|
1.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
FADE IN:
|
|
|
|
|
|
1 EXT. MARFA, TEXAS - 1993 - WIDE - DAY 1
|
|
|
|
The Texas plains, horizon to horizon, nothing but the
|
|
browns and ochres of earth and the blue and violet of the
|
|
sky. The sheer scope of it sinks in: the blank slate of
|
|
nature, the absence of man. On the screen superimpose:
|
|
|
|
MARFA, TEXAS, 1993.
|
|
|
|
CREDITS BEGIN.
|
|
|
|
A plume of dust comes into frame. The dust is from a TRUCK,
|
|
orange and white and violet, with "FedEx" blazoned across
|
|
the side.
|
|
|
|
The truck turns into a collection of ramshackle World War
|
|
II era Quonset huts and outbuildings. Around the
|
|
outbuildings are large sculptures of wood and metal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
2 EXT. QUONSET HUT - DAY 2
|
|
|
|
The door is opened by a WOMAN in her late twenties. Hair
|
|
pulled back, casual, an artist. She hands the DRIVER a
|
|
FedEx BOX which is decorated with a drawing of two ANGEL
|
|
WINGS. The Driver has a hand-held computer; a portable
|
|
printer dangles from his belt.
|
|
|
|
The Driver scans the package with his hand-held computer,
|
|
prints out a label and sticks it on the Box, ready to go.
|
|
|
|
But something on the box catches her eye. She wants it
|
|
back. He glances at his watch. She draws RINGS around the
|
|
Wings, uniting them. She gives the box to the Driver, then
|
|
hands him a cup of coffee. They've done this before.
|
|
|
|
He takes a sip of the coffee, then runs for the truck. He
|
|
jumps in and heads back onto the plains.
|
|
|
|
|
|
3 EXT. FEDEX OFFICE - MIDLAND - ODESSA - NIGHT - HOURS LATER 3
|
|
|
|
The Driver jams the distinctive Angel Wing Box on top of a
|
|
dolly and loads it into a CONTAINER with clear plastic
|
|
sides. A female Loader slaps a large bar code label on the
|
|
container, scans it, then pulls the container across a belt
|
|
of rollers onto a larger truck. The doors of the truck
|
|
close. The latch slams down.
|
|
2.
|
|
|
|
|
|
A forklift hoists the container to the cargo doors of a
|
|
737.
|
|
|
|
|
|
4 EXT. MEMPHIS AIRPORT SUPERHUB - NIGHT 4
|
|
|
|
The 737 lands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
5 EXT. SUPERHUB - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER 5
|
|
|
|
One of a seemingly endless line of FedEx planes, our 737
|
|
taxis to a gate at the FedEx SUPERHUB. The Hub is a vast
|
|
living organism -- loud, complex, overwhelming, as much a
|
|
symbol of modern life as was the factory in Modern Times.
|
|
|
|
Five thousand people work in a frenzy of interconnected
|
|
activity inside three vast hangers brightly lit. Hundreds
|
|
of forklifts and cargo-pullers dart about, their headlights
|
|
crisscrossing like a laser show.
|
|
|
|
Loaders quickly roll the container onto a FORKLIFT.
|
|
|
|
|
|
6 INT. MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT 6
|
|
|
|
The forklift speeds inside one of the hangers to a LOADING
|
|
BELT, where our Box is spilled into a Mississippi River of
|
|
packages, HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS of them, all shapes and
|
|
sizes, from shoe boxes to engine blocks. Large mechanical
|
|
arms divert the immense flow of Workers at dozens of
|
|
stations. The packages surge and move.
|
|
|
|
The Workers place the packages label-side-up on new belts,
|
|
where they're scanned by laser readers. Picking up speed
|
|
our Box is shunted across the acres of interlocking belts.
|
|
|
|
The Box ends up in a much larger CONTAINER labeled CDG.
|
|
|
|
|
|
7 EXT. MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - NIGHT 7
|
|
|
|
A forklift lifts the Container to a door on a giant MD-11.
|
|
|
|
|
|
8 INT. GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - NIGHT 8
|
|
|
|
A jumbled room jammed with computers and dominated by a
|
|
HUGE WALL GRAPHIC that charts hundreds of airplanes. An
|
|
Operator moves a yellow strip labeled Jumbo 12 across the
|
|
board.
|
|
3.
|
|
|
|
|
|
9 EXT. CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY 9
|
|
|
|
SERIES OF SHOTS
|
|
|
|
The giant place touches down in Paris. The Angel Wing Box
|
|
moves quickly on another belt and disappears into another
|
|
CONTAINER, which is loaded onto still another AIRPLANE.
|
|
|
|
|
|
10 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG AIRPORT, RUSSIA - NIGHT 10
|
|
|
|
The plane lands. The container is unloaded down a belt. We
|
|
see our Angel Box. Directly in front of it is a DENTED BOX.
|
|
|
|
|
|
11 INT. ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE, RUSSIA 11
|
|
|
|
SERIES OF SHOTS
|
|
|
|
Night. The manic activity has come to a dead stop. Our two
|
|
Boxes sit on a table in a corner not far from a small
|
|
Christmas tree.
|
|
|
|
Daylight now. YURI, a Supervisor, saunters over, picks up
|
|
the Angel Box, sees an attractive co-worker, puts it down.
|
|
|
|
Night again. A cat walks by the table where our two Boxes
|
|
have come to rest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
12 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICE - DAY 12
|
|
|
|
A FedEx truck pulls out of the warehouse. The walls of the
|
|
warehouse are covered with graffiti. The streets are
|
|
slushy, the buildings blanketed in snow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
13 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - DAY 13
|
|
|
|
The Driver sits in the truck drinking tea. He takes a last
|
|
sip, sighs, gets out with the Angel Box. Walks slowly
|
|
toward an APARTMENT HOUSE.
|
|
|
|
|
|
14 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG APARTMENT HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER 14
|
|
|
|
A beautiful young RUSSIAN WOMAN opens the door. A young
|
|
AMERICAN MAN comes up behind her, signs the form and takes
|
|
the Angel Box. We see Christmas decorations inside. The
|
|
woman puts her arms around him as the door closes.
|
|
|
|
RUSSIAN WOMAN (O.S.)
|
|
(accented English)
|
|
4.
|
|
|
|
|
|
It's pretty. Who is it from?
|
|
|
|
AMERICAN MAN (O.S.)
|
|
My wife.
|
|
|
|
We stay with the Driver as he ambles back toward the truck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
15 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER 15
|
|
|
|
The Driver has just delivered the Dented Box to ALEKSEI,
|
|
Russian Businessman, who closes the door of a Czarist-era
|
|
building. Aleksei checks his watch, picks up the phone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
16 EXT. FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY 16
|
|
|
|
CHUCK NOLAND, early thirties, walks along a line of
|
|
brightly colored jitneys, each bearing the FedEx logo. With
|
|
him is a Filipino FedEx SUPERVISOR wearing a guayabera.
|
|
Chuck glistens with a thin layer of sweat.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
My guess is we're talking fuel
|
|
filters here, Fernando. The gas is
|
|
dirty, these jitneys get in the
|
|
mountains, their engines cut out.
|
|
|
|
FERNANDO
|
|
That could lose us half an hour.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Easy. Each way.
|
|
|
|
His beeper goes off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
17 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - MANILA - DAY - MOMENTS LATER 17
|
|
|
|
Chuck is on the phone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
So it finally turned up...
|
|
|
|
Chuck hesitates for a moment, then looks at his watch.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'll catch the sweep tonight.
|
|
|
|
|
|
18 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 18
|
|
5.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Strapped into the jump seat behind the pilots, Chuck sleeps
|
|
with a mask over his eyes. On his lap are some travel
|
|
brochures. We see sailboats, we see the Florida keys.
|
|
|
|
|
|
19 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG FEDEX OFFICES - DAY 19
|
|
|
|
Christmas in Russia. Snow everywhere. Brightly colored
|
|
lights. Chucks gets out of a Volga with Aleksei. He has a
|
|
bag over his shoulder, the dented package under one arm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
20 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - DAY 20
|
|
|
|
The staff has assembled near the loading dock. Yuri the
|
|
station manager stands in front, occasionally catching the
|
|
eye of the attractive woman. Chuck displays the FedEx box.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It took this test package thirty-
|
|
two hours to get from Seattle to
|
|
St. Petersburg, a distance of nine
|
|
thousand miles. And then it took
|
|
forty-one hours to get from our
|
|
warehouse in St. Petersburg to
|
|
here, a distance of, what --
|
|
|
|
ALEKSEI
|
|
Six kilometers. Four miles.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
So how are we going to get this
|
|
place shaped up?
|
|
|
|
There's a muttered chorus of answers.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
There's only one way. We have to
|
|
work together. Every one of us
|
|
depends on everyone else. If one
|
|
package is late, we are all late.
|
|
If one truck misses the deadline,
|
|
we all miss the deadline. Let's
|
|
start by taking a look around.
|
|
|
|
Chuck leads his team through the sorting area. Yuri
|
|
squeezes right next to him, ostentatiously carrying a
|
|
clipboard. Chuck stops.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Here, this table is too far from
|
|
the wall. Packages can slip
|
|
down...like...
|
|
6.
|
|
|
|
|
|
(pulls out a package from
|
|
behind a table)
|
|
...this.
|
|
|
|
He hefts the package, as if trying to guess what's inside.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What could be in here? Let's say
|
|
one of you sent it. Could be the
|
|
closing papers on your dacha, could
|
|
be a toy for your grandson's
|
|
birthday, could be a kidney to keep
|
|
your mother alive. I don't think
|
|
you want your mother's kidney to
|
|
end up behind a table.
|
|
|
|
The Sorter shoves the table against the wall. Yuri says
|
|
something to the Translator.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He says they have been very busy.
|
|
It is hard to get good employees.
|
|
He is sure you understand.
|
|
|
|
Wrong answer: Chuck glances sharply at Yuri. Aleksei
|
|
appears with a cellular phone.
|
|
|
|
ALEKSEI
|
|
Phone call. Malaysia.
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes the phone, opening his BAG as he does so.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kamal? Right. I'm getting them.
|
|
|
|
He pulls out a set of blueprints and tacks them to a
|
|
bulletin board as he talks.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm looking at the blueprints of
|
|
K.L. right now. The belts are too
|
|
small for the sorters. Yeah,
|
|
sometimes you never see what's
|
|
right in front of your face. Look,
|
|
it's --
|
|
|
|
Chuck keeps an eye on what is going on in the warehouse.
|
|
|
|
Then he notices something over by one of the trucks.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
(to a loader)
|
|
7.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Hold it! Hazardous material needs
|
|
its own container!
|
|
(back on the phone)
|
|
-- three in the afternoon there,
|
|
right? That gives you five hours
|
|
until the sweep comes through. Do
|
|
the sort by hand tonight, then put
|
|
in a new feeder belt, say a twenty-
|
|
four incher. Yes, overtime is
|
|
authorized.
|
|
|
|
He hangs up the phone. He turns to the crew.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm going out on every route, I'm
|
|
going to work every job here, until
|
|
I know enough to help you. That's
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
The crew disperses back to work. Chuck and Aleksei walk
|
|
toward the office. They've done this before. Chuck lets a
|
|
corner of his command persona slip.
|
|
|
|
ALEKSEI
|
|
It's bad.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Worse than Warsaw.
|
|
|
|
ALEKSEI
|
|
Nobody remembers that.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The failures they remember. It's
|
|
the successes they forget.
|
|
|
|
|
|
21 EXT. ST. PETERSBURG - DAY - MOMENTS LATER 21
|
|
|
|
A FedEx truck pulls out of the FedEx office. Chuck is
|
|
inside. He notices the graffiti on the walls.
|
|
|
|
|
|
22 INT. TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER 22
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides next to LEV, the driver, a serious sort. The
|
|
Translator squats on some boxes between them, trying to
|
|
keep his balance.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You sorted your packages before you
|
|
left. None of the other drivers
|
|
did.
|
|
8.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Translator and Lev exchange a few words.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He says he wants to be organized.
|
|
Do packages in order.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks at Lev with respect. Right answer.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
So how come the other drivers
|
|
haven't left yet?
|
|
|
|
The Translator asks Lev, who looks at him as if he is
|
|
crazy, then snorts an answer. The Translator blushes.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He says -- he is a very rude fellow
|
|
--
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Tell me exactly what he said.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He says why don't his farts smell
|
|
sweet?
|
|
|
|
Chuck grins. Lev shrugs and says something else.
|
|
|
|
TRANSLATOR
|
|
He says that's just the way it is.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Lev -- it's Lev, right? Listen,
|
|
this is FedEx. We don't have to
|
|
accept the way it is.
|
|
|
|
|
|
23 EXT. HOTEL - ST. PETERSBURG 23
|
|
|
|
A weary Chuck enters the hotel. In the sky above him we see
|
|
the Northern Lights. He doesn't even look up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
24 INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT - LATER 24
|
|
|
|
Chuck is watching CNN on the television, working his
|
|
PowerBook, and holding the phone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No, keep trying. A circuit's bound
|
|
to open up.
|
|
|
|
He hangs up.
|
|
9.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
(to himself)
|
|
Those damn Northern Lights.
|
|
|
|
Just then the lights go off. For a moment everything is
|
|
darkness. Then a small light switches on. Chuck has a
|
|
headlamp on.
|
|
|
|
He gets up, heads into the bathroom. We stay in the
|
|
bedroom. After only a moment, the light reemerges. It heads
|
|
over to his bag. We go with it.
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes out a roll of toilet paper. The guy is prepared
|
|
for anything. He goes into the bathroom, closes the door.
|
|
|
|
The lights come back on just as the phone rings.
|
|
|
|
We hear scuffling sounds on the other side of the door.
|
|
|
|
Chuck charges out, holding up his pants.
|
|
|
|
Grabs the phone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hello? Great. Try it.
|
|
|
|
He waits. We hear an ANSWERING MACHINE.
|
|
|
|
KELLY (V.O.)
|
|
This is Kelly, leave me a message
|
|
and I'll call you back soon as I
|
|
can.
|
|
|
|
This is not what Chuck wanted to hear.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kelly, damn, look, this is Chuck.
|
|
I'm going to be a little late.
|
|
Well, more than a little. I had to
|
|
go to Russia. Couldn't be helped.
|
|
Could you call and cancel the trip?
|
|
Look, we'll sail the Keys in March.
|
|
It's better then anyway. I'll be
|
|
back before Christmas. I promise. I
|
|
think. I mean, I will. I, uh --
|
|
|
|
He's stumbling over whether to say I love you.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I miss you.
|
|
|
|
He gently hangs up the phone.
|
|
10.
|
|
|
|
|
|
25 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - SERIES OF SHOTS 25
|
|
|
|
A surprised Yuri stands with the attractive assistant as
|
|
Chuck takes his clipboard away.
|
|
|
|
An even more surprised Lev stands by his truck as Chuck
|
|
hands the clipboard to him.
|
|
|
|
Chuck and the loaders clean off the graffiti.
|
|
|
|
Working alongside the sorters as the packages come in,
|
|
Chuck points out how to organize the inflow.
|
|
|
|
Chuck and Lev go over large maps of St. Petersburg with the
|
|
drivers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
26 INT. FEDEX WAREHOUSE - ST. PETERSBURG - WEEK LATER 26
|
|
|
|
A big semi is being loaded with outgoing packages for the
|
|
airport run. Aleksei, Chuck, Lev and the office executives
|
|
watch as containers are rolled on.
|
|
|
|
LEV
|
|
We've never got all the trucks in
|
|
on time. Never.
|
|
|
|
Chucks looks at the clock.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Only one still left?
|
|
|
|
LEV
|
|
Route six.
|
|
|
|
Aleksei points at the big semi.
|
|
|
|
ALEKSEI
|
|
If we don't send it now we may miss
|
|
the connection in Paris.
|
|
|
|
The pressure in on. Chuck looks around at his team.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
(to Aleksei)
|
|
Give it five minutes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
27 EXT. FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER 27
|
|
|
|
The last truck rolls in.
|
|
11.
|
|
|
|
|
|
28 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG 28
|
|
|
|
The last truck enters and loading dock. A few loaders move
|
|
toward it. The executives all stand and watch. But not
|
|
Chuck. He's hands on.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Let's go.
|
|
|
|
He heads toward the truck and begins pulling off packages.
|
|
|
|
All the other executives follow him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
29 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER 29
|
|
|
|
Led by Chuck, who works like a man possessed, they sort the
|
|
packages.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's Bermuda. Bermuda is in the
|
|
Memphis thru container. No, Azores
|
|
is Europe.
|
|
|
|
He gestures at a closed container.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The Paris container. Africa too.
|
|
Japan goes to Memphis.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is everywhere, setting the example. The whole office
|
|
is energized, working together.
|
|
|
|
|
|
30 INT. FEDEX OFFICES - ST. PETERSBURG - MINUTES LATER 30
|
|
|
|
They load the last container on the waiting truck. Chuck
|
|
pounds the truck on the side. Go.
|
|
|
|
The truck roars out of the loading dock.
|
|
|
|
Everyone takes a breath. They are happy, proud.
|
|
|
|
LEV
|
|
We did it. All of them.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Great job, everyone. Remember, work
|
|
together. We are like a hand...
|
|
|
|
They've heard this before. Lev holds up his hand just
|
|
before Chuck does.
|
|
12.
|
|
|
|
|
|
LEV
|
|
One finger, weak. All fingers
|
|
working together, strong.
|
|
|
|
This makes Chuck smile.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You got it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
31 EXT. CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - DAY 31
|
|
|
|
A FedEx MD-11 is being loaded with huge containers of
|
|
freight. Chuck goes up the gangway next to the forklifts.
|
|
|
|
|
|
32 INT. MD-11 - MOMENTS LATER 32
|
|
|
|
The pilots -- JACK and GWEN -- are going down their check
|
|
lists. Chuck sticks his head in the cockpit.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I absolutely, positively, have to
|
|
get to Memphis overnight.
|
|
|
|
JACK
|
|
Can't help you. Try UPS.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Jack -- gotta be something wrong
|
|
with our physicals, you keep
|
|
getting certified to fly. Gwen,
|
|
aren't you worried?
|
|
|
|
GWEN
|
|
Terrified.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We're on time, right?
|
|
|
|
JACK
|
|
On time, Chuck.
|
|
|
|
Chuck hands Jack and Gwen small packages.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Little present from the emerging
|
|
republics.
|
|
|
|
Another FedEx Road Warrior named STAN gets on. He and Chuck
|
|
are obviously old hands at this.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
13.
|
|
|
|
|
|
What connects the world? What makes
|
|
it one?
|
|
(they ignore him)
|
|
We do. FedEx.
|
|
|
|
GWEN
|
|
You are such a lifer.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
What do you expect, from the guy
|
|
who stole a kid's bicycle when his
|
|
truck broke down?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Borrowed. I borrowed it.
|
|
|
|
The two of them strap in.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
How'd it go?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Great. Terrific. The good guys won
|
|
one for a change.
|
|
|
|
He's finished a tough job. He's relaxed and on his way
|
|
home. But Stan's his boss, and Stan's got bad news.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I had to bump your plane last
|
|
night.
|
|
|
|
Chuck can't believe it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You what?
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
It was fifteen minutes late.
|
|
|
|
The plane begins to taxi.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I checked the weather, you had the
|
|
jet stream, you could have made it
|
|
up.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
But I might not have.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
14.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Jesus. I got it working... You have
|
|
no idea how hard it was... They're
|
|
finally a team...
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I'm touched.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You fucked us over.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
The point of FedEx, as I understand
|
|
it, is to make the damn connection.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I was making a point.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
What? Let Paris hold its plane? Let
|
|
Memphis take care of it? Let
|
|
somebody down the line clean up
|
|
your mess?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Every person counts, every package
|
|
counts, that's my point.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You know what your problem is? You
|
|
just see the packages in front of
|
|
you. You don't see the big picture.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Baloney. I do see the damn "big
|
|
picture."
|
|
|
|
|
|
33 EXT. CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT - NIGHT 33
|
|
|
|
The MD-11 takes off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
34 INT. MD-11 - NIGHT 34
|
|
|
|
Chuck is focused on his PowerBook with the screen away from
|
|
us, Stan is doing tai chi amidst the FedEx containers. It
|
|
feels a little surreal, all those containers surrounding
|
|
them.
|
|
|
|
Stan comes over, looks at the image on the computer. It's a
|
|
sailboat with some technical specifications under it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
15.
|
|
|
|
|
|
I didn't know we had sailboats.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's a ketch Kelly and I had
|
|
chartered.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
For all those vacation days you got
|
|
coming.
|
|
|
|
Chuck doesn't look up.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
And never take.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Look, I'm sorry about your plane.
|
|
But I couldn't risk being late into
|
|
Memphis.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Forget it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You know General McLelland, he
|
|
wouldn't attack unless he had
|
|
everything just right. Finally Abe
|
|
Lincoln came to him and said,
|
|
General, if you're not going to use
|
|
my army, could I borrow it for a
|
|
while? So he gave it to Grant and
|
|
Grant just said, let's go.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm from Arkansas. Tell me a story
|
|
with Robert E. Lee in it and maybe
|
|
I'll pay attention.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
We're warriors, not desk jockeys.
|
|
We've got to be bold. You always
|
|
want all your ducks lined up. But
|
|
nothing's 100 percent. It's always
|
|
60-40, maybe 51-49. Hell, I'd take
|
|
40-60. Then roll the dice.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's why you're a gambling man.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
That's why I'm running foreign and
|
|
you're not. That's why you're not
|
|
married and I am.
|
|
16.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
For the third time.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Take the plunge, admit your
|
|
mistakes, move on to tomorrow.
|
|
That's FedEx, that's women, that's
|
|
life.
|
|
|
|
Stan is so outrageous, Chuck can't help but laugh.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You are one sick fucker.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I'm trying to help you here.
|
|
There's Warsaw, there's this --
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
This was nothing like Warsaw. I
|
|
held the truck then minutes, it's
|
|
not that big a deal.
|
|
|
|
But apparently it is.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Look, that kids' bike, that's a guy
|
|
who'll do what it takes to get
|
|
there on time. Live up to your
|
|
legend, that's all I'm saying.
|
|
|
|
Chuck reaches in his pocket, pulls out a bill.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
A hundred rubles St. Petersburg
|
|
hits 95 percent in a month.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Ninety five percent? Just give me
|
|
the money now.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Talk is cheap. Are we on or not?
