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Like a castaway. Time, island and sea

The film Cast away, by Robert Zemeckis (2000), tells the story of Chuck Noland (Tom Hanks), a systems engineer ironically expert in time efficiency, who works for the company Federal Express (FedEx) in order to make deliveries as fast as possible and who, after a tragic plane crash, is the only survivor, ending up on a small desert island lost in the Pacific. Starting from the analysis of the film under the perspective of personal identity, the relationship with time and the role played by the island and the sea, we intend to reflect on the emotional and psychological transformations of the protagonist, whose name indicates what will happen in the film: “C. (see) No land”.

From William Shakespeare’s The Storm (1610-1611) and Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (1719) to William Golding’s Lord of the Flies (1954) and Byron Haskin’s science fiction film Robinson Crusoe (1964), artists from various artistic fields have been intrigued by the idea of a human being marooned on a desert island. Tom Hanks mentioned that one of the reasons he wanted to make the film was to reinvent the concept “stuck on a desert island”, adapting it to the present time.1

And in fact the narrative construction is based on the division into two worlds that appear as completely opposed and apparently irreconcilable: on the one hand the globalised western world, in which Chuck Nolan, for professional reasons, lives obsessed with the need to control time and make it faster and more efficient. The logo of his transport company consists of angel wings under which we read “The world on time”. On the other hand, we have nature in a wild state, the power of the sea and of the storms, a desert island on which the protagonist has to learn to survive with the food and drinking water he finds.

A raccord for a dark shot, after Chuck’s first fight against a stormy sea, just after the crash of the plane he was on, shows us the passage from this urban, chaotic world, prisoner of time, to a wild world, of untamed nature, where time may well cease to exist. Through the light of lightning in the middle of the night, we see land, through the exhausted eyes of the protagonist. This dichotomy is accentuated by the very sound of the film, so that in the most devastating sequences, instead of being flooded with music, the entire soundtrack and even human language ceases, to allow the sounds of nature to dominate everything.  Here, too, there is an absolute contrast  with  the  part  of  the  film  before  the  disaster,  in  which  Chuck  speaks  at  a  fast,

uninterrupted, anxious pace, only for us on the island now to hear his desperate cries, getting no

response: “Hello? Anybody?”. Almost until the end of the film, the sounds of nature, the sea and the wind will predominate, until the moment when we hear out loud the thoughts of the protagonist.

However, as noted above, only apparently are these two worlds irreconcilable. The awareness of time allows the protagonist to figure out how to leave the island safely. It is by marking on the stone of his cave the passage of the seasons that he realises when the best time is to try to leave the island, with the right tide and winds, in a makeshift boat. In that sequence he comments to Wilson, the volleyball that becomes his best friend, whose face is painted with his own blood: “We live and die by time, didn’t we? Let’s not commit the sin of turning our backs to time.”

Not only the volleyball (Wilson), but also the watch with Kelly’s photo, his fiancée, the island and the sea itself take on such an intense symbolic charge that they end up being personified, thus making use of prosopopoeia. All these elements help Chuck to survive. This emotional and social survival is just as important as physical survival. Before leaving for what would be a journey of almost no return, Chuck and his fiancée exchange Christmas presents, he gives her, among other things, an engagement ring and she gives him a grandfather clock with Chuck’s favourite picture of her. In a close-up the watch is shown with Chuck always setting it to Memphis time, their time: it is this need to control time that also helps him to save himself, for it is this imprisonment to memories and the past that will allow him to keep hoping for a possible reunion.

