(Please note: This script is intended for entertainment and educational purposes only.)



PROD. #02074							PRODUCERS: RICHARD ZANUCK
									   DAVID BROWN












J A W S



Final Draft Screenplay


by


PETER BENCHLEY












					      JAWS





	1	OVER BLACK								1

		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 under-
		sea 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.

								CUT TO


	2	EXT. LIGHTHOUSE - NIGHT							2

		Caught in its blinding flash, the light moves on, fingering
		the fog.  A lone buoy dongs somewhere out at sea.


	3	EXT. AMITY MAINSTREET - NIGHT						3

		The quaint little resort town is quiet in the middle of the
		night.  A ground fog rounds a corner and begins spreading
		toward us.  It fills over sidewalks and streets like some
		Biblical plague.


	4	EXT. THE SOUTH SHORE OF LONG ISLAND - NIGHT				4

		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.  The fog that
		has reached Amity proper is seen only as a low-hanging cloud
		that is pushing in from the sea.  HEAR a number of voices sing-
		ing.  It sounds like an Eastern University's Alma Mater.


	5	ANOTHER ANGLE  BEACH							5

		A bonfire is blazing.  Gathered around it are about a dozen
		young men and women who are merrily trading fight songs from
		their respective universities.  Two young people break away
		from the circle, Chrissie almost pulling a drunk and disorderly
		Tom Cassidy behind her.


	6	CLOSEUP - CASSIDY							6

		makes a clumsy try at kissing Christina but she laughs and
		ducks away.	


	7	ANOTHER PART OF THE BEACH						7

		The fire, now one hundred yards in the b.g., silhouettes
		Chrissie running up a steep dune.  Once there, she pauses to
		look at the ocean that we can only hear.  Cassidy plods up
		the dune behind her, grossly out of shape.

		Chrissie runs down a few steps, leaving Tom Cassidy reeling
		on the summit.  Chrissie's dress, bra and panties fly toward
		Tom, who can't make a fist to catch them.  The dress drapes
		over one half of his head.  Soggily aroused, Cassidy struggles
		to get his shoe off.

		But Chrissie is already in full flight toward the shore.  In
		she goes, a delicate splash, surfacing in a cold ocean that is
		unusually placid.  Chrissie pulls with her arms, drawing
		herself into deeper water.

		That's when we see it.  A gentle bulge in the water, a ripple
		that passes her a dozen feet away.  A wave of pressure lifts
		her up and eases her down again.  Her face shows the beginning
		of fear.  Maybe it's Tom.  She smiles and looks around for him,
		then her eyes go to the beach where Tom -- too drunk to stand
		-- one pantleg off, is struggling with his other shoe.  Chrissie
		turns and starts for shore.


	8	CLOSE - CHRISSIE							8

		Her expression freezes.  The water-lump is racing for her.
		It bolts her upright, out of the water to her hips, then slams
		her hard, whipping her in an upward arc of eight feet before
		she is jerked down to her open mouth.  Another jolt to her
		floating hair.  One hand claws the air, fingers trying to
		breathe, then it, too, is sucked below in a final and terrible
		jerking motion.  HOLD on the churning froth of a baby whirl-
		pool until we are sure it is over.


	9	ANGLE - CASSIDY								9

		in his undershorts, laughing, turning in slow stoned circles,
		a prisoner in his orange windbreaker that seems to have him
		in a full Nelson.  He stumbles to his knees.


	10	INTERIOR - MARTIN BRODY'S BEDROOM - DAWN				10

		ALARM CLOCK-RADIO

		giving weather bulletin:  marina weather, westerly winds,
		light chop, etc.

		A pair of bumps under the bedsheets.  There is a rustling
		and two stockinged feet swing up and settle heavily on the
		floor.  Follow them as the pad along from hardwood floor
		to bathroom tile.  A light pops on and the feet arrive at a
		scale, board it.


	11	INSERT - SCALE DIAL							11

		In a blur it goes to 191.  Then, as if by magic, the numbers
		float backward to 160.


	12	ANGLE									12

		Martin Brody at forty-two, stands rigid, lifting himself
		from the sink counter-top with both hands.  Satisfied, he
		turns toward the mirror, squinting in the light, measuring
		himself up and down.  Advancing waistline, receding hairline.
		Gray around the ears.  Martin Brody makes another silent
		promise to get his act together -- tomorrow.

		He reaches for the sliding mirror and opens the medicine
		cabinet.  There is a travel brochure of Arizona attached
		to the shelf.  Brody shakes his head and removes it.  He
		closes the mirror which now reflects his wife, Ellen Brody,
		pert and poised off to one side.

					   ELLEN
			   Martin.  Aren't you tired of Maine
			   lobster, Long Island duckling and
			   Ispwitch clams.  Just once couldn't
			   go for a Big Mac at the bottom of
			   the Grand Canyon this summer?

					   BRODY
			   Look at me, I'm not even awake.

					   ELLEN
			   You've had no time off in two years,
			   Martin.

					   BRODY
			   Living here is time off.

		Brody opens the shower door to turn on the water.  Ellen
		has scotch-taped a travel folder for exotic Mazatlan, Mexico
		on the shower head.


	13	INTERIOR - BRODY BEDROOM - MORNING					13

		Martin is getting dressed after his shower.  Ellen stands
		by the curtained window.

					   BRODY
			   Larry Vaughn says we'll pull a record
			   season.  Ellen, we're collecting high
			   enough rentals to cover the mortgage
			   payments for all three of our beach-
			   front investments.

					   ELLEN
			   I know where we can invest in an Indian
			   Chief Motor-home for the whole of August,
			   drop it off in Aspen, Colorado and jet
			   back to Boston by Labor Day.

		Ellen pulls from behind her back three brochures of trailer
		home rentals.

					   BRODY
			   Uh...look, Ellie.  Let's just ---

					   ELLEN
				   (completes the
				   sentence)
			   -- play it by ear.

		Ellen turns to open the curtains.  Sunlight and ocean
		sparkle pour in.  A glorious view.

					   ELLEN
				   (false happiness)
			   Another shitty day in Paradise.

		The sunlight catches Brody's Police Chief badge as he slips
		on his shirt, and we discover why he can't go anywhere.


	14	INTERIOR - BRODY'S KITCHEN - MORNING					14

		Brody, ripping open a twenty-five pound bag of Kennel Ration
		as five hungry mutts somersault around his feet.  The tele-
		phone rings, and Brody one-hands it as he attempts to sow
		all five doggy bowls with missed double-helpings.

					   BRODY
			   Mornin' Hendricks.  What's what?

		He listens, sours, and takes a breath.

					   BRODY
			   First goddamn weekend of the summer...
			   great start!
				   (beat)
			   No...take him back to the beach.
			   Maybe she washed in.


	15	EXTERIOR - ISLAND HIGHWAY - MORNING					15

		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 golden surf, languishing in a Solarcaine sun.
		AMITY WELCOMES YOU is written above her flailing arms.


	16	EXTERIOR - AMITY BEACH - DAY						16

		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.


	17	CLOSER ANGLE								17

		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, poke around the smoking ashes of the bon-
		fire.  Brody fingers the missing girl's shoes, purse and
		clothes.  In the daylight, Cassidy looks like a junior in
		High School and 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 -- because I was
			   sort of passed out.

					   BRODY
			   Sounds to me like maybe she ran out
			   on you.

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

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

					   BRODY
			   We may know in a minute.

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

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


	18 	MASTER ANGLE - THE SAND DUNE						18

		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.

		Whatever he sees has a marked effect on his entire physique.
		Kicking out with his foot, Brody sends dozens of angry
		horseshoe crabs in 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.

		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....


	19	INTERIOR - BRODY'S OFFICE - DAY						19

		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 sits behind the typewriter, only to find that somebody
		has placed a travel folder to sunny Scottsdale, Arizona
		between the rolls of his Smith-Corona.  He sighs and replaces
		the colorful brochure with the grim accident report.  As he
		types, Polly reads his calendar to him, undaunted by Brody's
		heavy malaise.

					   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.


	20	CLOSE - ACCIDENT REPORT							20

		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 in-
		formation 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.


	21	INSERT - ACCIDENT REPORT						21

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


	22	BRODY									22

		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 the Island fathers have
			   on for today.

					   POLLY
			   Right this minute?

		Brody gets up and moves hastily toward the door.


	23	BRODY'S OUTER OFFICE							23

		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.


	24	EXTERIOR - AMITY MAIN STREET - DAY					24

		In the busy center of a town preparing for the big Fourth
		of July weekend, Brody wends his way around sidewalk activ-
		ity, 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
			   Eight to ten years old.  Average
			   size about five-four, otherwise
			   the overhand chops would be higher
			   up on the fences.  And I have a
			   pretty damn good idea who two of
			   the little bastards are.

					   BRODY
				   (out-walking him)
			   Call me later in the afternoon,
			   Harry.


	25	ANGLE - AMITY GAZETTE NEWSPAPER OFFICE - PORCH				25

		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.


	25-A	ANGLE - AMITY STREET							25-A

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


	26	INTERIOR - LYNWOOD'S HARDWARE & SPORTING GOODS - DAY			26

		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 what-
			   ever you need, Chief.  Can you
			   work the register?


	27	EXTERIOR - LYNWOOD'S - DAY						27

		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
				   (he has fully
				   read the report)
			   I sent Sammy out ahead of me to the
			   South Chop beach until I can make
			   up the signs.

					   BRODY
			   Let Polly do the printing.

					   HENDRICKS
			   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 phones out
			   there.

					   BRODY
			   Oh, brother!  Gimme the keys, Lenny.

		Brody leaps behind the wheel as Hendricks steps out.


	28	EXTERIOR - VAUGHN'S REALTY - DAY					28

		A secretary is removing four 8 x 10 glossies of beachfront
		houses from the display window, 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.


	29	EXTERIOR - AVRIL BAY - DAY						29

		A flotilla of twenty exhausted Boy Scouts round a lifebuoy
		that marks the quarter-mile.  A rowboat with Scoutmaster and
		bullhorn keeps pace.


	30	ON THE BEACH								30

		Two older Seascouts time the event with stop watches, and a
		couple of dozen parents look on, shading their eyes.  Brody's
		jeep pulls up in the background and stops.  He gets out and
		starts down to the breakwater when the Mayor's Cadillac pulls
		up and skids to a stop.

		Brody pauses momentarily as Mayor Vaughn emerges, trying to
		affect an easygoing appearance.  Reaching Brody, he slips an
		arm around his shoulder, trying to slow him as Brody leads
		the gang toward the breakwater and the slogging Scouts.

					   VAUGHN
			   Where are you going to get the
			   authority to close the beaches?

		Brody stops.  He sees pitiful Hendricks standing by the car
		with the signboard material.  Brody begins to slow burn.

					   BRODY
			   Are you asking me as the Mayor, or
			   as a Real Estate broker, or our of
			   friendly interest, or what, Larry?

					   VAUGHN
			   I just want you aware of what you're
			   doing before you tinker with the life
			   blood of all those sage and discriminating
			   souls who elected you.  Next week's the
			   goddam Fourth of July!  We've got a couple
			   thousand summer people coming over here
			   who will gladly use the Cape Cod beaches
			   if they can't use ours.

					   BRODY
			   So what you're suggesting is we lay out
			   a smorgasbord for the shark.  All you can
			   eat for the price of a weekend on Amity
			   Island.

					   VAUGHN
			   We're not even sure it was a shark.

					   BRODY
			   What else could do that?!

					   VAUGHN
				   (to Coroner Santos)
			   Boat propeller?

					   SANTOS
			   Possibly.  Yes....

					   VAUGHN
			   Swims way out...night...fishing boat
			   comes along ---

					   BRODY
				   (looking at
				   both of them)
			   What is this?

					   MEADOWS
			   We've never had shark trouble here,
			   Martin.  They don't come in close.  No
			   reefs, or fish-processing plants, slaughter
			   houses.  Nothing to keep it interested.

					   BRODY
			   You print whatever you want.

					   VAUGHN
			   Martin, sharks are like ax-murderers.
			   People react to them with their guts.

		Brody looks toward the open water.  The Boy Scouts have made
		a turn and are passing the lifebuoy marking the three-quarter
		mile point.

					   MEADOWS
			   Whatever was out there is miles out
			   to sea by now.  Sharks don't have
			   swim bladders like most fish -- they
			   have to keep moving or drown.  Don't
			   you know anything about them?

					   BRODY
			   I...don't go around the water much.

					   VAUGHN
			   It's one chance in a million this'll
			   happen again.
				   (points)
			   Look at that...safe and sound.

		The Boy Scouts are emerging exhausted; some flop down on their
		backs, happy it is over.  Brody considers this.

					   VAUGHN
			   Had you yelled 'shark,' those Cub
			   Scouts would have broken the free-
			   style record for the hundred-meter,
			   then busted our backs with word of
			   mouth.

					   BRODY
			   If that's the test case for your
			   million-to-one shot, I'm glad I lost.

		Vaughn feels secure that Brody will not act in haste.  He puts
		a hand on his shoulder, turns and walks him toward the cars.

					   VAUGHN
			   Listen, Chief -- the funniest thing --
			   you know the white picket fence
			   around my realty office....


	31	CLOSE QUINT								31

		Rising like Neptune from out of the deep, Quint walks the
		sidewalk in the pool of his own shadow.  He is a sleek and
		sinewy specimen, inches over six feet, and with a face making
		it hard to determine where the scars leave off and the wrinkles
		begin, though he is no older than fifty.

		Quint seems to be heading for the local tavern when a crunch
		of seafaring fishermen pour out, forming an impenetrable knot
		around the sidewalk in front of him.  One of them sees Quint,
		who approaches with no intention of slowing down.  The seven
		fishermen never give it a second thought, they part like the
		Red Sea, clearing a beeline trail to the bar doors.  Quint
		bursts through their obliging ranks and turns into the Music
		store.  The tiny bell jingles daintily.  Two of the Portu-
		guese fishermen spit three times, taking no chances.


	32	INT. AMITY MUSIC STORE - DAY						32

		Quint brushes against the counter.  The shopkeeper is helping
		a ten year old boy fix a new reed to his clarinet.  The little
		boy produces a mellow low tone, then wonderingly rides the
		scale.  With little or no effort, Quint's gnarled hand floats
		up and drops like a sledge on the service bell.  The shop-
		keeper's eyes pop up, the kid hits a bad note and squeaks.

					   QUINT
				   (forced politeness)
			   Four spools number twelve piano wire.

					   SHOPKEEPER
			   Catch any monsters lately, Mr. Quint?

		Quint's eyes never leave the little boy.  He is drilling him	
		with a sidelong whammy.  The boy feels Quint nailing him and
		a ragged assortment of squeaks, blurps and missed notes over-
		ride the sounds of the shopkeeper unspooling the piano wire.


	33	INTERIOR BRODY'S STUDY AT HOME - SUNSET					33

		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.


	34	BRODY									34

		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.


	35	BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW							35

		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)
			   Tell him I want him out of the ocean.

					   ELLEN
			   It's three feet deep, Martin.  You
			   said that shark was half way back	
			   to Florida.

					   BRODY
				   (angry now)
			   Michael!  Come inside the house!

					   ELLEN
			   It's his birthday tomorrow.

					   BRODY
			   I told him not to go out until he
			   memorized the handbook, safety reg-
			   ulations and ---

		Ellen's eyes drift down to the open book.  One large text is
		open to a page of illustrations.  Among them is the famous
		painting, The Gulf Stream, which depicts a black fisherman
		in a small dinghy much like Michael's, being assaulted by the
		pressing jaws of three man-eaters.  Startled, Ellen closes the
		book, opens the window and sticks her head out.

					   ELLEN
			   You heard your father! Out now!


	36	EXT. BEACH - DAY							36

		A jelly-bowl woman visitor to Amity's beaches plunges head-
		long into the white foam.  There's enough of her stuffed
		into a one-piece bathing suit to sate the appetite of any
		shark for weeks.  Remarkably buoyant, she chops at the water
		revealing other cheerful Sunday bathers trying to enjoy the
		last uncluttered weekend before the holiday crowds.


