MAWSON
Written by
Tim Miller
Based on: Home of the Blizzard, by Douglas Mawson
05/06/2018 Tim Miller 617.910.8939 [email protected] OVER BLACK:
We hear the gentle swell and slap of the sea. A cold wind whistles.
We hear the faraway thump of a steam engine.
One by one the following titles appear.
TITLES OVER:
On December 2nd, 1911, the Australasian Antarctic Expedition left Hobart aboard the S.Y. Aurora.
On January 1st the ship reached Antarctica, and began looking for a safe harbor.
It is now January 10th.
FADE IN:
EXT. ICE-STREWN SEA - DAY
The surface of the sea undulates slowly. It is choked with broken blocks of pack ice.
Among the blocks several huge icebergs tower above the surface.
The ice goes on as far as we can see.
In the far distance a ship is coming toward us, her three masts empty of sails.
Black smoke pours from her single smokestack.
She chugs along slowly, pushing ice out of her way as she moves.
This is the AURORA.
We hear the sounds of pencil strokes against paper.
EXT. THE CROW'S NEST - DAY
DOUGLAS MAWSON, 33, sits alone atop the ship's forward mast. He is sketching something in a small notebook.
His eyes scan the horizon, as though trying to penetrate the ice. 2.
EXT. THE AURORA'S BRIDGE - DAY
HURLEY, 28, the expedition photographer, looks up at Mawson in the crow's nest. He points a large wooden box camera at him, and snaps a picture.
CAPT. DAVIS, 40, stands beside Hurley. Captain of the vessel, Davis has the weathered face of a man who has spent a lifetime at sea.
BLAIR, 24, the First Officer, mans the helm.
Davis points a sextant at the sky.
DAVIS Mark noon... now.
Davis consults the ship's chronometer, a large glass-covered clock.
He sets down the sextant and makes notes in the ship's log, a large leather-bound book.
DAVIS (CONT'D) Sixty-six degrees fifty-two minutes south, one hundred forty-two degrees, twenty-six minutes east.
Hurley leans in to Blair.
HURLEY Does that mean we are getting closer?
BLAIR Closer to what?
Hurley shrugs.
HURLEY To where we are going?
DAVIS We do not know precisely where we are going, Mr. Hurley. That is why it is called "exploring."
Hurley leans forward over the ship's rail with the camera, takes a photo of the landscape.
HURLEY Seems like the days are getting shorter.
DAVIS That tends to happen at the end of summer. 3.
Hurley looks out at the field of ice.
HURLEY How long until the pack begins to freeze?
Davis closes the logbook and fastens the leather straps that hold it shut.
DAVIS Thirty days, at most. (off Hurley's look) Are you afraid of being trapped here?
Hurley straightens up.
HURLEY Of course not.
Davis smiles.
DAVIS You should be. I am. (to Blair) Five degrees to starboard, Mr. Blair.
The ship turns gently to the right, and passes by an immense iceberg, as large and ornate as a gothic cathedral.
The berg is topped by huge white pillars, streaked with green and blue. They loom far above the tops of the ship's masts.
Hurley stares upward, mouth agape. He takes another photo.
HURLEY Looks like Notre Dame.
Davis hands Hurley a slip of paper.
DAVIS Mr. Hurley, inform the Commander of our position.
EXT. THE AURORA'S DECKS - CONTINUOUS
We follow Hurley as he clambers down from the Bridge, making his way forward along the crowded decks of the ship.
He passes BAGE, 23, cranking the sounding machine, a small mechanical winch. 4.
HURLEY How deep?
BAGE Last one was two hundred fathoms.
HURLEY Well that's reassuring.
Hurley raises the camera to take Bage's photo.
BAGE One before that was twenty.
Hurley lowers the camera. This is troubling news.
HURLEY Best keep at it, then.
Hurley edges his way past the ship's Galley, where HANNAM, 22, and MURPHY, 23 are overseeing two large steaming kettles.
HURLEY (CONT'D) Roast partridge tonight, boys? Plum pudding?
MURPHY Hardtack and tinned beef again, I'm afraid.
HANNAM Any sign of a harbor yet?
HURELY Not so far.