The construction of a personal narrative, as well as its permanent re-elaboration, are decisive in fostering the feeling of personal continuity in a determined time and space. The continuous generation of otherness, of different realities, reifies and establishes personal identity, structuring it as an unstable intertwinement between fiction and reality. Hence Bernardo Soares’ view : “Yes, tomorrow, or when Fate says, there will be an end to what pretended in me that it was me”.  (Pessoa, 1982: 177). These reflections help to understand the importance of turning to the past to be able to survive and, also, the creation of another – Wilson – to be able to establish a dialogue that would allow survival, because “in the animal kingdom, the rule is, eat or be eaten; in the human kingdom, define or be defined.” (Gonçalves, 2002: 60)

Thus the desert island appears as a metaphor of life in this film that begins and ends with a high-angle shot over a crossroads, or were not Zemeckis an heir of the best classic American cinema, based on good screenwriters. A cycle closes, but the possibilities of choosing a certain path never end, or were we not all castaways learning how to survive on this island of ours.

Ana Bela Morais


[1] Cf. Cast Away in IMDB (Internet Movie Database), available on: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0162222/trivia/?ref_=tt_trv_trv. Accessed on July 17, 2022.

Bibliography:

Blum, Hester. May 2010. “The Prospect of Oceanic Studies” PMLA, Vol. 125, No. 3. Modern Language Association: pp. 670-677

Oscar Gonçalves, Óscar. 2002. Living narratively. A psicoterapia como adjectivação da experiência. 2nd ed., Coimbra: Quarteto Editora.

Pessoa, Fernando. 1982. Livro do desassossego, by Bernardo Soares. Vol. 1. Lisbon: Ática.

Steinberg, Philip E. 2013. “Of other seas: metaphors and materialities in maritime regions,” Atlantic Studies, Vol. 10, No. 2. Routledge: pp. 156-16.

The Island in Northern-American and English 20th and 21st – centuries Paranormal Horror Films and TV-Shows

[In Cinema, Horror]: Although prolific in representations in horror cinema and television shows, the island as an object of horror has yet to be further studied. In the 20th and 21st centuries, the island has been the stage for numerous horror films and television shows. Notably, the island is generally represented as the stage for horror, very rarely being the source of horror itself. However, there are some notable examples where the island itself represents the horror whether because of its inhabitants, for example in Doomwatch (Sasdy 1972) or The Wicker Man (Hardy 1973), or due to its fauna and flora, like Jaws (Spielberg 1975), and The Bay (Levinson 2012). The characteristics that the island evokes can be read in a binary. Instead of representing a private paradise, these islands usually represent individual (or group) seclusion that brings about the need for survival. The island often functions as the representation of exclusion from ‘normal’ society and the characters’ inability to reach it safely, often connecting it to the idea of the supernatural, such as in Blood Beach (Bloom 1981), The Woman in Black (Watkins 2012), an adaptation of Susan Hill’s homonymous work (1983), and Sweetheart (Dillard 2019), or of madness, for example in Shutter Island (Scorsese 2010) or The Lighthouse (Eggers 2019). It also evokes the feelings of imprisonment, limited resources, strange or foreign life forms, and a place where privacy can mean the concealment of horror to outsiders, such as Midnight Mass (Flanagan 2021), which evokes religious horror that is kept at bay from the rest of the world and contained because it is set on an island, or Fantasy Island (Wadlow 2020), where the notion of paradisiac and idyllic islands is subverted into its dystopic opposite. The island in horror films has been studied from a postcolonial perspective (Williams 1983; Martens 2021), particularly concerning films of Northern-American or British production that set the horror on foreign islands, namely those which are not European and white-centred, focusing, for instance, on the representation of African-Caribbean religions and practices and the zombie figure. It has also been studied through the lens of diabolical isolation and as the site for scientific experiment, like The Island of Lost Souls (Kenton 1934), the adaptation of H. G. Wells’ The Island of Dr. Mureau (1896), creation and/or concealment, as in Sedgwick’s study about ‘Nazi Islands’ (2018). However, it is from Australia that the study of the island as a horror site seems to be more fertile, specifically studies of ‘Ozploitation’, that is, films that explore the Australian island landscape as a product of colonisation and of disconnection from the (main)land (Simpson 2010; Culley 2020; Ryan and Ellison 2020).

