                         What I do is trick him to the surface, 
                         got that? Then I can jab him, 
                         understand?
                              (goes to flybridge, 
                              muttering)
                         Think I'm gonna haul it in as if 
                         he's a catfish, like everyone else 
                         does?

               Brody goes inside to inspect his forehead.

               ON BRIDGE - HOOPER AND QUINT

                                     QUINT
                              (suddenly, pointing)
                         Over there!

                                     HOOPER
                         What do you see?

                                     QUINT
                              (still looking)
                         At least you handle the boat all 
                         right. Stop. Here... Cut the engine.

               Hooper cuts the engines as Quint swings nimbly down. He stands 
               stock still on the main deck, motioning Brody to be silent.

               Then picking up the newly rigged rod, Quint softshoes it 
               over to the chair. About to sit down, he freezes.

               CLOSE - QUINT

               looking hard at something.

               CLOSE - BRODY

               staring, eyes widening.

               CLOSE - HOOPER

               moving in, surprised, interested, fascinated.

               THEIR COMBINED POINT OF VIEW

               We see the shark. First the fin... then the head and upper 
               jaws, ten or twenty yards off the side of the boat. It finally 
               submerges, its tail giving a final slap.

               ANGLE ON QUINT

               He puts his rod away and stares at it. And stares. And stares.

               Hooper is the first to break the silence.

                                     HOOPER
                         20 feet, if it's an inch...

                                     QUINT
                         25 feet. And three tons of him there.

               Hooper is nearly beside himself with a strange ecstasy. He 
               leaps toward his gear.

                                     QUINT
                              (quietly, to Brody)
                         I never saw one that big.

                                     BRODY
                         What do we do? Get some help? Radio 
                         in?

               Quint ignores him and moves off into the pilot house, where 
               he swiftly takes out his green case, and opens it to begin 
               to assemble something inside it. Brody is alone on the deck 
               with Hooper.

                                     BRODY
                         How're we gonna handle this?

               Hooper is contained in his own excitement. He has finally 
               come up with what he was looking for -- an expensive Nikon 
               through which he peers intently at the shark alongside. He 
               is talking half to himself as he fine-tunes the range finder 
               and focus.

               He is squeaking and bubbling in an unsuppressed emotional 
               boil.

                                     HOOPER
                              (very, very high)
                         There's a formula! Girth, about 150 
                         inches, squared, divide by 800 -- 
                         son of a bitch, they are not going 
                         to believe this! -- divide by 2000... 
                         three tons!
                              (after Quint)
                         You're right, you old fart! Three 
                         tons!
                              (ad libs ecstasy)

               CLOSE ON QUINT IN THE PILOT HOUSE

               He is assembling the Greener harpoon gun, deftly screwing on 
               the long wooden stock, the heavy steel barrel, and big shaft 
               with the wicked barbs, the frame all rigged with line. Past 
               him, on the deck, we can still see Hooper. As Quint is working 
               with the gun, the radio suddenly squawks into life.

                                     RADIO VOICE (V.O.)
                         Amity Point Light Station to Orca. 
                         This is Amity Point Light Station, 
                         to Orca...

               Quint snaps the mouthpiece to his lips.

                                     QUINT
                         Orca here.

                                     RADIO VOICE (V.O.)
                         I have Mrs. Martin Brody here...

                                     QUINT
                         Put her on.

                                     ELLEN'S VOICE
                         ...push this? Oh. It's working. Hello, 
                         Martin?

                                     QUINT
                         This is Quint, Missus.

                                     ELLEN'S VOICE
                         I just wanted to know if you were 
                         all right... the Coast Guard let me 
                         use their radio. Is Chief Brody there?

                                     QUINT
                         He's busy.

                                     ELLEN'S VOICE
                         Well... is everything all right?

                                     QUINT
                         Just fine, Missus. We'll be back 
                         soon. Everything's fine. We haven't 
                         seen anything yet. Orca out.

               He snaps off the radio, and, for good measure, pulls the 
               plug from the power source.

               ANGLE FROM DECK

               The big shark is slicing through the water just below the 
               surface, its fin high, the big gray back glistening, the 
               teeth gleaming.

               ANGLE - INCLUDING FOREDECK

                                     HOOPER
                              (on deck)
                         Damn it! I need something in the 
                         foreground to give it some scale. 
                         Martin! Stand here! No, to your left!

               He is positioning Martin frantically, trying to include Brody, 
               the shark, and the Orca in the same frame. Quint finishes 
               with the gun, and as a final gesture, snaps an explosive 
               cartridge into the breech. He empties the box of cartridges 
               onto the table, snatches up a big handful, and drops them 
               into a pocket, and heads out on deck, bound for the bow 
               pulpit.

               ON DECK

               Quint appears with the harpoon gun. He throws one end of the 
               line to Hooper.

                                     QUINT
                         Here. Rig this to the forward keg up 
                         there.

               He indicates the barrels on the foredeck.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Get up there and steer her. Follow 
                         my hand, and hold 'er steady. I've 
                         got to get a clean shot at that 
                         porker's head.

               Quint moves up toward the bow, Brody goes up to the flying 
               bridge to take the wheel, Hooper starts for the foredeck, 
               but stops to rummage in his kit, throwing gear around as he 
               desperately hunts for something.

                                     QUINT
                         Hurry up, rig the line!

               ANGLE ON HOOPER

               He finds what he's looking for. A small, powerful strobe 
               unit, waterproofed, a miniature signal beacon. He triggers 
               it, and it begins to pulse with a light we can see even in 
               the sun.

               Hooper scampers to the foredeck and begins to rig the light 
               to the first barrel, as the shark begins to surface near the 
               bow.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Come to port. Watch my hand. Steady 
                         now...

               He guides Brody with hand signals. Brody tries urgently to 
               get it right, not to oversteer, to try to hold the big boat 
               with its throbbing diesels on the course that Quint is 
               indicating.

                                     QUINT
                         The line, man, the line!

               Hooper is rigging like crazy.

