Original subtitles

I am a journalist, Robert.

I assure you, I have very little interest

in your flights of fancy.

You, Daniel Defoe, are a writer.

It is your destiny as such

to bring this remarkable man's story,

a story of intense struggle, extraordinary friendship

and undying love, to the world.

Well done, Robert. Well done.

Full of life, death, passion.

You could indeed give up publishing for the stage, sir.

Tell me, though, what relevance has this fine story

to an impoverished scribe like myself?

Because, Daniel, you are my favorite impoverished scribe.

And what is this?

The recently discovered journal of one Robinson Crusoe.

Then this tale you tell me is true.

Every word of it.

"The travelogue of a wayward seaman"?

Read this journal, Daniel.

I am confident, sir, you will find a great interest

in the story he has to tell.

And so my story begins,

like so many other stories, with a woman.

For as long as I can remember,

Mary McGregor and I had planned to marry.

However, as the McGregor family grew more prosperous,

so, too, did the fortunes of the Crusoe family dwindle.

As a result, the woman whom I greatly loved

found herself betrothed against her will

to my dear friend Patrick Connor.

Though Patrick knew of our lifelong bond,

he refused to release Mary from their arrangement.

It need not end this way, Patrick.

How, then?

Shall I cease the engagement and disgrace my family?

Unh! Patrick!

We were friends once.

Does not that count for anything?

We were friends, Crusoe.

But we are friends no longer.

Then we shall fight.

She is to be my wife, Robin.

It is God's will.

You know Mary and I loved each other since childhood.

Patrick. This is not your fight, James.

You're not like your brothers, Patrick.

Don't be like your brothers.

You will never be together!

Patrick.

No. No. Dear God, forgive me. No.

He's dead, sir.

Murderer.

Take to your horse, sir.

I'll not leave. Go, sir, now.

Murderer!

He knew I did not love him. I told him as much.

Yet he chose to fight.

You both chose to fight, Robin.

What are you saying, Mary?

Do you believe I would willfully kill my friend?

I walked away. You accepted his challenge.

Would a wiser man have known better than to fight?

His brothers will seek vengeance.

They have already.

He was my friend, Mary.

I would never have wished such a terrible fate on Patrick.

You must leave now.

It is not safe for you anymore.

Will it ever be safe for me, Mary?

Time will heal this wound, Robin.

I will explain to Patrick's family.

They will come to understand.

Go with the coachman.

You can trust him.

He will take you to Edinburgh

and arrange for your safe passage.

Come back wiser for the experience.

In a year, I'll return.

Then we shall be wed.

If it is 13 months, Robin, then shall I marry another?

I love you.

I will always see your face before me.

A year.

No longer.

Walk on. Come on, boy.

And so I took to the seas,

the one place where I knew I would be safe.

For many months, we sailed the great oceans of the world.

We docked at mysterious scented islands

under the Southern Cross.

We swam with mermaids,

and we carried fabulous cargos of silks and spices,

jade and mahogany.

And once even, we carried a human cargo of slaves.

Providence had decreed me a man without a country,

yet I was not without a purpose.

Though I had formally served in His Majesty's army,

it was my academic background

and my intimate knowledge of history

that lead the captain of our ship to call on me

to chronicle our journey through the written word.

Enter.

Captain's compliments, Mr. Crusoe.

Thank you. Shut the door.

Though Patrick's death brought about my exile,

it was the thought of Mary,

of the knowledge that I would have her hand in marriage

upon my return,

that kept my spirits strong as our voyage continued.

Our little ship had met and bested foul weather

and high seas on three oceans.

Sometimes the storms would last a week or more.

But I grew ever more confident

in the skills of our captain and his crew.

What do you see in the crow's-nest?

Over there.

We'll get back into it, sir.

- Haul your weight. - Haul your weight.

Batten down the hatches.

Batten down the hatches.

Aye, aye, sir.

We're going down! We're going down!

Give me your hand!

