The camera is moving toward an Indian city. We are high and far away, only the sound of the wind as we grow nearer and nearer, and through the passing clouds these words appear:
No mans life can be encompassed in one telling. There is no way to give each year its allotted weight, to include each event, each person who helped to shape a lifetime. What can be done is to be faithful in spirit to the
THE LOST WORLD
JURASSIC PARK
screenplay by
David Koepp
EXT. TROPICAL LAGOON - DAY
A 135-foot-luxury yacht is anchored just offshore in a
tropical lagoon. The beach is a stunning crescent of white
sand at the jungle fringe, utterly deserted.
ISLA SORNA
87 miles southeast of Nublar
Two SHIP HANDS, dressed in white uniforms, have set up a
picnic table with three chairs on the sand and are carefully
TRUE LIES
WRITTEN
BY
JAMES CAMERON
-----------------------
TITLE SEQUENCE
1 EXT. MOUNTAINS, NEAR GENEVA, SWITZERLAND - NIGHT
The snow covered Alps stand out clearly in the light of a full
moon. A fortress-like CHATEAU is situated in a flat saddle of
forest partway up the mountain, next to a frozen lake. The
property is surrounded by high stone walls, and the stately
grounds are bathed in floodli
Silence. Norland Park, a large country house built in the early part of the eighteenth century, lies in the moonlit parkland.
2 INT. NORLAND PARK. MR DASHWOODS BEDROOM. NIGHT.
In the dim light shed by candles we see a bed in which a MAN (MR DASHWOOD, 52) lies his skin waxy, his breathing laboured. Around him two silhouettes move and murmur, their clothing susurrating in the deathly hush. DOCTORS.
is applied to a paper mache surface, and a popsicle stick is pressed into place. (We are TOO TIGHT to see the object being constructed.)
CLOSEUP - KRISTEN PARKER
Kristen (16) is strikingly pretty, despite the dark, tired circles under her eyes. Shes exhausted, but desperately trying to stay awake. She wears pajamas and robe.
Her head nods, her eyelids close. She snaps herself awake.
CLOSEUP - THE
A hand reaches for it, bringing the receiver up to the face of CASEY BECKER, a young girl, no more than sixteen. A friendly face with innocent eyes.
CASEY
Hello.
MANS VOICE
(from phone)
Hello.
Silence.
CASEY
Yes.
MAN
Silence. Gradually the sound of distant traffic becomes audible. A LOW ANGLE bounded on one side by a chain-link fence and on the other by the one-story public school buildings. Spray-can hieroglyphics and distant streetlight shadows. This is a Los Angeles public school in a blue collar neighborhood.
ANGLE BETWEEN SCHOOL BUILDINGS
Where a trash dumpster looms in a LOW ANGLE, part of the clutter b
AND REVEALS THE inside of a domed city honeycombed with fantastic arches. The city is inhabited by young beautiful people in luxurious but simple costumes.
THE CAMERA ROAMS through the City, observing some people seated at a kind of cafe sipping drinks and relaxing; other people are in some kind of exercise class doing beautiful graceful movement; and finally a class of five year old children lis
A VIDEO IMAGE FLICKERS TO LIFE. A ruggedly handsome man with dark, haunted eyes. Eyes that have seen hell.
NEVILLE
My name is Robert Neville. Today is October 17th,
the year 2002. I was born in 1960, on this very day,
so that makes today my birthday. (remembering)
Every year for my birthday, my wife Ellen would throw
me a party. A kids party. Cake, ice cream, funny hats,
"Pin the Tail on the Donk
RELIC
a screenplay by Amy Holden Jones
based on the book by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
March 16, 1995
TITLE CARD... BELEM BRAZIL - JULY...
EXT. BELEM STREETS - NIGHT
A taxi careens down narrow roadways at breakneck speeds.
INT. TAXI - NIGHT
In the back seat is WHITTLESLEY. Early 40s, the wreck of a once
handsome man. Unshaven. Sweat stained. Rail thin. Scratches on his
arms, a fresh scar