               FROM THE FLYING BRIDGE

               Brody steering f.g., Hooper on the foredeck with the barrels, 
               Quint leaning out over the pulpit, the gun at the ready, the 
               shark crossing inexorably in front of them.

               CLOSE ON QUINT

               Agonizing over his shot as the shark approaches, glancing 
               back to see if the line is properly rigged and Hooper is 
               clear of it.

                                     QUINT
                         Get clear, damn you!

               The shark is in position, Hooper shouts, a moment too late.

                                     HOOPER
                         Clear!

               Quint fires. The harpoon slams into the shark behind his 
               head, half-way along the back in front of the big dorsal 
               fin.

                                     QUINT
                         Jesus H. Christ On a Crutch!

               INSERT - COILED ROPE AND BARREL

               The rope snaps out in a blur of violent motion, Hooper jumps 
               back, and the barrel leaps out of its rack, pulled by the 
               line rigged to the harpoon. It bounds forward and into the 
               sea, past Quint, who is already reloading, mounting another 
               steel shaft. In the distance, the barrel bobs and skips 
               violently in the water, dragged by the shark in his merciless 
               moves.

               THE FOREDECK - QUINT

                                     QUINT
                         Now you've done it, you piss-ant. 
                         Stop and rig a goddam tinker toy to 
                         my gear. Let the bastard fight the 
                         keg for a while. He can't stay down 
                         with that on.

               Hooper, furious with himself, runs for the flying bridge to 
               take the helm from Brody.

               THE FLYING BRIDGE, BRODY AND HOOPER

               Hooper has snatched the wheel, and is ramming the throttle 
               forward as he spins the wheel in a frantic 180 degree turn.

                                     HOOPER
                              (to Quint)
                         Rig another keg! I'm bringing her 
                         around!

               His eyes dart about the ocean, looking for the barrel, as he 
               hot-dogs the ship around in a violent expression of his own 
               disgust with himself.

                                     HOOPER
                              (to himself)
                         God damn it! We had him!
                              (to Quint)
                         I'm coming about!

               He spins the wheel again, trying to make the big boat handle 
               like a formula speedster. The decks tip and the rigging sways 
               under the sudden strain. Brody is caught unaware, and tumbles 
               off his feet, sliding across the deck to fetch up against a 
               wall. the M1 Rifle is close to his hand. He stares at it.

               FROM THE FLYING BRIDGE

               Hooper is anguished, intense, trying to find the shark, 
               spinning the wheel, compounding his error, tipping the boat 
               in rolling turns as he crosses his own wake. Quint has turned 
               his back to the sea, and is in the pulpit looking up at 
               Hooper, staring at him, excluding everything else.

               As Quint folds his arms and stares at Hooper, we realize the 
               sun is going down, and it's getting dark.

                                     BRODY
                         Why don't we go in? Get another crack 
                         at him tomorrow.

                                     QUINT
                         We got a barrel on him. We can't 
                         lose him. We stay out here until we 
                         find him.

               Hooper throttles back, and the roar of the diesels subsides 
               and the boat resumes an even keel, slowly circling the ocean.

                                     BRODY
                         Let's call in -- we can radio and 
                         have a big boat here in an hour...

                                     QUINT
                              (grim)
                         You hired me, remember? It's my 
                         $10,000. It's my shark...

               EXT. ORCA - OPEN SEA - NIGHT

               Throttled back to slow ahead, the boat circles the water 
               endlessly, staying over the shark like an avenging angel. 
               Its running lights gleam in the night, and a glow lights the 
               interior of the pilot house. A bright strobe glints on the 
               water winking once like a firefly.

               INT. PILOT HOUSE - NIGHT

               Brody and Hooper at the table, Quint at the wheel, keeping 
               his eye on the light.

                                     QUINT
                         He's up again.

               He corrects course slightly to keep the barrel buoy in sight.

               Hooper is sitting at the table, morose. Brody is staring at 
               a couple of open cans of beans or beef stew, or some other 
               crappy rations Quint has on board. Dirty spoons stuck in the 
               open cans show us this has not been a formal dinner. Quint 
               fumbles on the chart shelf and produces some of his home 
               brew.

               He takes a pull, and hands it to Hooper, who takes a double.

               Brody touches the fresh abrasion on his forehead, where the 
               fishing rod caught him.

               Quint bends forward and pulls his hair aside to show something 
               near the crown.

                                     QUINT
                         That's not so bad. Look at this: 
                         ...St. Paddy's Day in Knocko Nolans, 
                         in Boston, where some sunovabitch 
                         winged me upside the head with a 
                         spittoon.

               Brody looks politely. Hooper stirs himself.

                                     HOOPER
                         Look here.
                              (extends a forearm)
                         Steve Kaplan bit me during recess.

               Quint is amused. He presents his own formidable forearm.

                                     QUINT
                         Wire burn. Trying to stop a backstay 
                         from taking my head off.

                                     HOOPER
                              (rolling up a sleeve)
                         Moray Eel. Bit right through a wet 
                         suit.

               Brody is fascinated. Quint and Hooper take a long pull from 
               the bottle.

                                     QUINT
                         Face and head scars come from amateur 
                         amusements in the bar room. This 
                         love line here...
                              (he bends an ear 
                              forward)
                         ...that's from some crazy Frenchie 
                         come after me with a knife. I caught 
                         him with a good right hand right in 
                         the snot locker and laid him amongst 
                         the sweetpeas.

                                     HOOPER
                         Ever see one like this?

               He hauls up his pants leg, revealing a wicked white scar.

                                     HOOPER
                         Bull shark scraped me while I was 
                         taking samples...

                                     QUINT
                         Nothing! A pleasure scar. Look here --

               He starts rolling up his own dirty pants leg.

                                     QUINT
                         Slammed with a thresher's tail. Look 
                         just like somebody caressed me with 
                         a nutmeg grater...

               Brody is drawn into their boasting comparisons. He secretly 
               checks his own appendix scar, decides not to enter the 
               contest.

                                     HOOPER
                         I'll drink to your leg.

                                     QUINT
                         And I'll drink to yours.

