"Time? Time is a precious commodity."
How many times have you heard that? The expressions, "Don't waste time, take advantage of it," or "Waste not, want not," are part of our daily grind. How about, "I've got all the time in the world?" Along with similar sentiments such as "There's no time like the present" and "You've got too much time on your hands," these sayings have turned into clichés with overuse.
Rod Serling, the late, great writer and theorist behind the popular TV series, The Twilight Zone, was intimately aware of the value of time. A proponent of everyday parables as mass entertainment, Serling wrote a dandy little episode, from Season One, entitled "Time Enough At Last," about a mousy bank clerk named Henry Bemis (played by Burgess Meredith) whose sole ambition in life was to read books.
The only survivor of a hydrogen-bomb explosion, the timorous Mr. Bemis finds that he is alone amid the debris. Fortunately, he has sufficient food and supplies to last several lifetimes. And apparently, Bemis now has all the time in the world to read his precious books. Greedy little fellow, isn't he?
Having come upon a ruined library, the contents of which have spilled over into the street, Bemis piles all the books into neat stacks, one placed on top of the other. His plan is to devote the time he has left to indulging himself to the fullest.
Regrettably, in his excitement Bemis bends down to pick up a dusty tome, only to let his glasses fall on the pavement. The result? The lenses shatter into tiny little fragments. "No, that's not fair," he whines to himself. "That's not fair at all."
No, Mr. Bemis, it's not fair. But who said life was fair?
Yes, all the time in the world to read. To reap the riches flowing between a book's covers. Yet no means to exploit the bounty; no way to explore this vast, untapped literary realm. Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens, Byron, Shelley, all at his fingertips, go for naught. So close to heaven, yet so far.
Bemis' world has shrunk to arms' length. Unreadable now, and completely out of focus, as formless and opaque as life can get. Of course, it's not fair that his glasses broke, the means by which Mr. Bemis could have spent a lifetime wallowing in scholarly bliss. But it was not to be. He's reduced to a metaphorical cypher - no better off than those who perished in the fallout. Perhaps even worse off.
On the other hand, in director/producer Robert Zemeckis and screenwriter William Broyles Jr.'s Cast Away (2000), busy Chuck Noland (a frenetic Tom Hanks) is overly preoccupied with time. Time is always on this guy's mind. Yes, it is!
"Time rules over us without mercy," Chuck yells loudly at a bunch of Russian FedEx workers, "not caring if we're healthy or ill, hungry or drunk, Russian, American, or beings from Mars."
Whew! What a tirade! But it's only the beginning.
An executive analyst with the worldwide Federal Express Corporation, on-time delivery is part of Chuck's daily routine. Why, the man lives each moment by the hands of a clock. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock - the seconds whizz by, mercilessly and unforgivingly. Chuck is a ticking time bomb, you see, waiting to explode. He senses the hours slipping away from his grasp. And he can barely contain himself as a result.
Chuck is a marathoner, always on the run in a perpetual rat race with himself, his own private hamster-wheel of life. He might as well have one of those wheels installed in his office - that is, if Chuck could stay put there long enough. He barely has time to breathe, he's so obsessed.
"Time is like a fire," he grinds on. "It can either destroy us or keep us warm." We see Chuck sprinting from one city to another, and from one coastline to the other. Flying nonstop to and fro, Chuck extends his company's reach beyond state lines, flitting on metal wings from Moscow to Memphis and past mighty ports. The message he conveys is that whatever his company is shipping absolutely, positively has to get there no matter what.
Chuck is forever on the move. From the Atlantic to the Pacific, and back again. Stop, go, run, repeat. He's a human blender, for crying out loud! "We live or we die by the clock. We never turn our back on it. And we never, ever allow ourselves the SIN of losing track of time!" Whoa!!!
On and on he shouts. He makes a lot of noise, but does his message get through? If Chuck were a master criminal, you'd swear he was trying to cover something up, or escape detection for some horrible crime. Still, the harangue continues.