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
We're on.
|
|
|
|
Chuck closes the PowerBook.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Let's go off-line.
|
|
17.
|
|
|
|
|
|
They both take out their Valium -- the price they pay for
|
|
being such road warriors.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Two Valium...
|
|
|
|
Stan puts on his Walkman.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
And the Stones. Got to be.
|
|
|
|
It's their ritual. Chuck puts headphones from his Walkman
|
|
over his ears, puts a mask over his eyes and leans his head
|
|
back onto the headrest. We hear the Rolling Stones.
|
|
|
|
|
|
35 EXT. MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT - WIDE 35
|
|
|
|
The MD-11 arrives at its gate. The cargo doors open.
|
|
|
|
Forklifts and a gangway roll up to the side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
36 INT. MD-11 - NIGHT 36
|
|
|
|
Stan stands smiling over Chuck.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Chuck. Wake up Chuck.
|
|
|
|
Chuck pulls off the mask, takes out the earplugs. He
|
|
manages a groggy grin.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You gotta do your own delivery from
|
|
here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
37 INT. SUPERHUB - NIGHT 37
|
|
|
|
Chuck walks through the extraordinary nexus of speeding
|
|
packages that intersect in intricate paths above and around
|
|
him. This is the beating center of the FedEx world, the
|
|
crossroads, the deep core where everything connects. In his
|
|
still-drugged state it all seems weirdly psychedelic. A
|
|
Christmas tree goes by, then a huge plastic Santa Claus,
|
|
both with shipping labels.
|
|
|
|
|
|
38 EXT. CHICKASAW GARDENS - MEMPHIS - NIGHT 38
|
|
18.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck's car pulls into the driveway of a small cottage in
|
|
an older Memphis neighborhood. The radio is playing the
|
|
news.
|
|
|
|
|
|
39 INT. CHUCK'S HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER 39
|
|
|
|
Chuck drops his briefcase and his bag. The place is a
|
|
jumble of clothes, papers, books, etc. In the living room
|
|
is a tank of tropical fish. The water looks a little green.
|
|
|
|
No bubbles are coming from the filter.
|
|
|
|
Uh oh.
|
|
|
|
Chuck walks to the tank. He tightens a piece of tape that
|
|
holds the power cord onto the filter, taps the filter with
|
|
his finger, once, twice...the bubbles start again.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Damn thing.
|
|
|
|
But for a couple of fish floating on top of the tank it's
|
|
too late.
|
|
|
|
Chuck gets out his scoop and slowly skims them off.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Sorry, I'm really sorry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
40 EXT. CHUCK'S HOUSE - BACK YARD 40
|
|
|
|
Chuck digs a small hole in the back yard with a large
|
|
kitchen spoon.
|
|
|
|
Drops the dead fish in.
|
|
|
|
Fills the hole.
|
|
|
|
|
|
41 INT. CHUCK'S HOUSE - LATER 41
|
|
|
|
The CD is playing. Chuck lies in bed, switches on the TV.
|
|
|
|
This is no good. He doesn't care how late it is, he's going
|
|
to find Kelly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
42 EXT. MEMPHIS - NIGHT - LATER 42
|
|
|
|
Chuck drives in his car through the streets of Memphis.
|
|
19.
|
|
|
|
|
|
43 EXT. UNIVERSITY - NIGHT 43
|
|
|
|
Chuck pulls up to a lab building at Memphis State.
|
|
|
|
|
|
44 INT. LAB - NIGHT 44
|
|
|
|
Two doctoral candidates are playing Doom on their computers
|
|
when Chuck walks in.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You seen Kelly Frears?
|
|
|
|
One of them gestures toward a door.
|
|
|
|
GUY
|
|
Xerox machine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
45 INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT 45
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes his way in the semi-darkness past rack after
|
|
rack of specimens in bottles.
|
|
|
|
Ahead of him we see the flashing green light of a Xerox
|
|
machine.
|
|
|
|
|
|
46 INT. XEROX ROOM 46
|
|
|
|
The light goes off. KELLY leans over the machine, bangs on
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Sonofabitch!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hey, be nice to it, it'll be nice
|
|
to you.
|
|
|
|
Surprised, Kelly turns to greet Chuck.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Chuck! You're back!
|
|
|
|
She leaps into his arms.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Your eyes are puffy. Did you take
|
|
Valium again?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
20.
|
|
|
|
|
|
You smell like formaldehyde.
|
|
|
|
Kelly looks over at the Xerox.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
My last chapter's in there, and the
|
|
damn machine's jammed.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Let's take a look.
|
|
|
|
He lifts up the cover.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
How was Russia?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Cold.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Don't overwhelm me with details,
|
|
you know how I hate that. Did you
|
|
get it fixed?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I thought I did.
|
|
|
|
He pries up one feeder, then another.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to follow the paper path here.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Chuck, forget the Xerox. So Russia
|
|
didn't turn out well?
|
|
|
|
But Chuck doesn't want to talk. He's focused on the
|
|
machine.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Used to you could fix these
|
|
yourself.
|
|
|
|
She pulls him out of the machine. He has toner on his
|
|
fingers.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
21.
|
|
|
|
|
|
What do you want me to say? That I
|
|
thought I'd done a great job but it
|
|
all turned to shit? That I might as
|
|
well have gone sailing for all the
|
|
good I did?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Yeah, tell me. Tell me all of it.
|
|
|
|
He suddenly looks really tired.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You don't even know what time it
|
|
is. What day it is.
|
|
|
|
He turns to the Xerox in frustration.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
And I can't fix this damn machine.
|
|
|
|
She looks at him.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Come on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
47 INT. KELLY'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER 47
|
|
|
|
A tiny cubicle with a door. She closes it, takes some paper
|
|
towels out of the desk, wipes his fingers.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
We're on the deck of the ketch, the
|
|
air's soft, the water's clear as
|
|
crystal...
|
|
|
|
She licks the last bit of toner off his fingers.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's carcinogenic.
|
|
|
|
She ignores that, stays with the fantasy.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
We're covered with suntan lotion
|
|
and sweat. Our skin is so hot, it's
|
|
glowing...
|
|
|
|
And she comes closer to him.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
We could take a swim.
|
|
22.
|
|
|
|
|
|
She's really close now.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
On the other hand we could not take
|
|
a swim...
|
|
|
|
They squiggle themselves onto the desk.
|
|
|
|
|
|
48 INT. LAB - NIGHT 48
|
|
|
|
Someone kicks the door shut. Now the figures are in
|
|
silhouette, lit by the light in the office.
|
|
|
|
And then the light goes out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
49 EXT. FEDEX OFFICES - NEXT MORNING 49
|
|
|
|
A nondescript office park near the airport. No sign.
|
|
|
|
Chuck's car screeches into the parking lot. He jumps out,
|
|
glances at this watch, and heads for the building at a run.
|
|
|
|
|
|
50 INT. EXECUTIVE CONFERENCE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER 50
|
|
|
|
A large room dominated by an animated MAP OF THE WORLD.
|
|
|
|
Lights at various locations blink and flash. Above the map
|
|
are a large Sign saying "Here Today, Gone Tomorrow" and two
|
|
huge digital Clocks -- one keeping time, the other a
|
|
countdown clock for that day's package sort at the
|
|
SuperHub.
|
|
|
|
The operations team of FedEx sits around a large table.
|
|
|
|
Each has on a headset. BECCA TWIGG, the business-like
|
|
senior vice president of Operations, addresses questions to
|
|
a man -- COLIN PARKER-BOWLES, the European operations
|
|
manager -- on a LARGE TV SCREEN in front of her. "London"
|
|
is superimposed on the screen.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
So why was Milan late, Colin?
|
|
|
|
COLIN
|
|
23.
|
|
|
|
|
|
One of the race horses coming from
|
|
Ireland got colic and had to be
|
|
off-loaded in Brussels. That put
|
|
the Jumbo six hours late into
|
|
Charles De Gaulle. Customs had
|
|
difficulty locating the dutiable
|
|
items...
|
|
|
|
Colin continues as Chuck, out of breath, slips under the
|
|
screen and heads for the one remaining vacant seat --
|
|
across from Stan. Next to Stan is MAYNARD GRAHAM, an MBA
|
|
systems man. Becca addresses a question over to Stan.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
Stan, can we get P&A down to work
|
|
with Milan customs?
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
We're already on it.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
Good. And let's look at our live
|
|
animal policy. I don't think the
|
|
income stream justifies delaying IP
|
|
product, especially at Christmas.
|
|
|
|
Colin disappears. A red light goes on. Becca pushes a
|
|
button. Another face comes on the screen. "Oakland" appears
|
|
under the face.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
Stand by, Benson, we're still
|
|
wrapping up foreign.
|
|
|
|
She turns pointedly to Chuck.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
Chuck, thanks for joining us.
|
|
Status?
|
|
|
|
Chuck swallows nervously, tries to talk matter-of-factly.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Becca, as you know St. Petersburg
|
|
was consistently running late by
|
|
six to ten hours -- sometimes a
|
|
full day or more. I replaced the
|
|
station manager. We identified
|
|
inefficiencies and worked out a
|
|
quality improvement plan I believe
|
|
can be met.
|
|
|
|
MAYNARD
|
|
24.
|
|
|
|
|
|
You replaced the station manager
|
|
with a driver. A local with no
|
|
knowledge of our systems.
|
|
|
|
BECCA
|
|
Shouldn't you have brought in
|
|
someone from Memphis? Russia is
|
|
priority one.
|
|
|
|
MAYNARD
|
|
James Pottinger is available.
|
|
|
|
The process is being ripped out of Chuck's hands. He
|
|
struggles to get an answer.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
He's a numbers cruncher. Chuck's
|
|
done all the right things here...
|
|
|
|
Stan is doing his best to back up Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Jim's a terrific financial man, no
|
|
question. But we can't always
|
|
parachute in from Memphis. We've
|
|
got to build up our local staff.
|
|
|
|
MAYNARD
|
|
We've got to improve foreign on-
|
|
time, that's what we've got to do.
|
|
If this new guy's so good, how come
|
|
the very first plane he sent missed
|
|
the connection in Paris?
|
|
|
|
Maynard knows how to go for the jugular. Everyone looks at
|
|
Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We're building a new team here. We
|
|
got every package on the truck for
|
|
the first time ever. Success is the
|
|
best teacher.
|
|
|
|
MAYNARD
|
|
I don't call missing the plane a
|
|
success.
|
|
|
|
Everyone looks at Chuck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
51 EXT. KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - LATE THAT AFTERNOON 51
|
|
|
|
Chuck lugs a big package up to the door, knocks on it.
|
|
25.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kelly opens the door.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Merry Christmas eve.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Not if you work for FedEx.
|
|
|
|
|
|
52 INT. KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY 52
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters as they keep talking. Her house is cozy but
|
|
also where she works. There's a computer, specimen jars,
|
|
and some terrariums with frogs inside. A Christmas tree
|
|
with packages under it.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You break four million packages
|
|
last night?
|
|
|
|
In the b.g. one of the packages by the Christmas tree is
|
|
starting to shake on its own.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Four four. A record.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You don't seem too happy about it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Ah, the staff meeting could have
|
|
gone better.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Let me guess, Russia came up?
|
|
|
|
Chuck's attention goes to the tree.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
One of those packages just moved.
|
|
|
|
The package turns over, something darts out. It's a puppy,
|
|
with a bow around its neck.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Merry Christmas.
|
|
|
|
Chuck bends down to see the puppy.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hey, look at you.
|
|
26.
|
|
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I figure, if we could take care of
|
|
a puppy, we could, you know, take
|
|
care of --
|
|
|
|
A baby, she wants to say, but that's going a little fast so
|
|
she catches herself. Chuck picks the puppy up.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
He is a cute thing.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
He's your cute thing.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I can't even keep fish alive.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
A puppy's got a little more
|
|
personality than a fish.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
And for you --
|
|
|
|
Chuck hands over his present.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
So do good things come in large
|
|
packages?
|
|
|
|
Kelly opens Chuck's present -- a very large box.
|
|
|
|
It's a piece of luggage.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You know, for when you travel.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
For when I travel?
|
|
|
|
She can't believe it. It's the exact opposite of what she
|
|
wanted.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You should have got me something
|
|
that shows you want us to be
|
|
together, not apart.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is flummoxed. Women read so much into things.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I wasn't sending a message. I
|
|
though you'd like it.
|
|
27.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck's beeper goes off.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You should have got me a ring.
|
|
|
|
He checks the number.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I have to go. I'm on call for
|
|
overflow down at the Hub.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
A ring. I wanted a ring.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You did?
|
|
|
|
She nods. What to do?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Look, I love the puppy. I love you.
|
|
But I have to go.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You can't go now.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I have to.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You want to.
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up the puppy.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What should we call him? Or is it
|
|
her? How about Jango?
|
|
|
|
Kelly is having one of those moments when everything comes
|
|
clear.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
This isn't working out.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We're a little emotional here. It's
|
|
Christmas, maybe we're over-
|
|
reacting.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
"We're" not over-reacting.
|
|
28.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Could you watch Jango?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I can't take him to work.
|
|
|
|
He hands her the puppy.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We'll talk about it when I come
|
|
back. It'll all be fine. Really.
|
|
|
|
This is not a happy woman he is leaving behind.
|
|
|
|
|
|
53 EXT. KELLY'S HOUSE - HOUSE LATER 53
|
|
|
|
It's dark now. Chuck returns. The stars are putting on an
|
|
amazing show, but he doesn't notice as he heads for the
|
|
door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
54 INT. KELLY'S HOUSE - MINUTES LATER 54
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters. The tree and the presents under it are gone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kelly? Kelly?
|
|
|
|
No answer, nothing but the sound of Jango, who begins
|
|
yelping in the kitchen.
|
|
|
|
|
|
55 INT. KELLY'S HOUSE - KITCHEN - MOMENTS LATER 55
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up Jango, who is barricaded in the kitchen with
|
|
some food, some water, and some wet newspapers.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
There. There. Easy now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
56 EXT. KELLY'S HOUSE - BACK YARD - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER 56
|
|
|
|
Holding Jango, Chuck walks out into the back yard.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kelly?
|
|
29.
|
|
|
|
|
|
A fire still smolders. The packages have burned. The tree
|
|
is a blackened mess.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares at it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
57 EXT. CHUCK'S HOUSE - NEXT MORNING 57
|
|
|
|
Chuck gets into his car, puts Jango on the front seat next
|
|
to him. Pulls out of the driveway.
|
|
|
|
|
|
58 EXT. ARKANSAS HIGHWAY - DAY 58
|
|
|
|
Chuck is in his car, with the dog on his lap.
|
|
|
|
|
|
59 EXT. FARM HOUSE - DAY 59
|
|
|
|
Chuck's car drives up to a typical Arkansas farm house. His
|
|
MOM is setting some Christmas tree lights around the door.
|
|
|
|
Chuck gets out of the car. There's a large wet spot on the
|
|
front of his pants.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
What happened to your pants?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Mom, meet Jango.
|
|
|
|
Chuck displays the puppy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
60 EXT. FARM HOUSE - SHED - DAY 60
|
|
|
|
Chuck works on an old tractor in the shed. Some small legs
|
|
appear in his vision, then a small face. This is AMANDA,
|
|
his niece.
|
|
|
|
AMANDA
|
|
Dinner's ready.
|
|
|
|
|
|
61 INT. FARM HOUSE - KITCHEN - DAY 61
|
|
|
|
Around the table are Chuck's brother ROGER, his wife MARY,
|
|
Amanda, and her TWO BROTHERS. Mom brings in the turkey,
|
|
places it on the table, sits down. They all hold hands and
|
|
bow their heads.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
30.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck?
|
|
|
|
Chuck hesitates just a moment.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Bless us O Lord, and these thy
|
|
gifts, which we are about to
|
|
receive, from thou bounty, through
|
|
Christ the Lord. Amen.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Let's eat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
62 EXT. FARM HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY 62
|
|
|
|
The children burst out the door, shrieking, chased by
|
|
Jango.
|
|
|
|
|
|
63 INT. FARM HOUSE - DAY 63
|
|
|
|
The grown-ups are cleaning up after Christmas dinner. The
|
|
scene moves between the table, the kitchen counter, and the
|
|
refrigerator. It's an old-fashioned kitchen, simply
|
|
furnished.
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
How's Kelly?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Great.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Thought you were going to bring
|
|
her.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
So did I.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
It seemed like she had such a good
|
|
time last time.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's nothing you did, Mom, believe
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
Jennifer's still down at the post
|
|
office. And she's still got that
|
|
crush on you.
|
|
31.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
And she's still got those --
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
Roger.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
You should have stuck around.
|
|
|
|
This is an old, sore subject.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Look, I help take care of the
|
|
place. You got my check, didn't you
|
|
Mom?
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
That new roof, that's your doing.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
You're just allergic to farming,
|
|
that's what dad said. Can't stand
|
|
to be alone. Can't stand to be in
|
|
one place. Can't stand the sight
|
|
of...blood.
|
|
|
|
He drops the turkey giblets into the trash.
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
Roger's going to put chickens in
|
|
here.
|
|
|
|
Chuck can't believe this.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Come on Roger, this is dad all over
|
|
again. You already did beefalo,
|
|
chinchillas, and what was that,
|
|
ostrich? They chased Mom around the
|
|
yard, sprained her hip.
|
|
|
|
Mom goes to the freezer and takes out some frozen
|
|
strawberries.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
It wasn't that bad, dear.
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
You can't make a living out of this
|
|
place. We tried.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
But chickens?
|
|
32.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Sixty three pounds consumed per
|
|
capita, up from twenty seven in
|
|
1960. Going to pass beef. Chicken's
|
|
global. No religious taboos. You
|
|
don't see your Hindus and your
|
|
Muslims boycotting poultry.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
True enough. No sacred chickens
|
|
nowhere, so far as I know.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Roger's working at Tyson's now.
|
|
|
|
Mom mashes the block of frozen strawberries with a fork to
|
|
separate the strawberries from the ice.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Really?
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Come on down to the plant. It's
|
|
state of the art. We're doing for
|
|
chickens what FedEx did for the
|
|
delivery business.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Just don't count 'em before they
|
|
hatch.
|
|
|
|
Roger grins at him. This is just how they are.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
I'll try to remember that.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Dessert.
|
|
|
|
They all sit down. Mom brings the slushy frozen
|
|
strawberries to the table, squirts on some Reddi-whip.
|
|
|
|
Looks pointedly at Chuck.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Speaking of hatching, I could sure
|
|
use some more grandchildren.
|
|
|
|
Not a timely topic with Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
33.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Mom, this is a farm. We've got real
|
|
strawberries growing outside, we've
|
|
got real cream.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Oh no, the prodigal son's home. We
|
|
bring out the store bought.
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes a bite, winces a little as the cold
|
|
strawberries hit his teeth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
64 EXT. MOM'S HOUSE - LATER THAT DAY 64
|
|
|
|
Chuck fixes the drain pipe while Mom prunes the rose bushes
|
|
around the porch.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Maybe I should take a few days off.
|
|
Roger's working now, you could use
|
|
some help around here...
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Don't you even think about it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The place is falling apart.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
I'm doing fine.
|
|
|
|
She looks pointedly at Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Doing great, Mom, don't worry about
|
|
me.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
There's settled folks, and there's
|
|
nomads. You're just not a settled
|
|
folk. You never belonged here.
|
|
|
|
Chuck finishes the drain pipe. Gives it a thunk with his
|
|
finger.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Come on inside, Mom. You've had a
|
|
long day.
|
|
|
|
|
|
65 INT. FARM HOUSE - BEDROOM - NIGHT 65
|
|
34.
|
|
|
|
|
|
In his boyhood room, we see Chuck's laptop, which is hooked
|
|
up to the internet FedEx homepage. All around him are
|
|
models of boats and planes, maps, pictures of far-off
|
|
places. The room of a boy who always fantasized about
|
|
getting away.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is beside it, slumped down on the desk. Asleep.
|
|
|
|
|
|
66 EXT. FARM HOUSE - DAY 66
|
|
|
|
His mom waves to him as Chuck drives away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
67 INT. FEDEX OFFICE - LATER THAT DAY 67
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters his office, on the go. His assistant LESLIE is
|
|
waiting for him.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I need the latest PDRs on St.
|
|
Petersburg.
|
|
|
|
LESLIE
|
|
And how was your Christmas?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Terrific. Yours?
|
|
|
|
She nods, used to this.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
And get me in to the dentist. My
|
|
tooth's acting up.
|
|
|
|
Stan enters.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Malaysia's tanking. We're meeting
|
|
in ten in operations.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Right.
|
|
(to Leslie)
|
|
Get me everything on Indonesia, New
|
|
Guinea, all the way to Australia.
|
|
|
|
|
|
68 INT. OPERATIONS ROOM - MINUTES LATER 68
|
|
|
|
Chuck, Leslie, Stan and another executive from the meeting
|
|
named DICK are gathered around the TV screen. A squawk box
|
|
is on the table.
|
|
35.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kamal? Kamal? Can you hear us?
|
|
|
|
The box squawks. The TV screen rolls an imperfect image.
|
|
|
|
DICK
|
|
Can't we get this working?
|
|
|
|
A Technician is fiddling with the TV set.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Trying.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Kamal, you're breaking up. Can you
|
|
hear us?
|
|
|
|
VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
|
|
Kamal is not here.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Who is this? Where is Kamal?
|
|
|
|
VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
|
|
It is Ibrim, I, I am a sorter.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What's going on down there?
|
|
|
|
VOICE (SQUAWK BOX)
|
|
Kamal is not here. We are very
|
|
defused.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Who's in charge then, where is
|
|
Chinn?
|
|
|
|
The squawk box hums and crackles. Nothing. Chuck turns to
|
|
the Technician.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
We got Telex, e-mail?