               They toast each other. Brody looks around, sees the strobe 
               blink once through the darkened window.

                                     QUINT
                         Wait a minute, young fella. Look. 
                         Just look. Don't touch...

               He starts lowering his pants to reveal a place on one hip 
               where the tissue is scarred and irregular.

                                     QUINT
                         ...Mako. Fell out of the tail rope 
                         and onto the deck. You don't get 
                         bitten by one of those bastards but 
                         twice -- your first and your last.

                                     HOOPER
                              (considerably drunker)
                         I think I can top that, Mister...

               Hooper is pulling at his shirt, trying to get it off, but 
               it's tangling its sleeves, and won't come undone.

                                     HOOPER
                         Gimme a hand, here. I got something 
                         to show you --

               Brody lends a hand. The shirt slips part way off.

                                     HOOPER
                              (indicating his chest)
                         There. Right there. Mary Ellen Moffit 
                         broke my heart. Let's drink to Mary 
                         Ellen.

               The two men raise their mugs in a toast.

                                     QUINT
                         And here's to the ladies. And here's 
                         to their sisters; I'd rather one 
                         Miss than a shipload of Misters.

               He drinks, Hooper follows.

                                     QUINT
                              (shows belly)
                         Look a' that -- Bayonet Iwo Jima.

                                     BRODY
                              (aside)
                         C'mon. Middle appendix --

                                     QUINT
                              (aside)
                         I almost had 'im.

               Brody is looking at a small white patch on Quint's other 
               forearm.

                                     BRODY
                              (pointing)
                         What's that one, there?

                                     QUINT
                              (changing)
                         Tattoo. Had it taken off.

                                     HOOPER
                         Don't tell me -- 'Death Before 
                         Dishonor.' 'Mother.' 'Semper Fi.' 
                         Uhhh... 'Don't Tread on Me.' C'mon -- 
                         what?

                                     QUINT
                         'U.S.S Indianapolis.' 1944.

                                     BRODY
                         What's that, a ship?

                                     HOOPER
                              (incredulous)
                         You were on the Indianapolis? In 
                         '45? Jesus...

               Quint remembering.

               CLOSE ON QUINT

                                     QUINT
                         Yeah. The U.S.S. Indianapolis.
                         June 29th, 1945, three and a half 
                         minutes past midnight, two torpedoes 
                         from a Japanese submarine slammed 
                         into our side. Two or three. We was 
                         still under sealed orders after 
                         deliverin' the bomb...the Hiroshima 
                         bomb...we was goin' back across the 
                         Pacific from Tinian to Leyte. Damn 
                         near eleven hundred men went over 
                         the side. The life boats was lashed 
                         down so tight to make the bomb run 
                         we couldn't cut a single one adrift. 
                         Not one. And there was no rafts. 
                         None. That vessel sank in twelve 
                         minutes. Yes, that's all she took. 
                         We didn't see the first shark till 
                         we'd been in the water about an hour. 
                         A thirteen-footer near enough. A 
                         blue. You measure that by judgin' 
                         the dorsal to the tail. What we didn't 
                         know... of course the Captain knew...I 
                         guess some officers knew... was the 
                         bomb mission had been so secret, no 
                         distress signals was sent. What the 
                         men didn't know was that they wouldn't 
                         even list us as overdue for a week. 
                         Well, I didn't know that -- I wasn't 
                         an officer -- just as well perhaps. 
                         So some of us were dead already -- 
                         in the water -- just hangin' limp in 
                         our lifejackets. And several already 
                         bleedin'. And the three hundred or 
                         so laying on the bottom of the ocean. 
                         As the light went, the sharks came 
                         crusin'. We formed tight groups -- 
                         somewhat like squares in an old battle -- 
                         You know what I mean -- so that when 
                         one come close, the man nearest would 
                         yell and shout and pound the water 
                         and sometimes it worked and the fish 
                         turned away, but other times that 
                         shark would seem to look right at a 
                         man -- right into his eyes -- and in 
                         spite of all shoutin' and poundin' 
                         you'd hear that terrible high 
                         screamin' and the ocean would go 
                         red, then churn up as they ripped 
                         him.  Then we'd reform our little 
                         squares. By the first dawn the sharks 
                         had taken more than a hundred. Hard 
                         for me to count but more than a 
                         hundred. I don't know how many sharks. 
                         Maybe a thousand. I do know they 
                         averaged six men an hour. All kinds -- 
                         blues, makos, tigers. All kinds.
                              (Pause)
                         In the middle of the second day, 
                         some of us started to go crazy from 
                         the thirst. One fella cried out he 
                         saw a river, another claimed he saw 
                         a waterfall, some started to drink 
                         the ocean and choked on it, and some 
                         left our little groups -- our little 
                         squares -- and swam off alone lookin' 
                         for islands and the sharks always 
                         took them right away. It was mainly 
                         the young fellas that did that -- 
                         the older ones stayed where they 
                         was. That second day -- my life jacket 
                         rubbed me raw and that was more blood 
                         in the water. Oh my. On Thursday 
                         morning I bumped up against a friend 
                         of mine -- Herbie Robinson from 
                         Cleveland -- a bosun's mate -- it 
                         seemed he was asleep but when I 
                         reached over to waken him, he bobbed 
                         in the water and I saw his body upend 
                         because he'd been bitten in half 
                         beneath the waist. Well Chief, so it 
                         went on -- bombers high overhead but 
                         nobody noticin' us. Yes -- suicides, 
                         sharks, and all this goin' crazy and 
                         dyin' of thirst. Noon the fifth day, 
                         Mr. Hooper, a Lockheed Ventura swung 
                         around and came in low. Yes. He did 
                         that. Yes, that pilot saw us. And 
                         early evenin', a big fat PBY come 
                         down out of the sky and began the 
                         pickup.  That was when I was most 
                         frightened of all -- while I was 
                         waitin' for my turn. Just two and a 
                         half hours short of five days and 
                         five nights when they got to me and 
                         took me up. Eleven hundred of us 
                         went into that ocean -- three hundred 
                         and sixteen got out. Yeah. Nineteen 
                         hundred and forty five. June the 
                         29th.
                              (pause)
                         Anyway, we delivered the bomb.