As his surname implies, Chuck has no land of his own, no place he can call "home." I doubt the phrase "Home, Sweet Home" exists for him. He just can't stay still, that's his most apparent flaw. It's that he's so into his work, never mind committing to personal relationships. No time, you see. The only connections he makes are with his flights.
In fact, he has no human connections to speak of, not even to his longtime girlfriend Kelly Frears (Helen Hunt). And, as her name suggests, Kelly "fears" this relationship is going nowhere. Yet, she's "freer" than Chuck ever will be in making those important life decisions. One of them has long-lasting repercussions for them as a couple.
Early on, Chuck avoids an uncomfortable conversation with Stan (Nick Searcy), a friend and coworker, whose wife is undergoing treatment for cancer. Chuck turns away when he should be consoling and supportive. Later, Chuck rather awkwardly offers assistance by referring Stan to a specialist. "I'll get you the number to my doctor," he asserts.
Ouch, don't you hate it when people get emotional? Doing to Chuck what Chuck did to him, Stan looks the other way. How awkward! Stan knows that Chuck is only "talking" to make himself feel better. Nothing serious, really. Just empty platitudes, banalities not worth either the time or the effort. How sad.
That's Chuck for you. Full of hollow reassurances, signifying nothing. So, what do we think about this character? Not much, I'm afraid. We don't like him very much. Nope, not one bit. Even if Tom Hanks plays him.
Just as Chuck whisks off for a last-minute flight to Malaysia just prior to New Year's Eve (perfect timing!), girlfriend Kelly decides to give him a Christmas present: her father's gold watch. There's a little photo of her inside this family heirloom. How sweet! What does Chuck do? He shoves a present at her through the car window. But she's not to open it until his return. Oh, darn it!
Their exchange is stiff, mannered and calculated, going only so far yet not far enough. Chuck has a plane to catch, you see. Gotta go! Still, what is it that he tosses to her? It's a gorgeous engagement ring, an afterthought in a FedEx world of afterthoughts. Geez!
Chuck throws her a farewell kiss. "I'll be right back," he shouts, against the noise of a FedEx jet revving up its engines.
He does not return.
An Island of Dreams, A Sea of TroublesFor four years, Chuck goes missing and is presumed dead. What happened to Chuck? In brief, the plane he was on experienced engine failure during a massive tropical storm. It crashed, with no survivors, somewhere in the South Pacific, six hundred miles off its destination of Malaysia.
Incredibly, Chuck manages to survive the crash. Whisked by chance to a small island (via an inflatable raft), he cautiously explores the tiny abode. A deserted paradise, one would think. Now THERE'S a paradox for you! How can a paradise be deserted? Well, when you're alone and emotionally bereft of human companionship, that's a living hell in our book.
No matter. Chuck learns the hard way to eke out a Robinson Crusoe-like existence. From a grove of coconut trees, he's able to draw liquid sustenance. He even manages to build a fire, which he uses not to destroy but to keep himself warm and cozy. He catches small crabs and tiny fish, too. Yup, Chuck's an authentic outdoorsman. But the coconuts take their toll on his system; in fact, they give him the runs.
The dead body of a pilot washes up on the shore. Ugh! Chuck does the honors by burying the deceased. This is the start of his coming to terms with his humanity. Soon, soggy FedEx packages begin to wash up as well. Chuck profits from these FedEx packages, employing a pair of skates, in one instance, to cut open coconuts and shape trees. Even more ingenious is his use of video cassette tapes to bind together logs for a raft, but that's still to come.
In the meantime, he's forced to perform oral surgery on himself to relieve the pain he's experiencing from a nasty toothache. A makeshift root canal? No way! Out goes the tooth, and down goes Chuck.
His most significant discovery, however, is a volleyball. A Wilson Sporting Goods model, to be precise. At first glance, Chuck doesn't know what to do with the volleyball, but eventually takes a liking to it. To our surprise, the volleyball becomes his Man Friday, in a manner of speaking, with Chuck carrying on a one-sided conversation with the prop. Of course, he's really talking to himself, but don't tell him that.
