Self-confessed “member of the geek community” and friend of Hope Lies at 24 Frames Per Second Noel Thingvall undertakes an invitation to explain his deep rooted love of the Pirates Of The Caribbean trilogy.
Being a member of the geek communities that I am, the question often arises of which trilogy I prefer: Star Wars or The Lord of the Rings. To the puzzlement of many, I always answer with Pirates of the Caribbean. But Star Wars is a classic, you say, that revolutionized filmmaking and technology while hearkening back to the theme of classic legendary storytelling. Yes, but other than the middle entry, The Empire Strikes Back, there’s little depth beyond the surface archetypes. It’s all spectacularly put together, but it’s almost iconic to a fault, lacking much to chew on beyond what’s clearly there. And then there’s The Lord of the Rings, equally revolutionary, but filled with depths and layers as it adapts a fully fleshed tribute to the lore of ancient times. Marvelous films, all three, but extremely heavy and ponderous at times, particularly in the never ending third entry. There are moments I treasure, and moments that feel like wading through mud to get to those moments I treasure.
And then there’s Pirates of the Caribbean.
What I like most about Pirates of the Caribbean is how it embraces its own silliness. It does have depth and complexity and moments that make you think and question, but it never forgets that the audience is there to be swept away and have a good time. Lovers are reunited, abandoned sons find their wayward fathers, freedom is suppressed by corporate overlords, but it’s all told with barnacled sea beasts and roaring cannons, as though it were the half drunken tale of scurvy se farers gathered in a tavern, with a mug of ale in one hand, the dream of a bowlegged lady in the other.
“Did ye dogs ever hear the one about the blacksmith who married the Gov’na’s daughter? Married on the decks of the Black Pearl itself, by none other than Captain Barbosa. A storm was raging, a maelstrom ripping a vortex in the sea around them. And they was in the midst of a battle with the Flying Dutchman, Davy Jones hisself ordering his cannons ablaze, his locker lying in wait for their souls at the heart of the vortex below. Aye, it was quite the wedding, it was. And did I say she was the Gov’na’s daughter? What I meant was, she be the Pirate King!”
The films never shies from the reality of piracy, that they were filthy, often diseased people who’d just as soon shoot each other for supplies than ask or bargain, but only to give the fantasy a bit of an anchor. This is about freedom. Adventure. “Take what you can, give nothing back!” The lands have laws, so set out to the anarchy of the open waters, where every ship becomes its own little kingdom ruled by fear, respect, or both.
This is the world of Jack Sparrow, the most glorious failure around. Our introduction comes to him as he sails into port atop the mast of a sinking dinghy, the ship he sold his soul for taken from him by his first mate. Much has been said over the years about Johnny Depp’s now iconic swaying delivery, but it truly does sell this man who’s either a genius or a fool. Everything he does, every miraculous way through which he throws himself in and out of situations, is often impossible to define as either a master strategy or sheer dumb luck. All we can really tell about the man is that he wants to be the greatest pirate of them all, the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow, and every action is his way of trying really really hard to obtain that goal. And, yet, it’s the other two leads who reach such legendary status, almost entirely without intention. Will Turner (Orlando Bloom), the orphaned blacksmith, becomes the immortal ferrymen of sea-lost souls to the afterlife. Elizabeth Swann-Turner (Keira Knightley), the pampered daughter of a Governor, become the elect Pirate King of the Brethren Court of Pirate Lords. Both of these positions are exactly the types of standing Jack would love to find himself in, but he passes them on to the others at the last moment out of both strategy and his deep character flaw of occasionally doing the right thing.
The mythology to these films is amazing as little coins of phrase and lines from sea shanties are given full life. The tentacled, crab-legged Davy Jones (Bill Nighy). His betrayed love, the sea goddess Calypso (Naomie Harris). The Flying Dutchmen, with a crew of men bound to serve so as to stave off their fates in the afterlife. The fearsome Krakken that swallows ships and their crews whole. The Dead Man’s Chest, which hold the key to immortality for anyone who can find its key. The Nine Pieces of Eight, triggered by a hung child’s song to summon the Brethren Court. All of this is woven into a salty, wave-worn epic that never forgets to sneer out a toothless grin at its own utter absurdity. Take, for example, the Brethren Court (in the town of Shipwreck, in Shipwreck Cove, on Shipwreck Island), which never elects a king because everyone votes for themselves. Or the unbinding of Calypso, where people argue about the precise theatrical incantation. It’s larger than life and both awes and and pokes a little fun at itself for standing next to life and being so much larger.