MURPHY The boss will get us where we need to go boys. Have faith. And once we make landfall, I can promise you roast penguin.
Hurley wrinkles his nose.
HURLEY Delightful.
Hurley ducks underneath the whaleboat, a long wooden rowboat hung from the side of the ship.
He passes a massive stack of bright yellow petrol cans. Huddled against the stack is BICKERTON, 21, thin and pale. He is writing in a small leather folio.
Hurley calls to him as he passes. 5.
HURLEY (CONT'D) Writing to a sweetheart back home?
Bickerton looks up, reddens.
BICKERTON No, I... my mother.
Hurley stops, turns back to Bickerton.
HURLEY Is this the farthest you've ever been from home?
BICKERTON It's the first time I've been away from Sydney.
HURLEY Well, then, tell your mother this is the closest you've ever been to London.
Bickerton tries to laugh, but his fear is evident.
BICKERTON Maybe I will.
Hurley continues forward, where he meets NINNIS, 25, and MERTZ, 29.
Ninnis has ginger-colored hair, and the wiry build of a featherweight boxer.
Mertz is tall and handsome, a dashing figure with a pencil-thin moustache.
With the men on deck are two dozen GREENLAND HUSKIES.
The dogs are crammed into a pen far too small for their number, and they are quiet, looking sullen.
Mertz and Ninnis are trying to check their ears and paws and eyes for signs of infection.
The bond between these two men and the dogs is obvious. They are anxious, for the animals and for themselves.
HURLEY How are the mongrels?
MERTZ I keep telling you, they are not mongrels, Hurley. They are purebred Qimmeqs. The world's finest sledding dog. 6.
NINNIS But not the best sailing dog. They will be happy to get their paws on dry land.
HURLEY Won't we all.
Hurley looks up again at Mawson, high above the deck.
HURLEY (CONT'D) Hold this, please?
Hurley hands over the camera to Ninnis, and begins climbing the shrouds.
EXT. THE CROW'S NEST - CONTINUOUS
We rise with Hurley and the men on deck, above the barking dogs, above the belch of the smokestack.
Up here there is only a cool, quiet breeze, and the soft sounds of the sea.
In front of the ship, the ice-filled sea extends for over a mile, until it meets a sheer cliff of ice that rises hundreds of feet out of the water. Far beyond the cliffs, a range of mountains is visible.
We see that Mawson has been sketching the landscape before him.
At the top of the page "Australasian Antarctic Expedition" is printed in letterpress.
Hurley's head appears. He is breathing heavily from his climb.
HURLEY (CONT'D) Sir?
Mawson does not turn, speaking almost to himself.
MAWSON It's just like the coast of France, you know.
Hurley climbs up into the nest next to Mawson, suddenly concerned.
HURLEY Are you warm enough up here sir?
Mawson points. 7.
MAWSON Fifty thousand years ago. The whole of Europe was covered in a sheet of ice just like that one. All of the wonders of the continent, the Alps, the Rhine, sealed shut in ice, waiting. (beat.) What wonders are sealed up here, Mr. Hurley? What is waiting for us?
HURLEY Not exactly inviting us in, is it?
Mawson finally looks at Hurley, regarding him like he were a newly-discovered species of plant.
MAWSON On the contrary, Mr. Hurley, Inviting is precisely what it is. In the same way that a puzzle invites you to solve it, or a fortress invites you to breach its walls.
Mawson gestures broadly.
MAWSON (CONT'D) 'Come', it says, 'and try me'.
Hurley hands Mawson the slip of paper from the captain.
HURLEY The captain has our latest position.
Mawson's face brightens. He snatches the paper from Hurley, and from a satchel at his side pulls out a map.
The map has markings to show their most recent positions, and outlines of the known coast of Antarctica. It is mostly empty.
Mawson reads the position from the paper and marks their position in what had been an empty place on the map.
MAWSON You see, Mr. Hurley, just now we have done something to advance the cause of science. We are the very first men ever to sail through this location. We can say for certain that this spot is ocean, navigable in summer, and the coast is some miles distant.
He stands behind Hurley, pointing over his shoulder. 8.