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Sure. Just not getting any answers.
|
|
|
|
Chuck turns to Leslie.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
When's the next Jumbo?
|
|
|
|
LESLIE
|
|
36.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The regular flight is scheduled for
|
|
oh three hundred tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Anything else?
|
|
|
|
LESLIE
|
|
There's a sweep leaving Memphis in
|
|
an hour, goes through Sydney.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Maybe you should get your ducks
|
|
lined up first.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks over at Stan.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Call Operations. Get me on it.
|
|
|
|
And Stan is impressed.
|
|
|
|
|
|
69 EXT. CHUCK'S HOUSE - DAY 69
|
|
|
|
Chuck leaves with his bag over his shoulder and the puppy
|
|
under his arm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
70 EXT. KELLY'S HOUSE - DAY - MINUTES LATER 70
|
|
|
|
Kelly opens the door. Chuck is there with the puppy.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
That's your dog.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's our dog. It belongs to us.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
There isn't any us.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yes there is.
|
|
|
|
Kelly can't stay mad.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I'm sorry about the presents. I got
|
|
a little carried away.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
37.
|
|
|
|
|
|
No, it was great. Maybe a little
|
|
overkill --
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I burned the Christmas tree.
|
|
|
|
She's half-laughing, half-wanting-to-cry.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Why didn't you come over, get mad
|
|
at me, tell me what a stupid bitch
|
|
I was.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I guess I hadn't thought through
|
|
how I felt.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
What, you were going to come over
|
|
the next day all calm and say,
|
|
Kelly that really made me mad?
|
|
Don't tell me you're mad. Be mad.
|
|
Be who you are right now.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Look, we'll do our trip as soon as
|
|
I get back.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Don't even start.
|
|
|
|
And then it hits her.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Get back? From where?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Malaysia. They're holding the
|
|
sweep.
|
|
|
|
She stares at him for a long moment, then at the puppy.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Give him to me.
|
|
|
|
He hands her the dog.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Chuck, you're breaking my heart.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
A week, max. Okay? Okay?
|
|
38.
|
|
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Go on. We'll be fine. I'll feed
|
|
Jango to the frogs.
|
|
|
|
She kisses the puppy.
|
|
|
|
|
|
71 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 71
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters the cockpit, where two different pilots are
|
|
going through their checklists. Chuck repeats his familiar
|
|
patter.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Al -- gotta be something wrong with
|
|
our physicals, you keep getting
|
|
certified to fly. John, aren't you
|
|
worried?
|
|
|
|
JOHN
|
|
I disconnected his controls. He
|
|
only thinks he's flying.
|
|
|
|
Chuck settles into his seat.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You're on your way home, Al?
|
|
|
|
Al has an Australian accent.
|
|
|
|
AL
|
|
Right. Down home, down under.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We're on time, right?
|
|
|
|
AL
|
|
On time, Chuck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
72 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT - HOURS LATER 72
|
|
|
|
Settled into the jump seat, Chuck finishes up his notes on
|
|
his PowerBook and begins his flight ritual.
|
|
|
|
He puts in his ear plugs and takes out his Valium. He
|
|
swallows one, then thinks, and swallows two more. Then he
|
|
turns on his Walkman to the Rolling Stones, puts the mask
|
|
over his eyes, and, as usual, goes to sleep.
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
39.
|
|
|
|
|
|
73 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 73
|
|
|
|
The plane is SHAKING badly. HEAR frantic, garbled radio
|
|
talk. Chuck stirs, struggles to his feet, drowsy and
|
|
drugged.
|
|
|
|
|
|
74 INT. FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV 74
|
|
|
|
Everything is hazy, out of focus, as it was in his earlier
|
|
drugged condition. But this is real haze. SMOKE. And the
|
|
cabin also TWISTS and TILTS.
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries to steady himself against the wall. This is
|
|
nightmarish. Is this really happening?
|
|
|
|
|
|
75 INT. FEDEX PLANE - CHUCK'S POV - COCKPIT 75
|
|
|
|
The pilots wrestle with the controls. They have their life
|
|
jackets on. John glances back at Chuck, his face floating
|
|
in a cloud of fear.
|
|
|
|
|
|
76 INT. FEDEX PLANE - MOMENTS LATER 76
|
|
|
|
Chuck struggles to put on his life jacket. The plane is
|
|
VIBRATING VIOLENTLY. He can't get the straps straight. He
|
|
is KNOCKED against one wall, then another, then to the
|
|
floor.
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries to blow on the mouth tubes for his life jacket.
|
|
|
|
Can't do it! Puff. Puff. Shit! John motions frantically for
|
|
Chuck to pull on the automatic inflators on his jacket.
|
|
|
|
Chuck fumbles for them.
|
|
|
|
Huge palettes shift and groan, one BREAKS FREE, banging
|
|
violently against the side of the plane, spilling out its
|
|
boxes. Then it swings and KNOCKS Chuck on the head! He goes
|
|
down!
|
|
|
|
|
|
77 INT. GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER 77
|
|
|
|
A CONTROLLER mans the global operations desk. His
|
|
SUPERVISOR stands behind him, sipping some coffee. The mood
|
|
is eerily calm. An assistant moves Plane Locator Cards on a
|
|
giant board.
|
|
|
|
CONTROLLER
|
|
Jumbo 14 is overdue in Sector K.
|
|
40.
|
|
|
|
|
|
SUPERVISOR
|
|
Where are they?
|
|
|
|
Another CONTROLLER tracks a giant computer screen.
|
|
|
|
CONTROLLER 2
|
|
Somewhere east of Port Moresby.
|
|
Guam is getting a signal but no
|
|
location. Maybe the GPS is out.
|
|
|
|
The signal flashes, but is strangely still compared to the
|
|
others, which are moving.
|
|
|
|
|
|
78 EXT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 78
|
|
|
|
The giant plane PLUMMETS down from the sky.
|
|
|
|
|
|
79 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 79
|
|
|
|
Chuck is semi-conscious and bleeding from the head. John
|
|
pulls the inflators on Chuck's life jacket, which fills
|
|
with a WHOOSH!, sending Chuck's arms out to the sides. Al
|
|
struggles with the LIFE RAFT. It's all blurred, frantic,
|
|
terrifying.
|
|
|
|
|
|
80 EXT. PACIFIC - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER 80
|
|
|
|
The plane hits the ocean with a CRASH and a WAVE of water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
81 INT. GLOBAL OPERATIONS CENTER - MOMENTS LATER 81
|
|
|
|
The Controller is speaking mechanically into the
|
|
microphone.
|
|
|
|
CONTROLLER
|
|
Guam, I need a fix on Jumbo 14.
|
|
|
|
|
|
82 EXT. PACIFIC - NIGHT 82
|
|
|
|
Shrouded with fog and surrounded by debris, the tail of the
|
|
big plane slowly SINKS beneath the angry, storm-driven
|
|
waves.
|
|
|
|
|
|
83 EXT. PACIFIC - DAY 83
|
|
|
|
A life raft is tossed on dark, storm-driven seas. Inside
|
|
it, semi-conscious, Chuck hangs on.
|
|
41.
|
|
|
|
|
|
84 EXT. PACIFIC - NIGHT 84
|
|
|
|
We catch glimpses of the yellow lift raft in the dark as
|
|
the storm continues.
|
|
|
|
|
|
85 EXT. BEACH - EARLY MORNING 85
|
|
|
|
The storm has ended. Waves lap gently on a beach cut like a
|
|
scallop out of a rocky shore. On the beach we see scattered
|
|
FEDEX BOXES. And we see, face-down, half-buried in sand, a
|
|
MAN IN A SUIT and a life jacket.
|
|
|
|
Chuck.
|
|
|
|
The tide gently rocks him, laps at his face. He chokes.
|
|
|
|
Slowly he gets to his knees. Vomits seawater, big heaves.
|
|
|
|
He rolls over, sits down. Dazed. Still confused. Where am
|
|
I? What happened?
|
|
|
|
Chuck's first instinct is to check the time. He looks at
|
|
his watch, taps it in frustration.
|
|
|
|
Then he looks around, and we look with him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
86 CHUCK'S POV - BEACH 86
|
|
|
|
The fog has thinned. We can see palm groves and mangrove
|
|
thickets leading back into a thickly wooded valley climbing
|
|
up a steep, rocky hillside. The rocks on the opposite point
|
|
end in a barren ridge. Clouds hide the top of the hill.
|
|
|
|
ON CHUCK
|
|
|
|
as he takes in his surroundings. He licks his lips. He's
|
|
thirsty. But something he sees is even more important. We
|
|
stay with him as he WALKS. He comes to a FEDEX PACKAGE in
|
|
the sand, picks it up, brushes off the sand, walks farther.
|
|
He picks up another package.
|
|
|
|
|
|
87 EXT. BEACH - WIDE 87
|
|
|
|
Chuck walks down the beach, picking up FedEx packages,
|
|
leaving a trail of footprints in the sand. Ahead of him we
|
|
notice a package decorated with ANGEL WINGS.
|
|
|
|
|
|
88 EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT MORNING 88
|
|
42.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck has made a neat stack of FedEx boxes under some palm
|
|
trees at the rim of the beach. He examines the Angel Wing
|
|
drawing with passing curiosity, then puts it on the stack.
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes off his life jacket, sits down in the shade,
|
|
makes himself comfortable, and waits.
|
|
|
|
|
|
89 EXT. BEACH - SUNSET 89
|
|
|
|
Chuck is still waiting. He's a systems man, and the system
|
|
isn't working.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
All right, guys. I'm here. Check
|
|
the GPS, get moving.
|
|
|
|
|
|
90 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 90
|
|
|
|
The full moon shines a ghostly light on the beach. Trees
|
|
cast moon-shadows on the sand. Chuck seems very, very
|
|
alone.
|
|
|
|
We HEAR from the dark thickets a STRANGE NOISE. Rustling in
|
|
the leaves. Something crashing in the trees, or is it a
|
|
wave? A jolt of adrenaline courses through Chuck's body.
|
|
|
|
He lurches to his feet.
|
|
|
|
We HEAR the noises again. Chuck edges toward the rocks at
|
|
the barb of the hook. Keeping his eye on the thicket, he
|
|
bends down and picks up a stone. His first weapon.
|
|
|
|
In the rocks he finds a piece of driftwood. He picks it up
|
|
in his other hand. He backs between two rocks and stands
|
|
facing the thicket, every sense alert. A cloud passes over
|
|
the moon. The shadow streaks across Chuck's anxious face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
91 EXT. BEACH - MORNING 91
|
|
|
|
The morning TIDE is coming in. We follow the tide as it
|
|
laps amidst the rocks and finds Chuck, staring out to sea.
|
|
|
|
The empty sea.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Where the fuck are you?
|
|
|
|
But now he is really thirsty. We WALK with Chuck up the
|
|
beach.
|
|
43.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Beneath the palms he sees a couple of coconuts. He picks
|
|
one of them up and studies it. It's heavy, almost the size
|
|
of a volleyball. How to get in it?
|
|
|
|
He throws it down on a rock. The coconut just bounces off.
|
|
|
|
He wedges the coconut between two rocks, then throws a rock
|
|
down on it. It bounces off. He throws down a bigger rock.
|
|
|
|
It smashes on the rocks and chips. Chuck picks up the rock.
|
|
|
|
OW! Where the rock had chipped the edge is sharp. It cuts
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Sonofabitch.
|
|
|
|
The blood stains the rock a bright red. Chuck sucks on his
|
|
finger, then he gets an idea -- the same idea primitive man
|
|
first got when he discovered stone tools.
|
|
|
|
He picks up the rock, test the edge. Sharp -- really sharp.
|
|
|
|
He throws another rock down, but it doesn't break. He picks
|
|
up another rock and strikes the first one. Then again,
|
|
harder. And again. A large flake shoots off. This edge is
|
|
even sharper.
|
|
|
|
He has a knife.
|
|
|
|
OPENING THE COCONUT - SERIES OF SHOTS
|
|
|
|
Chuck uses the stone knife to saw at the coconut. No luck.
|
|
|
|
Chuck clumsily sharpens a stick with the sharp rock.
|
|
|
|
Chuck brings the sharpened stick down hard on the coconut,
|
|
but the stick slides off, sending the coconut rolling away.
|
|
|
|
Chuck positions the stick, pointed end up, in a hole, then
|
|
SLAMS the coconut down hard on it. Success! The green nut
|
|
of the coconut splits. The brown inner nut is free! He
|
|
smashes the nut with a rock, but -- OW! -- he hits his
|
|
hand! Chuck licks his fingers, but he is so thirsty there's
|
|
no more saliva. He smashes again. The shell breaks to
|
|
smithereens. Coconut milk splashes everywhere.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That was smart, really smart.
|
|
44.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Rotating a nut along its axis and carefully moving his
|
|
fingers out of the way, he SMASHES the nut again. The shell
|
|
splits! The precious liquid splashes out. Left inside is a
|
|
swallow or two, which Chuck laps up eagerly. The milky
|
|
white liquid dribbles down his face.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Ahhh.
|
|
|
|
|
|
92 EXT. BEACH - SUNRISE 92
|
|
|
|
Chuck squints at the ocean. His sunburn is bad -- his lips
|
|
are cracked. A stack of broken coconut shells is beside
|
|
him. No one's there -- again.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Maybe the GPS malfunctioned. That
|
|
Korean airliner did.
|
|
|
|
Clouds scud in front of the sun. Beyond the reef the waves
|
|
are high and churning. Chuck can see them pound onto the
|
|
reef.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Okay, do the math. Maybe they know
|
|
where you are within, say 500
|
|
miles. That's a circle with an area
|
|
of, uh, pi r squared. So, uh,
|
|
250,000 times three point one four,
|
|
that's about 800,000 square miles.
|
|
Three times the size of Texas.
|
|
|
|
This sinks in. Then Chuck gets an idea.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
They could use a satellite.
|
|
|
|
But even that doesn't give him much hope.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Say each satellite photo is 30 feet
|
|
square, that's uh...fuck
|
|
it...billions and billions of
|
|
photos.
|
|
|
|
That sinks in.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Aw, someone will come.
|
|
|
|
|
|
93 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 93
|
|
45.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck sleeps by the coconuts. The tide is coming in. Chuck
|
|
stirs, gets up, staggers over to a palm tree to relieve
|
|
himself.
|
|
|
|
He stares idly out at the moonlight on the waves. Then not
|
|
so idly. Something's out there, something floating on the
|
|
tide.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What the hell?
|
|
|
|
|
|
94 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 94
|
|
|
|
Chuck splashes into the gentle surf, reaches the dark
|
|
object.
|
|
|
|
It's a body. Chuck turns it over. It's Al, one of the
|
|
pilots, his face gray and waterlogged and very dead.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Oh Jesus.
|
|
|
|
|
|
95 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 95
|
|
|
|
Chuck drags the body up on the beach and then collapses,
|
|
exhausted. He sits by it, staring at it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm so sorry, Al. So sorry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
96 EXT. BEACH - MORNING 96
|
|
|
|
Chuck has almost finished a grave in the sand back of the
|
|
palm trees. He's been digging with a piece of driftwood
|
|
sharpened with his stone knife.
|
|
|
|
He drags the body into the pit. Stares down at it. That
|
|
could be me.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to cover Al up.
|
|
|
|
He wants to say more, can't. He scoops some sand over the
|
|
body.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to cover Al up.
|
|
|
|
He scoops in some more sand. It's eerily like burying the
|
|
tropical fish in his back yard.
|
|
46.
|
|
|
|
|
|
97 EXT. BEACH - LATER 97
|
|
|
|
With a rock Chuck hammers a crude driftwood marker into the
|
|
sand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
98 EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY 98
|
|
|
|
As Chuck sits on the beach, he half-sings, half-talks
|
|
"Yellow Submarine" very quietly to himself.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We all live in a yellow submarine,
|
|
yellow submarine...
|
|
|
|
He looks over at the deep woods and down to the rocky
|
|
point.
|
|
|
|
Comes to a decision. He takes a drink of coconut, picks up
|
|
his club and a coconut, sticks the stone knife in his
|
|
pants.
|
|
|
|
He's ready to go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
99 EXT. BEACH - DAY - MOMENTS LATER 99
|
|
|
|
Chuck climbs over the rocks and disappears out of sight.
|
|
|
|
He's still half-singing to himself.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yellow submarine. We all live in a
|
|
yellow submarine...
|
|
|
|
|
|
100 EXT. ISLAND - DAY - MOMENTS LATER 100
|
|
|
|
Chuck's way is blocked by rocks and jungle. He hesitates.
|
|
|
|
He picks up a rock and THROWS IT to scare away all those
|
|
bad things. It crashes into the ferns and palm trees. He
|
|
takes a step into the jungle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
101 EXT. JUNGLE - MINUTES LATER 101
|
|
|
|
Chuck struggles through a dense thicket beneath a jungle
|
|
canopy. Vines and creepers reach out toward him. There is
|
|
no path, nothing to show him where to go.
|
|
47.
|
|
|
|
|
|
102 EXT. JUNGLE - HALF HOUR LATER 102
|
|
|
|
Chuck climbs through a tangle of vines and ferns. He takes
|
|
a drink from the coconut he is carrying. The last drink.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Bad idea. Should have saved some.
|
|
|
|
He throws away the husk. He looks up, but the only sunlight
|
|
reaching him is dappled from the canopy above him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
103 EXT. ISLAND - MOMENTS LATER 103
|
|
|
|
Chuck emerges onto a ridge that leads to a summit. He
|
|
climbs across a rocky lava field covered with scrub lichen
|
|
and low ferns, soil dark as coffee beans, his way crossed
|
|
by steep gullies that cut like dark fingers into the lava.
|
|
|
|
The lava field narrows, forcing Chuck closer to the sea. He
|
|
passes a series of CAVES, their mouths dark and mysterious
|
|
and scary. He gives them a wide berth.
|
|
|
|
|
|
104 EXT. ISLAND - CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER 104
|
|
|
|
The land narrows to a ledge that stretches across a high
|
|
cliff perched over the ocean. Beyond this rock bridge the
|
|
path smoothes out to a summit.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares at the narrow bridge, then down at the waves
|
|
breaking on the rocks far below. To get any view, he will
|
|
have to cross the bridge. He's thirsty. The late afternoon
|
|
sun is hot.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how
|
|
did you enjoy the play?
|
|
|
|
Hugging the wall of the cliff, taking each step with great
|
|
caution, he sets out across the bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
105 EXT. ISLAND - CLIFF 105
|
|
|
|
Step by step, Chuck negotiates the narrow bridge. He
|
|
reaches a flume of polished basalt which cuts across the
|
|
ledge like a slide in a water park -- except this flume
|
|
ends high above the waves. Chuck tries to step across it,
|
|
can't quite, tries one foot first, then the other.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Shit!
|
|
48.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He looks back, but that seems even scarier.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to get there. Got to see.
|
|
C'mon... c'mon. Don't be such a
|
|
wuss. Be bold.
|
|
|
|
He looks down at the ocean beneath him, closes his eyes,
|
|
and jumps. It's only a few feet, but he's breathing hard
|
|
when he lands on the other side. He hugs the rocks, getting
|
|
his breath.
|
|
|
|
|
|
106 EXT. ISLAND SUMMIT - SUNSET - MOMENTS LATER 106
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks to each point on the compass. He is on an
|
|
ISLAND, small, inhospitable, without sign of habitation or
|
|
anything human. On three sides the waves break against
|
|
steep, hostile cliffs. A reef encloses the cove where he
|
|
came from.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No way on. No way off.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares out to sea in every direction. Nothing.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
This is bad. Really, really bad.
|
|
|
|
The last rays of sun hit his face. The ocean turns a deep
|
|
reddish gold.
|
|
|
|
|
|
107 EXT. CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER 107
|
|
|
|
Going down is even scarier. It's dusk and the light is flat
|
|
and gray. Chuck stares at the ledge.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Come on. Crawl if you have to.
|
|
|
|
Chuck crawls on his hands and knees across the rock bridge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
108 EXT. ROCKY SLOPE - MOMENTS LATER 108
|
|
|
|
Chuck stumbles over the rocks. The caves look ominous and
|
|
primal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
109 EXT. EDGE OF JUNGLE - NIGHT 109
|
|
49.
|
|
|
|
|
|
It's getting dark now. The jungle seems impenetrable, the
|
|
dark wood of fable. Chuck hesitates, then plunges into it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
110 EXT. JUNGLE - NIGHT MINUTES LATER 110
|
|
|
|
The moon has just begun to rise, casting eerie light into
|
|
the jungle. The shadows reach out to grab Chuck, then real
|
|
branches and vines tug at him. He heads into thick
|
|
blackness.
|
|
|
|
|
|
111 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT - LATER 111
|
|
|
|
Chuck emerges around the rocks. He reaches the stack of
|
|
familiar FedEx boxes -- Ahh, home! He's breathing hard,
|
|
from both fear and exertion.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to drink. Got to drink
|
|
something.
|
|
|
|
With his last strength he opens a coconut on the stick. He
|
|
bangs hard on the shell and gulps down the milk. He stares
|
|
at the stack of FedEx boxes. What could be inside? He
|
|
reaches out and touches one.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
They don't belong to you.
|
|
|
|
Responsibility gets the better of necessity, and he takes
|
|
his hand away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
112 EXT. BEACH - MORNING 112
|
|
|
|
Face red from the sun, Chuck hacks at a palm frond with his
|
|
stone knife. He saws the palm frond off near the base,
|
|
leaving it about a foot long.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to have shade. Got to have a
|
|
hat.
|
|
|
|
He ties the loose fibers into a sort of circle, then sets
|
|
it upon his head. It looks amazingly like some sort of
|
|
primitive cap.
|
|
|
|
He grabs a couple of FedEx boxes and heads for the beach.
|
|
|
|
|
|
113 EXT. BEACH - LATER 113
|
|
50.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck finishes the P on H E L P, which he has spelled out
|
|
with the FedEx boxes on the beach.
|
|
|
|
|
|
114 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY - LATER 114
|
|
|
|
Chuck scrambles down a ravine. He kneels down and feels the
|
|
ground. It is dry, completely dry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
115 EXT. LAVA SLOPE - DAY 115
|
|
|
|
Chuck traverses the slope, determined to find water.
|
|
|
|
|
|
116 A FLAT ROCK - LATER 116
|
|
|
|
With a puddle of dirty water trapped in a tiny hollow.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly Chuck flops down into frame. He tries to scoop up
|
|
some water in his hands, but he just splashes it around. He
|
|
licks his fingers. Then he gets down on his stomach and
|
|
laps up the water with his tongue. Like an animal.
|
|
|
|
In the bottom of the small depression is some fine mud. He
|
|
rubs it on his reddened face and across his burned lips.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Oh, God. Thank you.
|
|
|
|
|
|
117 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 117
|
|
|
|
Chuck lies in darkness, his eyes reflecting the moon.
|
|
|
|
|
|
118 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY 118
|
|
|
|
Chuck is drenched in sweat. He is at the bottom of a hole
|
|
six feet deep. He takes one last dig with the flat stick,
|
|
then licks the moist clay that sticks to it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
119 EXT. BEACH - DAY 119
|
|
|
|
Chuck breaks open another coconut and gulps down the milky
|
|
liquid. With a stone knife he digs in the shell for some of
|
|
the meat, but it's dry and chewy and fibrous. He spits it
|
|
out, then lies back on the sand and stares at the first
|
|
stars. Half sings to himself.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You deserve a break today...
|
|
51.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He is desperately thirsty. Hunger gnaws at him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
120 EXT. BEACH - DAY - LATER 120
|
|
|
|
Holding a sharpened stick, Chuck wades in the shallows at
|
|
low tide, looking for fish. It's difficult to keep his
|
|
balance. Suddenly a shadow flashes by, glinting in the
|
|
morning sunlight. Chuck hurls the spear, which ricochets
|
|
off the water and floats away.
|
|
|
|
Chuck plunges into the water after the fish with his bare
|
|
hands. The fish reverses direction. Chuck leaps after it
|
|
and goes under. He comes up spluttering, on his hands and
|
|
knees in the shallows.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly a whole school of fish swims by him, moving in
|
|
unison, like one creature, splitting around Chuck like
|
|
mercury. He grabs at them desperately. Nothing.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Damn fish!