Don't be foolish, sir. Give me your hand.

Give it to me now. I can't.

Give me your hand.

Somebody help me!

We've run aground!

As I took my first steps in that unknown land,

a dread came over me.

I began to realize in truth how terrible was my condition.

Hello!

Hello!

As I laid my poor companions to rest,

I confess my thoughts were for my own soul.

I did not know in what land I had been cast,

in what country, among what nation.

Nor whether I might endure a single night here.

Let alone a week... or a month.

I spent that first night not daring to imagine

what dangers might prowl or crawl beneath me,

and sleepless for thinking how I might survive the next day

without food or weapons or human company.

But as the sun rose, so did my spirits.

For then I saw that the hulk of our vessel

had caught fast on the reef where she had foundered.

Onboard, I might find food and drink for my sustenance...

and this gave me fresh hope.

Hello?

Is anyone there?

I found that our ship lay so on the reef

that only half of her was filled with water.

The forward parts were dry,

and there I found powder and weapons and provisions.

I discovered the carpenter's chest

and being a gentleman,

I had little experience with the tools of the trade.

Nevertheless, there and then,

I resolved that I would learn.

The ship's longboat had been dashed to pieces by the storm.

But I found a part of an upper deck torn away.

I used this as a makeshift raft.

Thanks to an incoming tide and a gentle breeze,

my modest craft took me straightaway to shore.

I began to feel not a little proud

of my achievements... so far.

And so I reckoned my fortunes were on the up.

I had provisions for a month or more,

tools and good timber.

Even good company in the captain's old dog, Skipper.

There you go, Skipper.

That's it. No more.

From now on, you find your own food.

I was now making daily excursions

away from the shoreline,

penetrating further and further into the interior of my domain.

I knew only that we'd been sailing

some miles from the coast of Guinea.

And I had in mind the possibility

that my soil was somehow connected to a mainland

where I may happen upon some human civilization.

I'm on an island.

In order to keep watch daily

for the first ship that would pass at sea,

I resolved to situate myself as near the coast as possible.

The weeks turned to months

and still no sighting of a ship.

But I truly believed it must come to pass.

Some vessel would sail by my shore

sooner rather than later.

Skipper.

Quiet. Quiet, Skipper.

My God.

No! Come back!

Come back!

I'm here!

I'm here! Come back!

Fire! Fire, fire!

Come back, please! Please!

Please, come back! No!

Come back, I'm here!

It was on that day I came to see

I must no longer rely upon chance

or fate or divine intervention for my survival,

but solely on my own efforts as a man.

And I found as time went by,

I began to grow even fond of my island kingdom.

I have not been idle with my time on the island.

Even so, my thoughts continually turn

to the life I left behind.

Skipper, come here. What you're about to hear

is the sweetest sound in the whole world.

The spirit of Scotland.

Robin.

My thoughts of Mary inspired me,

for I knew that someday I would return.

I erected a monument to mark my landing here.

Upon it, I've been scrupulously recording

the days of the week and the months

as they pass since my arrival on the island.

One year, Skipper.

A whole year.

How many wild fantasies tormented my mind

as I made for the security of my own castle,

fancying every bush and tree stump to be a man,

afflicted with such terror I could imagine Satan himself

had taken human shape and left his print upon my shore.

From somewhere on my island came sounds

I believed I would never hear again.

Human voices, to be sure.

But voices unlike I'd ever heard before.

Stay. Stay here.

Don't be afraid.

I'm your friend.

I'm your friend.

Give it to me.

Come on.

What do you think you're doing?

I saved your life back there.

I wanna be your friend.

How can I make you understand?

Friend.

I am your friend.

Food.

Aye, food.

Food, food.

Here you go.

A gift, peace.

Aye, you want the gun?

No, it's very powerful.

And if you try to take this,

I will use this power to kill you.

And I don't wanna kill you.

You're my friend.

Food.

Food.

No!

Blasphemy.

Blasphemy.

Blasphemy.