               EXT. OCEAN - NIGHT

               Quint has just finished his story, and we are looking across 
               the quiet night sea to the Orca slowly circling in the night, 
               the warm light in the pilot house barely revealing the figures 
               of the three men inside, the red and green running lights 
               winking along the ship's flanks. We hear the distant boom 
               and drawn-out hoot of a whale.

               INT. ORCA PILOT HOUSE - NIGHT

                                     BRODY
                         What the hell?

                                     HOOPER
                         It's a whale out there.

               There's a brief, eerie pause. Quint breaks the silence by 
               muttering into song, which he slowly swells.

                                     QUINT
                              (singing)
                         Show me the way to go home... I'm 
                         tired and I want to go to bed. I had 
                         a little drink about an hour ago, 
                         and it went right to my head.
                              (etc.)

               Gradually, Hooper and Brody join in, and the pilothouse 
               becomes a warm cozy place.

               EXT. OCEAN

               The Orca and its song in the night. In the foreground, the 
               barrel and strobe light flash up into view, and behind them, 
               the big dorsal fin surfaces, and glides ominously towards 
               the ship.

               INT. PILOT HOUSE

               The song is continuing, and we hear the barest hint of a 
               scraping sound from the hull deep beneath the men. Quint's 
               eyes abruptly narrow as his sensitive ears are the first to 
               hear the abrasion of his ship. Things vibrate on the shelves.

               Quint stops singing, Hooper and Brody continue a duet. The 
               scraping repeats, and Hooper now senses it. He drops out of 
               the song, leaving Brody singing solo.

                                     QUINT
                              (quietly, to Hooper)
                         Start the engines.

               As Brody hears this and is about to stop singing, the boat 
               is suddenly bumped from below, and the gentle scraping turns 
               to a violent assault somewhere on the understructure of the 
               vessel. Water bubbles up into the hold. Brody starts, and 
               looks at the radio. He is about to move towards it when 
               Quint's urgent instructions stop him.

                                     QUINT
                         He's busting the shaft! Start the 
                         pump!

                                     BRODY
                         Where...?

                                     QUINT
                         The bilge pumps. There --

               He leaves Brody in the pilot house, and runs onto the deck, 
               grabbing his M-1 rifle as he goes. Brody hits a switch and 
               we hear the pumps starting.

               ANGLE ON THE ORCA

               Hooper is on the flybridge, starting the engines, but the 
               diesels sound wrong.

                                     QUINT
                         Cut the engines!

               Hooper does.

                                     HOOPER
                         Rudder bearings?

               The boat is assaulted again. Quint fires over the stern, 
               emptying a clip into the water.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         Get up forward! Watch for him!

               Brody moves cautiously up to the bow.

                                     QUINT
                         Keep your eyes open, Mr. Hooper!

               Hooper stands ready on the bridge, Quint pacing the stern 
               deck.

                                     QUINT
                         Nobody sleeps! Nobody.

               He jams a fresh clip into the M-1. The men scan the seas 
               around them. Quint resumes their song, louder this time, 
               more defiant.

                                     QUINT
                              (sings)
                         Show me the way to go home... I'm 
                         tired and I want to go to bed.
                              (etc.)

               Hooper and Brody join in from their respective positions.

               EXT. OCEAN, WIDE ON THE ORCA

               The men in place, singing, the water sparkling towards the 
               horizon, the stars twinkling above. The sound of a distant 
               whale in distant counterpoint.

               EXT. THE ORCA - DAWN

               Brody is at the wheel on the flying bridge, while Hooper and 
               Quint have a hatch up on the stern, and are working together 
               to repair the damaged rudder controls torn loose by the shark. 
               Hooper is bucking the steel rod, while Quint is hammering 
               away at the joint, trying to drive a new pin.

               The engine is idling. Bits of iron clutter the deck, along 
               with a few rough, outsized tools and greasy rags and gaskets.

                                     QUINT
                         More left rudder! More! Left hand 
                         down now, Chief.

               Brody tries to comply.

                                     HOOPER
                              (shifting his grip)
                         Lemme get a better angle on it. Now.

               Quint hammers again.

                                     QUINT
                         He's bent the housing. You can hear 
                         it.

               And we can. The Orca's diesels are no longer smooth. Brody 
               suddenly sees something, and points.

               BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW - THE WATER

               The barrel is surfaced directly ahead of them, just off the 
               port side. They are drifting up to it.

                                     BRODY
                         The barrel!

               The strobe light winks at them. Quint holds up a hand:  
               "Quiet!"

               Everything stops as they watch the barrel coming slowly up 
               on them.

                                     QUINT
                         It's him.

               He takes a killing lance from the rack. Hooper gets a 
               boathook.

                                     QUINT
                         He's under the keg. Careful --

               Hooper leans out gingerly, snagging the barrel with the hook.

               It bobs lightly in the water, an innocent bystander. Hooper 
               shifts his pole, takes hold of the rope, poling it in.

                                     QUINT
                              (suspicious)
                         Easy -- just want to goose him up. 
                         The minute he runs, drop it or you'll 
                         lose your hands.

               Hooper gets the line and starts hauling it up. No resistance.

               It comes easily over the transom into a coil on the deck.  
               He and Quint exchange looks.

                                     QUINT
                         Here -- gimme. I don't see what he's 
                         been doin'.

               WATER - ANGLE

               Both men are draped over the side, their chins almost touching 
               the water on the aft side. From the opposite starboard 
               direction, fully unfastened from the barrel, comes the Great 
               White. First the fin, then the conical nose and the upper 
               border of wide, grinning teeth. It knifes through the water 
               in absolute silence, propelling itself with tremendous speed 
               toward the unsuspecting men.

               CLOSE - BRODY

               His instincts shine -- as does his newly-acquired sense of 
               direction.

                                     BRODY
                              (top of his lungs)
                         Shark! Starboard!