Another incident, during which a pained Chuck accidentally slices his hand while trying to light a fire, leads to his tossing the volleyball aside with his bloody palmprint. Chuck retrieves the object and, admiring his handiwork, paints a human-like face on it. "Wilson," he calls it. Ah, yes, and friends to the end. But Wilson can't talk back, or can it? With regard to their running dialogue, Chuck both asks and answers his own questions. Has his mind started to unravel?
For the next four years, Chuck puts up with his solitary existence. He loses weight, but otherwise appears to be in reasonably good shape. Not nearly so agitated as when he first "arrived" on the islet, Chuck stomps about the atoll in predetermined steps. He knows where to walk and what sharp ridges to avoid, too. Holy smoke, he's gone native!
With nothing in the way of razors or barber clippers to rely upon, Chuck's beard and hair grow to remarkable lengths. He resembles a wilder version of Johnny Appleseed, a Tarzan without his Apes, or a Mowgli without Bagheera and Baloo. It's just him and Wilson, roughing it in the wild. Even Wilson gets into the action, sprouting a mop of branch stems on its noggin.
Still, Chuck keeps up that old daily grind. After a portable plastic potty shows up on the shore, Chuck gets an idea: he resolves to make good his escape by using the potty as a sail for a raft. Indeed, he's had enough of the island life. Time to get busy.
Many months before, Chuck spotted a ship on the horizon. He tried signaling to it, but no luck. It was too far away. He tried rowing to it on what was left of that inflatable raft, only to be tossed overboard from the force of the waves, resulting in a nasty foot accident. This time, though, Chuck is prepared to take that leap of faith.
Earlier, Chuck found his way to the island's highest peak. Looking out from his spot, he picked at a stringy piece of rope dangling from the broken limb of a tree. On the end of the rope was a noose. He examined the noose, his eyes focused on it. We learn later that Chuck planned to kill himself. Oh, my goodness! We now have our answer: he lost it, if only temporarily.
Having failed at putting an end to his existence (which must have pained him profoundly), Chuck decides to risk it all in one last dip into the watery breach. He fills the wooden raft he's been tirelessly working on - to include an unopened FedEx package - with enough water and provisions to survive the trek.
Wilson is definitely "on board" with the idea. But a massive storm surge and a spate of the doldrums exhaust Chuck's resolve. In a momentary lapse of attention, Wilson falls overboard and is set adrift on the tide. Despite his strenuous efforts, Chuck loses Wilson to the mighty Pacific. The volleyball is sacrificed to the sea gods, possibly to appease their wrath.
Chuck is beside himself with grief. "I'm sorry, Wilson. I'm sorry," he blubbers on and on. There goes his trusty companion. This wasn't the first time he's faced abandonment, and it won't be his last either.
Born AgainWhat's kept Chuck afloat all these years? Was it his relationship with Wilson? Was it the thought of seeing Kelly again? All that time, he's kept the pocket watch with her picture in the cave he'd been living in. Sure, it's worn and dusty, tarnished even, but still identifiable. Night after night, before going to sleep, Chuck would stare longingly at Kelly's portrait. But was that enough to sustain him?
Ironically, the loss of Wilson has flung Chuck's raft, or what's left of it, in the direction of his being rescued by a passing cargo ship. A miracle, you say? Indeed it is! And what a story he has to tell.
In the last third of the picture, Chuck is a different person. He's calmer, for one thing, more pensive and measured in his speech. He speaks in softer tones, less strident than in the past. He's mellowed out considerably, and in no rush to resume the rat race. There's also a sense of calm resignation to his bearing, of his having stepped off that old hamster-wheel he'd been on and shaken the sand off his bare feet.
Wait! What's that? A kinder, gentler Chuck Noland? No more yelling, no more screaming? No more windy sermons about running out of time? No more rush deliveries? No more living by the hands of an imaginary clock?