	37	ANGLE - MARTIN BRODY AND ELLEN						37

		Brody is balefully alert this morning, sitting straight-
		back in his beach chair, coating the swimming area with
		careful looks.  About ten other adults and a dozen children
		attend this casual birthday get-together.

					   MAX
			   I don't envy you this summer, Chief.
			   Every year the swarms get worse.

					   MAX'S WIFE
			   I know now why there's not a sane
			   Parisian left in Paris from July to	
			   September.

		Brody hears a SCREAM from the water.  He cranes his neck past
		Max's wife in order to see.


	38	BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW							38

		A young lady is being pulled underwater to her hair.  Instantly,
		she is jerked up again -- sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders,
		laughing hysterically.

					   BRODY
			   What?

					   MAX
			   What?

					   BRODY
			   Did you say something?

					   MAX
			   No -- yeah, I was wondering if it's
			   true.  That you sit in your car
			   the whole while over on the
			   mainland ferry.


	39	BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW							39

		His son Michael along with sever other boys rush headlong
		into the gentle surf with their inflatable rubber rafts.
		Another youngster, Alex Kintner gathers up his Day-Glow yellow
		raft, but his mother takes issue and a tug-of-war ensues.

		Overlapping dialogue:

			   MAX'S WIFE			   ALEX
		What a terrible thing to say.	Please let me take my
						raft, Mom!
			   MAX
		C'mon Penny, I'm not ashamed		   MOTHER
		to admit that when I fly, my	Let me see your fingertips.
		feet sweat right through my	    (he holds them out)
		socks.				They're beginning to prune.
						Ten more minutes.


	40	BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW							40

		The fat woman is going out too far.

					   ALEX' VOICE
			   Fifteen!

		We stay on the fat woman, almost hypnotically.

					   DENHERDER'S VOICE
			   I can't believe it!  Brody!


	41	CLOSE - BRODY								41

		Snapping out of it.  Looks up at the dripping Selectman.

					   BRODY
				   (false normalcy)
			   How's the water?

					   DENHERDER
			   Fine!  Cold.
				   (to Ellen who
				   walks over and
				   sits next to Brody)
			   How'd you do it -- getting him to
			   the beach?

					   ELLEN
			   It's Michael's birthday.

					   DENHERDER
			   Hope we get this weather next
			   weekend!


	42	BRODY'S POINT OF VIEW 							42

		The fat woman is not where he last remembered seeing her.  He
		sort of rises to one knee, his eyes combing the surf.

					   ELLEN
				   (kissing him on
				   the cheek)
			   Do you want me to call the boys in?
			   Honey, if this worries you ---

					   MAX
				   (bolting down
				   his drink)
			   Does this -- mortal fear of the
			   water have a clinical name, Martin?

					   BRODY
				   (throwing it away)
			   Drowning.


	43	EXT. UNDERWATER - DAY							43

		A fish-eye view of people lying on rafts.  From below we see
		the outlines of swimmers, arms and legs dangling tantalizingly
		in the blue water.  Traveling this way from raft to raft,
		there comes a space of open water followed by a quick view of
		a single raft.  A pair of feet kicking and arms paddling produces
		bizarre underwater vibrations, louder than human ears would
		normally perceive.


	44	ANGLE - SURFACE								44

		The fat lady floating on her back, wearing pink sunglasses.
		A black object surfaces next to her.  It emerges as a bather
		in a black bathing cap.


	45	ANGLE - ALEX - WATER LEVEL						45

		paddling in circles, making motorboat sounds.


	46	ANGLE - TWO LOVERS							46

		kissing, drawing each other below the surface.


	47	ANGLE - BRODY'S SON							47

		separating from his friends, eating a huge piece of cake
		and trying to steer with the other hand.


	48	ANGLE - GROUP OF KIDS ON RUBBER RAFTS					48

		They begin a water fight, slapping at the ocean with karate-
		type blows, sending little explosions of water at each other.
		Then, no more than ten feet beyond the fighting, a genuine
		water eruption upstages the child's play.  Everybody turns
		just as the ocean flattens itself out again.  A pug-faced
		over-sized twelve year old named "P.J." renews the fighting
		with a genuine Karate yell.


	49	P.J.									49

		He hits the water, which sprays all over another youngster.


	50	CLOSE - MATHEW								50

		His face dripping with red rivulets.


	51	CLOSE - P.J.								51

		Looks down at his hand.  The water surrounding all the boys
		is slick with blood.


	52	ANGLE - SHOREFRONT							52

		People begin to congregate around an older gentleman, definitely
		a mainlander by his outfit.

					   MAINLANDER
			   It came out of the water.  Didn't
			   anybody else see it?

					   WOMAN TOURIST
			   There's blood.


	53	CLOSE - BRODY								53

		He stands all the way up this time.  Parents begin calling --
		a frantic inventory for lost children up and down the beach.
		Brody is on the move, barreling to the shoreline.  He kicks
		up sand passing Alex' mother, who looks up from her novel
		annoyed.

					   BRODY
				   (top of his lungs)
			   MICHAEL -- !  EVERYBODY OUT OF THE
			   WATER!!  MICHAEL -- !

		Other names from hysterical parents as the panic of a yet
		unseen tragedy rises.


	54	ANGLE - MICHAEL								54

		Appears from the shoot of a breaking wave.  He is all right
		but the wave that curls after him carries the shredded pieces
		of the Day-Glow yellow raft.  The foam that breaks wide on
		the sandy beach is tinged with pink.


	55	INTERIOR - THE COUNTY COURTHOUSE AND COUNTY OFFICES - DAY		55

		A crowd of men and women in an angry tangle outside of Brody's
		office.  These are the shop owners, real estate brokers,
		hotel managers and Selectmen of the Island.
		Through the windows, the Southbeach High School Band is
		practicing for the Fourth of July Parade.
		Brody and Vaughn exit Brody's office and enter the fray.

					   VAUGHN
			   I'm glad everyone could make this
			   meeting.  Why don't we wander
			   down the hall to my office where
			   there's room.

		All follow Brody and Vaughn.  Meadows pushes through the
		crunch to speak.

					   MEADOWS
			   Don't keep us in suspense Mayor.
			   What's the verdict?

		Vaughn cannot bring himself to say it right away.

					   BRODY
			   Larry and I have agreed to close
			   all beaches for a limited period
			   of time to give us a chance to
			   contact the Port Authority and
			   United States Coast Guard out on
			   Montaux.

					   MRS. TAFT
			   Well, that could take all summer!

					   VAUGHN
			   Twenty-four hours.

					   BRODY
				   (turns angry)
			   We never agreed to that.

					   MR. WISEMAN
			   I do a thrifty business her but
			   I'll not see it flourish at the
			   price of any more lives.

					   MRS. TAFT
			   Three reservations cancelled and
			   I still have August rentals open.

					   VAUGHN
			   So do I, Martha, so do I.

		They reach Vaughn's office.  It is being painted.  Newspapers
		are strewn all over the floor and paint-splattered tarps over
		the furniture.  Vaughn's secretary still dutifully takes calls.

					   SECRETARY
			   Larry, two Newsday reporters and
			   one from the New York Times, cal-
			   ling every 15 minutes.

					   MR. POSNER
			   Good people, nobody saw a shark.

					   MEADOWS
			   What they'll print is maybe it was
			   a shark.

					   MR. POSNER
			   Oh wonderful, and what we'll have
			   is maybe a summer.

					   MR. POLK
			   Town'll lose tax revenue, municipal
			   services'll deteriorate, the
			   people'll begin to move away.  Oh,
			   I don't care.  I never raised my
			   kids to be somebody's lunch.

					   VAUGHN
			   We have no way of keeping the lid
			   on what happened yesterday.  There
			   were well over a hundred bathers
			   on the beach, three-quarters of
			   them from the mainland.

		Vaughn leads the way down the hall toward the Bureau of Records
		room.

					   MR. GARDNER
			   I'm not interested in participating
			   in any cover-up Mayor.

					   VAUGHN
			   I wouldn't worry too much about
			   that, Max.  The President himself
			   couldn't stop the mushrooming at
			   this point.

		Selectman Denherder almost whispers in Vaughn's ear.

					   DENHERDER
			   But couldn't we just say the kid
			   drowned?

					   VAUGHN
				   (whispering back)
			   We couldn't even find the little
			   bastard.

		Vaughn opens the door to the Bureau of Records.  About two
		dozen children sit around, twisting multi-colored Kleenex
		into artificial flowers for the big parade.  Vaughn turns
		his face into a condescending grin.

					   VAUGHN
			   Could the big people have a grownup
			   meeting in here, please, children.

					   CHILD SPOKESMAN
			   Get lost.

		A voice from behind Vaughn draws him away.  It is a small
		but muscular black man named Salvatore.

					   SALVATORE'S VOICE
			   Mr. Vaughn?

		He steps out of the shadows, hat in hand.

					   SALVATORE
			   Mister Quint sent me down from
			   Jacobstown.

					   VAUGHN
			   What for?

					   SALVATORE
			   Well...he out catchin' them things
			   every day practily.  Price's right,
			   he come catch yours here.

					   VAUGHN
			   What's he get?

					   SALVATORE
			   Ten thousand and a color TV.

					   VAUGHN
				   (outraged)
			   How much?

					   SALVATORE
			   Twenty-seven inch.  Japanese one.

		Vaughn studies the little blinking man, ready to laugh.

					   VAUGHN
			   Mister Quint's services are not
			   required, thanks.
				   (stopping a secretary)
			   Is there an empty office anywhere
			   in this goddam building?

					   SECRETARY
			   Weights and Measures nobody ever
			   uses.

		Vaughn starts away and the crowd follows.

					   DENHERDER
			   I'd haul it in myself before I'd
			   pay anything to that maniac...you
			   wanna hear what he did to three
			   friends of mine on a Saint Valentine's
			   Day sporting charter?

		They are halted in their tracks by the grim appearance of
		Mrs. Kintner and her benign father.  She is dressed in church
		white with a black arm band.  Mrs. Kintner never says a word.
		She has just tacked something to the community bulletin board
		and is walking through the parting crowd.  With sympathy, all
		watch her leave, then press up to the cork board.  Brody
		fights his way through everyone until we are standing over
		his shoulder, staring at a homemade poster that offers:

			   "ALL OR A FRACTION OF $3000 BOUNTY
			   TO THE MAN OR MEN WHO CATCH AND
			   SLAUGHTER THE SHARK THAT SAVAGED
			   ALEX M. KINTNER, JR. ON SUNDAY,
			   JUNE 29 IN THE TOWN OF AMITY."

					   BRODY
				   (to Vaughn)
			   Listen, Larry, I'm going to talk
			   to her.  This isn't a contest we
			   want everybody from Boston to
			   Quebec entering.

					   MRS. TAFT
			   I agree.  If she's going to adver-
			   tise, I wouldn't recommend out-of-
			   city papers.  There's enough of
			   us here in Amity could take care
			   of this.

					   BRODY
			   Larry, I'm responsible for the
			   public safety around here....

					   VAUGHN
			   So I think tomorrow you should go
			   out with whoever, and see that
			   they don't get hurt.

					   BRODY
			   But nobody sport-fishes for shark!

		No one will listen.  Already plans are being discussed, sides
		chosen, boats, tackle and tactics recommended.  The din
		overrules Brody, who we pull close to and ---

								CUT TO


	56	INT. QUINT'S CHUM SHED - DAY						56

		A naked 100-watt bulb illuminates the electric grinder purring
		in one corner.  The slick black carcass of a pilot whale
		dominates the lighted area.

		Quint is hacking slabs off the whale with his Marine machete
		as his mate, Salvatore rolls an empty barrel to the grinder.

					   SALVATORE
				   (suspicious)
			   Where you find this whale anyway?

					   QUINT
			   Way out.  Dead as a doornail.

					   SALVATORE
			   How come harpoon holes in him?

		Quint doesn't reply as he hacks away.  The mate rolls away
		a full barrel.

					   SALVATORE
			   You hardly never use this chummin'
			   for shark.

					   QUINT
			   For some kinds.

		Quint muscles a new slab into the grinder, slowing it to a
		low growl as it purees the blubber.

					   QUINT
			   Go hose the deck, we're chartered
			   for nine a.m.

					   SALVATORE
				   (awed, looking
				   at chum)
			   Think it's one of those they got
			   down there?

		Quint's grim smile is reply enough.  Salvatore, looking worried,
		indicates some barrels full of whale pulp.

					   SALVATORE
			   Load these on or what?

		Quint is hacking revenge from the mutilated carcass.  He spits
		away the dripping perspiration.

					   QUINT
			   'Not required'...you heard the
			   man.
				   (answering Salvatore's
				question)
			   Just a regular charter tomorrow...
			   I'll keep this on ice for a while.


	57	ANGLE - QUINT'S MARINE CORP MACHETE					57

		Chop, chop, chop....

								CUT TO


	58	A SHOVEL 								58

		whump, whump, whump...pounding the sharpened standard into
		the sand.  The sign reads:  NO SWIMMING OR WADING -- Amity
		P.D.


	59	SUNSET ON THE BEACH							59

		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


	60	EXTERIOR - GRASSY INLET AND PIER - NIGHT				60

		Selectman Denherder and his buddy, Charlie, a professional
		angler, push a wheelbarrow ahead of them as they near the
		tumble-down jetty that leads fifty feet out into the black
		water.  Both men scuff along, exhausted.

					   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 wheel-
		barrow, 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.


	61	CLOSE - CHAIN IN WHEELBARROW						61

		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.


	62	CLOSE - PILING								62

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


	63	ANGLE - JETTY								63

		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.


	64	DENHERDER'S POINT OF VIEW						64

		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.


	65	CLOSE - CHARLIE								65

		looking seaward.


	66	CHARLIE'S POINT OF VIEW							66

		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 the chain dragging it through the
		water is severed, and the charging wood falls behind -- 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 ---


	67	INSERT - CHARLIE'S HANDS						67

		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 SCREAMS.  An explosion of water and bubbles
		mercifully blot out the image.


	68	EXTERIOR - AMITY HARBOR - DAWN						68

		Ben Gardner, ruddy faced and ornery, is a fisherman as sea-
		worthy as they come.  With his make, Swede, he starts to
		board the Flicka, a Bertram 28 Sports Fisherman.  Absently,
		he makes preparations for casting off, his attention focused
		on surrounding dockside activity and ---


	69	HIGH ANGLE - HARBOR							69

		Chaos.  A dozen cars and trucks double-parked on the dock with
		out-of-state plates from New Jersey, Rhode Island, Connecticut.
		Other vehicles are pulling up and parking.  Men unloading their
		weapons.  Boarding small boats.

		A queue of up-islanders, down-islanders, out-of-towners at the
		boat rental shack.  From rank amateurs in their green golf
		slacks to the alley-poor in levi tatters -- all of this dis-
		dainfully observed by Ben Gardner.

		Cries of "Cast Off," the starting of diesel engines in con-
		trast to the flooded baby Evenrudes -- all of this helped
		along by a lot of honcho swearing.


	70	CLOSE - HARBORMASTER							70

		Sleepy, the old salt bends over the dock, washing out his
		coffee pot in the oily harbor water.  He sets down the pot,
		pulls a small wooden chair into position, on which teeters a
		bowl of Kellogg's Rice Krispies, and collapses into it with
		spoon in hand.  He watches stoically as:


	71	CLOSE - BRODY								71

		Riding up on his police bicycle, Brody joins Deputy Hendricks
		who is trying to break up an argument at the Rental stand.

					   HENDRICKS
			   Christ, Martin, that Kintner lady
			   must have taken out an ad in Field
			   & Stream.

					   BRODY
			   Looks more like the Harvard Lampoon.

					   OUT-OF-TOWNER
			   I didn't come all the way out here
			   from New Rochelle to be gouged in
			   the seat of the pants by this loan
			   shark.