               CLOSE - HOOPER AND QUINT

               They turn just in time, and a long spine-stretch saves them 
               from instant decapitation. The Great White passes the transom, 
               the harpoon still in its side and trailing five feet of chewed-
               off cable. It rolls on its side and looks at them as it 
               passes.

               Past the stern the huge tail lashes out, ripping the rope 
               out of Quint's hands, shearing a huge swath through the paint, 
               peeling it off like a plane, taking one of the bronze letters 
               out of "Orca." The shark begins an arc to sea, its fin cutting 
               the water, and starts circling the boat. Quint notices his 
               cut hand, palm bleeding, realizing how close he came to losing 
               it.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Haul in that rope -- it'll foul us!
                              (then to Brody on the 
                              bridge)
                         Start the engine!

               The diesels start with a terrible grinding.

                                     QUINT
                         Easy! It'll tear right out!

                                     HOOPER
                              (hauling)
                         The shaft is giving.

               Hooper slams the hatch, kicks the tools to one side, clearing 
               the deck for action once again.

                                     BRODY
                              (on bridge)
                         That's it! Radio in for help!

                                     QUINT
                         Shut up! Just pump her out!

                                     BRODY
                              (coming down off the 
                              bridge)
                         Yeah, Captain, as soon as I make a 
                         call.

               Brody heads for the radio in the pilot house.

               QUINT - CLOSE

               A perfectly terrible look comes over him. He raises up and 
               starts after Brody. Brody disappears into the cabin. Quint 
               pauses outside and sees:

               INSERT - QUINT'S LEAD-CENTERED BASEBALL BAT

               his calloused hand grabs it up fiercely.

               INT. RADIO SHACK

               Brody picks up the radio, flicking on knobs and lights on 
               the complex console.

                                     QUINT (O.S.)
                         Beg your pardon --

               ANGLE - DOORWAY

               Quint appears, silhouetted in the hot light of the door, 
               raising his bat.

                                     QUINT
                         Duty first and pleasure after --

               CLOSE - BRODY

               looking up in horror, covering his face.

               CLOSE - QUINT

               Quint brings down the bat with all the strength he can summon.

               Crash!

               Sparks fly, lights blink and go out, plastic and sections of 
               metal ricochet all over the cabin as Quint demolishes the 
               ship-to-shore radio.

               Quint takes a happy breath, winks at Brody and hands him the 
               bat.

                                     QUINT
                         Excuse me!

               Brody's adrenaline turns his fear into rage. His glasses are 
               cracked or broken by flying pieces of radio. He seizes the 
               bat, and pound the shattered radio for emphasis.

                                     BRODY
                         Some great idea! Now where are we?  
                         Some goddamn skipper you are. You're 
                         certifiable, y'know that? You're a 
                         real treat! Certifiable! Bananas!

               His tirade is interrupted by an urgent bellow from Hooper.

               CLOSE - HOOPER

               Pointing at the fin.

                                     HOOPER
                         Coming right to us!

                                     QUINT
                         No -- comin' right at us! Slow ahead, 
                         he'll hit us head on --
                              (the engine clanks)
                         Slower! Throttle back ---

               ANGLE - OVER THE BOW

                                     QUINT
                              (raising harpoon)
                         Hard to port!

               Hooper pulls the boat into a tight turn and Quint has a shot 
               at the upward rolling flank. He sinks it with careful 
               precision.

                                     QUINT
                         Try shakin' that out!

               Brody emerges from the cabin as the rope zips overboard, and 
               the barrel, changing over, catapults into the air before 
               plunging into the ocean in a cloudy splash.

                                     BRODY
                              (shouting to Quint)
                         Did you get him in the head?

                                     QUINT
                              (to Brody)
                         No! No! No!
                              (to Hooper)
                         Swing around! After him!

               ON THE FLYBRIDGE

               Hooper can see the fin racing ahead of the barrel. Diving 
               down. Up again -- Quint prepares another iron. Brody is 
               digging in his bag. He comes up with his 2" .357 service 
               revolver.

                                     QUINT
                         More gas... go to half! Get me right 
                         alongside him --

               The engine thuds and knocks.

                                     HOOPER
                              (shouting down)
                         We can't rev it up this high --

               Suddenly the barrel gongs into the side of the Orca.

                                     QUINT
                         Watch it!

               Hooper skillfully avoids the speeding rope.

                                     QUINT
                         Atta boy!

               Quint leans to one side, harpoon over his head. The Great 
               White breaks water and...

                                     QUINT
                         Take two, they're small!

               He sinks it deep. We hear shots. As the new rope whips out, 
               Brody can be seen standing on the gunwale, in regulation 
               police combat pistol stance, holding his .357 in both hands, 
               firing at the shark's head.

               Quint shakes his head in amused disbelief at this, as the 
               barrel goes over.

                                     HOOPER
                              (shouting at Brody)
                         Don't shoot him any more! He's crazy 
                         on his own blood already!

                                     BRODY
                         I can't stand here doing nothing!

                                     QUINT
                         Order in the court!

               WATER LEVEL ANGLE

               He has seen the two barrels pop to the surface.

                                     QUINT
                              (racing over)
                         Three'll do it! He's havin' trouble 
                         with two!

               He yells to Hooper and Brody as he swings behind the controls.

                                     QUINT
                         Grab yourselves a couple of poles!

               Quint steers "Slow Ahead," engine protesting, as he maneuvers 
               toward the moving barrels. Quint peers down, steering closer 
               and closer.

                                     QUINT
                         Get ready! Now snag 'em!

               Together Brody and Hooper hook a barrel-rope and hold on for 
               dear life as the shark changes course.

                                     QUINT
                         Pull in the ropes and tie 'em onto 
                         the transom -- free ride.

               Brody and Hooper pull in with all they are worth as Quint 
               helps out by wheeling in a circle. He laughs to himself, 
               enjoying the spectacle.

               CLOSE - HOOPER

               securing the rope to a cleat but allowing the barrel to hang 
               overboard. Brody ties his now-perfect bowline adjacent cleat.