But what could possibly threaten all of these mythological wonders, and give us a villain worthy of the times? Corporate greed. In much the same way the railroad industry crushed the gunslinging cowboys of legend, the East India Trading Company is tightening a net over the waters, offering paid jobs to pirates who join them, a hangman’s noose to those who won’t. Through powers granted by the King himself, and the enslaved might of Davy Jones and the Flying Dutchman, Lord Cutler Beckett (Tom Hollander) carves out entire swaths of sea-faring freedom and threatens to bring the age of pirates to a close. The climax of At World’s End, where his machinations are blown to pieces like the splintered structure of his ship as he calmly walks down a staircase to his demise, is a stunning piece of filmmaking.
I do have my issues with the series. As rousing as the maelstrom battle is, there’s something missing from the finale when entire fleets of ships line up on both sides, but only two boats do the clashing. Much is made of the other Pirate Lords, but we never see them in a battle so as to enforce their distinctive presence. James Norrington (Jack Davenport), goes through a fantastic character arc in the first and second films, then comes and goes with a disappointing end in the third. Chow Yun-Fat, an amazing actor, is almost entirely wasted as his character never pays off his promising setup. Stellan Skarsgard brings everything down every time he lurches around groaning “My son! My son!” And the twisted relationship between Calypso and Davy Jones never gets its final moment.
But none of those elements are enough to ruin the series for me. Ted Elliot and Terry Rossio really know how to craft a story that’s funny, filled with heart, yet keeps me on my toes and doesn’t refuse to pull the heavy punches. Many complain about the amount of backstabbing and betrayal in the third film, with allegiances changing hands every couple of minutes, but that’s one of my favorite elements. These are pirates, and as the crowd gets larger and the stakes more overwhelming, they’d of course be constantly re-evaluating their positions as driving motives either intertwine or clash. I challenge someone to point out one twist that wasn’t true to the characters and their ultimate goals. And speaking of the funny, there’s a wealth of side gags and oneliners on display, many from Jack’s flustered first mate Gibbs (Kevin McNally), or the bumbling duo of Pintel and Ragetti (Lee Arenberg and Mackenzie Crook). Instead of being embarrassed of his family-friendly slapstick debut, Mouse Hunt (he shouldn’t be, it’s amazing), director Gore Verbinsky fully embraces that tone and style for fabulous setpieces like an escape from island natives while Jake is tied to a pole and his crew are in rolling cages, or Jack manning a crew of himself in the afterlife as an army of stone crabs push the Black Pearl through desert dunes, or a three way sword fight breaking out around, on top of, and inside a water wheel that’s broken loose and is rolling through jungles and clashing enemies.
I love this series because it makes me smile. It falls back on the familiar, but with a clever skew. Instead of seeking an ancient treasure that will grant them immortality, the pirates of the first film already have that treasure, but want to put it back because the price is too much to bear. The characters are involving and surprising, and take unexpected turns that still stay true to their hearts. The action is rousing and spectacular, with some of the most seamless digital effects yet to appear on film. The music is iconic with themes I hum for weeks after each viewing. And then there’s the franchise’s greatest creation, the villain-turned-hero Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), a pirate too awesome to die. The natural captain to the ship Jack always tries to claim, Barbossa saunters and barks and snarls out an “ARRRRRRR!!!” in the way every classic pirate should.
And as the trio of adventures come to a close, we leave Captain Jack Sparrow much as we first met him. The Black Pearl has once again been swiped by Barbosa, and Jack is left on the open seas in a one-man dinghy. But this is Jack Sparrow, and he has everything he needs. A map to immortality. A compass pointing to his heart’s desire. Wind caught in a sail. And a bottle of rum.
Drink up, me hearties. Yo ho.