					   BOAT RENTAL MAN
			   Prices always go up around here
			   after June One -- isn't that right,
			   Chief?  If you want leaky boats at
			   lower rates, go up to the Hamptons.


	72	ANGLE FROM ONE OF THE BOUNTY BOATS					72

		The narrow channel leading out of port lies ahead.  An incoming
		boat, a Formula 22 Inboard/Outboard with 110 h.p. Volvo engines.
		A few of the smaller craft begin zig-zagging to clear the right-
		of-way, their wakes causing annoying chop in the bay.


	73	ANGLE - INCOMING FORMULA 22						73

		Matt Hooper, a bearded, backpacking young man, is at the helm,
		peering ahead at the ragtag armada.  He ties up, revealing for
		the first time a seven-by-four foot steel cage in the stern,
		drawing some attention.


	74	BACK TO DOCKSIDE							74

		Another man and his two buddies heft a trash can into one
		of the boats.  He lifts the lid, and the stench throws his
		head into near whiplash.

					   WALTER
			   What is this sewage?

					   BARWOOD
			   For chum.  Let's move it.

					   WALTER
			   What's chum?

					   BARWOOD
			   Anything that attracts 'em.

		Brody looks over the dockrail at the boarding.  Eight men
		have piled into a tiny Glasstron and are now loading various
		and sundry weapons, from crossbows to spear guns.  Brody
		walks over to the harbormaster.

					   BRODY
			   Isn't there a limit to how many
			   men those boats'll carry?

					   HARBORMASTER
			   Sit down next to me, son, and we'll
			   find out.


	75	CLOSE - GARDNER								75

		exchanging distasteful looks with his mate.  He is casting
		off the bow lines just as Felix and Pratt, two down-island
		characters run over.

					   FELIX
				   (more a declaration)
			   Okay, we go out with you.

		Gardner quickly pushes off, leaving Felix with his boarding
		leg in the air.

					   GARDNER
			   Hunt with the pack, sport.  I'll
			   fish for it my way.

		Felix and Pratt make obscene gestures and run off, looking
		for boats not yet filled to capacity, trying to make a deal.


	76	ANGLE - LANDING								76

		Hooper sees Brody, up in arms about something, walking toward
		him.  Hooper starts to speak, but Brody veers aside and yells
		over the pier at the loading boats.

					   BRODY
			   No dynamite!  Hand that stuff over
			   or you'll never leave port!

					   MAN IN BOAT
			   It's fireworks.  I read somewhere
			   it attracts 'em.

					   HOOPER
			   Sharks are equipped with two long
			   cords of nerve tissue that function
			   as a sort of radar for homing in on
			   underwater vibrations.
				   (to Brody)
			   Understand you're having a little
			   shark trouble.

		Brody turns and walks away, Hooper barely keeping up with him.

					   HOOPER
			   I know you have a visitor off your
			   southern shores.  I think it could
			   be my shark.

					   BRODY
			   It belongs to whoever catches it.
				   (to a late arrival)
			   You'll move this car to a parking
			   slot, mister, or it won't be here
			   when you get back.

					   HOOPER
			   Sir, I'm not with these others ---

					   BRODY
			   It's always nice to meet an educated
			   man.

					   HOOPER
			   I'm interning at the American
			   Museum of Natural History, but the
			   Oceanographic Research Institute in
			   South Africa is co-sponsoring my
			   thesis paper arm in arm with the
			   Natural Institute of Health and the
			   Marine Fishery Service.

		Brody pauses to look hard at Hooper. A careless amateur trips and falls
		into the harbor beyond him.

					   BRODY
			   I don't have time to help you with
			   your homework.

		Brody goes over to lend a hand.  Hooper persists.

					   HOOPER
			   I'm trying to prove that the shark
			   that killed Christine Watkins last
			   Friday was the same rogue that
			   savaged these.

		Hooper pushes a mimeographed sheet in front of Brody.  About
		twenty names and addresses in all.

					   BRODY
			   One shark did all this?

					   HOOPER
				   (his excitement
				   multiplying as
				   he goes on)
			   The trail of a rogue shark leads
			   all over the world.  This is only
			   a theory.  It has never been authen-
			   ticated, but there is a wonderful
			   chance that the shark that killed
			   the Watkins girl and the man-eater
			   I tagged off the Great Barrier Reef
			   are the one and the same.  Off and on
			   I've tracked it to New Zealand,
			   Santiago Bay, Cape Town South Africa
			   ...uh...the Gulf of Guinea, then
			   West Palm Beach, Florida last
			   December -- and finally predicted
			   it would follow the warming Gulf
			   Stream into the Northern Seasonal
			   Zones, and release an attack pattern
			   along the Jersey Coast.  I was off
			   by just three hundred miles.  It
			   hit you instead.

					   BRODY
			   You'll pardon me i f I don't help
			   you get your Ph.D. while my town here
			   degenerates into some high-class
			   ghost resort.

		Brody starts away.  In the background all boats are heading
		toward open ocean.

					   HOOPER
			   All I'm asking is for a little future
			   cooperation.  I could predict future
			   outbursts of attack activity in the
			   area.  Use me...Let me use you.  I
			   scored 93 on my Orals, for crying
			   out loud!

					   BRODY
			   We've had two other attacks since
			   the Watkins thing, both fatal.
			   Could you kill it for us?

					   HOOPER
				   (honest response)
			   No sir, I couldn't.

					   BRODY
			   Then how do we begin to cooperate?

					   HOOPER
			   By letting me see Christine Watkins.


	77	EXTERIOR - OCEAN - DAY							77

		The armada is spread out and moving in a ragged circle, fif-
		teen 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."
		A boatload of impoverished scallop fishermen throw a net over-
		board, 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.


	78	THE RUBE GOLDBERG ERROR							78
	thru										thru
	84	The Out-of-Towner in a small boat is bent over in a life and		84
		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 fisher-
		men.  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 ---

		The Scallop boat swerves right, and bows into an eleven-foot
		Glasstron ---

		A Proud Mariner standing in the stern with his 30.06 is
		knocked off balance and pitches forward into the drink, his
		gun exploding outward and ---

		The wad of shot from the exploding rifle hits the rigging of
		a passing boat sending the jib, mains'l and about twenty
		pounds of rigging on top of the bewildered occupants.


	85	ANGLE - HARRY'S BOAT							85

		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.


	86	CLOSE - PRATT AND FELIX							86

		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 ---


	87	HARRY'S BOAT								87

		Everyone wants to get into the act.  They are attacking the
		threshing beast with all they've got.  Pratt uses his auto-
		matic, 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.


	88	FELIX AND PRATT								88

		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 blue, 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 cap-
		size 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.  Every-
		body stands up as the boat slips beneath them.


	89	HIGH ANGLE FROM SHORE							89

		On a hummock overlooking the cluster of boats stands Quint.
		He is laughing out loud -- a sharp, piercing bark that has
		little real humor in it.  Below, the circle of boats tighten
		around the spreading stain of crimson.


	90	INTERIOR - MORGUE - DAY							90

		Hooper is measuring the bite marks on the Day-Glow raft with
		his dial calibrators.

					   HOOPER
			   I'll look at her now if you don't
			   mind.


	91	ANGLE - BRODY, CORONER SANTOS, HOOPER					91

		Hooper scribbles notes, then mumbles something inaudible
		into his pocket cassette recorder.  Coroner Santos looks
		to Brody, plaintively.

					   CORONER SANTOS
			   That was a different sort of acci-
			   dent.  As I told you ---

					   BRODY
				   (guilty, angry)
			   Let him.

		The coroner hesitates, then walks to the ice chest and slides
		open the drawer.


	92	CLOSE - HOOPER								92

		At first his face registers shock.  Then, with forced composure,
		Hooper steadies his hands and begins to take pictures with his
		Minolta.

					   HOOPER
			   I've heard the boat-propeller story
			   several times.  And the nocturnal
			   hatchet-murder story, the dashed-
			   upon-the-razor-coral story --
				   (to Brody)
			   The little boy was never found?

		Brody nods, looking down at his feet.

					   HOOPER
			   They're very successful creatures,
			   sharks.  Eighty million year's
			   antiquity for the species of the
			   Great White.  The family goes as far
			   back as three-hundred million.  Plenty
			   of time to get good at what they do.

		An attendant flies into the room, joyfully out of wind.

					   ATTENDANT
			   They called from the dock, Mr. Brody!
			   They got it!


	93	CLOSE - HOOPER								93

		He appears stunned.


	94	CLOSE - BRODY								94

		enjoying a lightheadedness he hasn't felt in weeks.

					   BRODY
			   Want to see?


	95	EXT. - BREAKWATER LEADING TO THE PUBLIC BATHING AREA - DAY		95


	96	A PROCESSION OF TWENTY MEN						96

		dragging the shark by a tail-rope from harbor to beach.
		A dog follows, barking at the remains of the blue.  As they
		arrive at the beach Meadows takes charge.  Talks to both his
		photographer and the bounty hunters.

					   MEADOWS
				   (to photographer)
			   I want a good one for under the
			   headline -- nearer the water.  Get
			   a group shot with the shark.  Use
			   it on page one, six inches by six
			   columns, center.

		Some of the men have run ahead, happily knocking down some
		of Brody's NO SWIMMING signs.

					   MEADOWS
				   (seeing this)
			   Great!  Bring one over here.

		In the background; voices, laughter.  Some joke about the
		"big-time fisherman" -- "Ben Gardner, not even back yet!"
		Others open beer, throw frosty cans around, making it look
		like a Miller's commercial.

		Meadows positions the shark and vigilantes.

					   MEADOWS
			   Group around Charlie Tuna...that's
			   right.  No, leave it clear in back
			   -- closer with the sign.

		Brody and Hooper are seen approaching fifty yards up the
		beach.

					   MEADOWS
			   Smile, boys!  On three, drop the
			   sign.
				   (to photographer)
			   On three, Bill.  One...two...three.

		Click.  Cheers.

					   MEADOWS
			   One more.  Just the two prize-winners.

		Mock groans as the posse moves aside.  Pratt and the gaffer
		remain.  One of the others raises the sign again for take
		two.

					   HARRY
			   I hooked him y'know?

					   MEADOWS
			   In a little tighter please.

		The gaffer doesn't fancy sidling up to the critter.

					   GAFFER
			   Better check this bastard.

		He starts to poke it in the eye.  Pratt on the other side
		leans forward for a closer look, gaff in hand.  The gaffer
		pokes the eye.  The Blue shark is wide awake, a vicious
		lunge in the opposite direction that snaps the gaff in
		Pratt's hand completely in half.

					   VOICE IN CROWD
			   Christ!  Ain't it dead?

		Pratt squeezes out a little smile and shuffles eight feet
		to his right out of range.  Hooper and Brody walk into the
		frozen tableau.  Hooper walks over to the shark, eyeing it
		with both amusement and disappointment.

					   BRODY
			   Yours?

					   HOOPER
			   No, this one's a blue.

					   HARRY
				   (insisting)
			   I hooked him.

					   BRODY
				   (persisting)
			   Is it the one?

		Hooper unravels a lab thermometer on a long nylon cord,
		twirling it over his head like a lariat, finally hurling
		it out into the ocean.  He then unhooks a steel tape measure
		from his bag of tricks and spools out feet and inches from
		the shark's nose to tail.

					   HOOPER
			   It's sure big enough -- ten point
			   six feet.

					   PRATT
			   Who is this guy?

		Hooper is reeling in his thermometer.

					   BRODY
				   (doesn't want to say
				   a 'student')
			   The Institute of Sharks sent him
			   to lend a hand -- Matt Hooper.

					   PRATT
			   That's right, except he's half a
			   day late now that I already caught
			   it.


	97	HOOPER									97

		reading the thermometer.

					   HOOPER
			   I'm not so sure.  Blue sharks pretty
			   much operate on the warm-water law,
			   and limit their attacks to seventy
			   degrees and up.
				   (holding out thermometer)
			   Ocean's fifty-five.

					   PRATT
				   (after a stymied beat)
			   Who is this guy?

					   HOOPER
			   The Great White's body temperature
			   in the lateral musculature is almost
			   eighteen degrees above whatever the
			   temperature of the water.  I don't
			   know if this is our bite culprit.

					   PRATT
				   (beginning to rave)
			   If you'd have seen the fight he put
			   up, you'd shut up.  Hell, he ate a
			   nine-year-old boy yesterday morning,
			   the bastard, and goddammit...
				   (kicks the shark
				   in the nose)
			   ...this is my shark!

		Hooper removes from its sheath the meanest fourteen-inch
		hunting knife Pratt has ever seen.

					   HOOPER
			   Only one way to know for sure...
				   (handing Pratt the
				   knife, handle first)
			   ...and since it's not my shark, I'm
			   not slitting open the belly to see
			   what portions of the boy is still
			   inside.  Am I...?

		Groans are heard from the bounty hunters, some of whom start
		to turn away.


	98	CLOSE - BRODY								98

		Uncomfortable and queasy at the thought of it.


	99	CLOSE - PRATT								99

		He wraps his hands behind him in defiance of the proffered
		blade.

					   PRATT
				   (whiny)
			   Well, shit -- this guy caught it
			   with me.  And Harry over there
			   hooked it!


	100	ANGLE - HARRY								100

		starts to whistle up toward the clouds.


	101	BACK TO HOOPER								101

		as he poises the knife himself toward the underbelly and ---

			   BRODY			   HOOPER
		Not here, Mr. Hooper ---	This could be it.  He's big
						enough all right, but I still
						can't be sure until ---

					   BRODY
				   (nods toward
				   upper beach)
			   -- the boy's mother.


	102	POINT OF VIEW								102

		Mayor Vaughn, Mrs. Kintner and her father approaching.
		Mrs. Kintner is draped in black mourning, and never utters
		a sound.  She lifts her veil, walks two paces forward and
		spits down at the shark, takes two paces back and replaces
		the veil, recovering her poise.

					   VAUGHN
				   (to Brody)
			   This it?

					   HOOPER
				   (interrupting)
			   I won't know until I perform a
			   full autopsy.

					   VAUGHN
				   (sotto to Brody)
			   Who is this kid?

					   BRODY
			   He's a fish expert from the Oceano-
			   graphic Foundation.

					   VAUGHN
				   (looking him up and
				   down; in a wholly
				   irreverent tone)
			   Well, it doesn't take much of an
			   expert to see that this is the big-
			   gest, ugliest, meanest-looking shark
			   ever hooked around Amity Island.
				   (to the gathering
				   of men)
			   Who caught her?

		Harry steps forward, pointing.

					   HARRY
			   This guy, Pratt, and me.

					   VAUGHN
			   A thousand dollars apiece is not a
			   bad day's haul.

		Vaughn begins shaking hands with the three winners, and
		Meadows snaps some bonus pictures.  Mrs. Kintner's father
		draws close to Brody and Vaughn, handing Vaughn a card
		from his pocket.

					   FATHER
			   At whatever the cost, my daughter
			   has requested that all preparations
			   be made to ship this animal to her
			   home town of Marblehead, Mass.  Can
			   you accommodate us?

					   VAUGHN
			   What the devil for?

		Nary a blink from the old man, and Vaughn looks to Hooper,
		weighing the alternatives.

					   VAUGHN
			   We'll see it through, Mr. Sands.
				   (to Martin)
			   Martin, you start collecting those
			   signs.  And keep your friend away
			   from that demon with his pigsticker
			   there.  Let's show some respect for	
			   the loss we've incurred.
				   (to Meadows; walking
				   him up the beach)
			   Get the story on the state wire.
			   Try to get AP and UPI to pick it
			   up in New York or Boston to put it
			   on the national.  Call Dave Axelrod
			   in New York and tell him this is
			   from me, and he owes me one.


	103	ANGLE - FATHER AND MRS. KINTNER						103

		walking up the beach with Pratt, Harry and the gaffer follow-
		ing behind.


	104	BRODY									104

		kneels next to the shark, making a face at the wafting stench.