               WIDE ANGLE - ORCA

               The boat is jarred violently from side to side as the 
               underwater force of the Great White jerks and heaves them to 
               and fro, up and down, side to side...

               ANGLE - HOOPER AND BRODY

               are both torn off their feet as the boat is thrust forward.

               FLYBRIDGE - QUINT

               sees the fin ahead. It is pulling the boat.

                                     QUINT
                         Get tired! That's the idea! Here's a 
                         little reverse for you!

               The shark leaps partially out of the water, and the sight is 
               both horrifying and awesome. Its jaws break water, snapping 
               at the ropes that have him snarled and frustrated.

               Quint throws the Orca into neutral and shouts down:

                                     QUINT
                         Haul in -- watch the prop!

               With that, Quint slides down to the prow, putting another 
               shaft onto his gun, finding satisfaction in its heft and 
               balance. The shark can be seen directly ahead, threshing 
               closer.

                                     QUINT
                         Now! Untie 'em! Quick! He'll tear us 
                         to pieces.

               He fires the iron, and the shark veers downward in a gushing 
               shower of spray.

               HOOPER AND BRODY

               They are trying to untie from the cleats, but both ropes are 
               stretched too taut. They jump out of the way, falling flat

               on the deck as the ropes sweep over them, knocking over 
               objects, skeetering across the deck. A tight jerking motion, 
               and the Orca is dragged through the water -- backwards. And 
               much too fast. Water is splashing up over the transom in its 
               backward wake. The engines groan and complain.

                                     QUINT
                         Damn head is too far away. He's too 
                         big.

               Wrenched to one side, Quint is knocked from his feet.

               CLOSE - THE TWO CLEATS

               A moment of slackness, and then a great surge of raw strength.

               The rope snaps the cleats off, screws and splintered wood 
               spraying -- and the barrels fly over the water. They disappear 
               beneath the turbulent grey surface.

               The three men, breathing heavily, bruised and pouring sweat, 
               look out at the blank water.

               ANGLE - OCEAN

               Pop -- pop -- pop. One, two, three, the barrels surface -- 
               ready for more.

                                     QUINT
                              (amazed at the shark's 
                              strength)
                         He can't go so deep. Not with all 
                         those on him.

               Brody looks down at his feet. There is salt water up to their 
               shoe tops.

                                     BRODY
                         What about us?

                                     QUINT
                              (mentally assessing 
                              the damage)
                         Have to pump her steady, s'all.

               The barrels start a wide circle, each cuts through the water, 
               pushing a wave before it and leaving a wake behind.

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Follow him --
                              (to Brody)
                         You start pumpin' out here.

               Quint tosses Brody the hand pump, then picks up his M-1, and 
               checks the load.

                                     HOOPER (O.S.)
                              (on bridge)
                         He's heading under -- !

                                     QUINT
                              (incredulously)
                         No way! He can't!

               ANGLE - OCEAN

               The barrels approaching the Orca dip below the surface, one -- 
               two -- three.

                                     BRODY
                         Where'd he go?

               Brody looks around. Hooper on the flying bridge searching in 
               all directions. Quint is looking more appalled every second.

                                     QUINT
                              (helplessly)
                         He can't stay down with three barrels 
                         on him! Where is he?!

                                     BRODY
                         Have you ever had one do this?

                                     QUINT
                              (and he means this)
                         No!

               Booming thud at the keel. Brody slides on the wet deck and 
               Quint loses his footing, falling into Brody's arms.

               WITH HOOPER ON THE FLY BRIDGE

               It seems the only place out of reach of the shark. Quint 
               climbs up, Brody following him, reloading his pistol.

               Just then, the barrels pop up ahead, veer left, and duck 
               under.

                                     QUINT
                         Follow him!

                                     HOOPER
                         He's under!

               BRODY AND HIS POINT OF VIEW

                                     BRODY
                         There!
                              (points wildly)

               The barrels have surfaced and we see the monster shadow 
               sliding under the Orca, seemingly endless. Violent scraping 
               sounds.

                                     BRODY
                         He's trying to sink us!

                                     QUINT
                              (to Hooper)
                         Dead astern! Zig-zag!

               Quint is grimly silent. Brody senses that Quint is in the 
               fight of (and for) his life.

               The Orca taking evasive action. But the three barrels are 
               closing the gap, the engines coughing and missing, destroying 
               themselves with every rotation of the damaged shaft.

                         BRODY
                 He's chasing us! I 
                 don't believe it. 

                                                       QUINT
                                               Full throttle! To port!

               ANGLE ON THE BRIDGE

               Hooper is jamming the throttle forward, but the engine is 
               pounding and knocking wildly. The barrels circle and move 
               in. Quint has his rifle ready.

                                     HOOPER
                              (suddenly giving Quint 
                              the wheel)
                         Hold her.

               He leaps to his gear, trying desperately to get his dart 
               gun.

               Just then, the shark attacks, breaking water and rising over 
               the boat like a rocket; snout, jaws, pectoral fins, belly, 
               falling sideways. A vast spray drenches the men. Quint fires 
               into the belly, the bullets pocking the smooth whiteness.

                                     HOOPER
                              (loading)
                         Keep him there! Keep him!

               The Orca shudders from side to side. From Hooper's point of 
               view we can the shark gripping the transom in his jaws, 
               shaking the boat as he saws his massive head from side to 
               side, trying to tear a chunk out of the very hull. Quint has 
               reloaded and is firing into the fish. Brody has a wicked 
               pointed gaff, and is swinging wildly at the snout, gashing 
               and gouging it, trying for the eyes. The killing lust is on 
               all three men.

                                     QUINT
                         Throttling back!

               The boat surges, the shark gives a final unbalances wrench, 
               and disengages. The dorsal fin circles off, beginning a wide 
               loop around the boat.

               The engine quivers and dies, the boat without power, rolling 
               half awash, a wounded victim.

               The fin dips, the barrels follow, the shark disappears beneath 
               the waves. There is complete silence.