|
|
|
|
On some rocks he sees clusters of limpets. He takes a rock
|
|
and tries to dislodge one, but it smashes into a soggy
|
|
mess.
|
|
|
|
|
|
121 EXT. BEACH - DAY 121
|
|
|
|
Discouraged, he sits down on the beach and gets his breath.
|
|
|
|
Idly, Chuck takes out his wallet. The money is soaked. He
|
|
lays it out to dry. He finds a PHOTOGRAPH OF KELLY, soaked
|
|
and mushy.
|
|
|
|
He tries to smooth it out. For a moment he is overcome.
|
|
|
|
His face tightens, his eyes get moist. He stares out to
|
|
sea.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wait a minute. Wait just a minute.
|
|
|
|
He picks up his wallet again and takes out a credit card.
|
|
|
|
|
|
122 EXT. BEACH - MINUTES LATER 122
|
|
|
|
Chuck wades in the water, stops by a rock covered with
|
|
limpets. He uses a CREDIT CARD to scrape off a limpet.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
52.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Don't leave home without it.
|
|
|
|
With his finger, he prods around in the mucous-like meat,
|
|
then tilts up the shell and we see the gooey gray stuff
|
|
slide off the shell into his mouth.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yuck.
|
|
|
|
He starts to spit it out. Tries to make himself like it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yumm.
|
|
|
|
And he swallow it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
123 EXT. BEACH - SUNSET 123
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits in the shade of a palm tree surrounded by a pile
|
|
of smashed coconut husks and a stack of limpet shells. He
|
|
checks his watch for a moment.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got to get this fixed.
|
|
|
|
But what's the point? Everything that was so valuable
|
|
before is useless now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
124 EXT. JUNGLE - LATER 124
|
|
|
|
Chuck digs yet another hole. He chants to himself, almost
|
|
delusionally.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Water, water, everywhere, water,
|
|
water everywhere...
|
|
|
|
Covered in sweat, desperate and exhausted, he throws down
|
|
his wooden spade.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Where's the water on this fucking
|
|
island?
|
|
|
|
He lies on his back, breathing hard. Pulls his hat over his
|
|
eyes.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Just rest a minute.
|
|
53.
|
|
|
|
|
|
125 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY - LATER 125
|
|
|
|
Chuck is lying in the hole. We find his feet. Slowly water
|
|
is oozing out of the clay, a puddle is building around his
|
|
toes.
|
|
|
|
|
|
126 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY - LATER 126
|
|
|
|
Chuck's eyes snap awake. He looks down at his feet.
|
|
|
|
There's a pool of muddy water there. He dips his hand in
|
|
it, touches a finger to his lips to be sure he's not
|
|
dreaming.
|
|
|
|
He grabs his sharpened stone, begins to attack the clay.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.
|
|
|
|
|
|
127 EXT. BEACH - SUNSET 127
|
|
|
|
Chuck carefully makes marks on a palm tree with his rock
|
|
knife. One for each day. Very neat. Very precise. Very
|
|
Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Let's see, I waited two days.
|
|
(makes marks)
|
|
Then I buried Al.
|
|
(slowly makes another
|
|
mark)
|
|
Al. You never made it home, buddy.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Then American Express got me those
|
|
clam things...
|
|
(makes another mark)
|
|
I dug all those damn holes, the
|
|
clouds over the moon...
|
|
(makes more marks)
|
|
And today, the historic discovery
|
|
of H, Two, Oh.
|
|
(makes a tenth mark and
|
|
underlines it)
|
|
Ten days. Shit.
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
54.
|
|
|
|
|
|
128 EXT. CLIFF - DAY 128
|
|
|
|
Very carefully, but standing this time, Chuck makes his way
|
|
across the ledge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
129 EXT. SUMMIT - DAY 129
|
|
|
|
He emerges on the top, takes a drink from a hand-made
|
|
canteen, and looks in all directions. Again, he sees
|
|
nothing but ocean.
|
|
|
|
|
|
130 EXT. BEACH - DAY 130
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
55.
|
|
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
131 EXT. PALM GROVE SERIES OF SHOTS - TRYING TO MAKE FIRE 131
|
|
|
|
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 fucking 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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
132 EXT. BEACH - DAY 132
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
133 EXT. PALM GROVE - DAY 133
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
56.
|
|
|
|
|
|
134 EXT. BEACH - LATER 134
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
135 EXT. PALM GROVE 135
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
136 EXT. PALM GROVE - LATER 136
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
137 EXT. OTHER SIDE OF ISLAND - DAY 137
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks some berries and gingerly tries them. They're
|
|
not bad. He eats more. Then more. What a relief.
|
|
|
|
|
|
138 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 138
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
139 EXT. BEACH - DAY 139
|
|
|
|
Still looking a little green, Chuck marks another day on
|
|
his tree calendar.
|
|
|
|
|
|
140 EXT. SUMMIT 140
|
|
|
|
He stares out to sea. Nothing.
|
|
57.
|
|
|
|
|
|
141 EXT. WELL - DAY 141
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
142 EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY 142
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
143 EXT. BEACH - LATER 143
|
|
|
|
Chuck carefully shaves some tinder. Puts it under a piece
|
|
of bamboo split lengthwise with a notch cut across it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
144 EXT. BEACH - LATER 144
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
145 EXT. BEACH - LATER 145
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
58.
|
|
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
146 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 146
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
|
|
147 EXT. BEACH - DAY 147
|
|
|
|
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.
|
|
|
|
He blows some more. A fragile crimson spark appears.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Careful now, careful...
|
|
59.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He gently places the nest of shavings in the kindling, then
|
|
blows on it with utmost care, as if he were holding life
|
|
itself. He shreds his money and business cards over the
|
|
tiny flame.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, the evening breeze lifts the nest out of the
|
|
kindling. Desperate, Chuck grabs it. Trying to shield it
|
|
with his body, he grabs some palm fronds and jams them into
|
|
the sand, trying to make a windbreak. They rustle and shake
|
|
and blow over.
|
|
|
|
The wind blows harder. Chuck jams some rocks in a circle to
|
|
make an eddy. But the fire is out. No words now, just a
|
|
loud, primal groan of pure despair.
|
|
|
|
And then, into his vision floats...smoke.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks down. A wisp of smoke curls up from the nest of
|
|
tinder! Chuck blows on it gently. Suddenly a tiny tongue of
|
|
flame flickers and catches on the kindling!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yes! Yes! Yes!
|
|
|
|
He feeds in some more twigs, more tinder. The flames lick
|
|
out, catch, grow.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
If I ever forgot to thank you God,
|
|
and I am sure I did, thank you now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
148 EXT. BEACH - WIDE - NIGHT 148
|
|
|
|
The fire burns on the beach. Chuck rushes about, piling on
|
|
driftwood.
|
|
|
|
|
|
149 EXT. BEACH - CLOSER 149
|
|
|
|
Chuck darts into the jungle and returns dragging a huge
|
|
log.
|
|
|
|
He throws it on the fire. We see his face in the light of
|
|
the fire. He is exultant. He dances. He sings at the top of
|
|
his lungs. Papa-ooo-mow-mow!
|
|
|
|
Chuck throws another huge log on the fire. Papa-papa-papa-
|
|
oooo! The log splutters and explodes, sending up a huge
|
|
shower of sparks that climb and sparkle in the
|
|
darkness...until they merge with the stars.
|
|
60.
|
|
|
|
|
|
150 EXT. PALM GROVE - MORNING 150
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes a mark on the tree. Around it he carves a flame
|
|
-- the day he mastered fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
151 EXT. PALM GROVE - LATER THAT MORNING 151
|
|
|
|
Chuck sharpens his spear with his stone knife. Then he
|
|
sticks it in the flame to harden it, pulls it out, checks
|
|
it, scrapes some more.
|
|
|
|
|
|
152 EXT. BEACH - DAY 152
|
|
|
|
Chuck wades in the water with his spear. Suddenly he stabs
|
|
it down. A crab is on the end.
|
|
|
|
|
|
153 EXT. BEACH - HALF HOUR LATER 153
|
|
|
|
Chuck removes a crab from out of the fire and breaks a
|
|
steaming crab claw. Chuck takes a bite of the flaky white
|
|
meat. Ahhh. It tastes great. He takes another bite -- and
|
|
flinches.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Damn tooth!
|
|
|
|
He fumbles for his Tylenol and takes two pills.
|
|
|
|
|
|
154 EXT. SUMMIT - SUNSET 154
|
|
|
|
Chuck stands on the summit, looking in all directions.
|
|
|
|
Then, something on the island brings Chuck's eyes back from
|
|
their distant focus on the horizon. From down on the beach,
|
|
beneath the palm grove, there curls a thin column of smoke.
|
|
|
|
Chuck lets a bit of pride creep into his face as he sees
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
He kneels down and begins to build a signal fire.
|
|
|
|
|
|
155 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT - LATER 155
|
|
|
|
Chuck curls up in his bed of palm fronds. The fire burns.
|
|
|
|
Around it is a large stack of crab shells. He stares into
|
|
the fire.
|
|
61.
|
|
|
|
|
|
156 EXT. PALM GROVE - MORNING 156
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes another mark on the tree. He has circled the
|
|
tree with marks several times now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
157 EXT. BEACH - DAY 157
|
|
|
|
Using a safety pin and some suturing thread, Chuck fishes
|
|
carefully. Suddenly he jerks his hand back. On the end is a
|
|
flopping fish.
|
|
|
|
|
|
158 EXT. PALM GROVE - DAY 158
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes a cooked fish off the fire and mixes it with
|
|
some breadfruit. He eats the soft mixture, chewing
|
|
carefully, but his tooth hurts even worse. There are only a
|
|
few Tylenol tablets left. He carefully cuts one in half and
|
|
swallows it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
159 EXT. SUMMIT - AFTERNOON 159
|
|
|
|
Chuck arrives with the wood for the night. He stares out to
|
|
sea as usual, but this time he sees something different.
|
|
|
|
WHALES. He sees whales. Leaping. Broaching. Spouting.
|
|
|
|
Water pouring off fins and flukes. Moving. Going somewhere.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Beautiful. So beautiful.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares at them, stares until the ocean darkens and he
|
|
can see them no more. It's late now.
|
|
|
|
Leaving, he takes one last look, as he always does. And
|
|
another remarkable sight greets his eyes. There, on the
|
|
horizon, just below the evening star, is a...LIGHT. He
|
|
stares at it, fixed.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
A star. It's a star.
|
|
|
|
But then he stares at it really hard.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's a ship.
|
|
|
|
|
|
160 EXT. WOODS - TREE - NEXT DAY 160
|
|
62.
|
|
|
|
|
|
A tree shakes and moves, quivers...
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Timberrr!
|
|
|
|
...then slowly falls with a CRASH!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I heard that...
|
|
|
|
Chuck holds his surgeon's saw over the stump. He walks to
|
|
another tree and begins to saw his way into the trunk.
|
|
|
|
|
|
161 EXT. BEACH - SERIES OF SHOTS 161
|
|
|
|
Up above the high tide line, Chuck lashes a log to a row of
|
|
five logs already joined with vines.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No more waiting. Take action.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sews several designer dresses together with needle
|
|
and suturing thread for a sail.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's right. Take action.
|
|
|
|
He cuts bamboo for the mast. He carves driftwood for an
|
|
oar.
|
|
|
|
He fills gourds with water, stores breadfruit and coconut
|
|
as he sings "Fly Me to the Moon" to himself.
|
|
|
|
He ties the sail to the mast and extends it with a bamboo
|
|
boom lashed on with palm fiber and video tape. He ties on
|
|
the doctor's kit and the FedEx box with the angel wings.
|
|
|
|
He examines his handiwork: a finished raft.
|
|
|
|
He brings out his old life preserver and puts it on, then
|
|
grabs hold of one corner of the raft to pull it down to the
|
|
beach. It doesn't budge. He tries to pull it again.
|
|
|
|
Nothing. He leans his back into it and pushes with his
|
|
legs. Nothing. He collapses on the beach, his breath coming
|
|
in heaves.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
How could I be so stupid?
|
|
|
|
He bangs himself on the head, over and over.
|
|
63.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
|
|
|
|
|
|
162 EXT. PALM GROVE - NIGHT 162
|
|
|
|
Chuck throws new firewood on the dwindling fire. It comes
|
|
back to life. Meteors streak again across the sky. He
|
|
stares at the indifferent stars. The moon is almost full.
|
|
|
|
Shadows of palm trees sway on the sand.
|
|
|
|
|
|
163 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 163
|
|
|
|
Chuck stands by the edge of the water, which shimmers in
|
|
the reflected light of the fire. A wave come in, licks at
|
|
his toes. Lifts up a coconut husk, sweeps it gently out.
|
|
Chuck watches, gets an idea.
|
|
|
|
|
|
164 EXT. BEACH - NIGHT 164
|
|
|
|
He begins to dig in the sand by the raft. He grabs the oar
|
|
and digs faster, making a trench up to where the raft is.
|
|
|
|
|
|
165 EXT. BEACH - MORNING 165
|
|
|
|
The rising tide floods water into the trench. Chuck rocks
|
|
the raft back and forth. It floats! As the wave recedes, it
|
|
takes the raft with it. Chuck has to run beside it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK TRYING TO ESCAPE - MONTAGE
|
|
|
|
Over and over, we see Chuck capsize at the reef. The first
|
|
time he has a bandage on his leg. He tries everything --
|
|
|
|
different rafts, different approaches, but each time the
|
|
ocean spits him back.
|
|
|
|
|
|
166 EXT. LAGOON - DAY 166
|
|
|
|
Defeated and utterly exhausted, Chuck swims back from his
|
|
latest failure. He wades back ashore with the FedEx box and
|
|
throws it on the ground by the palm tree. He has tried so
|
|
hard to escape, so incredibly hard, done everything humanly
|
|
possible and beyond. He rips off his life preserver, throws
|
|
it into the underbrush, then collapses on the beach.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
64.
|
|
|
|
|
|
You're too low in the water. Too
|
|
damn low.
|
|
|
|
Chuck's shoulders begin to shake, as he is racked with deep
|
|
sobs of despair.
|
|
|
|
And then he throws his head back and lets forth, from deep
|
|
inside himself, a SCREAM of rage and anger and pain. The
|
|
Scream pierces the indifferent natural sounds of the
|
|
island, the rustling of the breeze, the lulling rhythm of
|
|
the waves.
|
|
|
|
It is powerful, disturbing, primal.
|
|
|
|
The breeze picks up. Behind Chuck, the palm trees begin to
|
|
sway. The tide is reaching up toward the beach. The waves
|
|
crash louder. The palm trees sway even more.
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up some wet sand and rubs it on his body.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Dust thou art -- that's for damned
|
|
sure -- and unto dust shalt thou
|
|
return.
|
|
|
|
A few DROPS OF RAIN begin to fall, splashing on Chuck and
|
|
sizzling in the fire.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks up: clouds have obscured the sun. The wind
|
|
blows harder. The rain falls harder, streaking the sand
|
|
Chuck had rubbed on his body. STEAM sizzles out of the
|
|
fire.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks up, disbelieving. The bottom falls out of the
|
|
heavens -- monsoon rain, more rain than you have ever seen
|
|
before. A long wave rolls up, its frothy fingers reaching
|
|
for the fire.
|
|
|
|
Forget the raft! Forget despair! The fire could go out!
|
|
|
|
This is disaster!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Shit!
|
|
|
|
He springs into action. Chuck grabs an empty FedEx box.
|
|
|
|
With his wooden shovel he frantically SCOOPS SOME COALS out
|
|
of the fire as the rain HISSES and POUNDS at them. He
|
|
slides the coals into the FedEx box, grabs some sticks of
|
|
driftwood and sets off on a run.
|
|
65.
|
|
|
|
|
|
167 EXT. WOODS - DAY 167
|
|
|
|
Chuck runs through the woods, slipping and stumbling. Vines
|
|
grab at him. The rain is so thick he can hardly see.
|
|
|
|
|
|
168 EXT. WOODS - MINUTES LATER 168
|
|
|
|
Chuck bursts out of the woods into the lava field. Smoke
|
|
pours out of the FedEx box. The coals are about to burn
|
|
through!
|
|
|
|
|
|
169 EXT. LAVA FIELD - MOMENTS LATER 169
|
|
|
|
Chuck stumbles up the slippery rocks, dragging the smoking
|
|
box. His face is drenched, desperate.
|
|
|
|
|
|
170 EXT. CAVE - DAY - MINUTES LATER 170
|
|
|
|
Chuck tumbles into the cave just as the coals burn through
|
|
the FedEx box.
|
|
|
|
Using the remains of the box, he desperately tries to scoot
|
|
the coals into a dry spot.
|
|
|
|
One by one, THE PRECIOUS COALS GO OUT.
|
|
|
|
Dripping water off his hands and face, he pushes a few
|
|
together with his fingers, ignoring the burns.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Please...please...please...
|
|
|
|
He stomps on the driftwood and saws at it with his knife.
|
|
|
|
He places this kindling on the coals. They sputter and
|
|
sizzle. Barely catch. He fans them with the box. A tiny
|
|
flicker catches, then starts to grow.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Firewood. I need firewood.
|
|
|
|
SERIES OF SHOTS
|
|
|
|
On the beach, Chuck desperately gathers more firewood in
|
|
the driving monsoon. He can barely see. Driven by the
|
|
storm, the waves are licking at the palm grove.
|
|
|
|
He runs through the woods. Branches whip at his face.
|
|
66.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Roots tear at his feet, tripping him.
|
|
|
|
He stumbles up the lava field. Sliding. Struggling.
|
|
|
|
Barely able to breathe, the rain is so strong.
|
|
|
|
|
|
171 INT. CAVE - DAY 171
|
|
|
|
He dumps the firewood on the floor of the cave. But where
|
|
the fire had flickered, there is only a pile of wet black
|
|
ashes.
|
|
|
|
THE FIRE IS OUT.
|
|
|
|
|
|
172 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 172
|
|
|
|
Chuck lies on the floor of the cave, shivering in the
|
|
darkness as the rain falls. His fire is out, his tooth is
|
|
killing him, he can't escape.
|
|
|
|
|
|
173 EXT. CAVE - NEXT DAY 173
|
|
|
|
Chuck emerges from the cave. The rain has stopped. This is
|
|
the absolute lowest. His face reflects his pain and
|
|
despair. He's trapped. It's hopeless. Everything he tried
|
|
to build is gone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
174 EXT. LEDGE - DAY 174
|
|
|
|
Chuck slowly walks out on the ledge. He stares down at the
|
|
waves breaking on the jagged rocks far below.
|
|
|
|
He lets go one hand. Then lets go the other. He is barely
|
|
balanced. It looks like a wisp of breeze would blow him
|
|
right off. He slides one foot to the very lip of the
|
|
precipice.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly his foot slips!
|
|
|
|
Instinctively he turns into the cliff, grabs for a hold!
|
|
|
|
One hand reaches for a nubbing of rock, slips off! The
|
|
other closes, his fingers straining to hold him.
|
|
|
|
He breathes in deep gasps. He had wanted to end it, come so
|
|
close.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
67.
|
|
|
|
|
|
What the fuck are you doing?
|
|
|
|
His deepest instinct was to survive. And that is what he is
|
|
going to do.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hang on. Just hang on.
|
|
|
|
Slowly he pulls himself back from the edge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
175 EXT. BEACH - LATER 175
|
|
|
|
Chuck walks aimlessly down the beach, feeling the burden of
|
|
starting over. The beach is littered with seaweed and
|
|
flotsam, bits of rope, plastic bottles. He picks up a
|
|
plastic bottle. That will come in handy.
|
|
|
|
The Chuck sees a SOCCER BALL with "Wilson" stamped on it in
|
|
big black letters.
|
|
|
|
He picks it up, holds it, tosses it up in the air. Then he
|
|
kicks it, then kicks it again, then runs down the beach,
|
|
trying to kick it and keep it out of the water. Feeling joy
|
|
again, even here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
176 INT. CAVE - THAT DAY 176
|
|
|
|
The sun is setting on his darkened cave. The soccer ball
|
|
sits in the corner by the black cold ashes of what was once
|
|
his fire.
|
|
|
|
Chuck carves a bit of coconut meat, takes a bite and winces
|
|
as the meat hits his sore tooth. He tosses the shell on a
|
|
small new pile of shells.
|
|
|
|
Chuck shakes out the last half Tylenol tablet. He puts the
|
|
tablet in his mouth, then takes a sip out of his coconut
|
|
canteen. When the water hits his tooth that hurts too.
|
|
|
|
|
|
177 INT. CAVE - MORNING 177
|
|
|
|
Chuck mixes a mash of breadfruit and coconut. He tries to
|
|
pack the tooth with the mash, but it's so sensitive that
|
|
even this hurts. He pounds the floor of the cave in
|
|
frustration.
|
|
|
|
|
|
178 INT. CAVE - LATER 178
|
|
68.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck holds a stone chisel and his hammer stone. He
|
|
positions the chisel against his inflamed tooth. But the
|
|
thought of what he is about to do is too frightening. He
|
|
lowers the chisel.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Shit. Shit. Shit.
|
|
|
|
|
|
179 EXT. BEACH - DAY 179
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries to fill his mouth with sea water. The pain is
|
|
so great his eyes water.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Whoo, pig. Sooey!
|
|
|
|
He falls back in the water and floats there, looking up at
|
|
the sky.
|
|
|
|
|
|
180 INT. CAVE - LATER 180
|
|
|
|
Determined, Chuck hold the stone chisel again. He raises it
|
|
slowly to his mouth and picks up the hammer stone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No pain, no gain.
|
|
|
|
He brings the hammer down hard on the chisel! The screen
|
|
goes BLACK as Chuck's SCREAM continues UNDER.
|
|
|
|
FADE IN:
|
|
|
|
|
|
181 EXT. OCEAN - SUNRISE - THREE YEARS LATER 181
|
|
|
|
The sky takes on the first colors of the day. The ocean is
|
|
still dark, but a few waves catch the first light. The
|
|
sunrise touches the summit, moves down the cliff, then
|
|
lights the cove. On the screen superimpose:
|
|
|
|
"1000 DAYS LATER"
|
|
|
|
REFLECTION - WATER
|
|
|
|
A spear shimmers in the calm morning water. Attached to the
|
|
spear is a man, standing completely still.
|
|
|
|
ON CHUCK
|
|
69.
|
|
|
|
|
|
We move up out of the reflection to the real man. His legs
|
|
are scarred. The remnants of a dress wrap around his
|
|
middle. A stone knife on a neatly mounted haft is stuck in
|
|
a belt made of videotape and woven fiber. Necklaces of
|
|
shark's teeth and shells hang from his neck. His hair is
|
|
long. A coconut frond hat is on his head.