					   BRODY
			   Some field you picked.

					   HOOPER
			   Well, there's dolphins -- but they
			   talk too much.

								CUT TO


	105	INT. RADIO ROOM - COAST GUARD STATION #4 - EVENING			105

		One man is at the radio, another, a laundry-white officer,
		walks toward Brody.

					   OFFICER
			   Can't seem to raise your Mr. Gardner.
			   Maybe his radio is out.  Or he could
			   have put in somewhere else.

					   BRODY
			   He would have called his wife.

		They walk out together, into an eerie dusk fog.

					   BRODY
			   No point sending up a plane, huh?

					   OFFICER
			   I'll get a patrol boat on it.  If
			   you'd like to go ---
	
					   BRODY
				   (laughing under
				   his breath)
			   I don't do so hot on boats.

					   OFFICER
				   (going)
			   We'll contact you down there if ---

					   BRODY
				   (urgently
				   stopping him)
			   Listen ---

					   OFFICER
				   (they've been
				   over this)
			   Brody, sharks are always around.
			   Blues, browns, makos, thousands ---

					   BRODY
			   Can't you get rid of just one for
			   us?

					   OFFICER
			   Where is it?  How do we find it?
			   It shouldn't come around again.
			   Odds are worse on the highways.

					   BRODY
			   But you could protect the beach -- !
			   I mean, you have access to ---

					   OFFICER
				   (stopping him)
			   We could put up a show.  We could
			   give you spotters, but in where
			   the waves break, the water's
			   cloudy and it's hard to spot.
			   Or we could string out shark
			   repellent -- sometimes it's effec-
			   tive.  But then, sometimes ---

					   BRODY
			   What do I do then?  Pray for
			   lousy weather?

					   OFFICER
			   We're just the Coast Guard, Brody.

		Brody walks into the fog until he disappears.


	106	SLOW ANGLE  LIGHTHOUSE							106

		Brody walking away from the station and lighthouse preoccupied
		with a dozen alternative thoughts.  A shattering blast from
		the fog horn catches him unprepared and he nearly comes out
		of his skin.  Hands clasped to ears, he passes a sign that
		can barely be seen through the fog:  WARNING!  FOG HORN CAN
		BE DAMAGING TO YOUR HEARING!


	107	EXTERIOR - FRONT PORCH OF BRODY'S HOUSE - NIGHT				107

		Hooper is having after-dinner with Ellen and Martin
		Brody, while a spectacular heat-lightning display colors the
		night clouds and dances on the water miles out.

					   HOOPER
			   There're good things to be said
			   about meshing.  It's worked in
			   Australia for years.  Repellent's
			   a myth.  Now there's a cable avail-
			   able charged with 7,000 amps that
			   could be strung along the entire
			   bathing area.

					   ELLEN
			   We have Kahlua, Mr. Hooper.

					   HOOPER
			   Matt.  And I don't drink alcohol,
			   but thank you.
				   (back to Brody)
			   We think the Great Whites possess
			   an electrical sense ---

		Michael walks in.  He doesn't smile after the Sunday
		incident.  He is quite dry this evening, and is in possession
		of a ghastly watercolor of a shark tearing a man in two.

					   MICHAEL
				   (shy, his eyes
				   on Hooper)
			   Mrs. Pfister had us all draw
			   sharks in school today.

					   BRODY
			   I told you not to wear that cracker-
			   jack ring.  It's too big -- you're
			   gonna catch it on something and
			   lose a finger.

					   HOOPER
				   (always interested)
			   This is a very good rendering,
			   Mike.  Looks like a thresher.
			   Where'd you learn to draw him?

					   MICHAEL
			   I -- cheated, and found pictures
			   in one of Dad's books.

					   HOOPER
				   (delighted)
			   Get bitten by the subject...or
			   just morbid curiosity?

					   BRODY
			   More in the spirit of the public
			   interest.

					   MICHAEL
			   Mrs. Pfister says if we have a bad
			   season, we could sell our pictures
			   to the tourists.  We get to paint
			   through American History again
			   tomorrow.

		Ellen and Brody exchange worried looks.  Hooper digs around
		in his pocket for something, then looks through his satchel
		purse.

					   ELLEN
			   You want me to speak to her tomorrow?

		Hooper hands Michael a shark's tooth on a wire necklace.

					   HOOPER
			   I picked this up in Macao.  There's
			   supposed to be a superstition about
			   these things -- that if you keep it
			   with you, you'll be safe from shark
			   bite.

		Michael smiles for the first time, and a warm moment passes
		between him and Hooper.

					   MICHAEL
			   I gotta show this to Guber.

					   BRODY
			   Don't sleep with that on, son.
			   You'll cut something in the night.

					   ELLEN
				   (squeezing his hand
				   across the table)
			   That was nice.  Michael hasn't
			   smiled since his birthday party
			   and that Kintner accident.

					   HOOPER
			   He was a witness?

					   BRODY
				   (changing subject,
				   referring to storm)
			   Yeah.  Listen.  I'm no crack meteor-
			   ologist, but I think we're in store
			   for some surf.

					   HOOPER
			   Hope not.  I'm longlining in the
			   morning.  You should come along,
			   Martin.

					   BRODY
			   In case you haven't caught the
			   island gossip, I never take baths
			   -- just showers.

					   HOOPER
			   Aquaphobia or what?  Mind if I
			   smoke?

					   BRODY
			   No.  Here, wait.

		Brody takes out a lighter as Hooper puts a twisted cigarette
		in his mouth.  Instead of inhaling, Hooper takes a long hit,
		and it doesn't take long for the shock to beat the aroma to
		where Ellen and Martin sit.

					   HOOPER
				   (behind the hit)
			   I'm going to try and snag the old
			   boy with 3/32 of an inch stainless
			   steel aircraft cable.

					   BRODY
				   (dubiously amused)
			   I could throw your ass in jail for
			   that.

					   HOOPER
			   Brought my own cage, thanks.  If
			   this really is my shark, he's got
			   a Peterson disc tag on his anal
			   fin.  It can't be seen from a boat.

					   BRODY
				   (growing anger at
				   this young man's
				   impudence)
			   Once hooked, what then?

		Hooper brightens and reaches into his duffel, pulling out
		a shiny stainless steel object about the size of an alarm
		clock.

					   HOOPER
			   Biotelemetry.  It's a radio collar.
			   I bell the cat and then follow him
			   anywhere.  I'm trying to make a
			   deal with a satellite tracking
			   station at Houston, Texas.

					   BRODY
				   (getting riled)
			   Now let's wait a minute.  You have
			   him hooked, right?

					   HOOPER
				   (trying to be jovial)
			   Well, I'll never take him without
			   a fight, but --

					   BRODY
			   And you stick that -- cigarette
			   case to his neck?

					   HOOPER
				   (wondering where
				   this is leading)
			   That's the game plan.

					   BRODY
			   Then you let it loose.  You let
			   it go free.

		Hooper sees where this has arrived.  He swallows the roach
		and takes a breath.

					   HOOPER
			   I know what you're saying, Martin.

					   BRODY
			   Your little lab experiment has
			   seen three innocent people killed
			   over the past three days.

					   ELLEN
			   Martin, it's not his shark.

					   BRODY
			   And your list makes me sick.  You
			   carry it around with you like
			   you're keeping score.

					   HOOPER
			   Nature has no conscience, Mr. Brody.

					   BRODY
			   Oh, Christ.  Whose side are you on?
			   You told me you'd help us get rid
			   of it.

					   HOOPER
			   What I said was, I'd help predict
			   future attacks in your area.  If
			   this device works, the early warn-
			   ing to other shorefront resorts --
			   not just here, but anywhere it
			   ranges in the world ---

					   BRODY
			   I don't give a crap about your
			   worldwide conquest.  What about
			   right here?  This town is going
			   under today!  Where's your humanity?
			   You could kill this thing for us,
			   flatten its ass and ---

					   HOOPER
				   (rising)
			   I'm staying at the Abilard Arms.

		Hooper gathers his things, climbs into his backpack.
		Smiles at Ellen and kisses her hand.  Ellen smiles, not
		yet recovered from embarrassment.

					   HOOPER
			   I really liked dinner.

		He leaves.  Ellen looks at her hand.  Brody turns and sees
		her.

					   ELLEN
				   (it's all she
				   can say)
			   Nobody kisses hands anymore.
	
					   BRODY
			   If you stick that wet spot under
			   the black light at the Coney
			   Island Aquarium, they'll let you
			   in for nothing.


	108	EXTERIOR - ABOARD HOOPER'S BOAT - FOGGY DAY				108

		The boat is slicing gentle swells into the flat water.
		Hooper is mainlining from a big reel.  Tuna-halibut clips
		attached to each of the lines that bear hooks and floats
		every ten yards.  Large bait chunks are tossed into the
		water.  In the boat with him is Meadows, huddled in a
		corner and trying to appear eager to learn.  Hooper is
		not cooperating.  He storms around, upset and frustrated.

					   MEADOWS
			   Okay.  What's the second species
			   of shark on your dangerous list?

		Hooper opens the throttle half-speed, looking into the sonar
		display that casts a green glow in the soupy weather.  A
		blip appears on the screen that draws a speculative hum from	
		Hooper.

					   MEADOWS
				   (trying to
				   sound scientific)
			   Fish activity?

					   HOOPER
			   Very deep -- looks like a school.
				   (more to himself)
			   Mackerel.  Really clumped together.

		As the two huddle together in the green spill, Hooper touches
		the throttle to increase speed, still slightly puzzled.

					   HOOPER
			   Staying right with us.


	109 	INSERT - SONAR ACTIVITY							109

					   MEADOWS (o.s.)
			   And didn't you say activity stops?
			   If any of those whoppers are
			   around?

					   HOOPER
			   Tends to.  Gets very still down
			   there.


	110	CLOSE - MEADOWS								110

		looks up from the scope, and his expression turns to horror.

					   MEADOWS
			   Look out!

		Hooper looks up in time to avert a near collision with Ben
		Gardner's boat, the Flicka.

		It is completely awash, with water in the cockpit right up
		to the gunwales.  Seat cushions and hatch covers float about,
		banging and thumping.  The boat is wallowing and it seems
		that, given a touch more weight, it will sink.

					   MEADOWS
				   (shocked)
			   That's Ben Gardner's boat!  Ben!
			   Ben!

		Hooper comes up alongside, cuts his engine and goes forward
		to tie his bowline to a forward cleat on the Flicka.


	111	INSERT - SONAR SCOPE							111

		Bigger blips, both visually and audibly.

		Taking note of this, Hooper stands a moment trying to figure
		out what could have done this.  There doesn't seem to be any
		damage fore or aft.  Then he notices that one of the after
		cleats on the Flicka has been torn away...there are scars
		on the wood where the screws are used to hold the cleats down.

					   MEADOWS
				   (skin crawling from
				   the foggy stillness)
			   He must have hit something...I'm
			   sure they had life-belts on board.

		Hooper nods toward the water.


	112	ANGLE - WATER								112

		We see life-belts and jackets floating in the unearthly
		stillness.


	113	HOOPER - WIDE								113

		He gingerly steps onto the rail of Flicka, peeks into the
		cockpit and cabin.  Awash.  No sign of life.  He puts more
		weight down as he cranes his neck further and the whole
		boat lists to one side.  Hooper leaps back to his own.


	114	ANOTHER ANGLE - HOOPER'S BOAT						114

		He opens a locker and pulls out a wet suit and other gear.

					   MEADOWS
			   Maybe we should just tow it in.

					   HOOPER
				   (suiting up)
			   I'd better see the damage first.


	115	INSERT - SONAR SCANNER							115

		Blip, blop, blip, blip.


	116	CLOSE - MEADOWS								116

		suddenly cold, zips up his windbreaker and turns the collar
		up, as Hooper zips up his wetsuit and clasps on a weighted
		belt.

					   HOOPER
			   Did he have a dinghy on board?

					   MEADOWS
				   (just wants
				   out of here)
			   I don't know.

		Hooper hyper-ventilates as he places on mask, checks his
		"hot" flashlight.

					   MEADOWS
				   (alone)
			   I'd rather we just towed it in,
			   Mr. Hooper.

		Hooper finishes hyper-ventilating...smiles to reassure him.

					   HOOPER
			   Be up in a minute.

		He's ready to go, but hesitates a moment, staring out at the
		sea -- the first time Hooper has appeared to be doubting his
		next move.  He shakes it off, takes a huge breath, lets out
		half and splashes in....


	117	ANGLE - MEADOWS								117

		all alone in the boat.  Just he and the active sonar.  He
		checks the second-hand sweep of his watch, counting out loud.


	118	UNDERWATER SEQUENCE - HOOPER						118

		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....


	119	CLOSE - HOLE								119

		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.


	120	CLOSE - HOOPER								120

		bumps his head in trying to get away, seems to yell through
		escaping bubbles.  His mask fills with water as he flails
		for the surface.  Miscalculating, he bumps into the hull of
		his own boat, scrambles around it, finally coming up between
		the two boats...gulping air, unable to speak yet, shocked
		and scared, out of breath....

					   MEADOWS
			   Bad -- ?

		All Hooper can do is hold out his hand, open for Meadows to
		see.  A shiny white tooth, at least two inches long, rests
		in the palm of his hand.

					   HOOPER
			   A White -- it's a Great White, I
			   knew it...!  Looks like he died
			   of fright in there.

					   MEADOWS
				   (scared shitless)
			   No shark did that to a boat ---

		Hooper rolls up his sleeve, and with one stroke of the tooth
		shaves all the hair off him forearm.

					   HOOPER
			   One this big could do anything!

		Meadows will never be the same.


	121	INT. VAUGHN'S REALTY OFFICE - DAY					121

		On the run and seeing red, Larry Vaughn speed-walks out of
		his office, grabbing his coat and out the door, cuss-mumbling
		all the way.  Meadows, still in his boat clothing, appears
		behind him, his tie undone and sweating.  Vaughn jumps into
		his car, and just before Meadows can open the passenger door,
		takes off in it.


	122	EXT. ISLAND HIGHWAY - DAY						122

		Just under the roadside billboard, Hendricks and another
		deputy, Joyner, prepare for a climb with ropes in their
		arms, paint cans and large canvas brushes.

		Beyond them a few feet away, stand Brody and Hooper, watching
		Vaughn pacing back and forth, sucking on a Havana.  He has a
		newspaper in his right hand.  Hooper is sketching on a sketch
		pad.

					   VAUGHN
			   It says here IT IS CAUGHT!  Period!

		Brody holds out the two-inch tooth.

					   BRODY
			   Mr. Hooper figured its size from
			   this -- it's over a ton.  It's
			   also over ---

					   VAUGHN
			   Put that rotten thing --
				   (he pushes it
				   away, it slices)
			   Yee-ow!

		Hooper steps over to show him his sketch.

					   VAUGHN
				   (wrapping handker-
				   chief around his hand)
			   If my hand gets infected....

					   HOOPER
			   Meet Carcharodon charcharias.

					   VAUGHN
			   What is it?

					   HOOPER
			   The shark that just bit you on
			   the hand.
				   (sketching)
			   And this...is you.

		Hooper has sketched the reduced ratio figure of Vaughn with
		cigar standing in front of the jaws.  He looks like a dwarf
		by comparison.

					   HOOPER
			   Seventeen feet from anterior to
			   posterior.

					   VAUGHN
			   No shark grows seventeen feet,
			   for Christ's sake.

					   HOOPER
			   The famous Swedish naturalist
			   Linnaeus believed that the 'great
			   fish' that swallowed Jonah was not
			   a whale, but a great white shark.

					   VAUGHN
			   Love to prove that, wouldn't you?
			   Get into the National Geographic.

					   BRODY
			   What should we do about this white?

		Hooper has come prepared.  He takes from his backpack a
		Bomar Brain calculator and ticks away at it while talking.