How could I ever have imagined being a friend to this savage?

I saw now he was from another world.

One surely ruled by Satan.

I, Robinson Crusoe,

would guide and protect my kingdom against all evil.

Skipper? Skipper, prepare yourself.

Seems we have a very unfriendly heathen on the island with us.

Little did this pagan know,

but his adversary was once trained as a soldier.

So he would be facing one skilled in strategy

in the military arts.

It is hard to describe my conflict of emotions.

In all these two years,

I'd longed for the company of another human being.

And now we were enemies.

Hunter and prey.

And he was out there, somewhere on my island.

Stay away from me, you black heathen bastard.

Leave it alone.

Leave the bloody thing alone, you hear me?

That's right, blow your bloody brains out.

Go on. Come here. Give me my gun.

That's it.

Give me the gun.

Give me the bloody gun.

Come here, come here. I'll give you this.

Look, look.

Aye.

Up. Up.

Take it easy.

You understand danger?

Death.

Who are you?

What are you?

Look. Look.

Aye.

Aye.

That he was a savage was indisputable.

And yet he seemed to be a decent fellow at heart.

In time, I might even turn him from his pagan ways.

Perhaps this was my mission.

What's your name?

What about Hamish?

I had a brother called Hamish.

What day is it, Thursday?

No, it's not. It's Friday.

Friday.

Friday.

Friday.

Friday.

Friday. Master.

Master.

Master. Friday.

Master.

Friday.

Aye.

Friday.

Friday.

You sleep here.

You sleep here.

Just till the morning.

Food.

Stay there.

Food.

Master.

Stay.

Stay, stay.

Come here.

Come here.

I had wronged this poor honest savage,

and I was truly sorry for it.

It became clear to me

that I could not have found a better creature

to be subject to my benevolent rule.

At least, that was how I saw it then.

Friday became constant and diligent in his work

and proved to know a great deal

about planting and harvesting our crops.

Indeed, to my surprise, he even began to instruct me.

In turn, I made it my mission

to teach Friday the King's English.

And after six months,

I was astonished that he learned the language

with such great proficiency.

Yet other aspects of Friday's education proved more arduous.

Friday, I'd like to talk to you about God.

God?

Your maker and creator.

God.

He made everything.

He made you.

Pakia.

Pakia?

Pakia, God.

Crocodile.

Before long time, no land, only water.

That's in Genesis.

Pakia live in the water.

He make tingpopo.

He make tangpopo.

He made the sun and moon, aye.

Sun and moon marry, they make baby. Man.

Make all men. Make me.

No. God made you.

Pakia.

You can't worship a crocodile.

Why not?

Teeth of crocodile.

Does this crocodile, this Pakia,

tell you to eat the flesh of your enemies?

Make strong.

You eat fish, swim good.

You eat lizard, climb good.

You eat heart, make strong.

This is pagan blasphemy, Friday.

The true God is greater and more powerful.

The true God is love.

He teaches us to love our enemies.

Pakia is not God.

Show me God.

I cannot show you God.

I show you Pakia, you show God.

You cannot see God.

He's in the spirit. He's in the soul.

I see spirit in the trees.

I see spirit in trees and animals.

I see everywhere.

Here, here is God.

Here is the living proof of God, his sacred word.

This is the living testament to his love,

his wisdom, his divine plan. Here.

Where? I see no God.

No, you fool, you have to read it.

Now, look what you've done, you heathen savage.

This blasphemy, and your soul

shall be damned to eternal torments.

I no like your God.

I no like you.

Forgive all those who trespass against us,

against you, Lord.

Against you, O Lord.

I knew I should come to regret my harsh words.

Whether Friday was the better for our meeting,

I do not know.

But I had good cause to thank Providence

for sending him to serve me.

And so I'm alone again.

I manage well enough without him.

I eat well enough, I live tolerably well.

But I find I begin to miss him as a companion.

It's been several weeks now.

Our paths cross from time to time,

but we do not speak, we do not communicate.

