” T E R M I N A T O R ”
by
James Cameron
Registered WGAw
Fourth Draft
April 20, 1983
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TERMINATOR
A1 TITLE SEQUENCE – SLITSCAN EFFECT A1
1 EXT. SCHOOLYARD – NIGHT 1
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 build-
ings. Spray-can hieroglyphics and distant streetlight sha-
dows. 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 behind the gymnasium.
A CAT enters FRAME. CAMERA DOLLIES FORWARD, prowling with
him through the landscape of trash receptacles and shadows.
CLOSE ON CAT, which freezes, alert, sensing something just
beyond human perception.
A sourceless wind rises, and with it a keening WHINE.
Papers blow across the pavement.
The cat YOWLS and hides under the dumpster.
Windows rattle in their frames.
The WHINE intensifies, accompanied now by a wash of frigid
PURPLE LIGHT. A CONCUSSION like a thunderclap right over-
head blows in all the windows facing the yard.
C.U. – CAT, its eyes are wide as the glare dies.
1A/FX ANGLE – DUMPSTER 1A/FX
ELECTRICAL DISCHARGES arc from the dumpster to a water
faucet and climb a drain pipe like a Jacob’s Ladder.
CUT TO:
2 EXT. SCHOOLYARD – NIGHT 2
SLOW PAN as the sound of stray electrical CRACKLING subsides.
FRAME comes to rest on the figure of a NAKED MAN kneeling,
faced away, in the previously empty yard.
He stands, slowly.
The man is in his late thirties, tall and powerfully built,
moving with graceful precision.
C.U. – MAN, his facial features reiterate the power of his
body and are dominated by the eyes, which are intense, blue
and depthless. His hair is military short.
This man is the TERMINATOR.
He glances down, taking calm inventory of himself, and
notices that a fine white ash covers his skin. He brushes
at it unconcernedly as he walks toward the fence, scanning
his surroundings.
CUT TO:
2A/FX CRANE SHOT – SCHOOLYARD/CITY – NIGHT 2A/FX
CAMERA MOVES UP as Terminator approaches the schoolyard fence
beyond which is an embankment rolling down in darkness to the
cityscape below. The school is perched at the edge of a pro-
montory offering a respectable view of the urban sprawl teem-
ing and glistening under a sullen sky. The night clouds are
shot through with occasional flashes of LIGHTNING, presaging
a thunderstorm.
Terminator stands, hands on hips in prefect symmetry, gazing
down at the city as the CAMERA REACHES FULL HEIGHT.
CUT TO:
3 EXT. PLAYGROUND – NIGHT 3
A beer bottle SMASHES on the ground. PULL BACK to include
its ex-owner and his two compatriots, YOUTH GANG MEMBERS,
lounging on the jungle gym of a deserted playground. They
sport nondescript PUNK REGALIA…torn T-shirts, fatigue
pants, combat boots or high-top sneakers, leather jackets.
The leader notices something and sits up.
LEADER
(pointing)
Hey, hey…what’s wrong with
this picture?
ANGLE – REVERSE, seen past the lounging toughs, Terminator
walks naked into a pool of streetlight, striding purpose-
fully toward them.
ANGLE – OVER TERMINATOR’S SHOULDER, as he approaches them.
They slide from their perches and drop easily to the ground
liquid shadows.
LEADER
Nice night for a walk, eh?
Terminator stops right in front of them.
TERMINATOR
(without inflec-
tion)
Nice night for a walk.
They surround him, all swagger and malign good humor.
SECOND PUNK
Washday tomorrow, huh? Nothing
clean, right?
Terminator eyes them without expression, unhurried.
Reptilian.
TERMINATOR
Nothing clean. Right.
LEADER
This guy’s a couple bricks
short.
Terminator turn to the second punk, ignoring the
others.
TERMINATOR
Your clothes. Give them to me.
The punks exchange glances, dismayed.
TERMINATOR
(coldly)
Now.
SECOND PUNK
(bracing)
Fuck you, asshole.
Without warning Terminator hammer-punches him in the temple
with blinding speed. The blow flings him with a CLANG into
the jungle gym. He drops to the ground in a still heap,
eyes open, twitching.
The leader whips out his SWITCHBLADE and slashes in one
motion. Terminator ducks back and catches the knife-
wielder’s wrist in an inhuman grip. Then he punches the
leader with piledriver force just below the breastbone.
