The Old Man and the Sea

Synopsis: Now an old man, a lifelong fisherman sets out to sea to ply his trade as he has done all of his life. He's not had much good fortune of late and has gone almost three months without a major catch while others are catching one or even two large marlins every week. Many of the locals make fun of him and some say he's too old now to be fishing but he still loves what he does and is encouraged by a young boy who loves him and has faith in him. On this day he hooks the fish of a lifetime, a marlin that is larger than his skiff. As it slowly pulls him out to sea, the old man reminisces about his past, his successes and the high points of his life. When he does finally manage to land the fish he has to fight off sharks who are feeding on it as he tries to return to his Cuban village.
Genre: Adventure, Drama
  Won 1 Oscar. Another 5 wins & 4 nominations.
Rotten Tomatoes:
86 min

He was an old man who fished alone

in a skiff in the Gulf Stream...

... and he had gone 84 days now

without taking a fish.

In the first 40 days,

a boy had been with him.

But after 40 days without a fish

the boy's parents told him...

... that the old man was now definitely

and finally salao...

... which is the worst form of unlucky...

... and the boy had gone at their orders

in another boat...

... which caught three good fish

the first week.

The old man had taught the boy to fish,

and the boy loved him.

The old man was gray and wrinkled,

with deep furrows in the back of his neck...

... and his hands had the deep, creased scars

from handling heavy fish on the cords.

But none of these scars were fresh.

They were as old as erosions

in a fishless desert.

Everything about him was old,

except his eyes.

And they were the same color as the sea,

were cheerful and undefeated.

It made the boy sad to see the old man

come in each day with his skiff empty.

He always went down to help him carry

the lines, the gaff and harpoon...

... and the sail that was furled

around the mast.

The sail was patched

with flour sacks, and furled.

It looked like the flag

of permanent defeat.

No one would steal

from the old man...

... but it's better to take

the sail and lines home...

... as the dew was bad for them.

Though he was sure no

local people would steal...

... the old man thought

a gaff and a harpoon...

... were needless temptations

to leave in a boat.

The successful fishermen were already in

and had butchered their marlin out...

... carried them laid full-length

across two planks to the fish house...

... where they waited for the ice truck

to carry them to the market in Havana.

"Can I offer you a beer on the terrace?"

The boy asked.

"Why not?" the old man said.

"Between fisherman."

Two beers, Martin. Please.

They sat on the terrace and many

fishermen made fun of the old man.

But he was not angry.

He did not remember

when he had attained humility...

... but he knew he had attained it...

... and he knew it was not disgraceful

and it carried no true loss of pride.

Some of the older fishermen

looked at him and were sad...

... but they did not show it.

They spoke about the currents...

... and the depths they'd

drifted their lines at...

... and the steady, good weather

and of what they had seen.

- Santiago.

- Yes?

Can I go and get the sardines

for you tomorrow?

Oh, no. No.

You play ball. I can still row,

and I can still throw the net.

I know where I can get four fresh baits.

I still have mine from today.

Let me get four fresh ones.

- One.

- Two.


- You didn't steal them, did you?

- I would, but I bought these.

Thank you.

If I cannot fish with you,

I'd like to serve in some way.

You bought me a beer.

You are already a man.

They walked up the road together.

The old man stood the mast

outside his shack.

In the old man's shack,

there was a bed, a table, chairs...

... and a place to cook with charcoal.

On the brown walls, there was a picture

in color of the Sacred Heart of Jesus...

... and another of the Virgin of Cobre.

These were relics of his wife.

Once there had been a tinted photograph

of his wife on the wall.

But he had taken it down because

it made him too lonely to see it.

It was on the shelf in the corner,

under his clean shirt.

Tomorrow is the 85th day.

Eighty-five is a lucky number.

How'd you like to see me bring one in

that dressed out over a thousand pounds?

Are you strong enough now

for a truly big fish?

I think so.

And there are many tricks.

Santiago, I could go with you again.

We've made enough money.

No, no. You are in a lucky boat.

You stay with them.

Remember how long we went

without fish before?

Then we caught big ones every day

for three weeks.

I remember.

I know you did not leave me

because you lost confidence.

It was my papa made me leave.

I am a boy and I must obey him.

Of course, of course.

It is quite normal.

He hasn't much faith.

- But we have, haven't we?

- Yes.

If you were my boy,

I would take you out again.

But you are your father's and your mother's,

and you are in a lucky boat.

What do you have to eat?

I have a pot of yellow rice and some fish.

Would you like some?

No. I'll eat at home.

- May I take the cast net?

- Of course.

I have yesterday's newspaper.

I will read the baseball.

There was no cast net. The boy remembered

when they had sold it.

But they went through

this fiction every day.

There was no pot of yellow rice and fish,

and the boy knew this.

He didn't know whether yesterday's paper

was a fiction too.

The old man brought it out

from under the bed.

Keep warm, old man.

Sit in the sun.

Remember, we're in September.

The month of the big fish.

Anybody can be a fisherman in May.

I'll be back when I get the sardines.

Then you can tell me about the baseball.

- Hey, Manolin, come on.

- Play first base.

Hey, yeah. Come on.

- Manolin.

- A dinner for two, please. To take out.

You don't eat at home anymore?

- How much do you have to spend?

- Sixty cents.

No luck yet, huh?

You know, maybe it's not luck at all.

Maybe he's too old.

He's not too old. You'll see.

- I said, maybe.

- Not even maybe.

All right.

I only hope when I'm an old man

I have a boy to fish for me.

When the boy came back,

the old man was asleep in a chair...

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Ernest Hemingway

Ernest Miller Hemingway (July 21, 1899 – July 2, 1961) was an American novelist, short story writer, and journalist. His economical and understated style—which he termed the iceberg theory—had a strong influence on 20th-century fiction, while his adventurous lifestyle and his public image brought him admiration from later generations. Hemingway produced most of his work between the mid-1920s and the mid-1950s, and won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1954. He published seven novels, six short-story collections, and two non-fiction works. Three of his novels, four short story collections, and three non-fiction works were published posthumously. Many of his works are considered classics of American literature. Hemingway was raised in Oak Park, Illinois. After high school, he reported for a few months for The Kansas City Star, before leaving for the Italian Front to enlist as an ambulance driver in World War I. In 1918, he was seriously wounded and returned home. His wartime experiences formed the basis for his novel A Farewell to Arms (1929). In 1921, he married Hadley Richardson, the first of what would be four wives. The couple moved to Paris, where he worked as a foreign correspondent and fell under the influence of the modernist writers and artists of the 1920s "Lost Generation" expatriate community. His debut novel, The Sun Also Rises, was published in 1926. After his 1927 divorce from Richardson, Hemingway married Pauline Pfeiffer; they divorced after he returned from the Spanish Civil War, where he had been a journalist. He based For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940) on his experience there. Martha Gellhorn became his third wife in 1940; they separated after he met Mary Welsh in London during World War II. He was present at the Normandy landings and the liberation of Paris. Shortly after the publication of The Old Man and the Sea (1952), Hemingway went on safari to Africa, where he was almost killed in two successive plane crashes that left him in pain or ill-health for much of the rest of his life. Hemingway maintained permanent residences in Key West, Florida (in the 1930s) and Cuba (in the 1940s and 1950s). In 1959, he bought a house in Ketchum, Idaho, where, in mid-1961 he shot himself in the head. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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