					   HOOPER
			   The longer there's nothing to
			   munch on here, the better your
			   chances he'll go.  That means, of
			   course, keeping your beaches
			   closed, your fishermen in port.
			   The other alternative is non-
			   corrosive, 100-gauge steel mesh --
			   say, 30,000 feet of it around your
			   bathing area.  Concrete blocks and
			   installation would run you...oh,
			   four, five hundred thousand.  That
			   is, unless you could seek a deputa-
			   tion from the federal government --
				   (notes Vaughn's non-
				   believing countenance)
			   Beats getting swallowed, doesn't it?

		Vaughn is apoplectic.  His seemingly dead cigar glows again.
		He takes Brody by the arm and leads him out of earshot of
		Hooper.

					   BRODY
			   Maybe we can make it up in August.

					   VAUGHN
			   That beach will be open ON the FOURTH
			   OF JULY, DAMMIT!

					   BRODY
			   We have to give this a coupla weeks.

					   VAUGHN
			   A couple of days.  And that's bad
			   enough.  I'll have to think of
			   some reason that'll keep the
			   grease from frying.  In the mean-
			   time, I want that shark killed.
			   Either do it yourself, or hire a
			   pro, but go door to door with the
			   offer.  No more of his bounty
			   crap.  And Brody ---

		Vaughn gestures up at the billboard.  The beautiful model
		splashing in the golden surf with flailing arms has been
		significantly reinterpreted.  Some pranksters have painted
		a huge dorsal fin cutting through the waves next to her, and
		she now looks like an hysterical beach-goer stampeding out
		of the water.  The deputies begin covering it over with paint.
		People have been gathering throughout the scene on bicycles
		and a few station wagons.

					   VAUGHN
			   First the picket fences -- and
			   now this.  I want to see those
			   little bastards hanging upside
			   down by their Buster Brown shoes.

		Vaughn storms away before Brody can reply.


	123	EXT. DOCK AREA - DAY							123

		Hooper is loading some mainline floats and smelly bait fish
		on board.  Two young long-hairs are assisting him.  The old
		harbormaster dips his coffee percolator into the water and
		rinses it thoroughly while watching Hooper load.  He rises
		to his feet and walks across the pier, looking in the oppo-
		site direction about three slips away.


	124	ANGLE - A HIDDEN SLIP							124

		Brody and Deputy Hendricks are supervising another loading
		activity.  Six local fishermen are converting their 16-foot
		fiberglass double outboard into a gunboat.  A sealed crate
		of high concussion palm-sized depth charges gingerly finds
		a place in the bow section, over which fishing gear and
		nets are positioned to disguise the mission.

					   BR0DY
				   (to Hendricks)
			   Don't let him out of your sight.
			   Not for a second.  Stay at a dis-
			   creet distance -- and dammit,
			   Lenny, no shark talk!  The way
			   sound carries over water, you're
			   a dead giveaway.

					   HENDRICKS
			   Who's with him?

					   BRODY
			   Local hire...I don't know.  I want
			   to hear from you, Len.


	125	EXT. PICKET FENCE ROW - DAY						125

		Angling down a stretch of picket fence.  Little karate cries
		are accompanied by little flat hands piercing through splin-		
		tering wood.


	126	EXT. MAIN STREET - DAY							126

		The hardware store proprietor, bored and withdrawn, suns
		himself on a chaise lounge surrounded by summer surplus
		that no one is buying, while --

		-- the Amity Gift and Candle shop is offering an outside
		display on a carousel postcard rack of artificial shark-
		tooth necklaces, along with an open-air gallery of shark
		books.  A dozen tourists bunch up as business booms here
		today.


	127	INT. BRODY'S OFFICE - DAY						127

		Ellen is somehow mired behind Brody's desk, two travel
		folders in her absent-minded grasp.  She talks into one
		phone, at the same time she is talking on another to a
		breathy, ticky landlady.  All of this overlapping.  Brody's
		secretary Polly is in the outer office doing three things
		at once.

			   ELLEN			   LANDLADY
		    (into phone)		First it's twenty-four
		I don't know where my husband	hours, then it's two days.
		is, Mr. Kretzler.  He's only	It one more guest of mine
		closed the beaches to insure	leaves for Cape Cod, I'll
		your safety....			start a petition!

		From the outer office, we hear:

					   POLLY
				   (into phone)
			   Until further notice!  You'll have
			   to ask him about that when he gets
			   back.  Good-bye.

		Three people enter.  Two of them, an elderly tourist couple,
		push past Polly and into Brody's office where Ellen stands
		beside the desk.

					   MAN TOURIST
			   Excuse me -- I see by the papers
			   they caught the killer shark.  I
			   see by the signs that the beaches
			   are still closed, and we were just
			   wondering....

					   TOURIST WIFE
				   (reaches out and
				   takes Ellen's hand
				   in hers, glowing)
			   I think it's a simply wonderful
			   positive sign of our times to see
			   a woman Chief of Police in a nice
			   place like ---

		Ellen removes the receiver from her ear, from which angry
		geese-like sounds filter through.  She starts to explain,
		instead bursts out laughing -- one of those spontaneous,
		funny cries for help that leaves you weak.  She falls
		helplessly into her husband's swivel chair, covering her
		face with Acapulco brochures.

								CUT TO


	128	INT. QUINT'S RESIDENCE - NIGHT						128

		Entering Quint's abode is not unlike a spooky ride at
		Disneyland...the placement of objects, the dungeon lighting,
		the tendrils of smoke and dust in the air makes a visitor
		wish he were carrying a 100-watt bulb.

		There is gear everywhere.  The walls are adorned with jerky
		shark hides, coiled ropes dangle like serpents above a galley
		stove that leaks smoke and holds two weeks worth of filthy
		dishes.  Tubes, barrels, rods, reels, harpoons, an antique
		gun collection and a dizzy array of shark hooks line the
		walls, with one entire wall dedicated to a collection of
		laminated jaws from the blue shark to the Great White.  Con-
		spicuously in the center of the room is a swivel fighting
		chair and it looks like the perfect place to have all your
		teeth pulled.  Into this orifice of decay, Brody enters,
		and from his point of view, we see Quint hunched over a tub
		of steaming Borax.

					   BRODY
			   I know it's late, Mr. Quint.

		Quint lifts a ghastly set of dripping jaws from the solution.

					   QUINT
			   Snappy little novelty item.

		Quint demonstrates by holding them up to frame his face through
		the round jagged opening.

					   QUINT
			   Picture frame...
				   (holding it down)
			   Toilet seat....

		He looks up at his gallery of jaws.

					   QUINT
			   No offense, you guys!
				   (confidentially
				   referring to what's
				   left of sixteen
				   sharks)
			   Very touchy.  All set for the
			   Hallelujah chorus and stuck on
			   the first note.

		Brody enters the room like he's treading on hot charcoal.

					   BRODY
			   I would have called you ---

		Quint walks toward Brody with Borax dripping from both hands.
		He places one of them hospitably on Brody's shoulder.

					   QUINT
				   (without losing
				   a beat)
			   Sure you would, sweetheart.

		And ushers him into the fighting chair.  He then busies him-	
		self around the premises and Brody must use the swivel chair
		to follow him, feeling chills whenever Quint move behind him.

					   BRODY
			   I'm Chief Brody, Mr. Quint --

					   QUINT
			   Suits me.  I'm a social undesirable
			   myself.

					   BRODY
			   Listen ---

					   QUINT
			   Me and your Great big White.

					   BRODY
			   Who told you?

					   QUINT
				   (scrubbing teeth
				   with a wooden brush)
			   What's the count up to down there
			   anyway?  You can't have much of
			   a town left!

					   BRODY
			   Got Ben Gardner this time.

					   QUINT
				   (feigning shock)
			   Ben?  Sharks'll eat anything.

					   BRODY
			   I need to talk to you, Quint ---

		Quint slips past Brody's blindspot to the opposite wall, and
		Brody tenses and swivels too fast, almost spinning 360 degrees
		before braking with his feet.

					   QUINT
			   Anything!  Know what I found inside
			   that tiger?  Aside from fish and
			   all?

		He moves proudly to the shelf of jaws and souvenirs
		collected from the bellies of sharks.

					   QUINT
			   Twenty feet of cable, half an army
			   cot, four brass buttons, a cocker
			   spaniel, license plate, a drip-
			   dry shirt, and a six-pack of diet
			   Pepsi....

					   BRODY
			   We can't have this damn thing
			   sneaking in ---

					   QUINT
				   (as though alarmed,
				   he touches a hand to
				   Brody's mouth)
			   Chief!  Show a little respect.
			   Jesus!  Whites are head of the
			   mob out there, this sounds like
			   Lucky Luciano.

					   BRODY
				   (wiping his mouth)
			   Ever caught one?

					   QUINT
			   A thirteen-footer and one fifteen --
			   teenagers.

					   BRODY
			   Now you're asking ten thousand
			   dollars, but look ---

					   QUINT
			   Chief, Chief, Chief - forget it.
			   I get two bills a day from charters.
			   I sell the hides, I sell the teeth,
			   I sell the fins to chinks for soup --
			   you ought to try a little shark
			   sometime!  Hammerhead's terrific -
			   here!

		Quint hops to the oven.  An avalanche of pots and pans, a
		burst of smoke, and before you know it, Quint is presenting
		Brody with a hot plate.

					   QUINT
			   Home-fried hammerhead!

		Brody turns away from the stink.

					   QUINT
				   (obsequiously
				   apologetic)
			   Sorry, nothing fancier tonight --
			   boy, I do a Mako Provencale -
				   (kisses his fingers)

					   BRODY
			   How's four hundred a day, Quint?

		Quint is suddenly across the room, lowering a bucket in front
		of Brody.

					   QUINT
				   (fuck off)
			   Serve yourself, Chief.  Shark-liver
			   oil!  Best lubricant in the world!

					   BRODY
				   (desperate)
			   How much do you want?

		Quint turns, suddenly bitter.  He walks over to a cage with
		a parrot in it.

					   QUINT
				   (to parrot)
			   Clowns trying to bargain....

					   BRODY
			   I came on my own, Quint.

					   QUINT
			   Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum.

					   BRODY
				   (rises, pleading)
			   See, if we could make a deal tonight --

					   QUINT
			   Here's what the price is tonight,
			   Chief.

		Quint stalks Brody as he talks.  Brody trying to look reasonable
		as he backs around the room, bumping into objects d'art.

					   QUINT
			   Twenty-five grand to go for it,
			   plus twenty-five more if I land it,
			   all repairs on the boat, and on
			   me, a new rod from Haydy's in
			   London, a life subscription to
			   Playboy, a stereo 4-track and the
			   color TV.

					   BRODY
			   Quint, you know they'll never ---

					   QUINT
			   Let me finish!  If it gets me,
			   different deal -- seventy-five,
			   no extras!

					   BRODY
				   (bewildered)
			   Seventy-five for who?

					   QUINT
				   (wildly improvising)
			   For nobody!  To make this place a
			   museum or something!  'Quint's
			   Monster Palace!'  How's that?
			   Maybe have me stuffed in the middle
			   here --- !

		Quint poses stuffed with a harpoon in the middle of the room.
		This is the first time he has stopped moving.

					   BRODY
				   (addressing stuffed
				   Quint)
			   I have to tell them something
			   reasonable ---

		Brody looks for the door...completely disoriented, he tries
		to open one of the walls.

					   QUINT
			   No problem!  Tell 'em that joke
			   from World War Two --
				   (walks over to
				   parrot)
			   About the Marines in the landing
			   barge?  Sergeant splashes right
			   in, yelling 'Hit the beach men,
			   follow me and....'

		Quint taps the bottom of the bird cage, and without losing
		a beat, the parrot squawks in falsetto:

					   PARROT
			   Watch out for the shark!

		Brody has found the door and is gone.  The door swings in a
		breeze.  Quint turns to his gallery of jaws and smiles with
		a mock-courtly bow.


	129	EXTERIOR - DOCKS - DUSK							129

		Hooper's Formula twenty-two tying up in his rental slip.
		He looks dog tired as he steps off and stretches his legs on
		dry land.  The most astonishing thing about Matt this evening
		is his obvious disappointment.

		The gunboat is also tied up, the men unloading.  They are in
		terrific spirits.  Each has caught his limit.  The boat is
		filled with fish, the men filled with stories.  Only Len
		Hendricks shows the strain.


	130	ANGLE - BRODY								130

		riding up on his police bicycle.  He sees Hendricks fifty
		yards away in the dusk, shaking his head.  Brody turns and
		rides down the dock toward Hooper, saying good-bye to his
		day help.

					   BRODY
				   (tired, apologetic)
			   Any luck?

					   HOOPER
			   Might be for you, Mr. Brody.  I
			   think it's all over.

					   BRODY
			   How can you be sure?

					   HOOPER
			   The sea is full of fish again for
			   one thing.  You won't find sea life
			   in the territory of a Great White.
			   All the fish we saw in the ocean
			   today.  You'd think they were cele-
			   brating.  I played low-frequency
			   music underwater -- that usually
			   works faster than blood.
				   (shrugs "nothing")

					   BRODY
				   (gives him a
				   long look)
			   Are you feeling okay?

					   HOOPER
			   There are signals in the water.  I
			   can always read them.  And the currents
			   are shifting.

					   BRODY
			   Vaughn's going to want a statement.
			   What about taking precautions?

					   HOOPER
			   I'd take them, sure.  Lookout posts.
			   An alarm system.  If you can afford
			   picket boats equipped with sonar
			   repellent line across the bathing
			   area.  Jesus...we must have gone six
			   times around this crummy island.

					   BRODY
				   (still perplexed)
			   And you're sure it's ---

					   HOOPER
			   You'll never be immune to attack.
			   It knows where you live now.  Good-
			   night.

		Brody is left alone on the dock, the sky darkening behind him.


	131	INT. FERRY BOAT - DAY							131

		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.

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

		B.  Young beautiful people from Princeton, Yale, N.Y.U.,
		    wearing knapsacks, toting luggage, babies riding in
		    papoose rigs, energized children, senior citizens hold-
		    ing hands on the pedestrian ramp, a few wheelchairs.

		C.  The sidewalk vendors hawking balloons for the kiddies,
		    hotdogs, hot fried clams, Italian ices.

		D.  The Amity Cab Company, small blue Toyotas, run by students
		    on vacation queued up like a bomber wing.

		E.  Hooper is watching.

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

		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.


	132	INSIDE THE FERRY							132

		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!

								GO TO BLACK


	133	EXT. COAST GUARD STATION - DAY						133

		A young Ensign is demonstrating "Shark-Chaser" to Brody from
		the concrete pier.  He lowers a canister of it into the
		water and a dark cloud begins to diffuse.

					   OFFICER
			   You'll need about 150 of these --
			   twelve feet apart, behind your
			   surf-line.  We'd have to string
			   them right across, that's say, 2000
			   feet....

					   BRODY
			   Makes sort of a long black
			   curtain.

					   OFFICER
			   Repellent.

					   BRODY
				   (leveling)
			   But it doesn't always work.

					   OFFICER
			   Well...it inhibits them, Mr. Brody.
				   (brightens with facts)
			   The astronauts use it.

					   BRODY
				   (not impressed, gazes
				   into water)
			   That, and Tang.


	134	EXT. AMITY MAINSTREET - DAY						134

		If you lifted out any hunk of mid-day Manhattan intersection
		and set it here on the colonial corners of Main Street and
		Pilgrimage Way, you couldn't do worse.  This is what Amity
		feeds on between July and September.  This is what the
		tourists pick over between 8:00 A.M. and 5:00 P.M.  This is
		what it's all about.


	135	EXT. AMITY MOVIE HOUSE - EVENING					135

		The marquee lights go on.  Moby Dick is the new substitute
		feature offering.  Pan down to show the theatre manager and
		a boiling, pacing Larry Vaughn.

					   VAUGHN
			   I want this off before the weekend.
			   And if it's not -- !

					   MANAGER
			   I thought with all this interest...
				   (weak smile)
			   It's not a documentary, you know.


