Frankenstein Page #3
- NOT RATED
- Year:
- 1931
- 70 min
- 5,775 Views
THE RUNNING MEN hear an INHUMAN HOWL rise amidst those of
the dogs. A vicious free-for-all echoes from the rocks.
Barking gives way to shrill squeals. An object is launched
from the crags, catapulted through the air in a high arc.
Some men slip and fall as the object slams to the ground
with tremendous impact before them ...
...and they find themselves staring in horror At the sight
of the lead dog. Silence now. Those who have fallen, rise.
Walton c*cks his rifle. The group proceeds, picks and axes
held ready, slowly skirting the rocks ...
(CONTINUED)
6
... and the massacre is revealed. Blood-stained ice. Dead,
mangled animals strewn about. One twitching survivor crawls
toward them on broken limbs, whining piteously, dragging its
entrails in a red smear.
GRIGORI:
Look.
They follow his gaze. Bloody tracks lead away from the
bodies, ascending the rocks. Most are smeared and vague ...
but one is clearly a bare human footprint. Several men
cross themselves. Walton shoulders the rifle, aims down at
the surviving dog. BLAM! A single bullet to the brain ends
its misery, punching a halo of blood onto the ice. The shot
echoes for miles.
WALTON:
Back to the ship.
EXT - NEVSKY - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT
Silhouetted against the aurora borealis. The horizon swirls
mysteriously with color and light. Distant slivers of
lightning kiss the earth. Men keep watch in furtive groups,
huddled against the cold, breath punching the air with
billows of vapor. A massive CRACKLING is heard. A YOUNG
SAILOR spins, jumpy.
OLD SAILOR:
Only the ice to starboard, boy.
YOUNG SAILOR:
Is it breaking up?
OLD SAILOR:
Just dancing on the current. It'll freeze even
tighter come next wind
CAMERA DRIFTS past to another group:
SAILOR #4
It was a polar bear. That's what I say.
SAILOR #5
Say all you want, but you weren't there. It left
human tracks.
SAILOR #6
No man could tear those dogs apart
SAILOR #5
No human. We've roused a demon from the ice.
(CONTINUED)
7
CLANG-CLANG! The men spin. A SAILOR on starboard has rung
the signal bell. The men race over, crowding the gunwale.
SAILOR:
Something. In the mist.
Walton appears from his cabin and crowds his way to the
front, rifle aimed at the sky. The men wait. Holding their
breath. Scanning the darkness.
AN APPARITION looms eerily from the mist on a creaking floe
of ice, silhouetted by the shifting light of the borealis.
The figure's pose is uncanny and weird: neither standing nor
kneeling, but something in between, arm dangling at its side
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"Frankenstein" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 Apr. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/frankenstein_644>.
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