I’m not a violent man, being more inclined to harm myself a million times over before lashing out at the world around me, but the thought of sitting through these five dreaded symbols of modern Hollywood’s excess and tedium truly did make me want to break things.
And yet here we are.
In truth, I’ve never actually watched one of Gore Verbinski’s saga of swashbuckling daring-do. Well, I did once try to sit down to the first one, but, upon realising it was going to be a drippy romance featuring the two dullest actors cinema has ever managed to dredge up, Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley, I turned it off immediately. I’d actually felt conned, in a “bait and switch” sort of way, having been promised a light-hearted adventure centred around the charming Johnny Depp. But, instead, I appeared to be threatened with the torture of seemingly-endless scenes of pouting and bosom heaving from Bloom and Knightley.
So, for reasons that escape me, perhaps just journalistic curiosity or utter self-loathing, I thought I’d finally actually sit down and try the series out, so I can at least say that they’re bad and mean it. Or I could end up being completely blown away by them and rally against every single professional critic the world over in support of the films. I mean, they’ve made five of them, so there must surely be something audiences are enjoying, right?!
As has become the way with my marathon posts, this will be a “live” document, where I shall not be going back during the editing process to update my expectations and opinions, whether they change or not. Who knows what impaired mental state I will be in by the end of today, but hopefully it shall reflect in the telling.
Sigh, I can’t believe I’m about to say this…
Let us hoist anchor and set sail for adventure!
Or, most likely, boredom.
THE CURSE OF THE BLACK PEARL
“I practice with them three hours a day!”
“You need to find yourself a girl, mate.”
And to think I was all prepared to hate. I can’t remember the moment I shut this film off on my first viewing many cursed moons ago, but that feeling didn’t return today. As it turns out, the much-feared scenes of romance between Bloom and Knightley are very, very, very wisely trimmed down to the bare minimum. I assume the editor of this motion picture is a very smart individual indeed. Depp plays a bigger part than I had initially suspected, and Geoffrey Rush proves that any film is elevated by his joyful presence. Except for Frida. That film is just the fucking worst. This film’s score, not composed by, but bafflingly “produced” by, Hans Zimmer, reminded me of one of his insipid 90s action nightmares. You know, back when he was shit. I’m not joking, 30-years-ago you could check to see if Hans Zimmer had done the music for a film and you’d know to avoid it. Sorry, Hans, but it’s the truth. These days I believe he wins Oscars and whathaveyou. Beside being pummelled by the real composer’s Zimmer-esque score, Verbinski’s directing of the visuals is pretty flat, with the cinematographer trying their darnedest to compensate by adding shafts of light and glittering gold. However, the contemporary overuse of digital colour grading often flattens the images out even more, to where you feel like you’re developing cataracts. The minor plot twists and turns are more convoluted than interesting. I just stopped caring for what was going on, eventually. At a certain point, Depp and Rush have a sword fight, knowing full well that neither man can be killed. So why should we care?! They actually point this out in the dialogue, but that doesn’t forgive it. Besides our cackling pirate leads and wet love interests, the film is populated by RADA’s entire crew of finest d-stock nobodies. And Jonathan Pryce, who rallies amazingly with his natural adorability. It sadly turns out that Bloom and Knightley are, indeed, just awful, and I genuinely winced anytime one of the pair opened their gobs. But what is one expected to do? Taking all the negative points above into consideration, I still somehow managed to enjoy my 2 hours and 23 minutes watching Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl. In fact, once the credits and sequel-bait had ended, I strangely found myself looking forward to reaching for the second disc. And so we bravely face the rapids of…
DEAD MAN’S CHEST
“Did we kill it?”
“No, we just made it angry!”
