THE TIME MACHINE

                              by

                          John Logan

   February 22, 2000





INT.  COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY - LECTURE HALL - DAY

Darkness.  Then a sound...

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack...

The familiar sound of chalk writing on a blackboard.

Fade up to see...

A hand zooming across a blackboard at incredible speed,
forming an endless algebraic equation.

Amazingly, when the writer reaches the end of the blackboard
he does not lift the chalk and return to the left side to
begin a new line -- instead he simply loops around and
continues writing, right to left, upside down.

The college students in his class -- all male and dressed in
late Victorian clothes -- smile at this familiar peculiarity
and tilt their heads to try and read the endless equation,
copying furiously into notebooks.

The hand continues to zoom along the blackboard... and then
slows... and then stops... the students wait... the hand taps
the chalk on the blackboard for a moment and we finally
see...

ALEXANDER HARTDEGEN, a handsome young man not much older than
his students, standing at the blackboard.  He is gazing out a
window, looking at a bird on a tree branch.  He smiles.

The students glance to one another.

Alexander remembers himself and turns back to the blackboard,
his hand again flying as:

                    ALEXANDER
          So -- length, width, breadth --
          formulate the area and of course we
          arrive at solid mass.  But imagine
          if we continue the equation as I've
          done -- can't we begin to recognize
          another dimension beyond the first
          three?  I theorize we begin to find
          duration -- the object's place in
          time.  Let's note that as 'D'
          here...

Alexander reaches the left side of the blackboard and loops
around again in an unbroken line to continue the equation
from left to right again.

The students are hopelessly lost.  They finally stop copying
and just watch Alexander work, admiring his brilliant
innovation.

Meanwhile, a man watches from the back of the lecture hall. 
He is DAVID PHILBY, Alexander's closest friend, a bit older.

                    ALEXANDER
          ... If we accept the theoretical
          possibility of duration as a fourth
          dimension we find that our equation
          might -- no, that's not right --

He erases some numbers quickly with his hand, sending up a
cloud of chalk dust, he coughs.

                    ALEXANDER
          -- there, that looks more like
          it...

He continues to scribble at lightning speed.  Then...

He begins humming to himself.

The students watch, amused.  Philby smiles.

Alexander finally stops humming and writing.  Steps back and
looks at the equation.  Then he turns to his students.

                    ALEXANDER
          Does this make any sense to you?

The students are confused.  One offers:

                    STUDENT
          Sir, if I may, wouldn't it be
          easier if you applied a Fibonacci
          sequence to the differential
          coefficient?

                    ALEXANDER
              (smiles)
          It's not supposed to be easy, it's
          supposed to be beautiful... All of
          you think about that tonight and
          we'll press on tomorrow.  Good
          afternoon.

The students begin to rise, class over.  They leave the
classroom talking eagerly about Alexander's theories,
inspired.

A sudden new angle: from above we see Alexander going to
Philby, leaving the classroom talking with him.  We are in
the upper balcony of the classroom.  A solitary figure looks
down, watching them.

This new figure is a thin man with pale skin, dry like
parchment.  Somehow ominous.

INT.  COLUMBIA - HALLWAY - DAY

Alexander walks with Philby:

                    ALEXANDER
          ... The point is I know it will
          work once the, um, numbers and such
          are in order.

                    PHILBY
          Do you know you were humming?

                    ALEXANDER
          I was not.

                    PHILBY
          Somewhere around 'D+2xy something
          something.'

                    ALEXANDER
          Damned if I can keep her out of my
          equations.

                    PHILBY
          Tonight's the night?

                    ALEXANDER
              (checking pocket watch)
          God, and I'm running late --

A PRIM WOMAN appears before them:

                    PRIM WOMAN
          Dr. Hartdegen, Dr. Philby... Dean
          Fulton would like to see you.

Alexander and Philby exchange a look.  Gulp.  They follow the
prim woman.

INT.  COLUMBIA - DEAN FULTON'S OFFICE - DAY

They follow the prim woman, Dean Fulton's secretary, into his
dark, paneled office.

                    PRIM WOMAN
          He's outside.

Alexander and Philby move through the office and out to a
garden courtyard...

EXT.  COLUMBIA - GARDEN COURTYARD - DAY

Oddly, chickens are clucking about the courtyard.

The thin man we saw before, DEAN FULTON, is casually tossing
down feed for the chickens.  With his other hand he carries
an umbrella to protect himself from the sun.  He does not
look up.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Gentlemen, watch your step.

Alexander and Philby stop.  Dean Fulton looks up and smiles,
benevolent.