	136	INT. MOVIE HOUSE							136


	137	FULL SCREEN								137

		Gregory Peck as Captain Ahab in an outpouring of classic
		Melville.  The white whale explodes through the waves and
		crushes sixteen harpooners.  A single sandpapery laugh
		accompanies each special effect.


	138	ANGLE - MOVIE HOUSE							138

		Quint sits in the center aisle, popcorn and ju-ju-bees
		stuffing his face.  The splayed projection beams dance
		around his head as he roars with amusement.  People are
		getting up and moving away from him.  He is watching with
		delight, slapping his thigh, thumping the seat-back with
		his feet.


	139	FULL MOVIE SCREEN							139

		We watch as Ahab gets tangled in the line and dragged under
		by the whale.  Quint can be heard OVER.


	140	EXT. SOUTH BEACH - THE FOURTH OF JULY					140

		A four foot surfer's swell curls and crashes on shore, rider-
		less.  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 every-
		where.


	141	ANGLE - LIFEGUARD STATIONS						141

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


	142	AT SEA									142

		Tactically flanking a three-hundred-yard apron of black
		repellent are four small watch-boats.  A fifth tiny pleasure
		boat darts around the repellent line.  Farther out, cross-
		ing back and forth, are patrol boats six and seven.  To top
		it all off, a Coast Guard blimp floats three hundred feet
		above.


	143	ON SHORE								143

		A crunch of gawkers makes life miserable for a mobile TV
		crew on their van-shaped unit.  A graduate from the Columbia
		School of Broadcasting is interviewing Martin Brody in front
		of dozens of camera-conscious kids.

					   INTERVIEWER
				   (humorous)
			   Will you be going for a dip,
			   Chief?

					   BRODY
				   (ill at ease)
			   No, I'll be sticking to business
			   today.  As you see, we have spotters
			   up and down the beach, and out there's
			   the Coast Guard, State Police, County
			   Police -- everyone's cooperating
			   on this ---

					   INTERVIEWER
			   The question is, if it's so unlikely
			   as you seem to think ---

					   BRODY
			   It never hurts to play it safe.

					   INTERVIEWER
			   Thank you, Chief Brody.
				   (to crew)
			   Let's do a group at the hot dog
			   stand.

		Vaughn is watching the ocean, aware that nobody is in yet.
		He turns in the direction of a Selectman and his family,
		and after grunting hellos, falls on his haunches and talks
		through a dogged smile.

					VAUGHN
			Will you please get in that ocean.

					SELECTMAN
			What?

					VAUGHN
			Nobody's going in -- move!
				(indicating his family)
			Them, too!

		He gets up, gesturing "go in" to another townsman.  The
		Selectman gathers his senses, swallows back nagging nerves.

					SELECTMAN
				(to his family,
				false cheer)
			How about a swim, gang, huh?
				(to 12-year-old
				daughter)
			Not you, you have a cold.

		Vaughn spies Hooper, alone on the sand in his trunks, look-
		out at sea.  The Selectman and his family of four start
		into the ocean as Vaughn approaches Hooper.

					VAUGHN
			You've earned a day off, Doc.
			And thank you.

		Hooper just looks at him.

					VAUGHN
			We feel you've done a heck of a job,
			you know.

					HOOPER
				(nods, looks
				back to sea)
			I feel the same about you.


	144	ANGLE - SELECTMAN AND HIS FAMILY					144

		They walk into the surf, deeper and deeper, until a wave
		washes over their heads.  The Selectman surfaces, and realizes
		he is wearing his watch.  Never mind.  Others follow suit
		and begin to trickle into the white surf.


	145	BOAT #2									145

		Four State Police with their 30.06's stowed discreetly under
		their seats.  As a Beering State Policeman talks to Brody on
		the Walkie-Talkie, we notice Boat #5, a short-range speedster,
		working the repellent line.

					   BEERING POLICEMAN
			   We're putting the fresh cans on,
			   Brody.
				   (takes beer
				   from ice chest)
			   Calm down, will you?
				   (shouting to
				   Boat #5)
			   You guys want a beer?


	146	BOAT #5									146

		Two men and a boat-load of canisters.  One holds up the nylon
		repellent line with a pole as the other replaces a can and
		shouts back.

					   SAILOR
			   I want a pair of rubber gloves.

		To demonstrate what he means, he holds up two hands, black
		with dye.  A wet can of Budweiser tumbles into one of them.

		Sailor's Walkie-Talkie squawks like a strangled chicken.

					   VOICE
				   (Walkie-Talkie)
			   Daisy to Blimp...Daisy to Blimp...
			   thirty yards off my port side....

		The two sailors turn to port.


	147	BOAT #7									147

		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.


	148	INT. BLIMP								148

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

					   BLIMP SPOTTER
			   Nothing from up here, Daisy.  Over.


	149	CLOSE - HENDRICKS							149

					   HENDRICKS
				   (into Walkie-
				   Talkie)
			   False alarm.  Must be this glare.


	150	ANGLE - BEACH - CLOSE ON BRODY						150

		He is walking down the beach, threading his way through the
		happy hordes.

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

		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.


	151	SWIMMERS AND SURFERS							151

		A surfer waving to impress his girlfriend on the beach.  He
		dives off his board and swims around the black dye.

					   COUNTY POLICEMAN
				   (through loudhailer)
			   Not so close to the line, please....

		The eighteen-year-old surfer submerges, comes up all inky.
		His girlfriend laughs, impressed.


	152	TV CREW - NEAR WATER							152

		Clowning, posing, boasting for the cameras, dozens of
		youngsters ride in baby waves, stand on their heads, on
		the shoulders of friends, wave, swim out, kick up the water.
		The TV cameramen are going crazy.  Burning film.  Zooming.


	153	REPELLENT LINE - SURFER AND COUNTY POLICEMAN				153

		The Surfer won't leave the area.

					   COUNTY POLICEMAN
				   (through loudhailer)
			   Get clear of the repellent line,
			   son!

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

					   BLIMP SPOTTER
			   Blimp to Daisy!  Red Four, Red Four!


	154	BOAT #7 - HENDRICKS							154

		Guns are up, heads turning everywhere.

					   HENDRICKS
				   (into Walkie-
				   Talkie)
			   Where --- ?

					   BLIMP 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 ---


	155	BEACH - BRODY								155

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

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

		Hooper is on his feet.  The lifeguard next to him begins
		blowing on his whistle.


	156	CLOSE - BRODY								156

		shouting hysterically into his Walkie-Talkie.

					   BRODY
			   No whistles!  No whistles!


	157	THE BEACH								157

		Dozens of bathers halfway out of the water, turn to see.  More
		whistles, and they start toward shore.  The loudhailers sound-
		ing 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.


	158	BOATS #6 AND #7								158

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


	159	THE WATER - BATHERS							159

		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.


	160	BOATS #2, #3, #4							160

		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.


	161	THE WATER - BATHERS							161

		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.


	162	CLOSEUPS - PANIC							162

		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, Hooper
		charges past him to help an old man out of the water.  He
		returns to pull several others to their feet.


	163	EXT. - THE BEACH							163

		Hooper keeps plunging in, dragging the helpless from the surf.
		Tears well in Brody's eyes.  The screaming is deafening.  The
		TV unit pushes past Brody.

					   INTERVIEWER
				   (pointing)
			   Zoom in!  Over there!

		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.


	164	ANGLE - BATHING AREA							164

		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.


	165	CLOSE - FIN								165

		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 sub-
		merged surfboard.  One youngster looks up and is greeted by:


	166	YOUNGSTER'S POINT OF VIEW						166

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


	167	CLOSE - YOUNGSTER							167

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


	168	ANGLE - ESTUARY								168

		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.


	169	A BLACK DORSAL FIN							169

		is cruising through the narrows and toward the busy pond.


	170	ANGLE - POND								170

		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 around.

		The renewed cry of SHARK!  SEMENTIA POND!


	171	CLOSE - BRODY								171

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


	172	CLOSE - COAST GUARDSMEN IN PICKET BOAT					172

					   COAST GUARDSMAN
			   Block the estuary!

		Three boats racing to carry out the orders.  The black fin
		repassing the two children, racing to get out.  One rowboat
		reaches the mouth before the others.  The fin won't veer off.
		It smacks into the little vessel, tearing off the bow and
		beaching it in its wake.  Racing into open water.  Blood
		leavings.


	173	CLOSE - HOOPER								173

		He is pulling Michael out of the water as Brody runs up.
		Michael is conscious but in shock -- his eyes staring at
		nothing.

					   HOOPER
				   (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.

					   HOOPER
			   I can read signals in the water --
			   when they're around -- when they
			   leave.  I saw the signals.  It
			   moved on.  They reported an attack
			   up the coast, toward Ipswitch, Maine
			   today.  Oh, Jesus, Martin, I'm sorry.


	174	INT. QUINT'S SHACK - DAWN						174

		The 1940's hit HUBBA, HUBBA, HUBBA blares from the new stereo.
		Barbara Walters blares from the new color TV.

		Brody has the look of a man who has gone without sleep for
		two days.  He slouches in the fighting chair, watching Quint
		who is shoving Salvatore toward the door.

					   QUINT
				   (shouting over the noise)
			   You know which cans, stupid -- the
			   whale meat.  Get 'em out of the
			   deep freeze and on board.

		This done, Quint picks up a harpoon, tests the point.
		Sharpens it on a shark hide.

					   QUINT
			   And where would you like this shark
			   delivered, sir?

					   BRODY
				   (even)
			   Anywhere we can see it's dead.

					   QUINT
				   (looking at TV)
			   You want him gift-wrapped?

		Brody rises to go.

					   BRODY
			   Call me.  Soon as you have some news.

		Quint talks past him in a load open voice.

					   QUINT
			   What is it now?!

		We see Salvatore, afraid of him, but resolved.

					   SALVATORE
			   I ain't going.  Ain't goin'.

		Quint snaps the generator off.

					   QUINT
				   (quiet menace)
			   You ain't what??

					   SALVATORE
			   I ain't that crazy, that's what!
			   Now I brung in some mean big mothers
			   with you, but I'm resignin' on
			   this...no, sir!

					   QUINT
				   (to his gallery
				   of jaws)
			   Mutiny on the Bounty!

					   SALVATORE
			   I don't mess with nothin' built
			   like no station wagon, 18 -- 20
			   foot ---

					   QUINT
				   (bored)
			   How much do you want?

					   SALVATORE
			   Not with no man-eater!  He ain't
			   gonna live to no reputation on
			   me ---

					   QUINT
				   (sharply, turning
				   away)
			   Go load up.

					   SALVATORE
			   That's all I'm gonna do.

		Quint picks up a length of rope and starts to coil it, turns
		to Brody.

					   QUINT
			   Might have to wait till I dig up
			   another ---

					   BRODY
			   I'll go.

		Quint takes him in with a tight smile.  He tosses Brody the
		length of rope.

					   QUINT
			   Tie me a barrel knot.

		Brody feels useless holding the rope end.

					   BRODY
			   I really want to go, Mr. Quint.

					   QUINT
				   (ignoring him)
			   Five lengths of half-inch...twenty
			   number 14's, straight gaff ---

					   BRODY
				   (leaving)
			   I'll get a pro to come along.

		Quint runs through his check list...to himself.  Pan down to
		the floor and an arsenal of hand-to-shark weaponry.

					   QUINT
			   Flying gaffs, tail rope, eye-splices,
			   M-One, pliers, irons.

								CUT TO


	175	EXT. QUINT'S DOCK - DAY							175

		Hooper's fighting gear is on deck.  His colleague from Woods
		Hole looks at him with some dismay as they go over the check
		list of fighting gear from the Oceanographic Institute.  The
		Colleague, in a smaller boat alongside, hands him the last
		few bits and pieces.

					   HOOPER
				   (grim)
			   Powerhead, C.O.2 darts...hypo...
			   regulator...tanks...depth gauge....

		The Colleague glances up toward the flybridge and Quint.
		Salvatore goes back and forth rolling on chum barrels.

					   COLLEAGUE
			   You shouldn't be in on this, Matt.
				   (pause, watches)
			   Hunting anything down -- I mean,
			   that's not our area.

					   HOOPER
				   (signing receipt)
			   Maybe I'm in the wrong area.

		Quint looks down at the undersea cage that is sitting on the
		transom of the Orca.

					   QUINT
			   What's this glamour-boy...a portable
			   shower?

					   HOOPER
				   (shakes hands with
				   Colleague, who pushes
				   off, shaking his head)
			   Thanks.  I'll see you.

					   QUINT
			   Huh?

					   HOOPER
				   (disinterested in
				   what he thinks)
			   Anti-shark cage.

					   QUINT
				   (smiles)
			   And you're inside that -- in the
			   water?

					   HOOPER
			   If necessary.

					   QUINT
				   (smiles, nodding)
			   You're in the water with the shark.

					   HOOPER
			   That's right.

		With an operatic gesture, Quint sings down to him in his best
		voice.

					   QUINT
				   (soulfully)
			   'Believe me, if all those endearing
			   young charms...
			   That I gaze on so fondly today....'

					   HOOPER
				   (glancing toward pier)
			   Let's go.


	176	ANGLE - PIER								176

		Brody is walking down the pier, bundled in foul-weather
		clothes like a tenderfoot Sea Scout.  He carries a shopping
		bag and an overnight kit.  Quint can't help himself -- he
		guns the Orca's diesel engines to sound like a wolf whistle.

					   QUINT
			   Well...shiver me timbers!

		Brody is helped unsteadily into the boat by Salvatore, who then
		leaps lightly to the dock and casts off with style.  Even now
		Brody is beginning to look sick.  He holds onto the hatch
		handle.

					   QUINT
				   (to Brody)
			   Bow.  Stern.  Aft.  Forward --
			   Port -- Starboard.  Got it?...Good!
				   (yells over engine
				   noise to Salvatore)
			   Missing a great adventure, Sal!

		Salvatore waves and smiles as the boat pulls away.

					   SALVATORE
			   You bet, Mr. Quint! Bye!  Bye!

		The Orca chugs past the dock and out toward the narrow
		breakwater.


		(NOTE:  TO BE INSERTED -- THE BLUE SHARK FRENZY, PER BENCHLEY'S
		NOVEL, TO GET THE THIRD ACT UNDER WAY.)


	177	EXT. THE OCEAN - AFTERNOON						177

		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 sun-
		burn, has been handed the slimiest job on a shark hunt:  the
		ladling out of chum.  Brody is reeling with nausea.  Hooper
		is up at the wheel on the flybridge.  He dons a baseball cap
		and aviator's sunglasses.  Quint is firmly situated in the
		fighting chair, reeling in the bait.  All three have the look
		of being on open water for the better part of the day, with
		no luck.

					   QUINT
				   (to himself)
			   That don't tempt him either, huh?

		He hauls in the bait.  Two mackerel, barely alive.

					   QUINT
			   We'll find him something.

		Hooper studies this man Quint as he flings aside the mackerel.
		Brody has stopped chumming and is retching over the side.

					   QUINT
				   (yelling at Brody)
			   Keep that chum going!  We got five
			   good miles, don't break it!

		Brody 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, and resumes ladling.

		Quint almost trips over Hooper's tanks as he walks to the chum
		barrels.  He roughly kicks them aside.

					   QUINT
			   Fancy goddam toys....

					   HOOPER
				   (jumping up)
			   Careful!  Compressed air -- you
			   crack that and it explodes like a
			   bomb!

					   QUINT
				   (mutters)
			   Cluttering up my deck ---

		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.

					   HOOPER
				   (distaste)
			   That from a pilot whale too?

					   QUINT
				   (deftly slicing whale)
			   Can't you tell?  Here ---

		He holds up the strip of whale.  Quint has sculpted it into
		the outline of a whale.

					   QUINT
			   Cute, huh?
				   (to Brody)
			   The expert don't approve.

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

					   QUINT
			   Now, you swim down and...
				   (kisses the bait)
			   give a nice big kiss to Mr. White ---

					   BRODY
				   (croaky)
			   You still think it's all the way
			   out here?

