MIKE ANDERSON (voice-over)
My name is Michael Anderson, and I'm not what you'd call a Rhodes scholar. I don't have much in the way of philosophy, either, but I know one thing: in this world, you have to pay as you go.
Usually a lot. Sometimes all you have. That's a lesson I thought I learned nine years ago, during what folks in these parts call the Storm of the Century.
The BLINKER LIGHT GOES DEAD. So do all the other brave little lights we saw in the storm. Now there's only the WIND and the BLOWING SNOW.
MIKE
I was wrong. I only started learning during the big blow. I finished just last week.
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DISSOLVE TO:
2 EXTERIOR: MAINE WOODS, FROM THE AIR (HELICOPTER) DAY.
It's the cold season all the trees except the firs are bare, branches reaching up like fingers into the white sky. There's snow on the ground, but only in patches, like bundles of dirty laundry. The ground skims by below us, the woods broken by the occasional twisty line of two-lane blacktop or little New England town.
MIKE (voice-over)
I grew up in Maine . . . but in a way, I never really lived in Maine. I think anyone from my part of the world would say the same.
All at once we hit the seacoast, land's end, and what he's telling us maybe makes sense.
Suddenly the woods are gone; we get a glimpse of gray-blue water surging and spuming against rocks and headlands . . . and then there's just water beneath us until we: DISSOLVE TO:
3 EXTERIOR: LITTLE TALL ISLAND (HELICOPTER) DAY.
There's plenty of bustling activity on the docks as the lobster boats are either secured or boathoused. The smaller craft are being removed by way of the town's landing slip. People pull them away behind their four-wheel drives. On the dock, BOYS AND YOUNG MEN are carrying lobster traps into the long, weather-beaten building with GODSOE FISH AND LOBSTER printed on the side.
There's laughter and excited talk; a few bottles of something warm are passed around. The storm is coming. It's always exciting when the storm is coming.
Near Godsoe's is a trim little volunteer fire department firehouse just big enough for two pumpers. LLOYD WISHMAN and FERD ANDREWS are out washing one of the trucks right now.
Atlantic Street runs uphill from the docks to town. The hill is lined with pretty little New England houses. South of the docks is a wooded headland, with a ramshackle flight of steps leading down, zigzag, to the water. North, along the beach, are the homes of the rich folks. At the far northern point of land is a squatty white lighthouse, maybe forty feet high. The automated light turns constantly, its glow pale but readable in the daylight. On top is a long radio antenna.
MIKE (voice-over)
(continues)
Folks from Little Tall send their taxes to Augusta, same as other folks, and we got either a lobster or a loon on our license plates, same as other folks, and we root for the University of Maine's teams, especially the women's basketball team, same as other folks . . .
On the fishing boat Escape, SONNY BRAUTIGAN is stuffing nets into a hatch and battening down.
Nearby, ALEX HABER is making Escape fast with some big-ass ropes.
JOHNNY HARRIMAN (voice)
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Better double it, Sonny the weather guy says it's coming on.
JOHNNY comes around the pilothouse, looking at the sky. SONNY turns to him.
SONNY BRAUTIGAN
Seen 'em come on every winter, Big John. They howl in, they howl out. July always comes.
SONNY gives the hatch a test and puts his foot up on the rail, watching ALEX finish. Behind them, LUCIEN FOURNIER joins JOHNNY. LUCIEN goes to the live well, flips it open, and looks in as: ALEX HABER Still . . . they say this one's gonna be somethin' special.
LUCIEN yanks out a lobster and holds it up.
LUCIEN FOURNIER Forgot one, Sonny.
SONNY BRAUTIGAN One for the pot brings good luck.
LUCIEN FOURNIER
(to the lobster) Storm of the Century coming, mon frere so the radio say.
(knocks on the shell) Good t'ing you got your coat on, hey?
He tosses Bob the lobster back into the live well SPLASH! The four men leave the boat, and THE
CAMERA CONTINUES TO TRACK.
MIKE (voice-over)
(continues)
But we ain't the same. Life out on the islands is different. We pull together when we have to.
SONNY, JOHNNY, ALEX, and LUCIEN are on the ramp now, maybe carrying gear.
SONNY BRAUTIGAN We'll get through her.
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JOHNNY HARRIMAN Ayuh, like always.
LUCIEN FOURNIER When you mind the swell, you mind the boat.
ALEX HABER What's a Frenchman like you know?
LUCIEN takes a mock swing at him. They all laugh and go on. We watch SONNY, LUCIEN, ALEX, and JOHNNY go into Godsoe's. THE CAMERA starts up Atlantic Street toward the blinker we saw earlier. It then SLIDES RIGHT, showing a piece of the business section and bustling traffic on the street.
MIKE (voice-over)
(continues)
And we can keep a secret when we have to. We kept our share back in 1989. (pause) And the people who live there keep them still.
We come to ANDERSON'S GENERAL STORE. People hurry in and out. Three WOMEN emerge: ANGELA CARVER, MRS. KINGSBURY, and ROBERTA COIGN.
MIKE (voice-over)
(continues) I know.
ROBERTA COIGN
All right, I've got my canned goods. Let it come.
MRS. KINGSBURY
I just pray we don't lose the power. I can't cook on a woodstove. I'd burn water on that damned thing. A big storm's only good for one thing
ANGELA Ayuh, and my Jack knows what it is.
The other two look at her, surprised, and then they all GIGGLE LIKE GIRLS and head for their cars.
MIKE (voice-over)
(continues) I stay in touch.
10
3A EXTERIOR: THE SIDE OF A FIRE TRUCK.
A HAND polishes the gleaming red hide with a rag, then pulls away. LLOYD WISHMAN looks at his own face, pleased.
FERD ANDREWS (off-screen) Radio says it's gonna snow a bitch.
LLOYD turns, and THE CAMERA HINGES to show us FERD, leaning in the door. His hands are plugged into the tops of half a dozen boots, which he begins to arrange by pairs below hooks holding slickers and helmets.
FERD ANDREWS
If we get in trouble . . . we're in trouble.
LLOYD grins at the younger man, then turns back to his polishing.
LLOYD
Easy, Ferd. It's just a cap of snow. Trouble don't cross the reach . . . ain't that why we live out here?
FERD isn't so sure. He goes to the door and looks up at: 4 EXTERIOR: APPROACHING STORM CLOUDS DAY.
We HOLD a moment, then PAN DOWN to a TRIM WHITE NEW ENGLAND HOME. This house is about halfway up Atlantic Street Hill that is, between the docks and the center of