                    DEAN FULTON
          My fowl have polluted the yard.

                    PHILBY
          Dean Fulton...

Dean Fulton continues to lazily scatter feed for his
chickens.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Dr. Philby, Dr. Hartdegen.  I
          received the most extraordinary
          letter last week.  From a parent. 
          We are always pleased to receive
          letters from parents.  They are our
          employers, after all.  This
          gentleman's son is in your class,
          Dr. Hartdegen.

                    ALEXANDER
              (knows what's coming)
          I see.

                    DEAN FULTON
          As I recall the syllabus the name
          of your tutorial is 'Applied
          Mathematics and Engineering', am I
          correct?

                    ALEXANDER
          Exactly correct, sir.

Dean Fulton stops scattering feed and gazes at Alexander with
a smile.  This is an old game between them and they both
rather enjoy it.  To a point.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Well, just as I thought.  Surely
          it's all been a terrible mistake. 
          This parent actually suggested that
          your freshman course in applied
          mathematics has somehow become a
          seminar on theoretical physics!

                    ALEXANDER
          Imagine that.

                    DEAN FULTON
          But I know that none of my faculty
          would ever deviate from the
          assigned curriculum.

                    ALEXANDER
          Well... perhaps I have 'deviated'
          the tiniest bit.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Might I ask why?

                    ALEXANDER
          Because the assigned curriculum is
          boring.

Philby groans very quietly.

                    ALEXANDER
          Sir, that curriculum is forty years
          out of date.  The students today
          are looking toward the new century 
          -- they want to be challenged and
          inspired, not spoon-fed dusty old
          equations that have been proved a
          thousand times.  They want to
          explore.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Do they?

Dean Fulton smiles and then begins to scatter feed again.

                    DEAN FULTON
          What are these animals, gentlemen?

Alexander and Philby exchange a look.

                    PHILBY
          Um, your chickens, sir.

Alexander helpfully offers:

                    ALEXANDER
          And roosters.

                    DEAN FULTON
          No, Dr. Hartdegen, they are not
          just chickens and roosters.  They
          are science.  Perhaps they aren't
          'inspiring' to you.  Perhaps they
          don't 'challenge' you --

                    ALEXANDER
          No, sir --

                    DEAN FULTON
          Animal husbandry is science, Dr.
          Hartdegen.  I have been breeding
          these fowl for fourteen years.  I
          have filled a library with
          information on their feeding
          patterns, social behavior and
          breeding.  Empirical, exacting,
          quantifiable records.

                    ALEXANDER
          Sir --

Dean Fulton looks up at him, his eyes cold:

                    DEAN FULTON
          'Duration' is not a dimension. 
          Scientists do not imagine the world
          around them.  They do not wool-
          gather or cloud-spin.  They prove. 
          They demonstrate.  Columbia
          University does not teach fantasy.

Philby shoots Alexander a warning look, but Alexander can't
help himself:

                    ALEXANDER
          With respect, sir, would we have
          the telegraph without fantasy? 
          Would we have radium and X-rays
          without someone first dreaming we
          could?

                    DEAN FULTON
          The advances you speak of were the
          result of countless years of study
          and empirical experimentation, a
          careful evolutionary process, not
          chalkboard parlor-tricks.

                    ALEXANDER
          My equations are not parlor-tricks!

                    DEAN FULTON
          Abstract mathematics, relativity of
          dimensions, geometrical 'durations'
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          speculation, what is the point?

                    ALEXANDER
          Because it's a new way of seeing
          the world!  Of seeing our place in
          it!

                    PHILBY
          Sir, if I may --

                    DEAN FULTON
              (with finality, to
               Alexander)
          Young man, we have a way of doing
          things here.  Radical theorizing is
          not acceptable.  Have I made myself
          understood?

                    ALEXANDER
          Yes, sir.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Very good.  Now if you will excuse
          us for a moment.

Alexander goes back into the office.

                    PHILBY
          If I might explain, sir --

                    DEAN FULTON
          You supported his application, Dr.
          Philby.  You are his senior,
          advisor.  I depend upon you to
          restrain his... excesses.  Any
          repetition of the behavior I
          witnessed in his classroom today
          and there will be consequences for
          you both.

                    PHILBY
          Yes, sir.

                    DEAN FULTON
          Now you are upsetting my fowl. 
          Please go.

Philby extricates himself from a chicken pecking at his shoe
and goes.

                    ALEXANDER (V.O.)
          He's a dinosaur.  He's already
          extinct, he just doesn't know it...

EXT.  STREETCAR - DAY

Alexander and Philby are in an open horse-drawn streetcar,
heading downtown.  Everywhere around them, the massive city
bustles.