|
|
|
|
The hand wrapped around the spear is scarred and brown as a
|
|
berry. It holds the spear perfectly still. The watch is
|
|
gone.
|
|
|
|
We come around slowly until we see Chuck's face. The eyes
|
|
say it all. They stare out with a survivor's intensity,
|
|
staring at the water, unblinking. This is the man who used
|
|
to splash futilely about in the water trying to fish.
|
|
|
|
This is the FedEx man who was plugged into the tumult of
|
|
activity and energy, surrounded by technology and human
|
|
activity at its most intense, devoted to making seconds
|
|
count. Now he is utterly alone, and utterly still.
|
|
|
|
And now he has all the time in the world.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, without an once of wasted motion, he shoots the
|
|
spear forward at a low angle. It quivers, stuck on the
|
|
bottom. He pulls it out with a practiced twist. On the end
|
|
is a struggling fish.
|
|
|
|
But this isn't a thrill anymore. It's another day at the
|
|
office.
|
|
|
|
|
|
182 EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY 182
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes a mark on a palm tree. He has completely
|
|
covered three other trees with marks. It sinks in how long
|
|
he has been here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
183 EXT. JUNGLE - LATER 183
|
|
|
|
Chuck carries the fish back from the beach. Now there is a
|
|
well-worn trail.
|
|
|
|
|
|
184 INT. CAVE - THAT AFTERNOON 184
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters with the fish. We are greeted with the well-
|
|
ordered lair of a primitive stone-age man.
|
|
|
|
Clam shell spirals weave in and out around the fire hole.
|
|
|
|
Strips of eel jerky and fish hang drying from racks.
|
|
70.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Tools are lined up neatly: digging sticks, stone hammers
|
|
and saws, spears neatly hafted onto shafts, drills, awls.
|
|
|
|
Bits and pieces of feathers, skins, bones, rags, leaves --
|
|
|
|
are all neatly arranged. Strings and cords hang from hooks.
|
|
|
|
Coconut bowls and cooking rocks form a small kitchen. A
|
|
raincoat and rain-hat woven of palm fronds is neatly draped
|
|
over a frame.
|
|
|
|
Evocative pieces of driftwood decorate the room. A wind
|
|
chime of obsidian flakes sways gently. The watch hangs on a
|
|
stick.
|
|
|
|
The Angel Box has the place of honor on one side. On the
|
|
other side the Wilson soccer ball rests on a throne of
|
|
rocks. Seaweed has been placed on the ball as hair. Clam
|
|
shells have been stuck on for eyes, other shells form a
|
|
mouth. A tube shell and conch form a pipe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
185 INT. CAVE - FIRE - NIGHT 185
|
|
|
|
The fish are being smoke under a palm frond. Eel skins hang
|
|
from sticks, roasting. Chuck sits by the fire, hafting a
|
|
stone knife onto a wooden haft.
|
|
|
|
He ties some fiber to a stick, then braids it into string,
|
|
using both hands and his mouth for the three strands.
|
|
|
|
He ties the string tightly around the shaft. He does his
|
|
work automatically.
|
|
|
|
|
|
186 INT. CAVE - NIGHT - LATER 186
|
|
|
|
Chuck eats some fish and some mashed breadfruit. He chews
|
|
each bite, his eyes in distant focus. The firelight
|
|
flickers on his face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
187 EXT. CLIFF - SUNRISE 187
|
|
|
|
Chuck carries firewood up to the summit. He mechanically
|
|
adds wood to the fire. As he does so, something out to sea
|
|
catches his eye. He stops and stands up.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK'S POV - WHALES
|
|
|
|
WHALES broach out past the rocky point. Spouts of water
|
|
shoot into the air.
|
|
71.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ON CHUCK
|
|
As he watches them, a light comes
|
|
back into his eyes. He
|
|
|
|
grins. There's a big gap where his teeth had been. He turns
|
|
and strides down the hill.
|
|
|
|
|
|
188 EXT. CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER 188
|
|
|
|
He heads across the rock bridge that once had so terrified
|
|
him, without losing stride. It's second nature now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
189 INT. CAVE - MOMENTS LATER 189
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters the cave, picks up the ball and heads out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
190 EXT. SUMMIT - EVENING 190
|
|
|
|
The signal fire burns. A spectacular cloudy sunset lights
|
|
up the sky. Chuck sits with Wilson on the summit, a bowl of
|
|
mashed breadfruit in one hand, a bowl of roasted eel skin
|
|
in another.
|
|
|
|
As Chuck watches the sunset unfold, watches the whales
|
|
going by in the darkened water, he takes some roasted eel
|
|
chips, dips them into the breadfruit paste, and offers one
|
|
to Wilson. His voice is flat, monotonal.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Chips? Dip?
|
|
|
|
But Wilson declines.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No?
|
|
|
|
He takes a big crunchy bite.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Another fucking day in paradise.
|
|
|
|
PULL BACK as the sun goes down and Chuck reaches into the
|
|
bowl again and dips an eel skin chip in the dip.
|
|
|
|
|
|
191 EXT. ROCKY LEDGE - NIGHT - LATER 191
|
|
|
|
Torch in one hand, Wilson in the other, Chuck walks across
|
|
the rocky ledge. He passes the flume without even noticing.
|
|
72.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Suddenly his shoe breaks! It's sandal made of woven yucca
|
|
leaves.
|
|
|
|
He bends down and fixes it, then heads on down the ledge.
|
|
|
|
|
|
192 EXT. LEDGE - MOMENTS LATER 192
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes a casual leap, a leap he has made hundreds of
|
|
times, but this time the sandal comes loose. It catches on
|
|
a rock, and CHUCK FALLS!
|
|
|
|
His hands are cut and bruised. He tries to get up, can't.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits back and examines his foot. His fingers come
|
|
back covered with blood. He reaches out to steady himself,
|
|
and leaves a HANDPRINT OF BLOOD on the rock.
|
|
|
|
|
|
193 INT. CAVE - LATER 193
|
|
|
|
Chuck wraps his foot in bandages.
|
|
|
|
|
|
194 INT. CAVE - LATER 194
|
|
|
|
Chuck's face is sweaty. He looks down at his foot. It is
|
|
red, swollen, infected. He stands up, tries to put some
|
|
weight on it. The pain is intense.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sticks the scalpel onto some coals to sterilize it.
|
|
|
|
He holds it over his foot, takes a breath, then jabs in
|
|
into the wound. The pain is intense. Chuck passes out.
|
|
|
|
|
|
195 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 195
|
|
|
|
Chuck stirs, takes a drink, weakly tosses on another log,
|
|
and collapses back on the floor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
196 INT. CAVE - DAY 196
|
|
|
|
Chuck wakes up, trembling, shaking, wet with sweat. He
|
|
staggers up. His shadow sways on the wall of the cave. He
|
|
struggles to get another log on the fire. He squints at his
|
|
only companion, the soccer ball.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Help me, Wilson...
|
|
73.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He collapses again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
197 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 197
|
|
|
|
Chuck stirs and squints his eyes. He takes a drink of
|
|
water. He is feeling better. He puts another log on the
|
|
fire and slowly begins to chew on some breadfruit and dried
|
|
fish.
|
|
|
|
|
|
198 EXT. BEACH - LATER 198
|
|
|
|
Chuck slowly wades into the water, favoring his injured
|
|
foot. But something feels different. He glances around.
|
|
|
|
What is it? And then he sees something, perhaps the worst
|
|
possible sight.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK'S POV - SAIL
|
|
|
|
A SAIL is moving steadily away from the island.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Throws down the spear and waves his
|
|
arms.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No! Wait! Come back!
|
|
|
|
He runs into the water and starts to swim. He is so weak,
|
|
however, he can only make a few strokes. He tries to yell
|
|
as he swims...
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wait! Wait!
|
|
|
|
Choking and weak, he turns back and drags himself up on the
|
|
beach. In the b.g., the sail dwindles into the distance.
|
|
|
|
|
|
199 EXT. SUMMIT - LATER 199
|
|
|
|
Chuck struggles to the top of the hill. His fire has been
|
|
extinguished by the rain. In the distance, far against the
|
|
horizon, he sees a sail -- or is it a cloud? The whiteness
|
|
shimmers against the horizon. Chuck squints.
|
|
|
|
Whatever it was, it is gone. Above him some contrails from
|
|
jets mark the sky.
|
|
|
|
Furious, he kicks his signal fire, scattering the burnt-out
|
|
coals.
|
|
74.
|
|
|
|
|
|
200 EXT. BEACH - LATER THAT DAY 200
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes a new mark on his calendar tree. Then he stops.
|
|
|
|
He CUTS an angry big line under the last mark, then hacks
|
|
away at the palm tree, slashing it with the stone knife,
|
|
ripping and marking through all his dates. Finally the
|
|
stone knife breaks in two. Chuck drops the broken half and
|
|
catches his breath.
|
|
|
|
|
|
201 EXT. CAVE - NIGHT 201
|
|
|
|
Chuck enters the cave. No signal fires burn. The island is
|
|
dark.
|
|
|
|
|
|
202 EXT. SUMMIT - DAY 202
|
|
|
|
Chuck stands on the summit, staring out to sea. Nothing,
|
|
not even a contrail, not even a whale spout.
|
|
|
|
|
|
203 EXT. CLIFF - MOMENTS LATER 203
|
|
|
|
He is on his way down, suddenly he sees something and
|
|
stops.
|
|
|
|
It's the HANDPRINT, the bloody handprint, his own
|
|
handprint.
|
|
|
|
He slowly extends his hand and covers it, then pulls it
|
|
away. Traces it with his fingers.
|
|
|
|
|
|
204 INT. CAVE - DAYS LATER 204
|
|
|
|
Chuck has the beginnings of an artist's studio. Several
|
|
large clam shells hold paint. A few egg shells are lined
|
|
up. Brushes have been made from roots and feathers.
|
|
|
|
Chuck covers his hand with paint and makes a handprint on
|
|
the wall of the cave. He stands back and looks at it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
205 INT. CAVE - DAY 205
|
|
|
|
He chews some berries, then holds his hand against the wall
|
|
of the cave and spits a dark blue mist around it. When he
|
|
takes his hand away, the silhouette of his handprint
|
|
remains.
|
|
75.
|
|
|
|
|
|
206 INT. CAVE - DAY 206
|
|
|
|
With the Angel Wing Box as a model, Chuck dips one of his
|
|
feather brushes in paint, and make a tentative line on the
|
|
wall of the cave. He works hesitantly, rubs off a line,
|
|
tries again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
207 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 207
|
|
|
|
Chuck is finishing his first figure, a crude portrait of a
|
|
man -- himself? Hard to tell. He examines his work. He
|
|
takes some shells and sticks them on as eyes.
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up Wilson, thinks.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You old airhead, you need a
|
|
makeover.
|
|
|
|
He takes some charcoal out of his fire and draws eyebrows
|
|
on the ball. Then, he mashes some berries, dips his fingers
|
|
in the juice, and makes lips. He sticks shells on with clay
|
|
for eyes. Then he looks at the face.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wilson, you bad!
|
|
|
|
He sits back and regards his companion. He gestures around
|
|
the cave at the new paintings.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What do you think?
|
|
|
|
But Wilson doesn't have an opinion.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You don't share much, do you?
|
|
|
|
Idly Chuck takes down the Angel Box.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I guess I know how Kelly felt.
|
|
|
|
For a long time he studies the wings on it. With a stick,
|
|
he tries to draw a similar wing on the dusty floor of the
|
|
cave. Dissatisfied, he wipes it away. He looks at the Angel
|
|
Box.
|
|
|
|
Casually he reaches over and cuts it open with a stone
|
|
knife. Inside he finds two bottles of green salsa. And a
|
|
letter.
|
|
76.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He reads over it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You said our life was a prison.
|
|
Dull. Boring. Empty. I can't begin
|
|
to tell you how much that hurt. I
|
|
don't want to lose you. I'm
|
|
enclosing some salsa, the verde you
|
|
like. Use it on your sticky rice
|
|
and think of home. Then come home -
|
|
- to me. We'll find the spice in
|
|
our lives again. Together. I love
|
|
you. Always. Bettina.
|
|
|
|
Visibly moved, Chuck puts down the letter.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
He never got it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
208 EXT. ISLAND - DAY 208
|
|
|
|
The monsoon pours down. Wind whips the palm trees. The
|
|
waves are gray and angry, tearing at the beach.
|
|
|
|
|
|
209 INT. CAVE - DAY 209
|
|
|
|
As the rain pours down outside, Chuck studies the sodden,
|
|
ruined photograph of Kelly, which is really only a gray
|
|
mess.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
She's probably found someone else.
|
|
I would have.
|
|
|
|
Chuck dips his finger into one of the bowls of colors and
|
|
streaks it slowly across his face. To exorcise his
|
|
loneliness, he will paint on the most expressive canvas
|
|
there is: his own body.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK PAINTING HIMSELF - MONTAGE
|
|
|
|
Close-up on scarred fingers, as they paint on Chuck's face
|
|
and body. Color on skin. Tight dramatic shots of Chuck
|
|
being transformed.
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes white paint and covers his hand. Then he
|
|
presses it into his chest and makes a handprint. He draws a
|
|
yellow spiral on his leg, then takes red and makes jagged
|
|
lightning bolts on his chest on either side of the hand.
|
|
|
|
WATER
|
|
77.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Shimmers in a gourd. Chuck's face
|
|
swims into focus. It has
|
|
|
|
been painted white. Looking at himself in the reflection,
|
|
he dots on blue stars with dark blue from squid ink.
|
|
|
|
|
|
210 EXT. CAVE - LATER 210
|
|
|
|
The rains have stopped. The island is washed bright and
|
|
green.
|
|
|
|
ON CHUCK
|
|
As he stands up in the cove. His
|
|
face is white with blue
|
|
|
|
stars. Handprints circle his torso, flanked by red
|
|
lightning bolts. Braided cords circle his biceps. Bone
|
|
necklaces hang from his neck. Feathers jut out from his
|
|
hair.
|
|
|
|
|
|
211 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY 211
|
|
|
|
Chuck goes from tree to tree, making handprints along his
|
|
path. Chuck was here. This is his mark.
|
|
|
|
|
|
212 EXT. PALM GROVE - DAY 212
|
|
|
|
He covers the calendar trees with handprints. Then stops.
|
|
|
|
Sees something. Eyes fixed on the beach, he walks toward
|
|
the shoreline.
|
|
|
|
|
|
213 EXT. BEACH - DAY 213
|
|
|
|
Chuck emerges from the palm trees, and now we see what he
|
|
had seen.
|
|
|
|
A FIFTY-FIVE GALLON OIL DRUM.
|
|
|
|
And another one. TWO. Chuck stares at the barrels.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hello.
|
|
|
|
|
|
214 EXT. BEACH - LATER 214
|
|
78.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits staring at the oil drums. It's almost as if he
|
|
is hesitating to take advantage of them. That he may not
|
|
want, really, to leave now.
|
|
|
|
Then his inner struggle ends.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What the hell are you waiting for?
|
|
|
|
|
|
215 EXT. BEACH - LATER 215
|
|
|
|
Filled with determination, Chuck rolls a barrel up the
|
|
beach.
|
|
|
|
|
|
216 EXT. BEACH - LATER 216
|
|
|
|
Using a palm tree as a fulcrum, Chuck hauls hard on a rope
|
|
made of vines, pulling the barrel up off the beach.
|
|
|
|
|
|
217 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY 217
|
|
|
|
Chuck throws aside palm leaves, revealing...the remains of
|
|
his raft.
|
|
|
|
|
|
218 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 218
|
|
|
|
Chuck is drawing with a purpose now. And we see what he is
|
|
working on. The plans for a raft.
|
|
|
|
|
|
219 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 219
|
|
|
|
Chuck is making a list of what he needs. He works intently.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Canteens. Sea anchor. Got to weave
|
|
rope. Spears. A sail.
|
|
|
|
|
|
220 EXT. JUNGLE - DAY 220
|
|
|
|
Chuck lashes the barrels onto the raft. Checks the knots.
|
|
|
|
Lashes more rope.
|
|
|
|
|
|
221 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 221
|
|
79.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He sews dresses together with handmade fiber string.
|
|
|
|
|
|
222 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 222
|
|
|
|
He weaves videotape together to form a sea anchor.
|
|
|
|
|
|
223 EXT. BEACH - DAY 223
|
|
|
|
Chuck digs a channel toward the raft.
|
|
|
|
|
|
224 INT. CAVE - DAY 224
|
|
|
|
Chuck constructs a water collection device with some FedEx
|
|
boxes, some plastic weighted with a stone. Explains it to
|
|
Wilson.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Now I'm hoping that if this is
|
|
airtight I'll get condensation down
|
|
here, a cup or so a day. If I'm
|
|
careful it should be enough.
|
|
|
|
|
|
225 INT. CAVE - NIGHT 225
|
|
|
|
Chuck writes on the wall.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
If I never return, know that here
|
|
lived Chuck Noland for four years.
|
|
I drew these paintings. I made
|
|
these marks. And then I took my
|
|
fate in my own hands and set forth
|
|
to save myself, God willing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
226 EXT. BEACH - DAY 226
|
|
|
|
Chuck loads the raft, which rocks gently in the cove. He
|
|
has a sail made of designer dresses sewn together with
|
|
fiber thread. A sea anchor secured by videotape woven
|
|
together into a rope. Plastic bottles filled with water. A
|
|
signal kite made of FedEx paper.
|
|
|
|
Then comes the FedEx box with the angel wings. Then Wilson.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wilson, my main man. Time to go.
|
|
|
|
And he gently leads the raft into the lagoon.
|
|
80.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wonder what odds Stan would give me
|
|
on this. I'd say 90-10. Against.
|
|
|
|
He jumps onto the raft, begins to paddle out toward where
|
|
the surf crashes onto the reef.
|
|
|
|
|
|
227 EXT. LAGOON - DAY 227
|
|
|
|
Waves break against the reef. With his paddles Chuck
|
|
maneuvers the raft toward the cut in the reef. Boom! The
|
|
wave crashes, the water surges through the cut, then
|
|
recedes with a whoosh.
|
|
|
|
Chuck watches, times the waves, paddles like mad. He's
|
|
committed. SCRAPE goes the first barrel, then the second,
|
|
riding the receding wave. He's out!
|
|
|
|
But the next wave is already surging forward. It smashes
|
|
the raft against the reef! Coconuts and foodstuffs hurtle
|
|
off the raft!
|
|
|
|
The barrels cushion the impact. The raft tilts, spins, but
|
|
stays outside the reef! The ropes holding the jugs of water
|
|
break! The water sweeps overboard!
|
|
|
|
The wave recedes again. Chuck recovers, paddles with all
|
|
his strength, and then he's clear of the breakers!
|
|
|
|
For a long moment he floats on the rollers, getting his
|
|
breath.
|
|
|
|
The water jugs float away, carried by the waves back into
|
|
the lagoon. Chuck could go back and get them. If he were
|
|
being prudent, he definitely would.
|
|
|
|
But he's out. He might never get back out again.
|
|
|
|
He stares at the lagoon and the receding water jugs. Then
|
|
he stares at the island. Goodbye to all that.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wilson, we're out of here.
|
|
|
|
He turns and begins raising the sail.
|
|
|
|
|
|
228 EXT. OCEAN - WIDE - MINUTES LATER 228
|
|
|
|
Powered by its multicolored makeshift sail, trailing its
|
|
gently flapping signal kite of FedEx paper, the raft slowly
|
|
moves away from the island, out toward the open ocean.
|
|
81.
|
|
|
|
|
|
And we pull back until the ocean swallows the tiny raft and
|
|
then we TILT DOWN AND...
|
|
|
|
DISSOLVE TO:
|
|
|
|
|
|
229 EXT. OCEAN - DAY - FOUR WEEKS LATER 229
|
|
|
|
The ocean again, low. The raft floats into frame. A trace
|
|
of a breeze flaps the signal kite, which barely stays
|
|
aloft, its rope frayed and tattered. The still is set up in
|
|
the middle, plastic with a rock weighting down the center.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is gaunt, his clothes rotted.
|
|
|
|
He lies looking over the side of the raft, spear in one
|
|
hand, staring intently at the water.
|
|
|
|
Dorados swim like specters, flashing and darting. Chuck
|
|
stabs with his spear. Stabs again.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Slow down, damn you!
|
|
|
|
Exhausted, he sinks back to the raft. Two Dorados leap into
|
|
the air ahead of him.
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries to stare again into the water. He spots another
|
|
fish, a flash of silver under the surface.
|
|
|
|
Chuck struggles to his feet, raises his spear. SPLAT!
|
|
|
|
Something strikes him in the chest, almost knocking him
|
|
into the water.
|
|
|
|
On the raft we see flashes of silver and green and blue. A
|
|
FLYING FISH. Chuck dives at it, catches it, loses it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Catch it catch it catch it --
|
|
|
|
He catches it again just as it almost flops over the side.
|
|
|
|
|
|
230 EXT. RAFT - MOMENTS LATER 230
|
|
|
|
Chuck sucks the juice out of the head. He chews meat off
|
|
the tiny rib bones.
|
|
82.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck is in the stage of malnutrition, vitamin deprivation,
|
|
salt insufficiency, and exposure where the personality
|
|
splits and becomes external. Like all castaways, he has
|
|
conversations with the two sides of himself.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Save some for tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Catch another fish tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
BadChuck wins. Chuck keeps eating. He stares up at the sun,
|
|
which beats down unmercifully.
|
|
|
|
|
|
231 EXT. RAFT - DAY - LATER 231
|
|
|
|
The raft drifts. Chuck has taken down the sail and rigged
|
|
it as a canopy. Drenched with sweat, Chuck lies on the
|
|
raft, trying to sleep. He dabs at some sores that are
|
|
ulcerating his body and won't let him get comfortable.
|
|
|
|
Plus, there's a chaffing, squeaking sound. He looks around
|
|
for the source.
|
|
|
|
We see it with him. One of the ropes is frayed and about to
|
|
break. If it does, the logs will come apart from the
|
|
floats.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Shit! Shit! Shit!
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Stay calm, identify the problem.
|
|
Problem, rope fraying. Solution,
|
|
fix rope.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
With what? There's nothing to fix
|
|
it with. This rope comes undone,
|
|
you're going to drown.
|
|
|
|
GOOD CHUCK
|
|
Just get up and fix it.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Too tired.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Get up.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Feels so good to lie here.
|
|
83.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Get up, damn you.
|
|
|
|
Chuck comes to his knees. Then sinks back down.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Can't. Need water.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
You've had today's water.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Thirsty.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Come on, shape up, get going, you
|
|
can do it.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
No water, no work.