					   QUINT
				   (snapping bait to
				   his leader)
			   I think like they do, Chief.

					   HOOPER
			   And they have brains the size of
			   a radish.

		Quint gets a big laugh out of this, and sits in the fighting
		chair.  He casts off, murmuring as the line feeds out.

					   QUINT
			   Now if he weren't around, we'd of
			   hooked something else by now,
			   wouldn't we?  But he scared 'em
			   all away.  Yeah, didn't you?  Yeah,
			   I know you, you poor lonesome son
			   of a bitch...come to pappa, you ---

		The line whizzes off the reel.  Brody jumps up.  Quint puts
		his hand on the drag and addresses the situation softly.

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

		Quint tightens drag and strikes.  The line goes whizzing out.
		Brody runs to Quint's side.

					   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 pours water on the screaming reel, nearly unspooled now.
		Hooper is turning the boat around and the line changes direc-	
		tion.

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

		Hooper steers it sharply.

					   QUINT
				   (to Hooper)
			   Half-speed there....

		Again the line changes direction, down this time.

					   QUINT
				   (to Hooper)
			   Neutral!
				   (to the sea)
			   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!

		The line rushes out and now there is less tension.  Quint is
		horsing up and down, reeling in.

					   QUINT
			   Makin' believe it's easy now.

		The line is almost vertical now, 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 Hooper)
			   Put the gloves on!
				   (to fish)
			   Let's see who's gonna tease who now!
				   (to Hooper)
			   Down here!  Do like I told you!

		Hooper is rushing down.

					   HOOPER
			   Can't bring him up so quick ---

					   QUINT
				   (bathed in sweat;
				   hauling, reeling)
			   How do you know!  How do I know!

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

					   BRODY
			   He's nearly up ---

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

		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 clutch-
		ing at the big rod, appalled.  Quint skips away for a harpoon.
		He picks one from a row of twelve, 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
				   (addressing the ocean)
			   Sure...you're havin' a ball!
				   (to Hooper, still
				   sprawled on deck)
			   Get back up here!

					   BRODY
			   He's hurt....

					   HOOPER
				   (stunned)
			   I'm okay....

					   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)
			   I don't understand though...How you
			   expect to ---

					   QUINT
			   This tricks him to the surface, got
			   that?  Then I can jab him, under-
			   stand?
				   (goes to flybridge,
				   muttering)
			   Think I'm gonna haul it in like a
			   catfish?

		Brody begins to apply cream to his sunburned nose.


	178	ON BRIDGE - HOOPER AND QUINT						178

					   QUINT
				   (suddenly, pointing)
			   Over there!

					   HOOPER
			   Why over there?

					   QUINT
				   (still looking)
			   At least you handle the boat all
			   right.

					   HOOPER
			   I can do more than that.  Look,
			   Quint, I brought along a ---

					   QUINT
			   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.


	179	CLOSE - QUINT								179

		looking stunned.


	180	CLOSE - BRODY								180

		moving back, eyes wide.


	181	CLOSE - HOOPER								181

		moving closer, aghast.


	182	COMBINED POINT OF VIEW							182

		We see the shark.  First the jet-black fin...then the head
		and upper jaws, twenty yards off.  It finally submerges, veer-
		ing off to one side with a neat slap of its tail.


	183	ANGLE - QUINT								183

		He puts the rod away.

					   QUINT
			   Jesus.  I heard they got that big....

					   HOOPER
			   Closer to thirty feet....

					   QUINT
				   (knowingly)
			   Twenty-five.  And three tons of
			   him there.

					   HOOPER
				   (to himself)
			   What's the formula...?
				   (calculates
				   in his head)
			   Girth, say 150 inches.  Squared
			   and...divide by 800 -- that's six
			   one, five...6150 by 2000 --
				   (stops, wryly)
			   Just over three tons.

		Quint snorts and dumps the chum overboard.  Flings in the
		two mackerel.

					   BRODY
			   Where'd it go?

		Hooper is rummaging in his gear.  Brody watches him locate a
		small waterproof signal light.  He starts to attach it to
		the first barrel.  Quint, who has been scanning the sea, spins
		around.

					   QUINT
			   Don't monkey with none of my gear!

					   HOOPER
				   (trying to be patient)
			   Your harpoons are attached to
			   these. right?
				   (indicates barrels)
			   They pop up and drag on him, drag
			   on him till he's through -- isn't
			   that the idea?

					   QUINT
			   You can't improve on it!

		Hooper switches on the signal light.  It pulses a glow that
		hurts the eyes even in broad daylight.

					   HOOPER
			   What if we have to follow him?

		Quint breathes in smoke until his tongue catches fire.

					   QUINT
			   Sonny -- take that, and your
			   formulas, and your cage -- take
			   your whole halfass hardware store
			   here and ---

		A whale of a thump jolts the Orca.  Quint grabs for a harpoon.
		Brody pulls his snub-nose special from his shopping bag.
		Hooper sees the panic on Brody's face and reaches a hand out
		to him.

					   HOOPER
			   Put that away!

		Quint, on the pulpit, harpoon poised.

					   QUINT
			   Once more...once more!

		WHUMP!  Quint almost takes a tumble into the water.  We see
		the glistening back and fin below him.  HE PLANTS THE HARPOON.
		The Great White slaps the transom with its tail and sounds.


	184	INSERT - COILED ROPE AND BARREL						184

		The rope reels out in a blur, and Hooper pins Brody out of
		the way of the spinning coils -- just in time.  The barrel
		with flasher attached literally somersaults out of the boat,
		missing both men's faces by seven inches.

		Quint is already poised, feet planted, with harpoon number
		two.


	185	ANGLE - OCEAN								185

		The barrel skips like a flat rock over the surface of the
		water, then unexpectedly vanishes under the water.

					   QUINT
				   (poised)
			   He can't stay down, swimmin' with
			   that on!  Wait till I stick him
			   with two!  That'll worry him!  Come
			   on, upstairs!  What's he waitin' for?!
			   He can't keep down this long!

		Brody and Hooper enter the shot behind him.  The sun is low-
		slung over the horizon.

					   BRODY
			   Why don't we go in?  Have a crack
			   tomorrow....?

					   QUINT
				   (doesn't turn)
			   We are stayin' out here till I
			   got him!


	186	ANGLE - HOOPER AND BRODY						186

		They exchange looks.  "He's nuts."


	187	EXT. ORCA - ON OPEN SEA - NIGHT - CLOSE - BRODY				187

		asleep on deck.  The day has taken its toll.  Brody is riding
		the crest of some bad dreams, on the verge of waking at any
		moment.


	188	ANGLE - QUINT AND HOOPER						188

		Both sit on the transom.  Hooper takes a long pull from a
		bottle of Quint's home brew.  Quint is railing at him, both
		a little smacko.

					   QUINT
			   Close call, my ass.  A baby dogfish
			   in a laboratory?  See this thumb?

		Quint flaunts his thumb, a checkerboard of scar tissue.

					   HOOPER
				   (handing back the
 				   bottle)
			   You've got the monopoly, huh?  Here!

		Hooper rolls up his trouser leg boasting a crescent scar on
		his calf.

					   HOOPER
			   Look at this one.

					   QUINT
				   (snorts)
			   Beauty mark.

		Quint starts to pull up his own pant leg.

					   HOOPER
			   Bull-shark scraped me.  I was down
			   getting samples, and he ---

					   QUINT
				   (puts his leg on
				   Hooper's lap)
			   Mako!  Match that!

		A slow mischievous grin stains Hooper's soggy face.  He slowly
		unbuttons his shirt, knowing an ace beats the three of club.
		An S-shaped white scar on his side says "gin."

					   HOOPER
			   Eight-foot moray eel -- right
			   through the suit, buddy....

		Quint staggers to his feet, begins undoing his belt, undoes
		his zipper.

					   QUINT
			   You're in one piece, ain't you?
			   Here me lovely!

		Quint pulls down one side of his pants to his hip.  It looks
		like a small piece of him was cored out.

					   HOOPER
			   Minor League.  Where's it from?

					   QUINT
			   Tillie Schwab -- Newark, New Jersey.

		Both laugh, as Hooper pull his shirt down over his left
		shoulder.

					   HOOPER
			   Right!  You want to play dirty -- ?
				   (displays tiny scar)
			   Standing in line for The Exorcist!

		More laughter.  Quint takes off his shoe.

					   QUINT
			   I got a toe that'll wipe the floor
			   with you ---

		Hooper, laughing, undoes his belt.

					   HOOPER
			   A what?  You got a what?


	189	ANGLE - QUINT								189

		Something catches his eye and sobers him.

					   QUINT
			   He's up again.


	190	ANGLE - SEA								190

		The stroboscopic signal-light surfaces at the horizon.

					   QUINT
				   (grudgingly)
			   Very handy light, I'll say that.

					   HOOPER
				   (feeling macho)
			   Let's move in on him.

					   QUINT
				   (shakes head)
			   Not till I can see him good.
				   (a long look,
				   a hint of worry)
			   Even the one'll keep pullin' him up.
			   But he'll need three, maybe four.
			   Most I ever used was two.
				   (swigs from bottle)
			   Bastard ran me halfway to Liverpool.

					   HOOPER
			   You kill him?

					   QUINT
				   (still staring)
			   Always do, once I stick a barrel on
			   'em.
				   (back to Hooper)
			   No more objections?

		Hooper doesn't replay, Quint needles him.

					   QUINT
			   Jaws two foot wide.  Real Prestige
			   item.

		Hooper shrugs.  Quint hands him the bottle.  Hooper cocks
		his head, noticing a scar patch on Quint's right forearm.

					   HOOPER
			   How'd you get that one?

		Quint, staring out to sea, doesn't seem to hear Hooper.
		The signal light disappears.

					   QUINT
			   Down again.

					   HOOPER
				   (persisting)
			   The scar on your arm.

					   QUINT
				   (detached)
			   Had a tattoo there.

					   HOOPER
				   (jocular)
			   Changed your mind about somebody?

					   QUINT
				   (shaking his head)
			   It said 'U.S.S. Indianapolis.'


	191	CLOSE - HOOPER								191

		His face falls as he hears this.  Quint looks at him ironi-
		cally.

					   QUINT
			   Guess you experts know about that.

		Once again Quint turns his eyes to the sea.

					   HOOPER
				   (gravely)
			   You were on her?  June '45?

					   QUINT
				   (flat and quiet)
			   On her and torpedoed right off her.
			   Into the drink with 900 other clowns
			   ...Started with 900 anyway...floating
			   in that big warm Pacific.
				   (the light surfaces again)
			   Must have been like a dinner bell
			   in there...Explosions, and half
			   the guys bleeding.  Soon as the
			   sharks came homing in on us, we
			   went by the Manual, of course...
			   Kept trying to float in groups...
			   doin' what if said, splash at 'em,
			   yell at 'em, hit 'em on the nose,
			   they won't bother you...all that.
			   They tore apart about a hundred
			   men, the first night.  And pretty
			   soon, when they stepped it up, and
			   you'd feel 'em bump you, and guys'd
			   get pulled down a couple of yards
			   away, and it got to two days...and
			   three...Well, some fellas couldn't
			   take it no more, just peeled off
			   their life-jackets, got it over with
			   ...We were in the water 110 hours.
			   Sharks averaged six men an hour.
				   (nails Hooper
				   a hard look)
			   They're all experts.
				   (spits in the ocean)

					   HOOPER
				   (weakened by the story)
			   Jesus, Quint!  You can't blame ---

		Hooper is interrupted by the boom and banshee cries of
		a distant whale.


	192	ANGLE - BRODY								192

		springs out of his shallow sleep.

					   BRODY
			   What --  What the hell --- ?

					   HOOPER
				   (depressed)
			   A whale's out there.

		Quint sits in the fighting chair.

					   QUINT
			   So is he.


	193	ANGLE - SEA								193

		The light has surfaced a quarter of a mile away.

					   QUINT
			   Go on and sleep, the two of you.

		Brody sinks back, half awake and panting from his burst of
		fright.  Hooper looks at Quint a long time, suddenly a
		stranger again, then beds himself down in the balmy night
		air.  Quint starts to doze, massaging his missing tattoo.

								CUT TO


	194	EXT. THE OCEAN - NIGHT							194

		The Orca sits on unruffled waters.  A planetarium of star-
		life overhead with shooting stars, every now and again
		making incisions into the heavens and leaving green trails
		behind.  All is quiet, not a breath of wind.

		The barrel's strobe light pops into foreground, CLOSE.  It
		heads toward the Orca, carving neon blue phosphorescence
		into the water.  The massive dorsal fin surfaces in the
		night and circles the Orca, leaving phosphorescence in its
		broad wake.  The night skies, the silent waters are now
		alive in dancing light.


	195	ANGLES - THE MEN							195

		as the sleep.  A SOUND is heard.  A low protracted scraping.
		No one wakes.  The sound returns.  Another SCRAPE.  A SCRATCH-
		ING noise...almost sounds like CHEWING.  Then a gentle BUMP
		at the stern.  Quint stirs.  Brody turns over.  Hooper is
		sleeping soundly.  Then....

		A seizure of violent shaking.  A horrible splintering and
		popping noise.  Quint half falls, half springs, out of the
		chair.  Hooper is on his feet, but loses his footing.  The
		Orca is again bumped from underneath.  Brody holds on, his
		gun in hand.  Quint pulls out his M-1.

					   QUINT
			   Start the engine!

		Hooper is on the flybridge in six bounds.  Quint fires sea-
		ward over the transom.  The engine starts, but something in
		it sounds wrong.

					   QUINT
			   Cut it!  Cut it!

		Quint cranes to look down and around, but no light can be
		found.

					   QUINT
			   I don't know where he is!  Ripped
			   something loose -- shaft or some-
			   thin'.

		He hefts up a deckboard, pokes his small flashlight into
		the cavity.

					   HOOPER
			   I told you I have things to kill it
			   with...take over up there, I can --
			   Quint!

					   QUINT
				   (slams down board)
			   Start the pump, goddammit!

		Quint can't hide his fear now.

					   BRODY
			   Are we leaking?

		Sound -- pumps starting.

					   QUINT
			   We'll stay afloat.  Watch for
			   the barrel ---

					   BRODY
			   Can't I bail or something?

		Quint takes Brody by the arm and sits him down, pointing
		to starboard.

					   QUINT
			   Keep your eyes open, that's all --
			   out there!
				   (to Hooper)
			   And you keep looking that way,
			   killer!

		Quint takes up the opposite position and loads his M-1.
		Brody checks his gun.  Hooper looks with binoculars.

					   QUINT
			   And nobody sleeps.  Nobody!


	196	ANGLE - ORCA								196

		The three men standing sentinel.  Stars...quiet seas...
		phosphorescence lighting up the water.  HEAR the whale cry-
		ing from far away.


	197	EXT. THE ORCA - DAWN							197

		Brody leans against the windshield on the flybridge.  His
		arms hoist binoculars to his eyes.  Visible without binoculars
		is the signal-light and barrel, not moving, two hundred yards
		astern.  An angry racket filters up from below deck -- Quint
		is effecting engine repairs the only way he knows how.  Brody
		has learned a neat sailor's trick and nimbly slides down the
		hand piping, his feet avoiding the steps.  He sidles next to
		Hooper, who is struggling into his full wet suit.

					   QUINT (o.s.)
			   It moving?

					   BRODY
				   (loud and off)
			   No -- still there!

		Hooper is busy attaching the cage to the ginpole.  He is full
		of purpose, his hands working against the clock, short glances
		to the hatch from where Quint can be heard, cursing and wrench-
		ing.

					   BRODY
			   Please, Matt, don't get him sore.
			   He's loony enough.

		Hooper tests the rope, inspects his gear, selects a steel
		pole and opens a tiny green felt case.

					   BRODY
			   Put all that stuff away before he
			   finds out.


	198	INSERT - GREEN FELT CASE						198

		Hooper opens it, removing a deadly-looking syringe head.