New York City at the end of the 19th Century.  It is vibrant
to the point of frenzy; reaching for the future in a furious
upheaval of construction.

Title: NEW YORK CITY - MAY 12, 1895 - 5:17 p.m.

                    ALEXANDER
          ... One day he'll be discovered by
          some future archeologists and they
          won't know what to make of him. 
          The thick brow, so lacking in
          imagination.  The dim little eyes,
          devoid of curiosity.

                    PHILBY
          You know generally teachers are
          supposed to teach real equations
          that add up to real numbers.

                    ALEXANDER
          Where's the challenge in that?

                    PHILBY
          Alex, this is your first year as an
          associate professor.  You might
          want to play things a little more
          conservatively.

                    ALEXANDER
          You sound like my father...

Alexander points to the masses of grey businessmen, all in
identical bowler hats, marching along the sidewalk:

                    ALEXANDER
          Look at them, Philby, all alike,
          everyone in an identical bowler
          hat.  Do you want your students to
          turn out like them?

                    PHILBY
          I want my students to emerge with
          theoretical and practical
          knowledge.

                    ALEXANDER
          I don't.  I want them to run along
          this street and knock off every
          bowler they see.

                    PHILBY
          You may not like it, but this is
          the world we live in, Alex.  Little
          grey men with little grey hats.

                    ALEXANDER
          But shouldn't it be better? 
          Shouldn't we be teaching our
          students to imagine a world beyond
          all this?

Alexander points to a new building going up, a complex
spider's web of steel girders.

                    ALEXANDER
          Look at that, Philby.  A steel
          frame building.  Ten years ago it
          was unheard of.  No little grey man
          thought of that.  The new Century
          belongs to men who are willing to
          imagine the impossible...

Their streetcar passes a few huddled beggars on the curb. 
The businessmen ignore them.  Alexander watches them, his
eyes sad.

                    ALEXANDER
              (quietly)
          In the future, we'll be better.

                    PHILBY
          What?

                    ALEXANDER
          Nothing.

EXT.  ALEXANDER'S HOUSE - EVENING

Alexander's sprawling Victorian house sits on a quiet street.

There is a quaint shop right across the street.  The shop
features a window showing a female mannequin dressed in
period clothes.  The sign above the shop: BRANSON'S APPAREL
AND HABERDASHERY.

Alexander and Philby hurry into his house...

INT.  ALEXANDER'S HOUSE - EVENING

Alexander's house is a lovely world of Victorian elegance
constantly at war with his erratic and creative enterprises.

Everywhere Alexander's scientific passions are evident:
animal skulls rest alongside leather-bound tomes; mechanical
inventions in various states of completion rest atop heavy
mahogany tables; test tubes and microscopes are spread out on
an unused piano.

The one facet that most immediately reflects Alexander is
aural: the ticking of scores of clocks; a steady metronomic
cadence.

Alexander bounds in, Philby following.

                    ALEXANDER
          MRS. WATCHIT!  MRS. WATCHIT!

MRS. WATCHIT, Alexander's housekeeper, troops down the
stairs.  She is a wry and commanding British woman in her
60's.

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          Oh huzzah, the master's home.

                    ALEXANDER
          Do you have it?!

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          Hello, Mr. Philby.

                    PHILBY
          Hello, Mrs. Watchit.  You're
          looking in the pink.

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          Must be all the exercise I get
          scampering up and down these stairs
          like a wee lamb.

                    ALEXANDER
          Don't torture me -- do you have it?

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          I have it, but don't you think for
          one moment I'll be letting you go
          out in that filthy coat -- now go
          upstairs and change.  I've laid out
          your green coat.

                    ALEXANDER
          What's the matter with -- ?
              (he notes he is covered
               in chalk dust)
          -- What would I do without you,
          Mrs. Watchit?

He bounds up the stairs.  Phiby follows.

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          And change your tie!

She bustles off, grumbling happily.

INT.  ALEXANDER'S BEDROOM - EVENING

Charles Darwin stares at us.  Imposing.  Inspiring. 
Challenging.

A bust of Darwin looms over Alexander's bedroom.

Alexander, in a new coat, is trying to work a complicated
knot in his tie.  His eyes study the problem in a mirror.

                    ALEXANDER
          Emma actually likes chalk dust --
          says it smells like me.

                    PHILBY
          How romantic...

Philby goes to Alexander, helps him with his tie.

                    PHILBY
          The most able inventor I know and
          you can't tie a simple four-in-
          hand.