MAWSON (CONT'D) With another position tomorrow we can calculate the height of those mountains, and their precise distance. You are looking at New Lands, Mr. Hurley. Lands no man has ever seen before. Some of the last new lands left on this planet, I expect. Not to mention the data we are gathering about tides, the soundings...
HURLEY They are ranging from twenty to two hundred fathoms.
Mawson smiles.
MAWSON That will keep Captain Davis on his toes, I expect.
Mawson folds up the map and places it back in the satchel.
MAWSON (CONT'D) How are the men?
HURLEY Most are in good spirits. A few are getting nervous. It's been ten days...
MAWSON And they are afraid our window will close. That the sea will freeze us in.
Hurley shrugs.
HURLEY I suppose some of them are, yes.
Mawson nods, looking again at the distant mountains.
MAWSON They are right to be afraid. Sailing these waters is like wading through wet cement. You must of course go slowly, but if you stay too long...
His voice trails off, as though his mind is going someplace dark. He snaps himself back to the moment, straightening his posture like a soldier called to attention. 9.
MAWSON (CONT'D) But we shall keep calm, and carry on. We came here to gather data, and that is what we shall to do. Science requires perseverance. For success we must trust to Providence.
A howl is heard from one of the dogs below, a sound that pierces the wind and echoes across the icy sea.
It is joined by more howls.
EXT. THE DECK DOG PEN - DAY
The dogs are now suddenly more active, alert, their ears up. They are clambering at the edges of the pen.
NINNIS You think they hear something?
MERTZ Nein, I think they smell something.
The two men lean over the ship's rail, where alongside the ship a Weddell Seal appears. Then another, and another.
The seals are porpoising along with the ship, feeding.
Ninnis calls up to the Crow's Nest.
NINNIS Sir! Weddells!
EXT. CROW'S NEST - DAY
Hurley and Mawson look down on at the seals.
HURLEY Why does he sound so excited?
MAWSON Because at this time of year Wedell's are never very far from dry land.
Mawson calls down to Bickerton, still writing near the petrol.
MAWSON (CONT'D) Mr. Bickerton! Relay to Capt. Davis! Hard to Port! 10.
EXT. THE ICE-STREWN SEA - DAY
We see the ship heel over as it turns, and as it does it passes a sharp corner in the cliffs of ice, to reveal:
EXT. THE BOAT HARBOR - DAY
Beyond the corner of the cliff there is a large inlet. The water is calmer here, and nearly free of ice.
At the innermost end of the inlet a small, rocky beach is visible.
This is what they have been hoping for.
EXT. THE CROW'S NEST - DAY
Mawson turns to Hurley, clear delight on his face.
MAWSON (CONT'D) You see Mr. Hurley? Providence.
EXT. THE BOAT HARBOR - LATER
We look out onto the harbor from dry land.
In the middle distance is the Aurora, now lying at anchor.
The whaleboat is being rowed toward us, with Bickerton, Blair, Bage and Hurley aboard.
Mawson stands erect in the bow of the boat, reminiscent of Leutze's painting of Washington crossing the Delaware.
The boat scrapes aground onto the pebble-strewn shore, and Mawson hops over the gunwhale on dry ground.
The other men scramble out of the boat onto shore.
The area near the water is a flat clear space, no larger than a football pitch. It is bordered on both sides by rising ridges of rock.
Facing inland a long snow slope climbs over a thousand feet and disappears.
Mawson stalks the ground, measuring it out as he paces.
He picks up a handful of the stones, rolling them together in his fingertips.
He smiles up at the other men. 11.
MAWSON Welcome, gentlemen, to our new home.
EXT. THE AURORA - DAY
The ship is now a hive of activity.
Men, ropes, boxes and crates of gear, boats, long timbers, cans of petrol, and yelping dogs are being lowered over the sides of the ship.
In the water below are the motor launch, a small skiff with a tiny outboard motor, the whaleboat, and a raft of timbers.
Capt. Davis looks on from the ship's rail.
Mawson stand near the stern of the motor launch, directing the action. Hurley is at his side.
Hannam is standing precariously atop the improvised raft.
From above, Murphy is lowering another bundle of lumber down toward him, clearly straining with the tension of the rope.
The ship rolls gently in the swell, and the bundle swings ominously over Hannam's head.