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries another tack. Sweet reason.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Okay look, I know you're tired, I
|
|
know you're thirsty, but give it
|
|
one more shot, you've just got to
|
|
do a little more.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Do too much, I'll die.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Do too little you'll die.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Going to die anyway.
|
|
|
|
That stops GoodChuck for a moment.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Okay, look have an extra swallow.
|
|
|
|
He holds up the pathetic little jar with its few teaspoons
|
|
of murky water.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
No more water, you said.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Take it.
|
|
84.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Take it, damn it.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Wilson, do you believe this? Take
|
|
the damn water.
|
|
|
|
Slowly Chuck gets up, lifts up the water jar, and takes a
|
|
swallow. Then another.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Stop. Enough.
|
|
|
|
Then another.
|
|
|
|
|
|
232 EXT. RAFT - DAY - LATER 232
|
|
|
|
Chuck works to braid a new rope. He is focused,
|
|
concentrating as hard as he can, but everything is slow and
|
|
hard and he's weak and clumsy. He tests the rope, but it
|
|
doesn't hold.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Think. Got to use something else.
|
|
|
|
He gets an idea, starts to pull the signal kite in.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
If they can't see you, what's the
|
|
point?
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Survive today, that's the point.
|
|
|
|
The kite rope is much thinner than the rope he had used to
|
|
tie the logs, but it's all he has. He ties the log with the
|
|
kite rope. Exhausted, he lies back down.
|
|
|
|
|
|
233 EXT. RAFT - NIGHT 233
|
|
|
|
The moon is full. The waves cast off shadows on the ocean.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is staring into the sky, trying to find a star to
|
|
navigate by.
|
|
85.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Polaris, where are you? Maybe I'm
|
|
too far south.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You don't know where you are. You
|
|
missed the shipping lanes.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Moon's too bright.
|
|
|
|
We hear the fraying sound again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
234 EXT. RAFT - DAY 234
|
|
|
|
Chuck saws at the outer log with his stone knife. Across
|
|
the water comes a storm. We can see it like a waterfall
|
|
moving toward us.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You're putting off the inevitable.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I'm putting it off.
|
|
|
|
He looks at the deteriorating rope, at the rotting sail.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
That's what's happening to you.
|
|
|
|
Chuck pushes the outer log away, then takes the loose rope
|
|
and begins to lash it around the center logs.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You're rotting away.
|
|
|
|
The raft is rocking. The waves are stronger. It's hard to
|
|
tie the logs together.
|
|
|
|
Rain falls like a sheet on Chuck.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Get water!
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Fix raft first.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Water water water --
|
|
86.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck works frantically in the rain, trying to tie the
|
|
rope.
|
|
|
|
Finally he does.
|
|
|
|
Then he scrambles for his water collecting funnel,
|
|
struggles to pull it up. One corner is stuck and collapses.
|
|
|
|
Desperately he rights it, pulls the funnel up.
|
|
|
|
Drops begin to run down the sides and collect in the jar.
|
|
|
|
Soaked, Chuck stares at the water as it rises.
|
|
|
|
Then the rain stops.
|
|
|
|
We see the line of rain recede away from Chuck, spattering
|
|
the ocean. But all around him the ocean is calm again.
|
|
|
|
And out comes the sun.
|
|
|
|
|
|
235 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 235
|
|
|
|
The raft floats on quiet seas. The sky is blue, with few
|
|
high cirrus clouds so motionless they seem pasted on.
|
|
|
|
Chuck lies on the raft, sick and weak.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, from the depths beside him, silently rises a huge
|
|
shape.
|
|
|
|
A SPERM WHALE, still mainly submerged. The blow hole is
|
|
near Chuck, wet and pulsing like giant lips. The eye of the
|
|
whale is only a few feet away. It looks upon Chuck out of
|
|
an intelligence deep and alien.
|
|
|
|
He slowly comes to his knees and stares at it.
|
|
|
|
The blow hole opens and WHOOSH, out shoots a geyser of fine
|
|
spray which settles on Chuck in a mist.
|
|
|
|
The whale rises farther, dwarfing the raft. From the whale
|
|
comes a deep sound like a foghorn.
|
|
|
|
Startled, Chuck jumps back, rocking the raft. He catches
|
|
himself, slowly reaches out and touches the whale.
|
|
|
|
The whale blows again, drenching Chuck in more spray.
|
|
|
|
Chuck touches the whale again.
|
|
87.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
You like that?
|
|
|
|
Very slowly it drifts along with the raft.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Lost your mate?
|
|
|
|
We look right into the whale's eye. Beneath the surface we
|
|
can see the huge jaws open and close.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
You're beautiful. Marry me.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You idiot, if he dives, he'll
|
|
capsize the raft.
|
|
|
|
Very slowly the whale moves ahead of the raft, its vast
|
|
body passing Chuck.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
No, don't go. Look, I've got fish.
|
|
|
|
Chuck rips a fillet off the line and throws it in front of
|
|
the whale, which ignores it.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Please don't dive. Please.
|
|
|
|
The whale slowly sinks, then suddenly arches its huge back
|
|
and heads straight for the bottom.
|
|
|
|
For a moment, all that remains are the flukes, black and
|
|
vertical against the dark blue sky. With one swoop, those
|
|
flukes could destroy Chuck and his raft. But they don't do
|
|
anything except slowly sink.
|
|
|
|
Then it is gone.
|
|
|
|
We are on Chuck's face as he stares at where the whale had
|
|
been, the surface marked only by a ring of concentric
|
|
ripples that reach out and gently rock the raft.
|
|
|
|
|
|
236 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 236
|
|
|
|
Chuck checks the water. It is green and full of floaties.
|
|
|
|
It looks awful. He takes the jug, puts it to his mouth, and
|
|
drinks. Instantly he throws up back into the jug, barely
|
|
keeps from dropping it.
|
|
88.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Look what you've done.
|
|
|
|
He dips his hand into the ocean, splashes some sea water on
|
|
his face, splutters it out, then licks his lips. He is so
|
|
thirsty.
|
|
|
|
He looks at the water jug, full now with his own vomit,
|
|
turns away, begins to work on the sea anchor again.
|
|
|
|
But the work makes him even thirstier. He looks at the jug
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
Picks it up. Takes a long drink.
|
|
|
|
|
|
237 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 237
|
|
|
|
The fish return. Chuck gets up with his spear, then puts it
|
|
down.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
What are you doing?
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Can't kill another one. Can't.
|
|
Can't kill my friends anymore.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You fucking bleeding heart, you
|
|
kill or you die.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Why do they have to die for me?
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
They'd eat you if they could.
|
|
They're laughing at you. Listen.
|
|
|
|
Chuck listens. Doesn't hear anything.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Got to eat.
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up the spear, stabs it, misses.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly he has a fish on the end of the spear. It
|
|
struggles, he scoops it onto the raft, brutally pounds on
|
|
its head, twists the stone knife into its spine. The
|
|
struggling stops.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks at the dead fish and begins to sob.
|
|
89.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I am so sorry.
|
|
|
|
He cries uncontrollably. As he cries he cuts off the head,
|
|
pulls out the eyeballs, and eats each one. Then he sucks
|
|
the marrow out of the head.
|
|
|
|
Then takes the heart and eats that. Then eats the liver.
|
|
|
|
As he is chewing, he cuts the meat into strips.
|
|
|
|
When he is done, he takes the backbone, breaks it, and
|
|
sucks on it.
|
|
|
|
Fish scales shine in his hair, blood covers his chest.
|
|
|
|
|
|
238 EXT. OCEAN - NIGHT 238
|
|
|
|
The raft rocks gently. Chuck looks up. The strips of fish
|
|
are glowing. So is the deck where he killed the fish.
|
|
|
|
He reaches out to touch the fish strips. His hand is
|
|
glowing too.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm an angel.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly he sees other lights. A ship. A ship is out there.
|
|
And he hears it, a humming in deep register.
|
|
|
|
He waves his hands. He yells.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Here! Here!
|
|
|
|
His voice cracks, we can barely hear it over the ocean.
|
|
|
|
The lights move on.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No...no...no...
|
|
|
|
His raft is rocked by the wake, rocked hard. Chuck is
|
|
thrown into the water!
|
|
|
|
He comes to the surface, sputtering. Where is the raft?
|
|
|
|
He looks one way, then another. Darkness.
|
|
|
|
This is the worst.
|
|
90.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He turns again in the water. There, dimly, he can see the
|
|
glow from the fish he killed. The glow saves his life.
|
|
|
|
He swims toward it.
|
|
|
|
He pulls himself back on the raft.
|
|
|
|
He lies there exhausted, the glow from the phosphorescence
|
|
casting a greenish light on his face.
|
|
|
|
|
|
239 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 239
|
|
|
|
Clouds are building up. In the distance lightning flashes.
|
|
|
|
The clouds come closer.
|
|
|
|
Little bits of electricity jump off the mast. Saint Elmos
|
|
fire jumps around Chuck's hand.
|
|
|
|
Fascinated, he holds out his hand. The fire jumps from his
|
|
hand to the mast.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly lightning shoots from the sky and strikes the
|
|
ocean! A huge spout of water explodes like a depth charge.
|
|
|
|
The CRACK is intense, then rolls away.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares, then realizes the danger and throws himself
|
|
down on the raft. Suddenly a wall of rain sweeps over him
|
|
and the ocean begins to roll. The thunder is deafening.
|
|
|
|
Lightning flashes bursts through the rain.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Sea anchor! Let out the sea anchor!
|
|
|
|
Frantic, Chuck lets out the sea anchor as the raft scuds
|
|
down a huge wave. The anchor catches, slowing the raft so
|
|
that it rides the wave down.
|
|
|
|
The waves come at him high as houses. The raft rides up one
|
|
side, then plunges down the next.
|
|
|
|
All Chuck can do is hold on.
|
|
|
|
|
|
240 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 240
|
|
|
|
The storm has passed. The raft floats on big dark rollers.
|
|
91.
|
|
|
|
|
|
We hear the chirping and squeaking of dolphins. They come
|
|
close to the raft. Chuck watches them play. Then realizes
|
|
they are chasing his fish.
|
|
|
|
They drive them along, into the path of another dolphin,
|
|
who darts in and rips into the dorado, turning the water
|
|
around the raft into churning, bloody foam.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Stop!
|
|
|
|
He takes his oar and begins beating the water. The killing
|
|
continues.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You fucking murderers!
|
|
|
|
Suddenly the water is still. One dolphin sticks its head
|
|
out of the water and stares at Chuck, squeaking.
|
|
|
|
Another dolphin lifts its head up, then another. They
|
|
squeak to each other, clearly communicating and talking
|
|
about Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I know you're talking about me!
|
|
|
|
He splashes the water with his oar.
|
|
|
|
They dive, then jump into the air, squeaking as they go.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
(very softly)
|
|
Take me with you.
|
|
|
|
They're gone.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Why me? Why me, God?
|
|
|
|
He begins to laugh.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Listen to this, Wilson.
|
|
(deep voice: God)
|
|
Because you piss me off.
|
|
|
|
|
|
241 EXT. OCEAN - DAY 241
|
|
|
|
Chuck tries to stretch with some simple yoga. Each movement
|
|
takes forever.
|
|
92.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He rolls over onto his stomach and tries to do a pushup. He
|
|
can't. Collapses onto the raft.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You're falling apart.
|
|
|
|
Tries to do another pushup. Can't.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
First you eat your fat, then you
|
|
eat your muscle.
|
|
|
|
He rolls over.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Then you eat your mind.
|
|
|
|
He looks at the ocean. They're in a line of garbage, a
|
|
thick slick of debris dumped off of ships.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Roll on you deep and dark blue
|
|
ocean roll.
|
|
|
|
He closes his eyes. After a minute they come open.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I'm late, I'm late, for a very
|
|
important date.
|
|
|
|
They slowly close again.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
I'm lost. Goodbye.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
No!
|
|
|
|
His eyes come open again.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Look, just slip off the raft. The
|
|
ocean would feel so good, the
|
|
water's so soft and warm. Take a
|
|
little swim. Sleep.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
You quitter you quitter you
|
|
quitter.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
The sea is lovely, dark and deep.
|
|
93.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
But I have promises to keep.
|
|
(rolls over)
|
|
And miles to go before I sleep.
|
|
(props himself up)
|
|
And miles to go before I sleep.
|
|
(purpose now)
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Got to fix the sea anchor. Use the
|
|
sail.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Use the sail for a sea anchor and
|
|
you won't move.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
If I don't have a sea anchor I'll
|
|
capsize.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Die tomorrow or die today.
|
|
|
|
He hums Beethoven's fifth. BA BA BA BUM.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
That's death knocking, knocking on
|
|
your door. Crazy little woman come
|
|
knocking, knocking at my front
|
|
door...
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Grow up, stop being such a baby.
|
|
Other people get through a lot
|
|
worse.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Yeah, sure, what?
|
|
|
|
He hums to himself, begins to sing, Beatles.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
I'm so tired, my mind is on the
|
|
blink...
|
|
|
|
He pulls in the loose sea anchor rope, which is covered
|
|
with barnacles.
|
|
|
|
He scrapes the barnacle off the rope into the water jug,
|
|
then sips it.
|
|
|
|
The sun is setting, huge rays shoot out across the sky.
|
|
94.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Out of the empty ocean the Dorados suddenly appear, leaping
|
|
flashes of silver right by the raft.
|
|
|
|
One Dorado swims right by the raft, broadside.
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks at it, uncomprehending. Then slowly reaches for
|
|
his spear.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
What? Are you sacrificing yourself
|
|
for me?
|
|
|
|
Carefully he comes to his feet, then shoots the spear into
|
|
the fish.
|
|
|
|
Flapping and struggling, it lands on the deck. Chuck
|
|
pounces on it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
242 EXT. RAFT - NIGHT - MOMENTS LATER 242
|
|
|
|
He cuts it open. The other Dorados ram the raft in fury,
|
|
like a lynch mob.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Damn it! I had to do it!
|
|
|
|
The banging continues.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I'm sorry!
|
|
|
|
He concentrates on his work, then sits back on his heels in
|
|
amazement. There's another fish inside. He holds that fish
|
|
up, stares at it, then cuts it open.
|
|
|
|
There's a smaller fish inside it.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I know there's a moral here, God,
|
|
but right now I'm just going to
|
|
eat.
|
|
|
|
He pops out an eyeball, then another, and crunches them
|
|
between his teeth.
|
|
|
|
He takes the heart and liver, starts to eat, then stops.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Forgot to say grace. Sorry Mom.
|
|
|
|
He struggles to remember.
|
|
95.
|
|
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Bless us O Lord, and these thy
|
|
gifts and Christ and the bounty
|
|
about to receive, or
|
|
something...amen.
|
|
|
|
He eats them.
|
|
|
|
|
|
243 EXT. RAFT - NEXT MORNING 243
|
|
|
|
Chuck splashes sea water on his face. Adjusts the water
|
|
still.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Please don't leak. Please.
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up the smallest fish. It's half digested. He
|
|
washes it in the ocean, trigger fish come up and nibble at
|
|
his fingers.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Don't look at me. It was that
|
|
Dorado.
|
|
|
|
He cuts the small fish and hangs it on the stays.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
You know, Wilson, every now and
|
|
then we should say thank you. Thank
|
|
you God.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Thank you for fucking up my life.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly something bumps the raft. Hard. Then again.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Not again.
|
|
|
|
Fins cut the water. SHARKS. A big hammerhead bumps the
|
|
raft. BadChuck hums the theme from "Jaws." Chuck takes his
|
|
spear stabs at the shark.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
He's going to get you, going to get
|
|
you...
|
|
|
|
Another one circles in, bumps the raft.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Get away from me!
|
|
96.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The shark circles again, that big hammerhead like a
|
|
nightmare.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Get him get him get him.
|
|
|
|
He stabs at it with his spear. He might as well have
|
|
stabbed concrete. The shark circle, Chuck stabs again.
|
|
|
|
But the shark is gone.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Where are you? Where are you?
|
|
|
|
Stabs again and again at the empty ocean.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Stop! You're using energy. Move
|
|
slowly. Be patient.
|
|
|
|
Chuck kneels, wavering, on the raft. The ocean is calm.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly, BUMP. The raft tilts.
|
|
|
|
Chuck hangs on.
|
|
|
|
Then a shark appears, just out of spear range. Its lifeless
|
|
black eyes seem to stare right through Chuck.
|
|
|
|
If the Dorado was a gift from God, this is a message from
|
|
Hell.
|
|
|
|
Then the shark is gone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
244 EXT. RAFT - DAY - MOMENTS LATER 244
|
|
|
|
Chuck lies back on the raft. He is humming.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
What are you smiling about? They'll
|
|
be back.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I'm dancing on the roof of the
|
|
Peabody Hotel. With Kelly.
|
|
|
|
He smiles at the thought.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
97.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The music ends. We go back to the
|
|
table. The waiters have brought
|
|
dinner. New York Strip with
|
|
Bordelaise Sauce. Mushrooms in
|
|
brown gravy. Roasted potatoes with
|
|
garlic and rosemary. Green Beans
|
|
with almonds. Fresh biscuits and
|
|
cornbread, dripping with butter. A
|
|
nice salad with ranch dressing. A
|
|
jumbo shrimp cocktail.
|
|
|
|
Thinks about that, it spoils the picture.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
No shrimp.
|
|
(then)
|
|
We eat.
|
|
|
|
He closes his eyes. This is the greatest fantasy.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
(as the waiter)
|
|
For dessert, we have pecan pie a la
|
|
mode, we have a double chocolate
|
|
cake with creme anglaise, we have a
|
|
nice pear torte, fresh key lime
|
|
pie, or perhaps if you care to wait
|
|
a few minutes, a grand marnier
|
|
souffle?
|
|
|
|
Chuck thinks over the options, thinking of each one.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Why, bring them all, bring them
|
|
all.
|
|
|
|
He rolls over. There, square in his vision, is a ship, its
|
|
form coming in and out of a low haze.
|
|
|
|
Chuck jumps to his feet. Waves. Screams.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Here! Over here!
|
|
|
|
The ship moves on. We can see the decks the rigging, the
|
|
vastness of it.
|
|
|
|
Chuck realizes he is naked. Struggles to pull on the
|
|
remains of his pants finally holds them like a diaper with
|
|
one hand as he continues to wave.
|
|
|
|
On the ship no one is to be seen. It is a spooky sight.
|
|
98.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The big tanker moves on.
|
|
|
|
We are on Chuck's face. Passed up again.
|
|
|
|
Then he realizes what is about to happen. He throws out the
|
|
sea anchor.
|
|
|
|
He throws himself onto the raft and grips it as tight as he
|
|
can, wiggles his feet into the ropes.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Oh, shiiiittt!
|
|
|
|
Then comes the wake of the ship. It rocks the raft like a
|
|
piece of flotsam. The raft rides high up on the wave, then
|
|
shoots down it, but the sea anchor holds, and the raft
|
|
slows and rides along with the wave.
|
|
|
|
And then the sea is calm again.
|
|
|
|
Slowly Chuck sinks to his knees. His hand lets loose his
|
|
pants.
|
|
|
|
He lies down on the raft and imagines the conversation with
|
|
the ship's captain.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Permission to come aboard, sir.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK/CAPTAIN
|
|
Permission granted.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
May I ask, where are you bound?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK/CAPTAIN
|
|
San Francisco. And you?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
As it happens, I'm headed for
|
|
Frisco myself.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK/CAPTAIN
|
|
Would you do us the honor of
|
|
joining us? We're just sitting down
|
|
at mess. Pork chops and gravy,
|
|
cranberries, baked potatoes with
|
|
all the trimmings, fresh- baked
|
|
bread, apple pie...
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
99.
|
|
|
|
|
|
No please, join me. Some sundried
|
|
fish strips, a few eyeballs, some
|
|
gills to munch on.
|
|
|
|
The depression comes back again.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
They're never going to see you.
|
|
You're just another piece of trash
|
|
in the ocean.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
They're on autopilot.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
They're always on autopilot. Or
|
|
else it's night, or you're in the
|
|
sun, or you're in the trough of a
|
|
wave. They'll never see you.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Damn it! Don't be so negative!
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up Wilson.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Wilson, what's your story?
|
|
|
|
He holds Wilson close to his chest.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
I float. You sink. End of story.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
I'm serious. I'm always going on
|
|
about me, me, me. Enough about me.
|
|
Your turn.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
It's a fucking soccer ball, you
|
|
idiot.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Shut up.
|
|
|
|
He lies on the raft and holds Wilson close.
|
|
|
|
We move up until we see --
|
|
|
|
|
|
245 EXT. OCEAN - AERIAL - EVENING 245
|
|
100.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck lying curled up on the raft, Wilson cradled in his
|
|
arms, and all around the vast empty ocean.
|
|
|
|
|
|
246 EXT. OCEAN - NEXT MORNING 246
|
|
|
|
Chuck slowly wakes up. Sets Wilson aside.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Don't shirk, don't procrastinate,
|
|
don't be lazy. We're okay today.
|
|
We're okay today.
|
|
|
|
And the other Chuck begins to laugh.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Shut up.
|
|
|
|
The laughter goes on.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Shut the fuck up! I mean it.
|
|
|
|
He stands up and checks the horizon.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
What's so damn funny?
