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