MAWSON Gently, now boys, gently...
The ship's roll changes direction, and the rope slips from Murphy's grip, the lumber swings unexpectedly, and...
WHUMP! The stack of boards hits Hannam square in the chest, flinging him into the frigid water.
Davis bolts to attention.
DAVIS Mr. Blair! Man Overboard!
Blair leans forward and calls down the companionway into the ship's hold.
BLAIR Man Overboard!
EXT. THE WATER - DAY
We are at the water's surface with Hannam. He is conscious, but struggling to keep his head above water. Already his lips are blue, his breathing rapid and 12. shallow. He is blinking hard, like a man about to pass out.
FROM ABOVE
A loop of rope is lowered to Hannam, who manages to get his arms into it. He is hoisted up out of the water, his body shivering.
EXT. THE AURORA'S DECK - DAY
As Hannam is swung on board, McLEAN, 28, the medical officer, emerges from below decks.
Hannam seems drowsy, and McLean slaps him in the face to rouse him.
McLEAN Hannam! Off with your clothes. Quickly now!
McLean and Blair help Hannam out of his clothes.
Davis is nearby, holding a pair of blankets.
McLEAN (CONT'D) Into the galley with him!
Together, the three men swaddle Hannam into the blankets, and carry him into galley. McLean stokes the fire.
McLean pulls a thermometer from his coat and puts in Hannam's mouth.
Hannam's whole body is now shivering violently.
BLAIR Is he alright?
McLean pulls out the thermometer and squints at the reading.
McLEAN He'll live.
EXT. THE MOTORLAUNCH - DAY
Mawson has his journal out, and is calmly writing.
Hurley is staring up anxiously at the ship.
HURLEY Will he live? 13.
MAWSON Almost certainly. I suspect his temperature never fell much below ninety-three or ninety-four degrees.
Mawson pauses to consider, then calls out, without looking up.
MAWSON (CONT'D) Mr. Blair!
Blair's head appears above them from the ship's rail.
MAWSON (CONT'D) Did McLean record Hannam's temperature?
Blair's head disappears for a moment, then reappears.
BLAIR Ninety three point five.
Mawson scribbles a note in the journal.
MAWSON You see Mr. Hurley? No great cause for alarm. The real trouble begins at ninety. The heart will stop near eighty-five. But certain death does not come until eighty or so. He wasn't in the water nearly long enough for any of that.
HURLEY How long would that take?
Mawson puts away his journal.
MAWSON Oh. Quite a while. More than a full minute, I suspect.
HURLEY One minute? Until death?
MAWSON There are numerous variables, of course. That is only an average. In the polar regions we are never far from death. On this expedition it will be a constant companion.
He snaps his journal shut.
MAWSON (CONT'D) (smiling.) Doesn't that make you feel alive? 14.
EXT. THE SHORE - DAY
Mawson directs Ninnis and Mertz, who are using ropes to erect a tall slender pole, festooned with wiring. This is the wireless mast, a radio antenna.
EXT. THE BOAT HARBOR - DAY
Capt. Davis is in the whaleboat, which is being rowed ashore by Bickerton and Bage. The men are straining with the effort. The boat is precariously piled with bundles of supplies.
Behind the whaleboat a raft of timbers is being towed along.
Bage lets one of the oars slip from his grasp. The blade of his oar swings wildly, smacking a large crate, which tumbles from the boat into the water it bobs on the surface for a moment.
Bage leans over the gunwhale toward the package, but Davis restrains him.
DAVIS Easy man. You'll swamp us.
Bickerton and Bage watch as the crate sinks beneath the surface and disappears.
BICKERTON Hope that one wasn't important.
EXT. THE BEACH - DAY
Mawson and the others are tying down the guylines on the wireless mast.
At the water's edge, Davis steps off the whaleboat and onto the shore.
He approaches Mawson, who has his back turned to him.
Davis clears his throat. Mawson speaks without turning.
MAWSON Yes, Captain Davis?
Davis seems uncomfortable.
DAVIS Sir, don't you think... I mean, I was wondering if... 15.
MAWSON Spit it out please, Captain.
DAVIS Oughtn't we plant the flag?