In my studies of history,

I had chronicled the religious wars

that have plagued mankind since the beginning of time.

And how sad, I thought, that in this universe of two,

religion had now put us at our own war.

Yet something had to be done.

Friday.

We can't carry on like this. It's silly.

The two of us on the same bloody island

not talking to each other, not sharing what we have.

I'm sorry for all the things I said.

Everything I did.

I was angry.

I apologize.

I want you to come back.

Good fish. Eat.

- Right, there she goes. - Steady, now. That's it.

Come on, now. Straight ahead. That's it, come on.

So now we were three.

And I heard once again the sound of human laughter.

His and mine.

Straight ahead. Come on.

- That's it. - The first one.

I win. I win.

Go, I win. I win.

Go in the water yourself. They'll go with you.

Let's get the big lizards.

I finally win. Winner.

I had not forgotten who it was

that had brought Friday to my island,

nor the likelihood of their return.

The Nimas, it seemed,

were the dominant tribe on Friday's island.

And Friday had been offered by his own people

as a tribute to these savages.

Powerful.

Sunguna, power.

Gunpowder.

This. Power.

This is what the Nimas come for.

This dust that makes them powerful.

Make great warriors.

Then they will come back.

And so I determined to be ready for them.

Like hunters setting traps for animals,

we prepared our welcome.

I explained to Friday

that this particular white man's magic

would ensure that our enemies go to meet their god, Pakia,

rather sooner than they anticipated.

Skipper!

Skipper!

Skipper!

O dear Lord,

I thank you for the time I shared

with this faithful creature.

He was my friend.

Does Skipper goes to Crusoe's heaven?

Dogs don't have souls, Friday.

Only people have mortal souls.

Only people go to heaven.

Too bad.

Good dog.

Aye.

Friday ask Pakia to look after dog's spirit.

Pakia. Pakia.

The lessons of humility

do not come easily to a stubborn soul.

Once I had thought mine was the only true path.

Now I was no longer sure.

Pakia.

The Nimas will come back.

With new moon, many, many warriors will come.

Want your magic.

Well, we can't fight them all.

We could build a boat. Go away, go to your island.

No.

We cannot go to my island.

Why not?

Cannot go. Can never go.

I am a dead man.

This island of dead people.

Aye, well, we will be if we stay here.

Well, we build boat.

You go to your island.

If only I could.

My island's on the other side of the world.

Many, many moons away.

What name your island?

Britain.

Great Britain.

Britani?

Yes.

Nua Britani.

You know Britain?

Not so long. One moon, maybe.

You mean New Britain?

Nua Britani.

Right name, Uua-ma-tupiit.

White man call it "Nua Britani."

Have you seen white men before me?

My father told me about white men long ago.

Not good.

White man, he take much everything.

Not give back.

Take land, take people. Tanga people.

Make people slaves.

You not white man, Master.

You a good man.

If your island is close to New Britain,

we could build a boat and go there.

I cannot. Do not ask me, Master.

My name is not "Master."

My name is Robinson Crusoe.

Rob--

Robina Crus--

Crusoe, aye.

What name is "master"?

White man.

I am slave to you? No.

It was a mistake.

I'm not your slave. No.

No, you're not my slave.

We are friends, and we can live as friends.

We can build a boat.

We can build a boat and leave this place.

You gave life.

I cannot kill you.

Better I go kill myself.

Then stay on this island and die.

But I will build a boat.

And I will live!

So my stupid arrogance had lost me my dear companion

for a second time.

And I was alone again.

If what Friday said was true,

I was less than one month's travel from New Britain,

one of His Majesty's colonies off the coast of New Guinea.

But my time was short.

I had to leave before the next full moon,

and the typhoon season would soon be here.

I knew I would have to leave soon

or miss my chance.

If I had not already done so.

How I regretted my thoughtless words.

The chances were that I would never see my friend again.

I am not slave.

I know, Friday.

You're my friend.

I tell you my spirit name.