               THE THREE MEN ON DECK

               In the dead quiet, we can hear the lap of waves against the 
               hull, the hoarse panting breathing of the men, the pings and 
               pops of the cooling, dying engines.

               QUINT AND THE TRANSOM

               He eyes the stern. Huge cracks and broken timber testify to 
               the fury of the attack.

                                     QUINT
                              (very quietly, to 
                              Hooper)
                         What can that gun of yours do?

                                     HOOPER
                         Power head with 20 ccs of strychnine 
                         nitrate. If I can hit him. I can 
                         kill him. But I gotta be close.  
                         Very close.

                                     BRODY
                              (the awful realization)
                         You gotta go in the water...

                                                                    CUT TO:

               ON DECK, LATER

               Quint and Hooper are assembling the shark cage, its shiny 
               bars the only undamaged things on deck. Brody is working 
               too, bolting the sections together.

                                     HOOPER
                              (in command now)
                         Rig the cable to the roof eyebolts.

               The men are speaking in near whispers, quiet in the silence 
               that surrounds them. Hooper is in his wet suit, adjusting 
               weights, mask, tanks, etc. The cage is standing in the stern.

               Quint runs a line from the gin pole to the roof section.

               Hooper climbs in though the top.

                                     HOOPER
                         Take me up.

               Brody cranks the winch, hoisting cage and Hooper into the 
               air. Quint balances the gin pole lines, Hooper crouching in 
               the cage, examining it for stresses; satisfied, he holds out 
               his hand. Quint puts the spear gun into it.

               CLOSE ON HOOPER IN THE CAGE

               He examines his weapon, checking the power load, with the 
               big wicked-looking syringe head uncapped to reveal its razor 
               point.

                                     HOOPER
                         Lower away, Chief.
                              (then, to Quint)
                         Try and keep him off me till I'm 
                         under.

               Hooper inside, looking out the bars of the cage, gives Brody 
               a reassuring smile, then pops his mouthpiece between his 
               teeth and checks his regulator. Brody steps back, and with 
               Quint guiding the cage, begins lowering it off the gin pole 
               boom arm into the sea alongside the boat.

               Brody and Hooper stare at each another as their faces pass, 
               Hooper sliding down into the cold grey ocean.

               As Hooper disappears beneath the surface, Quint and Brody 
               exchange a long look between them.

               UNDERWATER - CAGE

               HOOPER'S POINT OF VIEW

               Submerging. The sky, horizon, water line, clean fresh sea 
               air then... the magnificent innerspaces, with bubbles 
               sparkling in front of us.

               ANGLE - HOOPER IN THE CAGE

               as he floats to twenty feet Hooper never stops looking around 
               360 degrees. He removes the rubber guard from the needle and 
               waits.

               EXT. THE SURFACE - BRODY AND QUINT

               Their turning heads tell us that the barrels are still 
               circling.

               Suddenly, both heads stop turning.

               THE SEA

               The barrels have come to a stop. Delicately, they change 
               course and meander toward the lowered cage.

               UNDERWATER - HOOPER

               His back is to us. He is just now completing a visual sweep 
               and turns, eyes front into closeup and: fixes wildly on 
               something monstrous... and fascinating.

               HOOPER'S POINT OF VIEW

               The water is clear and shafts of sunlight streak downward in 
               the blue. From the deep gloom -- diving slowly, smoothly -- 
               comes the shark. It moves with no apparent effort, sinuous 
               beyond comparison. As it nears the cage, it turns, and its 
               ghastly length passes right in front of him: first the snout, 
               then the jaw, slack and smiling, then the black eye.

               Hooper tentatively reaches out. It is too far for the 
               strychnine pole. The vinyl flesh is pocked with bullet holes, 
               iron scars, gaffing hooks and strange open wounds that tinge 
               the passing currents with pink.

               SURFACE

               The trailing barrels gong and scratch the keel of the Orca 
               above. Brody and Quint leap back.

               HOOPER - CLOSE

               The shark has vanished into a cloud of rising silt. Hooper, 
               expecting the shark to attack out of that same general 
               direction, braces himself, pole extended through the bars, 
               breathing faster, straining his eyes into the gloom and... 
               we see that the shark attacking from behind him.

               The cage is sent careening. Hooper grabs the bars for dear 
               life. The shark has grabbed the steel struts in its brutal 
               jaws, shaking the cage relentlessly from side to side, bending 
               the bars like clothes hangers. Hooper can't turn the pointed 
               end of the pole around, his body jammed as far away from the 
               non-rational attacker as possible.

               Hooper is trapped.

               The shark withdraws to get some running room then charges 
               again. The bleeding snout thrust deeper into the yawing bars, 
               the jaws snapping and twisting, two feet from Hooper's torso, 
               the tail thrusting it forward. Hooper drops the strychnine 
               pole between the bars and it tumbles slowly toward rapture 
               depth.

               All the shark needs is one more good thrust before separating 
               Hooper at the waistline. Through frantic bubbles Hooper 
               fumbles with the overhead hatch cover, kicking up and out of 
               the cage. The shark backpedals with its tail, but the broad 
               head won't shake loose.

               Hooper rushes downwards, after the strychnine pole.

               ANGLE - SHARK

               The shark twists free of the cage and arrows downward after 
               Hooper.

               Hooper nearly recovers the pole. Again it slips from his 
               frightened grasp and this time disappears into a narrow abyss.  
               Hooper turns and looks up.

               The Great White is lunging at him, twenty feet above.

               SURFACE

               One of the barrel ropes snakes around the cage rope and pulls 
               taut.

               HOOPER - DEEP

               Turning to meet the monster which -- though held back for a 
               moment by the snarled rope -- now surges forward.

               SURFACE - BRODY AND QUINT

               The Orca is listing dangerously aft, the ginpole bent almost 
               to the breaking point. Brody is in a frenzy trying to haul 
               up the cage. Quint attaches the end of Brody's rope to a 
               hand-winch. The ginpole is splitting.

                                     QUINT
                         Let go of it!