In the film's most touching episodes - the ones that Tom Hanks fans will be arguing about from now till crack of doom - Chuck talks honestly and openly, for once, with Stan, his FedEx friend and coworker. When Chuck is reunited with Stan, he's told that his friend's wife, Mary, has passed away of cancer.
"Oh, Stan, I'm so sorry I wasn't around when Mary died. I should've been there for you. And I wasn't... I'm so sorry." Stan smiles at his friend. This is the first time a formerly unsympathetic Chuck has spoken so sincerely to anyone about anything so caring and humane as the loss of a loved one. He knows what Stan has gone through, mainly because Chuck himself has experienced it. That is, the loss of his volleyball companion, Wilson. But there's another loss he must contend with and accept.
Stan informs him that, since he was declared dead, Kelly had to let him go. There was also a funeral service held in his absence. Yes, and a coffin, too. "You had a coffin?" Puzzled and mildly annoyed, Chuck asks what was in the coffin? There's no real answer. Stan claims that everyone tossed in a little something, a personal remembrance of some kind, including a few Elvis Presley CDs. All in all, there wasn't much else to be said. Like the corpse of the pilot that washed up on the shores of his little island, Chuck's onetime self is dead and buried. Gone, to put it mildly.
Chuck's other loss is more heartfelt, and more sorrowful to him personally. He's told that Kelly married his orthodontist (Chris Noth), the same orthodontist who tried to get Chuck to take care of his abscessed tooth - the one that nearly drove him mad with pain. Kelly also has a daughter. A little FedEx package, delivered directly to Kelly and her orthodontist husband while Chuck was away on that deserted island. Oh, the absurdity of it all!
Yet, Chuck does not give up the ship. During a torrential downpour, something he got used to in those formative years on that tropical isle, Chuck visits Kelly at her home. The couple reunite, briefly, in a tender embrace. True, they still love each other. But Kelly's got obligations now, a husband to take care of, and a child to watch over. A family, in other words.
Chuck understands. His stillness and calm are palpable. This, indeed, is a different Chuck, a more understanding one. In effect, he understands only too well. In the film's most revealing moment, Chuck opens up to Stan in a makeshift confessional. Only an actor of Tom Hanks' range and ability could deliver such a perceptive, convincing speech without being cloying or sentimental. Chuck's years of isolation has brought him inner peace and, more pointedly, a rare understanding of his own nature.
By holding back, Chuck speaks his mind without spilling his guts. It's the kind of insight one gets from having experienced loss: the loss of a relative, a spouse, a loved one, or one's children. The pain is always there, it never goes away. In its place is a wisdom beyond the years. A knowledge that, as Chuck has discovered, leads to acceptance. We accept our fate, no matter what it is.
He tells Stan that, despite it all - especially his having to lose Kelly all over again (sniff, sniff) - he's got to keep moving. For an instant, Chuck recalls his experience on the island, especially his failed suicide attempt. "I knew somehow that I had to stay alive," he relates, "to keep breathing." We know of his encounter with those FedEx packages, and his unspoken alliance with Wilson, who arrived via one of those same packages.
"Who knows what the tide could bring."
Yes, it was that lone FedEx package, the one he kept with him on that raft to freedom, that Chuck needed to deliver. And he does deliver it. In doing so, he winds up at the exact spot that an earlier FedEx delivery truck was in - that is, at a crossroads in the middle of nowhere.
Chuck has unintentionally opened up a new pathway to another life. A better, more fulfilling life? Only time will tell. But he's in no rush. No rush at all.
That pretty lady, the one in the pickup truck, with a little dog in back. She seems nice and friendly. Oh, yeah, very nice. Interesting. And as a matter of fact, she's gone off in the same direction that Chuck had just come from. Well, well, look what the tide brought in! What do you know about that?
But Chuck's in no rush. No rush at all. Why, he's got all the time in the world.
Copyright © 2022 by Josmar F. Lopes