This one nearly broke me. So soon out of the starting gate too! I even went so far as to get up and leave the room to start making my lunch, planning never to return. Well, maybe just to switch the necessary electrical appliances off. But that’s it. What can a rational person surely say after watching a film without a plot?! I’m actually asking. Instead of a central narrative guiding light, we merely have a series of events, barely strung together by a notion. Dead Man’s Chest feels like a comma in the series, rather than a proper entry. A side quest or appendix, you might say. Let it forever be remembered that the greatest folly of mankind, besides the abandonment of hunting and gathering, genocidal religious persecution, and the invention of the open plan office, was to disguise Bill Nighy in computer-generated prosthetics. Oh how much more fun the film would have been with that lovely face of his smiling at us for 2 hours and 31 agonising minutes. This first sequel looks better, at the very least. There’s more depth to the cinematography and it feels like a lived-in world, rather than an awkward children’s pageant. I’m guessing Mr Verbinski had no great artistic desire to adapt a theme park ride into a movie back in 2003, thus becoming Disney’s director-for-hire. But, following the success of The Curse of the Black Pearl, the budget went up and so did Verbinski’s interest. And so did the stupid. Everyone returns to race about on the high seas to save Keira Knightley, for some unknown reason. I can’t think of a single one, personally. All the events end up revolving around a squid-faced monster-man-thing-whatever who wants his heart back. I think. Perhaps they explained why Nighy looks the way he does at some point, but I clearly wasn’t listening nor cared to. I oddly remembered the most about this instalment, so I’m gonna go ahead and assume it was on TV throughout the decades and I left it on in the background while doing something more mentally nourishing. The ridiculously-long sword fight between three characters then two characters then whoever has no doubt gone down in cultural history as a low point in cinema. I know nothing about the theme park ride, so maybe two animatronic pirates ride a waterwheel somewhere amongst it all, but such a physics-defying image certainly doesn’t work here. The kraken turns up. Goodness knows why. Geoffrey Rush comes back from the dead. Goodness knows why. Johnathan Pryce bothers to show up for a few pointless scenes amongst all the other pointless scenes. Goodness knows why. But it all looks great and Hans Zimmer is officially the composer of the score now, which means there’s more oomf but less charm. Maybe watch this one in half-hour shifts, as if it were a miniseries. Your time is not worth sacrificing to sit through the whole thing in one sitting. Trust me on this.
AT WORLD’S END
“Nobody move! I dropped me brain.”
After a grimly macabre opening, which I quite appreciated, this third piece of evidence in the Pirates of the Caribbean trial then moves onto a Mission: Impossible-style caper, swings by The Matrix, veers off into Lord of the Rings territory, then parks up next to Once Upon a Time in the West. Go figure. While having even less of a plot than the previous instalment, At World’s End manages to be far more engrossing and, dare I say it, fun. For a time. It is often a unique study in what happens after the damsel in distress is rescued, when she and her smug saviour have to now try and get along. In three words, they do not. Then there’s something about going to an alternate dimension to rescue Johnny Depp. Then a cabal of international pirates get together to try and fight Tom Hollander because he’s evil. Or something. Then a woman grows to be the size of a ship’s mast and explodes into a thousand small objects. I just… I just… I just don’t know! The characters engage in many formal meetings, as if trying themselves to work out what the hell is going on in the story. Scenes just keep taking place without any impetus or meaning. At one point I cried: “What the bloody hell is going on?!” and “Just finish!”. It’s almost like the film is too scared to end. Was it meant to be the grand finale of a trilogy?! The villain has an unnecessarily elaborate death scene, so I assume he and the director are close friends. Bloom and Knightley, who’s involvement in the series should have ended two films ago, have an emotional goodbye for some reason. Again, I have no idea why. I’m guessing there was a towering stack of notes from studio executives and principal actors that the four credited writers had to consolidate into one document. A single talented writer could have made sense of it all. So, yes, stuff is happening on screen and none of it makes any sense. It’s a fascinating exercise in how not to write a movie. But, again, I was bizarrely engaged with the odd flash of colour amidst all the chaos and tedium. Geoffrey Rush is an absolute delight as always, and clearly relishes his pirate character. Depp sadly appears to be on autopilot. Bloom and Knightley are as ghastly as they are in everything. We don’t get a humanised Bill Nighy, sadly, although we do get a genuinely touching speech from Pryce lamenting how we waste our lives concerned with petty nonsense. Good for him, at least Jonathan gets to sail away with some dignity. Keith Richards’ cameo is cute. Oh and Chow Yun Fat is in there, who’s advances Knightley’s character fights off. I don’t know how she manages it, as my knickers would come flying straight off! But, apart from these minor diversions, I cannot truly describe in words how nonsensical this movie is. You really do need to experience it for yourself. Humans made this. Adult humans. Can you believe it?!
Right, that’s it for one day, folks. I simply cannot physically and mentally continue. I shall face the final two films tomorrow instead, as I genuinely fear my opinion will be negatively influenced by the cognitive meltdown I am currently having.
I was going to cheat and pretend I’d done it all in one day, but I think you poor bastards have enough to read as it is.
To be continued…
Do stay in touch, darlings.
Toodles!
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