                    ALEXANDER
          That's how I knew we were destined
          to be together.  When I met her
          parents for the first time I came
          right from class and I was covered
          in chalk.  They sniffed and
          snorted, but she just smiled.  At
          that moment -- I just knew.  How
          did you know with Molly?

                    PHILBY
          She made the best Shepherd's pie I
          ever tasted.

                    ALEXANDER
          Do you have a romantic bone in your
          body?

                    PHILBY
              (completing the tie)
          No, I'm all bowler hat, remember?

Alexander quickly goes to his old coat and transfers his
pocket watch, journal and many loose scraps of paper covered
in equations to the new coat as:

                    PHILBY
          Alex, really... good luck tonight. 
          She's a fine girl, and she's done
          wonderful things for you.

                    ALEXANDER
          Oh?

                    PHILBY
              (smiles)
          She's gotten into your equations.

Alexander stops, looks at him.  Smiles.

                    ALEXANDER
          I guess she has.

He glances at his pocket watch.

                    ALEXANDER
          I've got to hurry...

He hurries out, Philby following...

INT.  ALEXANDER'S HOUSE - STAIRS - EVENING

Alexander races down the stairs, tucking the watch into his
vest.

They pass a series of clocks of every size and shape that run
down the wall along the stairway.

                    PHILBY
          All these clocks -- how can you
          constantly be running late?!

                    ALEXANDER
          Perseverance.

INT.  ALEXANDER'S HOUSE - ENTRY HALL - EVENING

Mrs. Watchit waits.  Alexander and Philby appear down the
stairs.

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          Now that's more like it.  You look
          a proper gentlemen for once.

                    ALEXANDER
          Then if Emma turns me down will you
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                    MRS. WATCHIT
              (dry)
          Oh, I'm already swooning.

                    ALEXANDER
          Ouch -- all right, wish me luck.

He begins to sprint out the door -- Mrs. Watchit stops him
with:

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          You might be wanting this?

She holds up a velvet ring box.  He takes the box.

                    ALEXANDER
          Oh -- Thanks.  Well...
              (a wink to Philby)
          ... Time's a wastin'!

With that he is out the door.

Mrs. Watchit and Philby stand for a moment, catching their
breath after Alexander's tornado of enthusiasm.

                    PHILBY
          I wonder if that poor girl has any
          idea what she's in for?

                    MRS. WATCHIT
          For our sake, I hope not.

EXT.  FIFTH AVENUE - NIGHT

The many luxurious horse-drawn carriages glide along Fifth
Avenue with stately dignity.  Rich pedestrians stroll along
the sidewalk.

Alexander leaps out of a carriage and begins to stride toward
an entrance to Central Park.

He passes a Flower Seller.

                    FLOWER SELLER
          Have some flowers, sir?

                    ALEXANDER
          Not tonight, thanks.

He continues on toward the entrance to the Park -- stops.

                    ALEXANDER
          No -- I promised her flowers.

He turns around and hurries back toward the Flower Seller. 
But...

A sudden mechanical clanking sound makes him stop dead in his
tracks.  The Siren's song...

He turns...

Pulled over to the curb is a magnificent Stanley Steamer
automobile.  It is a glorious collection of bronze and copper
and steel and wooden dashboard and leather upholstery and
groaning steam tank and clanking engine.  Alexander stares,
transfixed.

Alexander glances at his watch -- running late -- but he just
can't resist this new marvel.  Flowers forgotten, Alexander
steps to the MOTORIST, currently tinkering with the car's
engine.

                    ALEXANDER
          It's spectacular...

                    MOTORIST
          Thanks.  Old Nell's my girl all
          right.  Al least when she decides
          to move, stubborn beast.

                    ALEXANDER
              (walking around the car,
               admiring)
          I've only read about them -- and
          the new internals.

                    MOTORIST
          Now that's what I call plain crazy 
          -- internal combustion is just too
          dangerous, all those little
          explosions, never catch on.

                    ALEXANDER
          How do you keep the water
          temperature stable?

                    MOTORIST
          There's a cantilevered gasket on
          the --

Suddenly -- the car lurches forward dangerously -- Alexander
instantly grabs the brake lever and hauls it back -- the car
screeches to a stop.

                    MOTORIST
          God -- could have killed me -- bad
          girl, Nell!  How did you know to do
          that?

                    ALEXANDER
          I just love mechanical things.

                    MOTORIST
          Well, much obliged -- I'm always
          forgetting the confounded brake --
          say, if you wait until I get her up
          and running I'll give you a
          perambulation.  Tell you all about
          her.

                    ALEXANDER
              (pained)
          Ahhh... I'm afraid I've got a prior
          commitment.