					   HOOPER
				   (grim)
			   He had a turn, now I'll have a turn.
				   (mounting it
				   on steel pole)
			   Maybe you should have a turn, too.

		Brody tries to reason, when:


	199	ANGLE - QUINT								199

		emerges dirty, red-eyed and haggard, pauses to take it all
		in.

					   QUINT
			   What is this?

					   HOOPER
				   (without looking up)
			   Strychnine nitrate, 20 CC's.

					   QUINT
			   Wear all the Batman costumes you
			   want, sport.  But don't you inter-
			   fere with me.

		Quint starts to climb the bridge.

					   HOOPER
				   (to Quint)
			   All you need to do is lower me in ---

					   QUINT
				   (muttering
 				   to himself)
			   I need a transom that don't leak
			   every time that --
				   (starts engine)
			   -- shaft goes around --
				   (an uneven sputter)
			   -- Bent!  Seams splitting open
			   there -- !

		Quint finesses the Orca "slow ahead" toward the barrel.  The
		engine sounds like a hamster treadmill.  Hooper climbs up
		beside him.

					   HOOPER
			   You know he'll go for the cage ---

					   QUINT
			   Not today, doc.  No injections.

					   HOOPER
			   I can finish him in sixty seconds.

					   QUINT
				   (listening
				   to engine)
			   Whole goddam housing's loose!  'He'
			   can hear it, too.

					   HOOPER
			   Can't you stop this Moby Dick crap?!

					   QUINT
			   We do this the way I know how.

		Quint cuts the engine once alongside the barrel.  Hooper
		barely controls himself.  Climbs down.

		Quint follows after him, putting a cautioning hand on Hooper's
		shoulder to walk softly, then motions Brody to stay on the
		flybridge and keep his eyes peeled.


	200	QUINT - HOOPER								200

		Tiptoe to the stern, Quint intercepting a harpoon along the
		way.  Hooper leans way out over the transom and poles the
		barrel closer.  It bobs around easily, arousing Quint's sus-
		picions.

					   QUINT
				   (softly)
			   Playin' possum....

		Hooper poles up the slick nylon rope, leaving the barrel
		untouched in the water.

					   QUINT
			   Pull up easy -- only want to goose
			   him up.  Second you feel he's run-
			   ning, drop it...If you want any
			   hands left.

		Hooper starts hand-reeling in.  Surprisingly, there is no
		resistance.  Both men share perplexed looks.  Then Quint
		reaches over, his whole body leaning over the side, putting
		down his harpoon.

					   QUINT
			   Here -- gimme.  I don't get what
			   he's....


	201	WATER - ANGLE								201

		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.


	202	CLOSE - BRODY								202

		His instincts shine -- as does his newly-acquired sense of
		direction.

					   BRODY
				   (top of his lungs)
			   Shark!  Starboard!  It's under
			   you -- !


	203	CLOSE - HOOPER AND QUINT						203

		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.  The monster rolls on its side and looks
		at them as it passes.  Then, with a great sweep of its tail,
		it lashes the side of the boat, ripping the rope from Quint's
		hand and shearing off five square yards of paint like a lathe.
		It makes a wide arc out to sea, only the fin showing now, and
		begins to circle around the boat.  Quint notices his hand,
		palm cut and bleeding, realizes he came that close to losing
		his whole hand.  He has never been more dangerous.

					   QUINT
				   (to Brody)
			   Haul in that rope -- it can foul
			   us!
				   (screaming
				   to Hooper)
			   Start the engine -- !

		Brody and Hooper exchange places.  The engine starts with a
		terrible grinding.

					   QUINT
				   (roaring)
			   Easy!  It'll tear right out!

					   BRODY
				   (next to him,
				   hauling in rope)
			   We can't do it ourselves....

					   QUINT
				   (seeing red)
			   Shut up!

					   BRODY
			   He chewed through this, he cracked
			   your boat -- radio in for help ---

					   QUINT
				   (to Hooper)
			   Pump her out a little...!

					   BRODY
			   I mean it!  Send out an S.O.S.!

					   QUINT
				   (spitting)
			   Don't make me laugh when I'm working.

					   BRODY
				   (sudden resolve)
			   I'll do it.

		Brody heads off for the cabin.


	204	QUINT - CLOSE								204

		A perfectly terrible look comes over him.  He raises up and
		starts after Brody.  Brody disappears into the cabin.  Quint
		pauses outside and sees:


	205	INSERT - QUINT'S LEAD-CENTERED BASEBALL BAT				205

		his calloused hand grabs it up fiercely.


	206	INT. RADIO SHACK							206

		Brody picks up the radio, flicking on knobs and lights on the
		complex console.

					   QUINT (o.s.)
			   Beg your pardon ---


	207	ANGLE - DOORWAY								207

		Quint appears, silhouetted in the hot light of the door,
		raising his bat.

					   QUINT
			   Duty first and pleasure after ---


	208	CLOSE - BRODY								208

		looking up in horror.


	209	CLOSE - QUINT								209

		Quint brings down the bat with all the strength he can muster.

		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
				   (leaving the cabin)
			   Excuse me!

		If he were ten years older, Brody would be on the floor with
		heart failure.


	210	CLOSE - HOOPER								210

		urgently pointing.

					   HOOPER
			   Coming right to us!

		Quint grabs up his harpoon.

					   QUINT
			   No -- comin' at us!  Slow ahead
			   he'll slam us, head on --
				   (the engine
				   clanks)
			   Slower!  Throttle back ---


	211	ANGLE - OVER THE BOW							211

		The shark is closing the gap, faster.

					   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 pre-
		cision.

					   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 Hooper)
			   This won't kill it!

					   QUINT
				   (to Hooper)
			   Swing around!  After him!


	212	ON THE FLYBRIDGE							212

		Hooper can see the fin racing ahead of the barrel.  Diving
		down.  Up again -- Quint prepares another iron.

					   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, clutching the
		steel cage with one hand, firing his pistol at the shark
		with the other.

		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!


	213	WATER LEVEL ANGLE							213

		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.


	214	CLOSE - HOOPER								214

		securing the rope to a cleat but allowing the barrel to hang
		overboard.  He helps Brody with his chore on a second
		adjacent cleat.


	215	WIDE ANGLE - ORCA							215

		The boat is jarred violently from side to side as the under-
		water force of the Great White jerks and heaves them to and
		fro, up and down, side to side....


	216	ANGLE - HOOPER AND BRODY						216

		are both torn off their feet as the boat is thrust forward.


	217	FLYBRIDGE - QUINT							217

		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!

		At that, Quint slides down to the prow, grabs up an iron.
		It is too light.  He grabs another, finding satisfaction in
		its heft and balance.  The shark can be seen directly ahead,
		threshing closer.

					   QUINT
			   Now!  Untie 'em!  Quick -- Now!

		He sinks the iron, and the shark veers downward in a gushing
		shower of spray.


	218	HOOPER AND BRODY							218

		They are trying to untie from the cleats, but both ropes are
		stretched too taut.  They jump out of the way as the ropes
		stretch down the side and behind the boat, knocking over
		objects as it skeeters 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.

					   QUINT
			   I said untie them ---

		Wrenched to one side, Quint is knocked from his feet.


	219	CLOSE - THE TWO CLEATS							219

		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 into the water.  They dis-
		appear beneath the turbulent grey surface.

		The three men, breathing heavily, bruised and pouring sweat,
		look out at the blank water.


	220	ANGLE - OCEAN								220

		Pop -- pop -- pop.  One, two, three, the barrels surface --
		ready for more.

					   QUINT
			   He can't go deep now, or far,
			   either.  Not with those.  Not for
			   long.

		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 30.06,
		checks the load.

					   QUINT
			   Maybe a brain shot...one lucky
			   hit....

					   HOOPER (o.s.)
				   (on bridge)
			   He's heading under -- !

					   QUINT
				   (incredulously)
			   No way!  He can't!


	221	ANGLE - OCEAN								221

		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!  What are we
			   dealing with here?!  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.


	222	HOOPER - FLY BRIDGE							222

		With him we watch the barrels pop up ahead of the bow then
		veer briskly to the left and plunk down again.

					   QUINT
			   Follow him!

					   HOOPER
			   I can't see him!


	223	CLOSE - BRODY								223

		Panic-ridden, barely in control.

					   BRODY
			   There -- !

		The barrels have surfaced and we see the lengthy shadow passing
		underneath the Orca.  It is incredibly huge, there's always
		more of it.  There is a SCRAPING NOISE.  Quint looks down as
		two of the barrels drag along the sides of the boat.

					   BRODY
			   He's trying to sink us!

					   QUINT
				   (to Hooper)
			   Dead astern!  Zig-zag!

		There is something different about Quint.  He's quieter now,
		more icily calm.  The colorful cockiness has left him.  Brody
		senses that Quint knows he's in a fight for his life.

		The Orca taking evasive action.  But the three barrels are
		steadily closing the gap.  The engine makes SLOSHING NOISES
		now...missing and backfiring.

					   BRODY
			   He's chasing us...I don't believe
			   it.

					   QUINT
			   Full throttle -- to port!


	224	HOOPER									224

		He gooses the throttle but the engine only screeches and
		pounds erratically.  The three barrels pass beyond the boat,
		negotiating a tight circle and plowing mercilessly toward
		the Orca.  The tip of the fin aims for the stern.  Quint
		is ready with his rifle.

		The shark breaks water and rises like a rocket, snout, jaw
		and pectoral fins shooting straight up.  We see the smoke-
		white belly, the pelvic fin, as it clears the surface and
		falls sideways drenching Quint, who fires six times.

		The Orca shudders from side to side.  From Hooper's point of
		view we can just discern what is happening.  The shark has
		the lower transom in its jaws and is shaking the boat with
		each jolt of its head.  Quint shoots until spent.  Brody
		seizes a gaff and drives it down at the conical nose again
		and again.

					   QUINT
			   Throttle back -- !

		When they next peer out, the dorsal fin can be seen gliding
		away, beginning a long circle around the Orca.

		Right about now the Orca's engine breathes its final fumes
		and fails.


	225	CLOSE - BRODY AND QUINT							225

		Utter dismay.  Hooper turns the key, the motor wheezes...but
		the engine is dead.


	226	ANGLE - QUINT								226

		His eyes flick from Hooper to the transom.  It is cracked!
		Then out at the barrels...they don't seem to be moving.

					   BRODY
				   (noting this)
			   Maybe we killed it?

					   QUINT
				   (don't I wish)
			   We didn't kill it.

		In rebuttal the barrels begin to move again, closer, in
		tighter concentric circles.

								CUT TO


	227	ON DECK - HOOPER							227

		slipping into his weight-belt, strapping on his compressed
		air tanks.  Nobody wants to stop him this time...even Quint
		helps him on with things.

					   HOOPER
			   Your pumps are out too.  Drop me
			   down to twenty feet or so, okay?

		Hooper walks over to the cage.  Opens the steel doors and
		closes himself in.

					   HOOPER
				   (to Quint)
			   Try and keep him off me till I'm
			   down.

		Quint nods grimly and Hooper brandishes the pole with affixed
		syringe.  He give him a thumbs up and Hooper absently returns
		it.  Quint circles the deck, eye on the barrels.


	228	HOOPER AND BRODY							228

		on opposite sides of the bars.

					   HOOPER
				   (with a reassuring
				   smile)
			   Lower away, Chief.

		He pops his mouthpiece between teeth and lowers the face
		mask.  Unsure, Brody manages to undo the knot that starts the
		cage into the ocean.  He and Hooper stare at one another as
		their faces pass, Hooper's moving down, down into the slate-
		grey sea.  Brody curls the rope around his forearm for a
		stronger hold.

					   QUINT
			   That's the way Chief.

					   BRODY
			   Live and learn.


	229	UNDERWATER - CAGE							229

		HOOPER'S POINT OF VIEW

		Submerging.  The sky, horizon, water line, clean fresh sea
		air then...the magnificent innerspace, with bubbles sparkling
		in front of us.


	230	ANGLE - HOOPER IN THE CAGE						230

		as he floats to twenty feet Hooper never stops looking around
		360 degrees.  He removes the rubber guard from the needle and
		waits.


	231	EXT. THE SURFACE - BRODY AND QUINT					231

		Their turning heads tell us that the barrels are still
		circling.  Suddenly, both heads stop turning.


	232	THE SEA									232

		The barrels have come to a stop.  Delicately, they change
		course and meander toward the lowered cage.


	233	UNDERWATER - HOOPER							233

		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.


	234	HOOPER'S POINT OF VIEW							234

		The water is clear and shafts of sunlight streak downward
		in the blue.  From the deep gloom -- diving slowly, smoothly
		-- comes the shark.  It move 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.


	235	SURFACE									235

		The trailing barrels GONG and SCRATCH the keel of the Orca
		above.  Brody and Quint leap back.


	236	HOOPER - CLOSE								236

		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 point-
		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.


	238	ANGLE - SHARK								238

		As spirals of harmless bullets bead the water, 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.


	239	SURFACE									239

		One of the barrel ropes snakes around the cage rope and pulls
		taut.


	240	HOOPER - DEEP								240

		Turning to meet the monster which -- though held back for a
		moment by the snarled rope -- now surges forward.


	241	SURFACE - BRODY AND QUINT						241

		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.


	242	UNDERWATER - HOOPER							242

		maneuvering downward, away from the jaws...Suddenly the crazed
		shark veers upward for the surface.


	243	SURFACE - QUINT								243

		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 --- !


	244	MASTER ANGLE								244

		The shark breaks water right beside the Orca, rising with a
		great whooshing noise.  It rises vertically, towering over-
		head, 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.  Quint
		gropes for his rifle and fires.  The shark heaves its terrible
		girth and Quint flies backwards onto his harpoon display.


	245	CLOSE - QUINT								245

		Skewered by a Number Twelve iron, Quint gulps blood and
		pitches into the onrushing sea.


	246	NIGHTMARE ANGLE - BRODY							246

		The Orca is tipping backwards, sinking stern first, tipping
		Brody toward the gaping thrusting jaws.  Deck chairs, irons,
		spent cartridges, thermos, beer cans all pour into the
		vacuum of the open gagging jaws.  It wants Brody now, its
		tail keeping him into position.

		Brody is sliding toward it with the rest of the debris as
		the bow raises thirty degrees.  He intercepts one of Hooper's
		compressed air tanks and just as he and everything else pours
		toward the whirlpool and into the jaws, Brody braces himself
		and shoves the tanks at the bottomless pit.  They jam between
		the upper and lower jaws and stick fast.

		The shark twists backward in the water and turns away.  Hooper,
		rising, is peering around for Brody and Quint.  The shark is
		spinning in crazed circles, the head-thrusts indicating that
		it can neither dislodge nor swallow the silver tanks.  It
		bites down at fifteen tons pressure per square inch. The
		TANKS EXPLODE!


	247	SURFACE - EXPLOSION							247

		A thirty-foot geyser of bright red water touches the black
		sky, spreading everywhere, missing nothing.


	248	UNDERWATER								248

		Clouds of blood -- shark's suspended carcass.  Another cloud
		-- Quint suspended.


	249	SURFACE - THE ORCA							249

		sinks with a rumble.


	250	CLOSE - HOOPER ON SURFACE						250

		Raising his mask from the water, he kicks toward Brody.


	251	UNDERWATER								251

		The steel-grey body of the shark is falling away, an apparition
		evanescing into the darkness -- sinking in a slow, graceful
		spiral, stopped by the bobbing barrels.


	252	SURFACE - BRODY AND HOOPER						252

		Brody is holding onto a cushion, barely afloat, in shock.

					   BRODY
			   Quint...Quint...is he dead?

		Hooper crosses Brody's chest with his left arm, keeping him
		up in the water.

					   HOOPER
			   Don't talk.  We've got a long way.


	253	HIGH SHOT								253

		The two tiny, miserable heroes, swimming from the debris.

								FADE OUT





					   THE END