Cast Away Page #11

For a moment, he feels the weight of his isolation. Then he

allows himself a deep breath. There is order now, after all.

Time is under control.

EXT. CLIFF - DAY

Very carefully, but standing this time, Chuck makes his way

across the ledge.

EXT. SUMMIT - DAY

He emerges on the top, takes a drink from a hand-made

canteen, and looks in all directions. Again, he sees nothing

but ocean.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

He resumes his efforts at fishing. A shape scuttles raggedly

beneath him.

CHUCK:

A crab, it's a crab.

He freezes, holding his spear motionless. Then he jabs at

the crab -- misses! The crab scurries away toward the rocks.

CHUCK:

Dammit!

Chuck splashes after it, stabbing as he goes, falling,

getting up, stabbing again.

Suddenly one stab feels different. Chuck carefully lifts up

the spear. On the end is a squirming crab.

CHUCK:

I did it. I did it!

He walks carefully with it to the beach. Lowering the spear,

he lets the crab slip off. It darts toward the water. Chuck

heads it off, trying to avoid the snapping claws.

He kicks it back toward the beach, then slams a rock down on

it. He twists off a crab claw, expecting to see flaky white

meat. But a crab has an exoskeleton. The flesh simply pours

out, like mucous.

CHUCK:

Jesus.

This is too much. He needs the next step, from the raw to

the cooked. The crucial next step from primitive man to the

beginnings of civilization.

EXT. PALM GROVE SERIES OF SHOTS - TRYING TO MAKE FIRE

Chuck rubs two sticks together. Nothing.

Chuck positions a makeshift drill in a hole he has scooped

out in a piece of driftwood. He spins the drill with great

effort. Nothing.

CHUCK:

Stupid f***ing thing!

He quits, exhausted. He looks at his hands. They are raw

and blistered. He feels like Job.

CHUCK:

I don't know what I did, God, but

whatever is was, I am really, really

sorry. You hear me? Really sorry.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

Chuck emerges from the jungle and walks to the edge of the

ocean. He dips his blistered hands into the sea water, then

looks over at the FedEx boxes that spell out H E L P.

CHUCK:

Don't have a choice, do I?

He walks over and picks a few boxes up from the P.

EXT. PALM GROVE - DAY

With his stone knife and spear to help him. Chuck begins to

open the FedEx boxes. Chuck rips open the end of one box and

shakes it. Out tumble some videotapes. Chuck looks at them:

what good are they?

Chuck tears another box open. Out slide some legal papers

covered with Post-its.

In quick cuts, we see him dump out computer memory boards,

some designer dresses, flowers, a pair of roller blades, a

script with a red cover -- which he never reads.

EXT. BEACH - LATER

By now he has taken all the boxes in the P. Only H E L

remains. He pauses to let the irony of that sink in, then

collects more boxes. He is even more exhausted.

EXT. PALM GROVE

Two boxes remain. One is the box with Angel Wings. Chuck

sets it aside. He opens the other box. Out tumbles a

DOCTOR'S BAG. Chuck can't believe it. He opens the bag.

It's full of great stuff. Medicine. A scalpel. A saw.

CHUCK:

Okay. Okay now.

EXT. PALM GROVE - LATER

Hands bandaged, Chuck tries to strike a spark on the roller

blade wheel housing. Tries over and over. Nothing.

He takes a long drink from his canteen, and flinches. His

tooth is starting to hurt. He fishes some Tylenol out of the

surgeon's bag and takes two.

EXT. OTHER SIDE OF ISLAND - DAY

Chuck picks some berries and gingerly tries them. They're

not bad. He eats more. Then more. What a relief.

EXT. BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies on his palm fronds, groaning and holding his

stomach. He drags himself to his knees, crawls a few feet,

and throws up in great, violent heaves.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

Still looking a little green, Chuck marks another day on his

tree calendar.

EXT. SUMMIT

He stares out to sea. Nothing.

EXT. WELL - DAY

Chuck lies on his belly and drinks from the well, which has

filled with water. Then he washes his face and splashes

water over his neck. The surface of the well stills,

bringing CHUCK'S REFLECTION into focus. He stares at

himself.

Very carefully Chuck shaves with the surgeon's scalpel.

Chuck checks out his new appearance in the water. Much

better. A clean start now.

EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY

He sits in front of his failed efforts to make fire.

CHUCK:

You're not getting it hot enough. Got to

hold the heat. Got to hold the heat.

EXT. BEACH - LATER

Chuck carefully shaves some tinder. Puts it under a piece of

bamboo split lengthwise with a notch cut across it.

EXT. BEACH - LATER

Chuck uses a bamboo stick to try to make friction in the

split half of the bamboo. He saws back and forth with all

his might, pressing it down in the groove.

EXT. BEACH - LATER

Chuck gives one last saw with his bamboo and stops, utterly

defeated. It's all too much.

CHUCK:

Sonofabitch!

He starts to rub again. He breathes hard, sweat pours off

his face. He is really going for it, what the hell! A tiny

wisp of smoke appears! Chuck saws with even more energy.

CHUCK:

Come on. Come on.

The smoke increases. Chuck rips away the bamboo, grabs the

nest of shavings, and blows on it frantically. The smoke

flickers and dies. Chuck can't believe it.

CHUCK:

No. No. No.

EXT. BEACH - NIGHT

Chuck lies in his bed of palm fronds, shivering. He looks up

at the stars, which blaze furiously.

CHUCK:

That's the big dipper...Orion...or is

that the Southern Cross...? Kelly would

know.

And he misses her so much. A shower of meteors streaks

across the sky, as if the very heavens are raining down on

Chuck.

EXT. BEACH - DAY

Chuck readies his two sticks of bamboo again and begins

sawing with tremendous energy. He smells something. Is it

smoke? He pulls off the log and looks eagerly at the nest of

tinder. There's nothing there.

CHUCK:

Dammit!

He replaces the log and starts wearily to saw again.

TIME CUT:

The sun has moved in the sky. Chuck is still sawing. Again

the smoke appears. Again sweat pours from his face. The

smoke increases. He saws even harder. His breath comes in

anguished gulps. Smoke is curling up now. Chuck tears away

the bamboo, picks up the nest of kindling, and blows on it

gently. The smoke increases.

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