                    MOTORIST
          Next time then.  We perambulate
          here most every night.

                    ALEXANDER
          You have my word...
              (he takes a last, longing
               look at the car)
          ... She's just a beauty.

He sprints off into Central Park.

EXT.  PAVILION - CENTRAL PARK - NIGHT

A full moon shines in the night sky.

Gentle period music from a band, glowing lanterns hanging
down and the swaying shapes of dancers.

We are at a beautiful pavilion in Central Park.  A magical
antique setting of ease and grace.  White linen suits and
straw boaters.  Parasols and high-button shoes.

A beautiful woman stands with her back to us watching the
dancers... she slowly turns...

EMMA smiles.

Alexander stands, just watching her, bewitched.

Then they come together and kiss lightly, as befits 1895
decency.

                    EMMA
          You're late.

                    ALEXANDER
          Got here as soon as I could.

                    EMMA
          Dance with me...

                    ALEXANDER
          You know I can't.

                    EMMA
          Trust me...

She takes his hand and they dance.  She is a natural dancer,
smooth and gentle.  He does his best, following her minute
cues with great sensitivity.

As they dance:

                    EMMA
          You promised me flowers.

                    ALEXANDER
          What?

                    EMMA
          You promised me flowers tonight,
          don't you even remember?

                    ALEXANDER
          Sorry... I was distracted.

                    EMMA
              (lightly)
          Well there's something new.

                    ALEXANDER
          I need to... um... talk to you.

                    EMMA
          Talk away, Professor.

                    ALEXANDER
          Not here... alone.  May we? 
          Please?

She leads him from the dance floor.

                    EMMA
          Let's walk through the park...

EXT.  CENTRAL PARK - PATH - NIGHT

Alexander and Emma walk through the park, arm in arm,
enjoying the exquisite night.

Flickering gaslights provide a dim illumination on the path
they follow as it winds through the dark foliage.

                    EMMA
              (looking at
               constellations)
          ... Orion's belt, pointing to the
          earth.  You see it over the rocks
          there?  Sailors consider that an
          omen of good fortune; the hunter
          watching over them on their
          travels... Are you listening to me,
          Alex?

                    ALEXANDER
              (glancing up)
          What?  Yes -- Orion -- good fortune
          -- sailors.

                    EMMA
          All right, what is it now?

                    ALEXANDER
              (nervously)
          Emma, you know I have great...
          admiration for you.

                    EMMA
          Admiration?  My my.

                    ALEXANDER
          I mean... well... affection.

                    EMMA
          You're getting warmer.

He stops.

                    ALEXANDER
          Oh dammit, I love you!  I can't
          eat, I can't sleep, I can't think,
          all I do is moon over you and --
          hum, apparently.

                    EMMA
              (mock seriously)
          And what do you propose, Professor? 
          Shall we hold a seminar to study
          the problem?

A beat.  He takes a huge gulp of air and then commits himself
-- he dramatically drops to one knee -- and then in a great
rush of words:

                    ALEXANDER
          Marry me.  I'll do everything I can
          to make you happy and build a life
          and have babies and make you proud
          and be worthy of you and... ah...
          make you happy, did I say that?

She looks down at him, tears of joy coming to her eyes.

                    EMMA
          Oh, Professor...

He leaps up and embraces her.  A long, joyous embrace.

He stops --

                    ALEXANDER
          Wait, I have something for you.

He searches through his many pockets -- coat, vest, pants --
begins plucking out the loose scraps of paper covered with
equations -- but can't seem to find the jewelry box.

She watches him for a moment, amused, loving him all the more
for his befuddlement.

                    EMMA
          You know, the moment is rather
          dying here.

                    ALEXANDER
          Hold on... I know I have it...

He finally finds the velvet jewelry box.  Snaps it open. 
Inside is a lovely moonstone ring.  The gem is a pale,
translucent blue mirroring the full moon above.

                    ALEXANDER
          I know it's not a diamond but --

                    EMMA
          A moonstone.

                    ALEXANDER
          Your birth stone.  I thought --

She holds a finger to his lips.

                    EMMA
          You thought right.

He slips the ring on her finger.  She holds it up to the
moonlight, deeply moved.

                    EMMA
          Look, it matches the moon...

Then...

A low voice from the thick trees next to them.

                    VOICE
          I just might cry.

Alexander and Emma turn to see a tall THIN MAN stepping from
the trees.  His hands are buried deep in his overcoat
pockets.

                    THIN MAN
          Couldn't help but overhearing.  Two
          fine young people starting out on
          the road
                                

                                
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