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You are.
|
|
|
|
Suddenly Chuck sees something on the horizon. A bank of
|
|
clouds. A cone of -- land.
|
|
|
|
He squints, stares again. The clouds part. It looks like --
|
|
|
|
his island.
|
|
|
|
Chuck doesn't know whether to feel joy or despair.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Jesus.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Look again, asshole. It's a mirage.
|
|
|
|
Chuck squints.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
It's real.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
101.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Nothing out there but ocean.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Let's get a second opinion. Wilson?
|
|
What do you see?
|
|
|
|
Chuck picks up the soccer ball, holds it up, and stares out
|
|
at...ocean.
|
|
|
|
|
|
247 EXT. RAFT - DAY - LATER 247
|
|
|
|
Chuck slowly writes on the sail.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Chuck Noland. Born October 8, 1958.
|
|
Died -- pick a date -- July 11,
|
|
1998. And now the epitaph. Met
|
|
deadlines. Kept appointments. Lost
|
|
without a trace.
|
|
|
|
He sits back, looks at the mock headstone.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
What did it matter if FedEx was
|
|
five minutes late one day? The next
|
|
day we just start over again.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
It matters. We do the best we can,
|
|
that's all we have.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Then we've just got shit.
|
|
|
|
He goes on writing.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I am writing this to remind myself
|
|
to live a better life. If I am
|
|
lost, perhaps you who find this
|
|
will be instructed to live a better
|
|
live yourself. Live each day. Love
|
|
your children. Don't take anyone
|
|
for granted.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
Is that it? Life is a fucking
|
|
Disney movie?
|
|
102.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The waves begin to grow, the ocean turns a slate gray. Far
|
|
above him, great frigate birds circle. Suddenly one dives
|
|
on a booby which has caught a fish. The great frigate bird
|
|
swoops all around the booby until, panicked, it drops the
|
|
fish, which plummets toward the sea.
|
|
|
|
With a graceful dive, the huge bird grabs the fish and then
|
|
soars up on a thermal, high into the sky.
|
|
|
|
Lightning flashes back and forth across the horizon, which
|
|
is turning black and dark. Thunder rolls.
|
|
|
|
|
|
248 EXT. RAFT - NIGHT 248
|
|
|
|
The raft goes up and down huge waves. Every few seconds
|
|
lightning flashes, illuminating the raft and Chuck holding
|
|
desperately to it, his eyes wild with fear.
|
|
|
|
|
|
249 EXT. RAFT - MORNING 249
|
|
|
|
The waves continue. Chuck holds on, his face pale.
|
|
|
|
BADCHUCK
|
|
You can't make it.
|
|
|
|
GOODCHUCK
|
|
Shut up. I don't feel like dying
|
|
today.
|
|
|
|
|
|
250 EXT. OCEAN - DAY - LATER 250
|
|
|
|
The sky clears. The waves are still big. The fish are back.
|
|
And then come the sharks, cutting through the water.
|
|
|
|
Chuck can't get up to get his spear, he just has to watch
|
|
as blood darkens the water.
|
|
|
|
And then the sharks are gone.
|
|
|
|
Chuck comes to his knees slowly, then a big wave hits.
|
|
|
|
Wilson is swept into the ocean!
|
|
|
|
For a moment Chuck is uncomprehending. He watches as Wilson
|
|
slowly floats away.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Please, no sharks.
|
|
103.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Then he dives in to the water! Swims frantically after
|
|
Wilson.
|
|
|
|
Wilson floats away from him. He swims, but he's so weak.
|
|
|
|
Finally he gets to Wilson. He reaches out, but only pushes
|
|
the ball farther away.
|
|
|
|
It bobs on the waves. Chuck treads water, exhausted.
|
|
|
|
Where is the raft?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.
|
|
|
|
Then he turns back the other way. The raft has drifted by
|
|
him. He can go after Wilson, or he can go after the raft.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Shit! Wilson!
|
|
|
|
He swims toward the raft, barely moving. No matter how hard
|
|
he swims, the raft seems to recede from him.
|
|
|
|
Finally he reaches it, hangs on the side, breathing hard,
|
|
choking, crying.
|
|
|
|
He struggles to pull himself on board.
|
|
|
|
But he is weak, so weak. He can't do it.
|
|
|
|
Summoning some primitive reserve of strength, he tries
|
|
again. This time he slides on.
|
|
|
|
He lies on the raft, panting.
|
|
|
|
Then with all his strength he pulls himself to his feet,
|
|
holds on to the mast, scans the ocean for Wilson.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wilson!
|
|
|
|
Nothing but waves.
|
|
|
|
This is too much. Chuck starts to cry.
|
|
|
|
|
|
251 EXT. RAFT - DAY - LATER 251
|
|
|
|
Chuck takes a swallow of water, washes it around in his
|
|
mouth, then swallows. With his wet tongue he licks his
|
|
cracked lips.
|
|
104.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The sun breaks through the clouds.
|
|
|
|
With what strength he has left, Chuck raises the canopy,
|
|
fastens it.
|
|
|
|
He sits in the meager shade, his head between his knees.
|
|
|
|
Closes his eyes. Just for a minute.
|
|
|
|
|
|
252 EXT. OCEAN - DAY - LATER 252
|
|
|
|
A different sort of shadow crosses Chuck's face. He opens
|
|
his eyes.
|
|
|
|
There, riding right beside his raft, is a ship, a huge
|
|
rusty tanker. Someone shouts down in a language we don't
|
|
understand.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits up, can't believe it. Struggles to cover
|
|
himself.
|
|
|
|
|
|
253 EXT. OCEAN - DAY - LATER 253
|
|
|
|
Chuck is lifted up the rusted steel side of the boat in a
|
|
Jacob's ladder.
|
|
|
|
|
|
254 EXT. SHIP - DAY - LATER 254
|
|
|
|
Chuck steps on board, can't support himself.
|
|
|
|
The crew gathers around. None of them speak English, but
|
|
there is a spontaneous outburst of human connection.
|
|
|
|
One man brings some water. Another a blanket. Another some
|
|
warm tea.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits there, shivering now.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Thank you. Oh thank you.
|
|
|
|
Deliriously happy. Delirious.
|
|
|
|
|
|
255 INT. U.S. NAVAL HOSPITAL - HAWAII 255
|
|
105.
|
|
|
|
|
|
A cavernous hanger-sized ward brightly lit and filled with
|
|
row upon row of hospital beds, each with its table, side
|
|
chair, and lamp, each with a stainless steel bedpan and
|
|
neatly folded sheets and blankets stacked ready to use, and
|
|
each completely empty.
|
|
|
|
Except for one.
|
|
|
|
And on that bed we see Chuck, in a blue hospital gown. An
|
|
IV drips into his arm. He plays idly with the remote
|
|
control of the bed. He raises the head, then the foot. He
|
|
pushes another button and the knee rest bends the bed
|
|
again.
|
|
|
|
A DOCTOR enters, carrying a thick chart. Chuck gives him a
|
|
big manic grin. Malcolm MacDowell in "A Clockwork Orange."
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
My favorite doctor. What's the
|
|
verdict?
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Under the circumstances your
|
|
overall health is good. Those salt
|
|
water boils you picked up on the
|
|
raft are ulcerated, but they're
|
|
healing nicely.
|
|
|
|
He checks his blood work records.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Hemoglobin's 10.8 -- you're anemic,
|
|
that's why we're giving you iron.
|
|
Potassium's low -- we're giving you
|
|
an electrolyte solution with your
|
|
IV. Sodium's over 150, way too
|
|
high. You may experience swelling
|
|
in your extremities as you
|
|
rehydrate and discharge the salt.
|
|
In spite of your dietary
|
|
deficiencies there's no sign of
|
|
mental deterioration.
|
|
|
|
Chuck has been trying not to laugh. Now he can't stop
|
|
himself.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
What's so funny.
|
|
|
|
Chuck can't seem to help laughing at everything.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
106.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Sorry...sorry... Why do my joints
|
|
still ache?
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Dehydration. Vitamin deficiency.
|
|
Protein deficiency. Any or all of
|
|
the above.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
All I ate was fish. That's solid
|
|
protein.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Protein digestion is very costly in
|
|
water usage.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Which I didn't have.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
And fish are very low in fat, which
|
|
is energy inefficient. So you're
|
|
going to burn up your own cells no
|
|
matter how much you eat. Luckily
|
|
you ate the eyes and pancreas,
|
|
which contain some Vitamin C, so
|
|
you didn't get scurvy.
|
|
|
|
Chuck laughs again.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I am one lucky guy.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Your body chemistry and your
|
|
exposure to the elements would
|
|
normally lead to irritability,
|
|
depression, anxiety, periods of
|
|
self-reproach. It's almost like
|
|
schizophrenia. Different sides of
|
|
your personality might come to
|
|
life, speak out, act out.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
But all that's behind me. I'm fine
|
|
now.
|
|
|
|
He starts to laugh again.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
If you say you are.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
107.
|
|
|
|
|
|
I most definitely say I am.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Doctor Hegel tells me he discussed
|
|
the Vietnam POW syndrome with you.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stifles his laughter.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yes, yes he did.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
You are aware of the potential
|
|
disruptiveness on your loved ones
|
|
when you return to your old life?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Not to mention on me.
|
|
|
|
The laughter again. Unsettling.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
You sure you don't want some
|
|
counseling?
|
|
|
|
Chuck gives his biggest smile.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Doc, I'm not on the island. I'm not
|
|
on the raft. I'm alive. I'm so glad
|
|
to be back, I can't tell you. I
|
|
just want out of here.
|
|
|
|
DOCTOR
|
|
Well, when that IV runs out, you're
|
|
through with us. Just the dentist
|
|
tomorrow.
|
|
|
|
|
|
256 INT. HOSPITAL - NIGHT - LATER 256
|
|
|
|
Rolling his IV, Chuck walks very slowly out of the ward.
|
|
|
|
Every step is an effort.
|
|
|
|
|
|
257 INT. PHONE CUBICLE - NIGHT - MINUTES LATER 257
|
|
|
|
A small windowless room with only a desk and a phone, lit
|
|
by a fluorescent lamp. Chuck is listening to the phone
|
|
ring.
|
|
|
|
Kelly answers.
|
|
108.
|
|
|
|
|
|
KELLY (V.O.)
|
|
Hello.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is overcome for a moment, can't say a word.
|
|
|
|
KELLY (V.O.)
|
|
Hello? Hello?
|
|
|
|
For some reason he can't keep himself from laughing. He
|
|
covers the mouthpiece and laughs.
|
|
|
|
And then we hear a dial tone, harsh, mechanical, final.
|
|
|
|
|
|
258 EXT. PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER 258
|
|
|
|
We can see Chuck inside, staring at the phone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
259 INT. PHONE CUBICLE - MINUTES LATER 259
|
|
|
|
We hear a faint persistent hum. Chuck looks around, trying
|
|
to locate the sound. He looks up, focuses on the
|
|
fluorescent light, that background sound he can no longer
|
|
tune out, then picks up the phone again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
260 EXT. PHONE CUBICLE 260
|
|
|
|
Stan answers the phone.
|
|
|
|
STAN (V.O.)
|
|
Hello?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Stan, it's Chuck...Chuck Noland...
|
|
|
|
The laughter again.
|
|
|
|
STAN (V.O.)
|
|
Whoever you are, you are one sick
|
|
fucker.
|
|
|
|
And again we hear the dial tone.
|
|
|
|
|
|
261 INT. PHONE CUBICLE - MOMENTS LATER 261
|
|
|
|
Chuck's on the phone again.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
109.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Two Valium and the Rolling Stones.
|
|
That ring a bell?
|
|
|
|
There's a long silence. Then we hear Stan's voice.
|
|
|
|
STAN (V.O.)
|
|
God damn! God damn! Chuck, it's
|
|
you!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's me.
|
|
|
|
STAN (V.O.)
|
|
You're fucking dead!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I'm most definitely not dead. And
|
|
as I recall, you're the sick
|
|
fucker.
|
|
|
|
Chuck begins to laugh, a little too loud, a little too
|
|
shrill. He's on a high.
|
|
|
|
|
|
262 EXT. HAWAII - BEACH RESTAURANT 262
|
|
|
|
A terrace by the ocean. Tables filled with diners. Food
|
|
being delivered by waiters. So simple, eating. So taken for
|
|
granted.
|
|
|
|
At one table sits Chuck, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and
|
|
shorts, with a half-dozen plates in front of him. He
|
|
gestures to the waiter. Bring me more. It all tastes so
|
|
damned good.
|
|
|
|
Behind him is the ocean. Chuck doesn't glance at it.
|
|
|
|
|
|
263 INT. DENTIST - NEXT DAY 263
|
|
|
|
An attractive DENTAL TECHNICIAN with an Australian accent
|
|
cleans Chuck's teeth with an ultrasound device. She's
|
|
close, very close. Chuck looks up at her. She looks really
|
|
good. She smiles at him, then touches the gap where he
|
|
knocked out his tooth.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
You sure you don't want to have the
|
|
implant done here? We do quite good
|
|
work.
|
|
|
|
Chuck shakes his head: no. She scrapes behind his front
|
|
teeth.
|
|
110.
|
|
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Hmmm, you do have such a lot of
|
|
tarter behind these front incisors.
|
|
A little wider, please.
|
|
|
|
Chuck opens his mouth even further. The technician talks on
|
|
in the self-absorbed way dental technicians sometimes do,
|
|
that constant babble of human contact which Chuck has not
|
|
heard for four years.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Anyway, so the second prosthetic
|
|
foot worked better, but he still
|
|
couldn't drive his new Cortina, it
|
|
being a standard shift, if you
|
|
follow me.
|
|
|
|
Chuck nods. I follow you.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
But would he hear of me driving him
|
|
around? Not on your bloody life.
|
|
Rinse please.
|
|
|
|
Chuck does. Stan bursts into the room.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Chuck! God damn!
|
|
|
|
Chuck struggles out of the chair.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
God damn. God damn. God damn.
|
|
|
|
They are both almost overcome. Stan holds Chuck by the
|
|
shoulders and looks at him.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You're alive, you're fucking alive!
|
|
|
|
Chuck laughs, thrilled to see Stan.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I beat the odds!
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You beat 'em to shit, pal! Jesus!
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
I still need to floss you.
|
|
|
|
Stan notices the technician.
|
|
111.
|
|
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Hello.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
This is Amber. Her boyfriend lost
|
|
his foot in a shark attack.
|
|
|
|
He says this with an absolute straight face, holding back
|
|
the laughter with great effort. Instantly there's this
|
|
connection again between him and Stan.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Ex-boyfriend.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Really.
|
|
|
|
And he and Chuck make eye contact and we see a glimpse of
|
|
their shared unspoken irony.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Uh, there's somebody out here who
|
|
wants to see you.
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares sharply at him. Kelly? Stan nods, but there's
|
|
something he wants to say.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
She thought you were dead. We all
|
|
did.
|
|
|
|
That's not all Stan wants to say. But Chuck is limping out
|
|
the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
264 INT. DENTIST - WAITING ROOM 264
|
|
|
|
Typical dentist waiting room. Chairs, tropical fish tanks,
|
|
magazines, a few waiting patients...and Kelly, looking
|
|
nervous.
|
|
|
|
Slowly and painfully Chuck enters. He's quite a sight. She
|
|
stands up. There's a long moment where they look at each
|
|
other.
|
|
|
|
Then she comes into his arms. Holds him tight. She's part
|
|
laughing, part crying.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I'm sorry... I'm sorry...
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hey...hey...it's okay!
|
|
112.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck is happy, he's still riding the high.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You're so thin. Am I hurting you?
|
|
|
|
Well, maybe a little, but who cares? He hasn't been hugged
|
|
or barely touched in so long.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No...no...feels good...
|
|
|
|
She disengages, looks at him with that old smile.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Right back, you said you'd be right
|
|
back.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
A few things came up. Or went down.
|
|
|
|
He meets her gaze, looks her over with a smile.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You look...wonderful. I like your
|
|
hair.
|
|
|
|
He notices the ring on her hand.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I got married.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I thought you might have.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I would never --
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I know.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
If I'd known you were alive --
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I would have done the same thing.
|
|
|
|
His responses come so quick. Chuck seems blissfully sure of
|
|
himself.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
113.
|
|
|
|
|
|
I didn't want to. It just happened.
|
|
One day Gary was there. He took
|
|
care of everything. He took care of
|
|
me. I was a mess.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You have any children?
|
|
|
|
Kelly nods.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Got a picture?
|
|
|
|
Kelly fishes for a photo, shows it to Chuck. It's a little
|
|
girl with a dog.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Her name's Hannah.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Is that Jango?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
No, this is Jack. Jango was hit by
|
|
a UPS truck. Can you believe it?
|
|
|
|
Chuck laughs. It is funny, sort of.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Life's just one big joke after
|
|
another.
|
|
|
|
Stan appears, takes in the scene. The few patients waiting
|
|
are edged into the corners, trying to look occupied with
|
|
something else.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
How about we go somewhere else?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Want to see my raft?
|
|
|
|
|
|
265 EXT. HAWAII - DAY 265
|
|
|
|
Chuck's raft sits up on a dock. Kelly stands staring at it.
|
|
|
|
How small and fragile it looks.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
This stinks really bad.
|
|
114.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You should have smelled me.
|
|
|
|
Stan examines the ropes around the logs.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Cool ropes.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I braided them.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Must have taken a hell of a long
|
|
time.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Time I had lots of.
|
|
|
|
Kelly points at something on the raft.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
What's that?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's my sea anchor. My second
|
|
one. Made it out of part of the
|
|
sail. It keeps you from capsizing
|
|
in a storm. In theory.
|
|
(picks up his still)
|
|
And this, this I used to collect
|
|
water. About half a cup a day.
|
|
|
|
He's not feeling sorry for himself. It's just a fact.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You were how long on this?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Forty-three days.
|
|
|
|
They look at the tiny raft. It speaks for itself.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
All that time I waited to go on a
|
|
cruise, and you went without me.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yeah, well...couldn't be helped.
|
|
|
|
Kelly notices the sail, sees the writing on it.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
What's that, written on the sail?
|
|
115.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
My epitaph.
|
|
|
|
Kelly reads it to herself. Her eyes are moist.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Bad body chemistry. Made me a
|
|
little morbid. But I'm all over
|
|
that now.
|
|
|
|
And he seems really to believe it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I'll be at the car.
|
|
(to Kelly)
|
|
Take you to the airport.
|
|
|
|
And he leaves.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I buried you, Chuck. They had to
|
|
pry my fingers off your coffin.
|
|
|
|
This interests Chuck to no end.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
There was a coffin?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Yeah, coffin, headstone, the whole
|
|
thing.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What was inside?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Your calendar, your cell phone,
|
|
your whoo pig sooey hat, some
|
|
pictures of that ketch you wanted.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That about sums it up.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Maybe now's when you tell me about
|
|
it.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The plane went down. My friends
|
|
died. I washed up on an island.
|
|
Then I found these barrels, built
|
|
the raft, and here I am.
|
|
116.
|
|
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Yeah?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The tide came in, the tide went
|
|
out. I survived. That's the
|
|
headline. I survived.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
Don't overwhelm me with the
|
|
details.
|
|
(she smiles remembering)
|
|
You know how I hate that.
|
|
|
|
He tries to put it into words, isn't quite sure how.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
(gently)
|
|
Come on. Try.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Cliches, mainly. Don't take anyone
|
|
for granted. Don't sweat the small
|
|
stuff. Live each day like it's your
|
|
last.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
So simple to say, so hard to do.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Not when you have no choice.
|
|
|
|
Kelly looks down at the raft. It's so small.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You hated being alone. Couldn't
|
|
stand it. Busy every minute. Always
|
|
plugged into something.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I didn't know what really being
|
|
alone was. No one back here does.
|
|
|
|
He has something more to say. She waits.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
We're not meant to be alone. Not
|
|
like that. Share life, that's what
|
|
came to me out there. Be with
|
|
someone.
|
|
|
|
And that's the point, isn't it? We are social animals. No
|
|
man is an island.
|
|
117.
|
|
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
This is so unfair.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's what I told the fish I
|
|
caught. But I ate them anyway.
|
|
|
|
And the laughter comes again. Kelly grins, embarrassed, a
|
|
little worried.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
You okay?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Great. Really.
|
|
|
|
She stares at his face, reaches out, touches it again, this
|
|
time with great tenderness.
|
|
|
|
He nods, her touch feels so good.
|
|
|
|
A wave of emotion comes over her: pity? love?
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
What will you do?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I don't know. I really don't know.
|
|
|
|
We hear a distant beep-beep, discrete as a car horn can be.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I've got to get back to Memphis.
|
|
Hannah's babysitter has finals.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It means a lot...that you came.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I had to come. To be sure you were
|
|
okay.
|
|
|
|
They hold each other. For a long time.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I love you, Chuck.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You too.
|
|
|
|
KELLY
|
|
I'm so glad you're alive.
|
|
118.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck grins.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You too.
|
|
|
|
Then she heads for the waiting car. Chuck stands by his
|
|
raft, watching her go.
|
|
|
|
|
|
266 INT. FEDEX PLANE - NIGHT 266
|
|
|
|
Chuck and Stan ride on the plane. Chuck is coming down off
|
|
his survival high. He has the Angel Wing FedEx package with
|
|
him.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
When I first showed up, I thought
|
|
you'd lost your fucking marbles.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I never thought it would end. Then
|
|
it did. It was so great to be
|
|
saved, I couldn't stop laughing.
|
|
|
|
Stan pulls a flask out of his bag.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You need a drink.
|
|
|
|
Stan takes two glasses from his bag, rests them on a FedEx
|
|
container, and pours the whiskey.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
For years my only drinking buddy
|
|
was a soccer ball. Wilson.
|
|
|
|
Stan hoists his glass.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
To Wilson.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
To Wilson.
|
|
|
|
Now's when Stan gets to the question he's been wanting to
|
|
ask, that Kelly wanted to know, that we all want to know.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
So, what's it all about?
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares at him.
|
|
119.
|
|
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
You've been over the line and you
|
|
came back. You've been saved,
|
|
hallelujah!
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hallelujah.
|
|
|
|
Stan looks over at him.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I'm serious. The burning bush, the
|
|
big picture, the words in neon...
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What's it all about? It's about
|
|
being so thirsty you'd crush a
|
|
fish's backbone to suck out the
|
|
spinal fluid -- that's what it's
|
|
about.
|
|
|
|
Stan sits back, repulsed but relieved.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Do what it takes. That's what I
|
|
always told you.
|
|
|
|
He pours another drink.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
To life. Fuck 'em if they can't
|
|
take a joke.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
To life.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
That's all there is.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Believe me I know.
|
|
|
|
He takes a sip of his drink, just savoring it, thinking.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
But it's not being bold or being in
|
|
the game or rolling the dice.
|
|
|
|
All those things Stan used to tell him.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
120.
|
|
|
|
|
|
When I was going crazy, on the
|
|
raft, I'd argue with myself about
|
|
everything. Because everything had
|
|
a price. To get anything -- a sip
|
|
of water, a little corner of shade,
|
|
an hour's sleep -- I had to let go
|
|
of something else. And then I could
|
|
never get it back.
|
|
|
|
He thinks some more.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You don't win or lose. You win and
|
|
lose.
|
|
|
|
He looks out the window.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You win and lose.
|
|
|
|
And Chuck has. Big time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
267 EXT. MEMPHIS AIRPORT - NIGHT 267
|
|
|
|
A FedEx MD-11 lands.
|
|
|
|
|
|
268 EXT. MEMPHIS SUPERHUB - MOMENTS LATER 268
|
|
|
|
The MD-11 taxis up. As usual, the SuperHub is a frenzy of
|
|
activity. A loading crew stands ready, forklifts poised.
|
|
|
|
Even this plane carries packages.
|
|
|
|
PHIL STEELE, the chairman of FedEx, Leslie, Becca, Dick,
|
|
and other executives wait on a special podium near the
|
|
gangway.
|
|
|
|
Everyone looks different -- older, a mustache here, a
|
|
thickening around the belly there.
|
|
|
|
Behind a barrier a cluster of cameras film the scene.
|
|
|
|
The plane cuts its engine. The stairs are rolled out.
|
|
|
|
Forklifts and gangways move forward. Cargo doors open.
|
|
|
|
Chuck appears in the door. He holds the FedEx Package and a
|
|
small travel bag.
|
|
121.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck blinks against the lights and the glare. Stan is
|
|
right by him. Everyone bursts into APPLAUSE AND CHEERING.
|
|
|
|
After four years of total solitude this is completely
|
|
overwhelming.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Smile.
|
|
|
|
Chuck smiles.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Wave.
|
|
|
|
And Chuck waves. He's overwhelmed by all the input. Stan
|
|
steers Chuck down the steps as the cheers continue.
|
|
|
|
At the bottom of the steps Roger steps forward. The two
|
|
brothers embrace each other. After a moment Roger
|
|
disengages. Mary gives Chuck a hug.
|
|
|
|
MARY
|
|
Oh Chuck --
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Where's Mom?