Only spirit, me and Tanga big men know.

Why are you telling me this?

Crusoe gave life.

Not say more.

Give power of bird.

Fly safe to land.

Quickly. Quickly.

Fearing that this might be a tempest

as violent as that which cast me on the island,

we brought our livestock to what shelter we could devise.

We waited together to brave the storm,

which indeed proved more fearsome than any before.

No time to build new boat.

Moon nearly big.

Nimas come. Many, many warriors.

Yeah, well, there's no place to hide.

We'll have to fight them.

We may die.

Dying not important. All men die.

What matters is how you die.

Then we'll die like warriors.

At the time of the last full moon,

I knew that several of the Nima warriors

had escaped our trap.

So this time, the enemy would know we were there.

Our only ally would be our ingenuity

and what gunpowder remained to us.

Pakia.

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses,

as we forgive those who trespass against us.

Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.

For thine is the kingdom,

the power, the glory, forever and ever.

Amen.

I do not know how long I had lain there

while Friday ministered to me.

I felt little pain now,

but a coldness spread through every limb.

I don't wanna die here.

You stay with me till... Please?

Then go back to your own people.

Cannot go. Can never go.

You must.

Friday's dead man.

Cannot go back from here.

I am dead to my people.

I am tanuang.

This island of dead men.

No one ever leave.

I don't want to die here.

Because he was offered up for sacrifice,

Friday was considered dead to his own people.

In many ways, a fate worse than death,

as he could never again be accepted amongst his own tribe.

Ironically, this dead man was my only chance for life.

Fri...

Friday.

Mary.

Robin.

Robin.

Mary, Mary, Mary.

Mary, Mary.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

You live.

No.

Friday take care of you. No, no.

No, the...

Friday take you home.

Aye, aye. Home.

Having neither the provisions, nor, in my case,

the strength to aim our sails for New Britain,

Friday and I set out for his nearby island.

While Friday believed his people

could cure me of my ills,

his own fate was far less certain.

I could not count the days we were on the sea.

With God's grace, we encountered only fair winds.

And with Friday as our guide,

we sailed safely to his island home.

Friday!

Friday!

You be better.

She use magic leaves.

Thank you.

Your wife?

Was my wife.

She think I dead when Nimas take me.

Not come back, she marry a new man.

Am I an evil spirit?

They think you are a slave trader.

Many times, white man come and take many warriors.

Many young men for slave.

Take my son.

Friday.

They think I bring you here to make them slaves.

If I'm an evil spirit, why does she help me?

You sick man.

Not good to kill sick man.

Bad manner.

He prays to the gods.

Aye. What are they saying?

We fight. One of us die.

If I kill you, I can stay.

If you kill me, you can go.

I cannot kill you.

I will not kill you.

I am a dead man.

No wife, no man child.

Is better to die like warrior.

I will not fight you.

You must.

Or they kill both of us.

I can't do this.

Almighty God, welcome me to paradise if I am worthy.

Kill me and live.

Cannot kill friend.

Do it.

Do it.

Come on. Over here.

This way. Come on.

Don't worry, me hearty.

These savages can't harm you now.

No!

No!

No!

And so fate had saved her harshest trick to last.

Just as a duel had caused me to flee my native land,

so, too, did the battle between friends

bring about my return.

I was to owe my freedom

to the men who had killed my friend.

Who had ravaged his people and his family.

The slavers nursed me back to health

and then put me ashore at Lisbon.

There I was taken aboard a merchantman.

Six years after my departure from Scotland,

I came home.

It was he who gave you the journal.

Yes.

Robert, I must write this.

You miss him, don't you?

He saved my life.

He brought you back to me.

A wiser man?

Perhaps.

And so Mary and I settled down to marriage

and a family of our own.

We were blessed with happiness and prosperity.

But for the rest of my days,

I would think often and long of the man

who had given me the greatest gift of all,

my life,

when I'd all but lost it,

and his friendship...

unto death.