M. Francisca Alvarenga

Bibliography:

CULLEY, NINA. “The Isolation at the Heart of Australian Horror.” Kill Your Darlings, Jul-Dec 2020, 2020, pp. 263-265. Informit, search.informit.org/doi/10.3316/informit.630726095716522.

MARTENS, EMIEL. “The 1930s Horror Adventure Film on Location in Jamaica: ‘Jungle Gods’, ‘Voodoo Drums’ and ‘Mumbo Jumbo’ in the ‘Secret Places of Paradise Island’. Humanities, vol. 10, no. 2, 2021, doi:  10.3390/h10020062.

RYAN, MARK DAVID, AND ELISABETH WILSON. “Beaches in Australian Horror Films: Sites of Fear and Retreat.” Writing the Australian Beach. Local Site, Global Idea, edited by Elisabeth Ellison and Donna Lee Brien. 2020. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan.

SEDGWICK, LAURA. “Islands Of Horror: Nazi Mad Science and The Occult in Shock Waves (1977), Hellboy (2004), And The Devil’s Rock (2011).” Post Script, special issue on Islands and Film, vol. 37, no. 2/3, 2018, pp. 27-39. Proquest, www.proquest.com/openview/00ccdba578653d3fe1a5b2e7b5bfb0b5/1?pq-origsite=gscholar&cbl=44598. Accessed January 27, 2022.

SIMPSON, CATHERINE. “Australian eco-horror and Gaia’s revenge: animals, eco-nationalism and the ‘new nature’.” Studies in Australasian Cinema, vol. 4, no. 1, 2010, pp. 43-54, doi: 10.1386/sac.4.1.43_1.

WILLIAMS, TONY. “White Zombie. Haitian Horror.” Jump Cut: A Review of Contemporary Media, vol. 28, 1983, pp. 18-20. Jump Cut, www.ejumpcut.org/archive/onlinessays/JC28folder/WhiteZombie.html. Accessed January 27, 2022.

Filmography:

Blood Beach. Directed by Jeffrey Bloom, The Jerry Gross Organization, 1981.

Doomwatch. Directed by Peter Sasdy, BBC, 1972.

Fantasy Island. Directed by Jeff Wadlow, Columbia Pictures, 2020.

Jaws. Directed by Steven Spielberg, Universal Studies, 1975.

Midnight Mass. Directed by Mike Flanagan, Netflix, 2021.

Shutter Island. Directed by Martin Scorsese, Paramount Pictures, 2010.

Sweetheart. Directed by Justin Dillard, Blumhouse Productions, 2019.

The Bay. Directed by Barry Levinson, Baltimore Pictures, 2012.

The Island of Lost Souls. Directed by Erle C. Kenton, Paramount Pictures, 1932.

The Lighthouse. Directed by Max Eggers, A24, 2019.

The Woman in Black. Directed by James Watkins, Hammer Film Productions, 2012.

Wicker Man. Directed by Robin Hardy, British Lion Films, 1973.

Further Reading

CHIBNALL, STEVE, AND JULIAN PETLEY (eds.). British Horror Cinema. British Popular Cinema. 2002. London and New York: Routledge.

HUTCHINGS, PETER. Hammer and Beyond: The British Horror Film. 1993. Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press.

—. Historical Dictionary of Horror Cinema, 2nd edition. 2018. London: Rowman & Littlefield.

—. The A to Z of Horror Cinema. 2009. Lanham, Toronto, Plymouth: The Scarecrow Press.

LEEDER, MURRAY. Horror Film. A Critical Introduction. 2018. New York, London, Oxford, New Delhi, Sydney: Bloomsbury.

SMITH, GARY A. Uneasy Dreams: The Golden Age of British Horror Films, 1956-1976. 2000. Jefferson, North Carolina, and London: McFarland & Company.

WALLER, GREGORY A. (ed.). American Horrors. Essays on the Modern American Horror Film. 1987. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press.