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Waiting for you. At the farm. This
|
|
was too much --
|
|
|
|
He looks around at the crowds.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Tell me about it.
|
|
|
|
Stan nudges Chuck. Time to go to the podium.
|
|
|
|
ROGER
|
|
Glad you made it, big brother.
|
|
|
|
Stan and Chuck head for the podium. All the loaders and
|
|
operators and package scanners begin to applaud. Chuck
|
|
smiles, then laughs, getting into the emotion. He keeps up
|
|
an almost indecipherable babble underneath the cheering.
|
|
|
|
Occasionally he sees someone he knows.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Wow. Thank you. Great. Thank you.
|
|
Hey, Rasheed, how you doing? Thank
|
|
you all.
|
|
122.
|
|
|
|
|
|
269 EXT. SUPERHUB - WIDE 269
|
|
|
|
Chuck makes his triumphant way through this amazing
|
|
collection of cheering people like Moses parting the Red
|
|
Sea.
|
|
|
|
|
|
270 EXT. SUPERHUB - PLATFORM 270
|
|
|
|
With a big smile Phil Steele holds out his hand to Chuck.
|
|
|
|
STEELE
|
|
Welcome home.
|
|
|
|
He steps to the microphone and addresses the SuperHub.
|
|
|
|
STEELE
|
|
This is an extraordinary moment.
|
|
And it should be marked in an
|
|
extraordinary way. With something
|
|
we have never done since this
|
|
company was founded.
|
|
(pause)
|
|
Stop the line!
|
|
|
|
|
|
271 EXT. SUPERHUB - SERIES OF SHOTS 271
|
|
|
|
All over the SuperHub, belts come to a halt. Forklifts
|
|
stop. Tracking stations shut down. The vast flow of
|
|
packages is suddenly still.
|
|
|
|
The incredible din of activity is suddenly quiet. The
|
|
stillness and the silence are unexpected and palpable.
|
|
|
|
Thousands of workers stop as well, staring either up at
|
|
Chuck directly or at his image on video screens. We hear
|
|
Phil's voice piped in.
|
|
|
|
|
|
272 EXT. SUPERHUB - PLATFORM 272
|
|
|
|
Phil holds a plaque.
|
|
|
|
STEELE
|
|
Four years ago we placed this
|
|
plaque in honor of Charles Noland,
|
|
and two just like it in honor of Al
|
|
Morris and John Durham, the two
|
|
brave pilots who went down with
|
|
him.
|
|
123.
|
|
|
|
|
|
As he talks, we stay on Chuck, who is taking in this
|
|
amazing scene, not really listening.
|
|
|
|
STEELE
|
|
Chuck endured years of hardship and
|
|
loneliness. Like Lazarus, Chuck has
|
|
come back from the dead. Chuck,
|
|
this is your family, all of us. So
|
|
it gives me great pleasure...to
|
|
take this plaque...and to present
|
|
it to our long lost son. Welcome
|
|
home.
|
|
|
|
He hands the plaque to Chuck. Chuck acknowledges the cheers
|
|
of the crowd.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Thank you. Thank you very much...
|
|
|
|
Everyone applauds.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Give me a minute. I've spent four
|
|
years looking out at an empty
|
|
ocean.
|
|
|
|
He laughs, a short brittle laugh, composes himself.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
It's all so -- big. You never think
|
|
you'll miss -- all this. But I did.
|
|
I really, really did. And I missed
|
|
all of you.
|
|
|
|
He looks over at the hub.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You've added some new belts, and
|
|
what's that?
|
|
|
|
He points at some high tech equipment on the edge of the
|
|
shed.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Digital laser readers.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Digital laser readers. Wow.
|
|
Terrific.
|
|
|
|
He looks around at everyone, doesn't know what else to say.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
124.
|
|
|
|
|
|
I've never heard it this quiet.
|
|
Shouldn't you all be getting back
|
|
to work?
|
|
|
|
The tension is broken. Everyone laughs. Phil Steele motions
|
|
with his hand. Let it be done.
|
|
|
|
|
|
273 ANOTHER ANGLE - WIDE 273
|
|
|
|
The vast, incredible machinery creaks to a start. Everyone
|
|
shakes Chuck's hand as he leaves the podium.
|
|
|
|
As he heads for the car, REPORTERS shout questions.
|
|
|
|
|
|
274 INT. CAR - MEMPHIS FREEWAY 274
|
|
|
|
We are assaulted by a surge of light, motion, activity.
|
|
|
|
Snaking lines of traffic in both directions, big
|
|
overpasses, the city rising beyond.
|
|
|
|
Stan drives with a certain aggressiveness. Chuck looks out
|
|
at the traffic, at all the activity, at the vast intricate
|
|
anthill of humanity going everywhere and nowhere.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Take your time.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
What?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That's what it's about.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Being patient. Don't rush things. I
|
|
get it.
|
|
|
|
He swerves into another lane.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Not just that. Take your time. Use
|
|
it. Live it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Deep, real deep.
|
|
|
|
He grins, cuts across to the exit.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
125.
|
|
|
|
|
|
So where to? The office? The hotel?
|
|
The beach?
|
|
|
|
Chuck stares at him. Are you kidding?
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
What, then?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Deliver this package. Then, I
|
|
dunno.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
(re: the package)
|
|
You want that delivered, we'll
|
|
deliver it. That's what we do.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I need to do it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
Finish what you started. You
|
|
haven't changed, Chuck. It's still
|
|
you.
|
|
|
|
Right.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
You want to help, help me find the
|
|
woman who sent this.
|
|
|
|
|
|
275 INT. OPERATIONS CENTER - DAY 275
|
|
|
|
Stan and Chuck are in the office of a TECHNICIAN who is
|
|
working away at his computer. The Technician pulls the bar
|
|
code from the Angel Wing FedEx box up on his computer
|
|
screen.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Okay. After three years the PTR
|
|
reverts to tape storage, which is
|
|
okay because we access it through
|
|
the CPC. Here it is.
|
|
(gestures at computer
|
|
map)
|
|
Ten packages from the same sender.
|
|
Baku. Delhi. St. Petersburg. The
|
|
guy was a real road warrior. This
|
|
package was Kuala Lampur. No
|
|
activity in his account after this
|
|
package. No forwarding addresses
|
|
after K.L.
|
|
126.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
What about the sender?
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Sure. Bettina Peterson. Marfa,
|
|
Texas. Let's run a current check.
|
|
|
|
He works some keys, waits.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Hmmm. Durango, Colorado; Asheville,
|
|
North Carolina, then...canceled her
|
|
account.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Can you find her?
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
You're looking at a Level III
|
|
search. For your Level III, you
|
|
gotta have E-4 authorization. I
|
|
don't have it.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
I do.
|
|
|
|
He holds out a badge.
|
|
|
|
TECHNICIAN
|
|
Okay, let's let it rip.
|
|
|
|
He starts to pull up the data.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Thanks. For everything.
|
|
|
|
STAN
|
|
No sweat.
|
|
|
|
|
|
276 EXT. CHUCK'S MOTEL - THAT NIGHT 276
|
|
|
|
Chuck leaves the motel, the Angel Box under his arm. He
|
|
ties it into a pannier on the side of a bicycle.
|
|
|
|
|
|
277 EXT. MEMPHIS - CHICKASAW GARDENS - NIGHT 277
|
|
|
|
Chuck sneaks up to a craftsman cottage and stands by a tree
|
|
with a swing on it. Inside we see Kelly making dinner for
|
|
her husband, who plays with their daughter. For a moment
|
|
Chuck watches through the window, and we watch with him.
|
|
127.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Then the dog begins to bark.
|
|
|
|
|
|
278 EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT 278
|
|
|
|
Chuck walks through the cemetery late at night. He comes to
|
|
his gravestone, stares for a long moment at the
|
|
inscription, then takes out a spray can of paint and puts a
|
|
HANDPRINT on it.
|
|
|
|
He gets back on his bicycle and rides away.
|
|
|
|
|
|
279 EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY 279
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides his bicycle down a road leading into the South.
|
|
|
|
|
|
280 EXT. FREEWAY - DAY 280
|
|
|
|
Chuck negotiates an overpass crossing an Interstate
|
|
Highway.
|
|
|
|
Headed in both directions, cars whoosh by beneath him.
|
|
|
|
|
|
281 EXT. HIGHWAY - DUSK - LATER 281
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides down a narrow road, shrouded in mist. Moss
|
|
drips from the trees reaching over the road. A car goes by.
|
|
|
|
Then another, their lights like halos in the fog. It's a
|
|
mystical scene, a passage.
|
|
|
|
|
|
282 EXT. ARKANSAS - NIGHT 282
|
|
|
|
Chuck gets off his bicycle in the rain and walks toward a
|
|
roadside cafe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
283 INT. CAFE - NIGHT 283
|
|
|
|
Chuck draws on a paper place mat as he waits for his meal
|
|
at a counter. Above the counter the television plays.
|
|
|
|
ANNOUNCER
|
|
And here's more from Dingo Dodd,
|
|
our Australian correspondent, on
|
|
the extraordinary story of Chuck
|
|
Noland, the modern Robinson Crusoe.
|
|
128.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The waitress sets a plate down in front of Chuck, turns to
|
|
watch.
|
|
|
|
On the TV we see an Australian correspondent standing on
|
|
Chuck's beach.
|
|
|
|
DINGO DODD
|
|
Shark infested waters! A deserted
|
|
island! Surrounded by reefs!
|
|
Accessible only by helicopter! For
|
|
four years Chuck Noland survived
|
|
here alone, eating fish, coconuts
|
|
and clams, his only companion a
|
|
soccer ball.
|
|
|
|
Chuck is staring at the screen, seeing his cave, seeing all
|
|
those years.
|
|
|
|
DINGO DODD
|
|
I'm now in Chuck's cave where he
|
|
passed the lonely nights, painting
|
|
on the walls like some prehistoric
|
|
caveman. What did Chuck feel? These
|
|
paintings tell the story, but only
|
|
Chuck knows what they mean. And
|
|
he's not talking.
|
|
|
|
On the screen we see a photograph of Chuck.
|
|
|
|
The waitress looks over at Chuck. The other clients look at
|
|
him too.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Check, please.
|
|
|
|
The waitress comes over.
|
|
|
|
WAITRESS
|
|
No charge, honey. But could you
|
|
just sign that place mat for me?
|
|
|
|
Chuck looks down at his doodling. Hesitates. Then signs his
|
|
name.
|
|
|
|
|
|
284 INT. TYSON'S CHICKEN - ARKANSAS - DAY 284
|
|
|
|
Thousands of chicken carcasses hanging on hooks circle
|
|
through the huge processing plant, a vast structure on the
|
|
scale of the SuperHub or the Hospital.
|
|
129.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Chuck's Mom, dressed in white with a hairnet, enters a
|
|
windowed office in the b.g. Through the window we see her
|
|
hug Chuck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
285 INT. TYSON'S CHICKEN - OFFICE - ARKANSAS - DAY 285
|
|
|
|
We are in the office now. Chuck's Mom's eyes are moist.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
When'd you start working here?
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Roger got me on. I wasn't doing
|
|
anything, and -- but you're back,
|
|
you're really back. I would have
|
|
come to Memphis, but --
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I wanted to come here.
|
|
|
|
|
|
286 INT. FRAME HOUSE - ARKANSAS - DAY 286
|
|
|
|
Chuck eats a Southern fried drumstick. The table is full of
|
|
home-cooked food.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Have some more potato salad.
|
|
|
|
Chuck gestures, no, I'm full. She puts down the spoon.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That was great, Mom, just great.
|
|
|
|
He looks around the house, everything in its place. His
|
|
mother has been here for forty years. There's a big crack
|
|
running down from the ceiling.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I've got all this back pay coming.
|
|
Why don't you let me get you a
|
|
place in town?
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
This is my home. I'm part of the
|
|
wallpaper.
|
|
|
|
She studies him for a moment.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
You miss it, don't you? You miss
|
|
that island.
|
|
130.
|
|
|
|
|
|
He does, but that's not it entirely.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Miss that island? Mom, come on.
|
|
|
|
She looks at him. She knows her boy.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
What a journey you've had. It seems
|
|
more than a person should have to
|
|
bear.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
The tide saved me, Mom. I lived by
|
|
it. I'm just wondering where it
|
|
will take me next.
|
|
|
|
She looks at him, thinks about this.
|
|
|
|
MOM
|
|
Remember the family motto. In time.
|
|
It will come to you, in time.
|
|
|
|
|
|
287 EXT. ARKANSAS - DAY 287
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides away from the small neat frame house, down a
|
|
country lane with trailers up on blocks.
|
|
|
|
|
|
288 EXT. GULF COAST - DAY 288
|
|
|
|
Chuck leaves a cheap motel as the sun comes up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
289 EXT. MISSISSIPPI GULF COAST - DAY - LATER 289
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides on a ferry, the wind blowing his face. The sky
|
|
is gray and drizzly. He smells the salt water. Watches the
|
|
waves.
|
|
|
|
|
|
290 EXT. GAS STATION - DAY 290
|
|
|
|
Chuck asks for directions. A kid in baggy pants and no
|
|
shirt points him down the road.
|
|
|
|
|
|
291 EXT. GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER 291
|
|
|
|
Chuck pulls some clothes out of his saddle bags.
|
|
131.
|
|
|
|
|
|
292 EXT. GAS STATION - MOMENTS LATER 292
|
|
|
|
Chuck emerges from the restroom wearing a FedEx shirt and
|
|
shorts.
|
|
|
|
|
|
293 EXT. BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER 293
|
|
|
|
A classic beach house. Sand dunes, stilts. Carrying the
|
|
Angel Wing Box under his arm, Chuck checks the address in
|
|
his hand. Mounts the steps. A light mist falls. You can see
|
|
the Gulf behind the house, gray and moody.
|
|
|
|
A WOMAN, BETTINA, answers the door -- THE woman from the
|
|
beginning. She wears cut-off jeans and a blue work shirt
|
|
covered with paint. There's a tattoo on her ankle.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
FedEx for Bettina Peterson.
|
|
|
|
The woman stares in disbelief at the package she hasn't
|
|
seen in years and never expected to see again.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Where did you get that?
|
|
|
|
Chuck displays a FedEx badge.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Charles Noland. FedEx Special
|
|
Projects.
|
|
|
|
Bettina notices Chuck's bicycle.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
You came on a bicycle? No wonder
|
|
it's so late.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
There was an unavoidable delay.
|
|
|
|
Bettina stares at the package, her own memories coming
|
|
back.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Well, I have to say, I'm impressed.
|
|
You never gave up.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
She holds the box and studies him for a long moment.
|
|
132.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Something -- the look on his face, the extraordinary
|
|
reappearance of this long-lost package -- makes her
|
|
curious.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
You know what happened to this?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
As much as anybody.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Want to come in? Get dry for a
|
|
minute.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Okay. Sure.
|
|
|
|
She lets Chuck in the door.
|
|
|
|
|
|
294 INT. HOUSE - DAY 294
|
|
|
|
Ladders. Scaffolds. Huge paintings are everywhere.
|
|
|
|
Paintings of wings and angels -- like the package. Chuck
|
|
stares at them. Bettina watches Chuck stare.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
I've got some coffee on. Would you
|
|
like some?
|
|
|
|
|
|
295 INT. KITCHEN - LATER 295
|
|
|
|
Bettina pours some coffee. The package sits in the counter.
|
|
|
|
Some magazines are spread around, including a People
|
|
Magazine with Chuck's photograph on the cover.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
(takes a sip)
|
|
It's good.
|
|
|
|
They smile awkwardly at each other. She starts to open it.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Hmmm. Feels like it might have
|
|
gotten wet.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Possible. So you did those wings?
|
|
133.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Yeah. A long time ago.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
They're harder to do than they
|
|
look.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Oh? You've tried?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Well, I do a little drawing --
|
|
|
|
She's opened the package. She pulls out the bottles of
|
|
salsa and the letter.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Our apologies that it never made it
|
|
to the recipient.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
He was a sorry sonofabitch, and I'm
|
|
sorry I ever married him.
|
|
|
|
There is a moment where neither knows what to say.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
You look familiar.
|
|
|
|
Her eyes start to register recognition. She glances at the
|
|
magazine with Chuck's picture on it. She picks it up.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
I can't believe this. I -- I --
|
|
They are... You're a gifted artist.
|
|
You're into something very
|
|
powerful. Primal. Truly.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Well, not really, I --
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
You are. Yes you are.
|
|
(so many things she wants
|
|
to say)
|
|
What gave you the idea to paint on
|
|
that cave?
|
|
|
|
Chuck thinks about that. After a moment, he grins.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
To tell you the truth -- you did.
|
|
134.
|
|
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Do you...have any more packages to
|
|
deliver?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No. that was the last one.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Just sit here, I'll get us some
|
|
lunch.
|
|
|
|
Chuck sits back on the couch, taking in the sight of the
|
|
ocean in the light rain. He looks over at all the canvases,
|
|
the easel, the palettes. The wind rustles the palm trees
|
|
around the house. The surf crashes and rustles. Familiar
|
|
sounds. Island sounds.
|
|
|
|
He relaxes a little. Maybe the package with the wings was a
|
|
sign, he kept it all these years precisely for this. Then
|
|
there's a sound of a truck in the driveway.
|
|
|
|
The engine cuts off. There are steps on the porch. The door
|
|
opens. A tanned muscular MAN in neatly kept work clothes
|
|
comes in, hangs a tool belt on a hook by the door.
|
|
|
|
He looks at Chuck with a relaxed, even stare, as if seeing
|
|
a man in a FedEx uniform sitting on his couch is not an
|
|
unusual occurrence.
|
|
|
|
MAN
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Hey.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA (O.S.)
|
|
In here!
|
|
|
|
The Man nods at Chuck, goes into the kitchen. We are on
|
|
Chuck's face. Who's this? We hear muffled laughter from
|
|
inside.
|
|
|
|
|
|
296 EXT. BEACH HOUSE - HOUR LATER 296
|
|
|
|
Arms around each other, the Man and the Woman say goodbye
|
|
to Chuck. In the front yard is a panel truck painted with
|
|
two angel wings. The Man grins at Chuck, an easy, friendly
|
|
grin.
|
|
|
|
MAN
|
|
135.
|
|
|
|
|
|
Come back anytime. Coffee's always
|
|
on. Don't even have to bring us a
|
|
package.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
That was my last one.
|
|
|
|
Bettina hands Chuck a sheet of paper.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
The list of paints and brushes I
|
|
did for you.
|
|
|
|
He takes it, not exactly sure he wants it.
|
|
|
|
BETTINA
|
|
Keep painting. Promise me.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Sure.
|
|
|
|
|
|
297 EXT. BEACH HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER 297
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides his bicycle away, along the shore.
|
|
|
|
|
|
298 EXT. BEACH - MINUTES LATER 298
|
|
|
|
Chuck rides along the beach. Up ahead we see a FedEx truck.
|
|
|
|
|
|
299 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 299
|
|
|
|
Chuck gets off his bike as a female FEDEX DRIVER puts
|
|
chocks under the wheels, which have stuck in the sand.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Need some help?
|
|
|
|
DRIVER
|
|
You bet I do. High tide comes right
|
|
up to this road.
|
|
|
|
|
|
300 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 300
|
|
|
|
Chuck pushes on the truck as the driver gives it gas. The
|
|
truck slowly pulls back onto the pavement.
|
|
|
|
|
|
301 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 301
|
|
136.
|
|
|
|
|
|
The Driver gets out of the truck with a grin. She has an
|
|
open, friendly face. There's an instant connection between
|
|
them.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER
|
|
Hey, thanks. I'd never have got
|
|
that out by myself.
|
|
|
|
Looks at his uniform. At the bike.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER
|
|
You're not out of Pascagoula, are
|
|
you?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
No.
|
|
|
|
Where is he from, anyway?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I used to drive one of those. A
|
|
long time ago.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER
|
|
Hey, once a driver, always a
|
|
driver. You want a lift? I've just
|
|
got one more pickup.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Sure.
|
|
|
|
He picks up his bike.
|
|
|
|
|
|
302 INT. FEDEX TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER 302
|
|
|
|
The FedEx truck makes its way down the beach, Chuck in his
|
|
uniform, the Driver in hers. Two FedEx people in a truck.
|
|
|
|
The Driver looks over at Chuck.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER
|
|
You're Chuck Noland.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yeah.
|
|
|
|
DRIVER/ERICA
|
|
I knew it! You're a legend! Mr.
|
|
Robinson Crusoe.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Well --
|
|
137.
|
|
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
I knew I recognized you. My name's
|
|
Erica.
|
|
|
|
They smile at each other. Then she smiles a little more.
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
Did you really steal a crippled
|
|
kid's bicycle to make your
|
|
deliveries, or is that just some
|
|
bullshit story?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I didn't steal it, and he wasn't
|
|
crippled.
|
|
|
|
Erica laughs.
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
Otherwise it's completely true.
|
|
|
|
And that makes Chuck laugh, really laugh, for the first
|
|
time.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Yeah, completely.
|
|
|
|
She looks over at him with a grin.
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
What brings you out to the sticks?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
Had a package to deliver.
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
You? Personally?
|
|
|
|
CHUCK
|
|
I had it on the island with me.
|
|
|
|
ERICA
|
|
Must be a story there.
|
|
|
|
There's a connection building here, effortlessly.
|
|
|
|
|
|
303 EXT. BEACH - MOMENTS LATER 303
|
|
|
|
We are wide on the beach, watching the truck move along the
|
|
water, kicking up wisps of sand.
|
|
138.
|
|
|
|
|
|
CHUCK (V.O.)
|
|
Yeah, a long one.
|
|
|
|
ERICA (V.O.)
|
|
I've got lots of time.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK (V.O.)
|
|
So do I.
|
|
|
|
The truck goes down the beach and then turns inland, away
|
|
from the ocean. Away from all that.
|
|
|
|
CHUCK (V.O.)
|
|
So do I.
|
|
|
|
And we pull back, taking in the sweep of the beach, the
|
|
estuaries, and the green forest stretching back into
|
|
America.
|
|
|
|
The end is the beginning.
|
|
|
|
FADE OUT.
|
|
|