               The pole gives way, the rope whipping down on the gunwale... 
               the pulling of the tonnage below is tipping the Orca, dragging 
               it, but Quint won't give up the winch. Brody hauls on the 
               rope barehanded.

               UNDERWATER - HOOPER

               maneuvering downward, away from the jaws... Suddenly the 
               crazed shark veers upward for the surface.

               SURFACE - QUINT

               The winch is working faster now, Quint demonically winding 
               it in. The crushed cage bangs against the hull then breaks 
               water.

               Brody is horrified. The cage is empty!

                         QUINT
                    (a horrible scream)
                 He's comin' up -- !

                                                       BRODY
                                               He's taken him!

               MASTER ANGLE

               The shark breaks water right beside the Orca, rising with a 
               great whooshing noise. It rises vertically, towering overhead, 
               blocking out the sun. The pectoral fins seem to reach forward.  
               The shark, in all of its monstrous glory, falls onto the 
               stern of the boat with a shattering crash, narrowly missing 
               Quint and Brody. It drives the stern underwater, the ocean 
               pours in over the transom. The jaws snap from side to side.  
               Brody flounders backwards away from it.

               CLOSE - BRODY

               He is clinging to the mast for dear life, as the ship begins 
               to tilt to stern, and everything starts to break loose around 
               him.

               NIGHTMARE ANGLE - DECK OF THE ORCA

               The giant jaws are snapping irresistibly at everything: great 
               chunks of wood torn out of the deck and superstructure.

               Deck chair, irons, rope, gear, beercans, bottles, Brody's 
               bag, all are food for the insatiable maw blindly churning 
               away.

               Quint is clinging next to a rack of lances: he is enraged at 
               this ultimate violation of his territory. He snatches up a 
               lance and hurls himself at the shark with a wordless bellow.

               The great head weaves side to side, the deck is at a 
               treacherous incline, slippery with blood and seawater. Quint's 
               footing falters and slips, he stumbles at the Mouth of Hell, 
               the big teeth seize him and snap.

               Quint's roar of rage and pain is choked off as his body is 
               clamped between the grinding, sawing teeth, and his head and 
               legs suddenly contort as the shark's teeth meet across his 
               torso. Blood gushes onto the deck. The remnants of his body 
               tumble from the shark's mouth.

               Brody sees the horror, hears the screams -- in his 
               desperation, he tears loose one of Hooper's remaining air 
               tanks, and hurls it at the monster. It tumbles into the bloody 
               well, wedging across the back of the mouth, the thick steel 
               blocking the cruel jaws.

               The shark's head shakes even more violently, trying to clear 
               the cold iron, but the tank is in to stay.

               DECK OF THE ORCA, LISTING BADLY

               To avoid sliding into the jaws, Brody scrambles on the titling 
               deck, bracing himself in the cabin door to avoid pitching 
               down into the bloody mouth. He fights his way into the cabin, 
               already a shambles.

               Below him, on the deck, the shark lunges again, shifting 
               weight so that the boat in now stern down, and listing to 
               the side. Water from the sea pours into the cabin.

               Another lunge by the shark. The huge snout and jaws slam up 
               against the doorframe, blocking escape, bloody, gnashing.

               More seawater. To stay in the cabin is to go down with the 
               ship.

               Brody clambers as far from the shark as he can, against the 
               forward wall of the pilothouse. He sees the window Hooper 
               used before. It's blocked by barrels and debris. He breaks 
               the side window highest above the water, edges out onto the 
               battered bridge.

               The shark rolls around, now half in the water. The ship is 
               sinking, the sea is not a viable alternative. Brody climbs 
               up into the flying bridge.

               The shark is still lunging and snapping. Brody is forced to 
               climb higher and higher as the ship slowly sinks beneath 
               him.

               CLOSE - BRODY

               He scrambles for his life onto the flying bridge, sees the M-
               1 stuck there, seizes it.

               OVER BRODY, LOOKING DOWN AT THE STERN

               He is bracing himself, aiming the rifle, taking a bead on 
               the steel tanks, silver gleaming in the bloody shark's mouth.  
               He fires. And fires. Bullets shatter the shark's teeth, 
               punching holes in the dripping snout.

               WIDE ON THE ORCA  EXPLOSION

               With a muffled boom, the perfect symmetry of the shark is 
               suddenly blown apart in a geyser of steel and blood as Brody's 
               shot hits the pressurized tank. A 30-foot cloud of water, 
               steel, shark and debris covers the sky.

               A gigantic convulsion hurls the Great White's mangled body 
               into the sea. The Orca slowly begins to turn over in its 
               death roll.

               UNDERWATER

               The shark's carcass floating down in a cloud of blood and 
               debris.

               A shadow clouds the waters, and the Orca's mass begins to 
               slip into the frame.

               CLOSE - HOOPER

               Emerging from beneath the surface, he raises his mask, spits 
               out his mouthpiece and kicks toward Brody.

               SURFACE - BRODY AND HOOPER

               Brody is holding onto a cushion, barely afloat, relieved the 
               shark is dead, yet stunned to see Hooper is still alive. The 
               two men share weak laughter, which soon trails off.

                                     HOOPER
                         Quint...?

                                     BRODY
                         No...
                              (notices something 
                              O.S.)
                         You think we can get back with those?

               SURFACE - BRODY AND HOOPER - ANOTHER ANGLE

               They swim through the debris, using two barrels as floats, 
               as dozens of seagulls feast on shark remains on the surface.

                                     BRODY
                         What day is this?

                                     HOOPER
                         Wednesday... No, it's Tuesday, I 
                         think.

                                     BRODY
                         Think the tide's with us?

                                     HOOPER
                         Just keep kicking.

                                     BRODY
                         Y'know, I used to hate the water...

                                     HOOPER
                         I can't imagine why.

                                                               DISSOLVE TO:

               HIGH SHOT FROM SHORE

               The two tiny, miserable heroes swim ashore as the credits 
               roll.

                                                                  FADE OUT:

                                         THE END

Jaws



Writers :   Peter Benchley  Carl Gottlieb
Genres :   Adventure  Horror  Thriller


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