Mawson turns to face him, wearing a puzzled look.
MAWSON The flag?
DAVIS To claim this land? (beat.) In the name of King George?
Mawson stares at the ground for a moment, as if looking for the Royal Coat of Arms.
MAWSON Yes. King George. Quite right.
EXT. ROCK OUTCROPPING - DAY
Mawson and Davis stand awkwardly on a small mound of rock. Between them they hold a Union Jack on a short wooden staff. It whips and snaps in the wind.
Hurley is a few feet away, looking through his movie camera.
Behind Hurley are nearly all of the men, standing erect.
HURLEY Can you step closer together?
Mawson shuffles awkwardly toward Davis. The wind changes direction, and the Union Jack is plastered across Mawson's face. He pulls it away with some effort.
MAWSON Let's get on with it.
HURLEY Whenever you're ready.
Mawson looks to Davis, who gestures for him to begin.
Mawson draws a deep breath, trying to stand tall and affect an air of pomp.
It does not suit him, and his discomfort is clear.
MAWSON In the name of his majesty, George the Fifth... 16.
Mawson trails off, unable to remember the words. Davis prompts him.
DAVIS (sotto voce) By the Grace of God...
MAWSON By the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland...
DAVIS And of the British Dominions...
MAWSON And of the British Dominions beyond the seas... King, Defender of the Faith, Emperor of India.
Mawson looks to Davis, who gestures there is more.
MAWSON (CONT'D) I claim this land in the name of the British Empire.
A half-hearted huzzah comes from the throats of the men.
Mawson nods to Davis, and hands over the Union Jack.
MAWSON (CONT'D) Very good then. Back to work.
Mawson steps down from the rock. Blair, who has been scribbling notes in his diary, stops him.
BLAIR What name?
MAWSON For whom?
BLAIR What will this New Land be called?
MAWSON Oh. Ah... King. George. The Fifth. Land.
Mawson steps away, satisfied. When he passes Hurley and reaches the ring of men, he stops.
We see their young faces. Most are nonplussed. Some are afraid. None are inspired.
Mawson clears his throat. He speaks now with none of the pomp or formality, but in a conversational tone. 17.
MAWSON (CONT'D) I'm sure that all of you men consider yourselves patriots. But I know that most of you have never been to England. It's not much to see if I'm honest. Drizzly and dreary, like the worst of the Melbourne winter.
There are a few chuckles from the men.
MAWSON (CONT'D) The British Empire is all well and good, but ours is not an expedition that seeks national glory. If that was your goal you should have joined Captain Scott in his race with Amundsen to reach the pole. Whether those expeditions end in triumph or tragedy, the newspapers and the history books will remember them. The world will know their names.
Again, the faces of the men. He has the full and undivided attention.
MAWSON (CONT'D) We did not come here simply to plant a flag. We came here to do real science. The prize we seek is knowledge. Geography, geology, meteorology, oceanography, and a host of other fields will be forever advanced by our work here. And that prize belongs to no Empire. Knowledge belongs to no nation. Science is shared by all humanity.
This is not a canned speech, but the testimony of a true believer. The men's faces are brighter now, their eyes intent.
MAWSON (CONT'D) No matter what we achieve here, our names will be forgotten. But our work will be remembered forever.
Mawson nods, as though that is all. There are no cheers of applause. He begins to step away from the men, then pauses, and turns back.
MAWSON (CONT'D) And if we are remembered at all, let us hope that we are remembered not as subjects of the British Empire, but by our true nationality. As Australians. 18.
With this the men give a true, hearty full throated yell of agreement.
We hear a voice call: "Three Cheers!"
We move backward away from the men as they yell.
THE MEN Hip-Hip, Hooray!
FARTHER AWAY
The cluster of men and the collection of gear is bordered by the imposing white slope of ice on one side, and the expanse of sea on the other.
THE MEN (CONT'D) Hip-Hip, Hooray!
FAR ABOVE
The men are tiny specks, even the ship at anchor seems a toy. All around are ocean, and rock, and ice, and endless expanse of cold.
THE MEN (CONT'D) Hip-Hip, Hooray!
The voices are faint, and even the echoes, as they scatter into the frozen wilderness, are swallowed.