ANGLE – PAVEMENT, as the knife clatters down. The punk’s
combat boots are on tiptoe, barely touching the ground.
ANGLE – TWO SHOT, Terminator and the leader are close
together as if dancing, but motionless. Their bodies are in
total shadow. The punk’s eyes are wide, his veins distended
with an agonizing pressure. Terminator jerks his fist back
with a WET SOUND and the other drops OUT OF FRAME.
The last tough is stumbling away, gaping with terror. He
backs into a chainlink fence, turns to run along it, finds
he is in a corner.
Terminator takes a step toward him, his gaze ominous.
The punk begins shakily stripping off his clothes.
Thunder peals overhead.
CUT TO:
4 EXT. STREET/NEARBY – NIGHT 4
A light RAIN begins to fall.
Terminator emerges onto the street from the playground,
pausing in the pool of light under a streetlight to hike
the collar of the punk’s jacket.
The rain streams down over his face, running into
and over his eyes. They do not blink.
CUT TO:
5 EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET/ALLEY – NIGHT 5
Another part of the city. Seedy apartments and storefronts.
The streets glisten, hissing with sporadic late night traffic.
SLOW PAN AND DOLLY into the mouth of a narrow alley lined
with trash containers and fire escapes. From a recessed
doorway, two filthy legs sprawl out onto the wet pavement.
An angry, inarticulate DRUNKARD’S MONOLOGUE rises occasionally
above the rain sounds.
ANGLE – DOORWAY, The derelict rouses from his bitter stupor
as a brilliant purple glare lights up the wet brickwork
around him. A shockwave hurls trash into the air.
Painted over windows shatter.
Rat scurry, blinded.
A FIGURE drops INTO FRAME as if out of the sky and smacks
the pavement with a muddy splash.
C.U. – DERELICT, as he blinks at the fading glare, amazed.
A NAKED MAN, compact and muscular, rises in a defensive
crouch. KYLE REESE is 22, but his face has been aged by
ordeal, the mouth hard, eyes grim. A crinkled burn scar
traverses one side of his face from chin to forehead. Other
scars, from burns and bullets, mar his hard-muscled body.
The rain washes a fine coating of white ash from his skin
as electrical ARCS lace back and forth between the fire
escapes behind him, HISSING and SPUTTERING. The sound
fades, then stops altogether, to be replaced by a rising
scream of animal agony.
Reese lurches to his feet and sprints across the alley.
CUT TO:
5A/FX OMITTED 5A/FX
6 OMITTED 6
7 EXT. FIRE ESCAPE – NIGHT 7
CAMERA MOVES WITH REESE as he leaps to the fire escape and
clambers up to the first landing to crouch beside another
NAKED MAN who appears to be entangled in the ironwork. The
man is contorted with pain as his screams die to a shivering
gasp. CLOSER ANGLE reveals that he has been skewered through
the abdomen by the horizontal iron slats and through the
shoulder by a railing. He has materialized in the same
space occupied by the fire escape structure. The figure
slumps, motionless.
Reese quickly checks for signs of life. The man is dead.
Reese descend to the alley floor and crosses to the drunk
huddled in the doorway.
A pair of flamboyantly dressed women, obviously working
girls, passes by the alley mouth. They do a double take
when they see Reese, but walk on without breaking stride,
completely jaded. He’s certainly not a potential customer.
Reese crouches down as if to speak to the drunk.
DERELICT
Say, buddy…did you see a
real bright light?
CUT TO:
8 EXT. ALLEY/SAME – NIGHT 8
A brilliant white glare stabs into the alley mouth as an
LAPD cruiser glides slowly by on the street. The search-
light illuminates the figure of Reese, crouching over the
sprawled drunk, just pulling on the other’s trousers.
The cruiser chirps to a stop. The doors fly open and two
cops leap out.
FIRST COP
Hold it, right there!
Reese hitches his pants and bolt like a shot. The cops
draw their guns and race into the alley after him.
HANDHELD CAMERA or PANAGLIDE, rushing with Reese along the
narrow alley. He vaults a pile of tumbled trashcans.
Whips around a corner. Leaps the hood of a parked car in
the cross alley.
PANAGLIDE PRECEDING COPS, as they snake through the night
maze.