I love these films. I’ve seen them each a dozen times, and they never grow tiring. Unfortunately, I’m not hearing good things about the fourth entry, On Stranger Tides. Adam’s review was pretty scathing, and I haven’t read much better elsewhere. Granted, everyone thought parts two and three were also bloated and overstuffed to the point where they dulled themselves. I, of course, disagree. Making a film a tight 90 minute affair with a couple of set pieces, a definite hero and villain, and a love interest, is the way of generic affairs. This trio of films, especially Dead Man’s Chest and At World’s End, are anything but generic as allegiances are tough to define, the leads give way to an ensemble, the easy endings are defied, and an entire world and mythos take on a life of their own. You may think the garish over-complication makes these movies a ponderous mess, but I think that’s the filmmakers embracing the heart of what it is to be a pirate, where every day is a larger than life struggle between a reality and a fantasy constantly at odds.
Noel writes for a bunch of places online, and can also be found on Twitter.
Hope Lies at 24 Frames Per Second 
Wow. Damned good article, Noel, thoroughly enjoyable read. But of course, I disagree with most of what you said. Such is the breadth and depth of the article I’m inevitably going to miss out on some points but I’ll pick up on the gist of what you said.
Firstly I’ll point out that I love the first film. It’s a wonderful old fashioned adventure, with swashbuckling scenes that are both fun and exhilarating. Captains Jack and Barbossa are both brilliant characters, and the whole film zips along at a nifty pace that ensures it is always silly and fun. I even find some value in the sequels. For example the waterwheel fight in 2 captures the spirit of the first, and the visuals of the third are, at times, jaw droppingly gorgeous.
I think my main issue with the films is that they don’t, as you claim they do, embrace their own silliness. They get mired down completely extraneous sub plots that don’t serve the film at all. The problems arise when they try and maintain ALL the supporting characters of the first film whilst adding loads of new, less compelling characters. In an ideal world, Mackenzie Crook and his chum would be cut and good writers could have come up with new comic relief, if it was necessary at all when we have a central character as engaging as Jack Sparrow. The result of this is an overcrowded ensemble where no one gets developed, and people like Will and Elizabeth are reduced to plot devices.
The films get messy, dragged down in pretensions of being an epic. Instead of embracing it’s silliness, which would have been brilliant, it attempts to craft a mythology that drags the whole film down. Who wants to see Pirates discussing rules? I certainly don’t. These films miss out on the potential to be a riotous laugh because they try so hard to be something more. So we have bloated running times, subplots that it’s immensely difficult to care about. Calypso is the worst criminal here. They build up her plot, which no one cares about, and then all she does is turn into crabs and create a whirlpool. It’s as if they had an army of characters and nothing to do with them.
The worst crime in all of this is that even Jack loses his appeal. The brilliant, engaging core of the films gets lost in a script more concerned with the lazy backstabbing trope instead of inventive plotting. Jack becomes a self parody, and the initial appeal of several Jacks quickly grows tired.
I was looking forward to a film where they tightened the running time, got rid of pointless characters and cut the budget. Sadly it appears as if my hopes were unfounded and this has become a series with one brilliant film followed by a mess as it tries to recapture the magic that it lost as soon as the first sequel was announced.
Who wants to see Pirates discussing rules? Me, obviously. Especially when it’s done with the absurdity of a meeting of the Little Rascal’s “He-Man Women Hater’s” club, and is overseen by a badass Keith Richards in an obvious but oh so tasty bit of casting.
You say the film fails to be funny because it’s trying to be epic, and fails to be epic because it’s trying to be funny, but I argue that it succeeds at both. They take a journey into the depths of the underworld itself… and it’s mostly played for laughs. Sure, there’s the heartbreaking moment where Elizabeth encounters her murdered father, but there’s the plunge over the waterfall, Pintel and Ragetti (still fine comic relief in my book) pondering what would happen if you dropped a cannonball on a spirit, them rocking the boat back to reality, and Jack in a locker dream worthy of Chuck Jones cartoon. And then you have the war between the Pirates and the Trading Company. I’ve already expressed my love for the humor of the gathered and garish pirate lords, and I especially love that Shipwreck is a ridiculous citadel literally made of Shipwrecks, but even the final battle in the maelstrom itself is played for many laughs as Jack keeps recovering then losing the chest and key, and Will and Elizabeth are married in a ceremony of clashing blades. But I don’t think this robs the epic battle of its epicness. This goes back to my old sea shanty comparison, where larger than life battles and imagery are laced with bawdy and silly humor to give the thrills and awe the flavor and life it deserves. The film does embrace it’s silliness, and it tries to be something more epic. There is a garish clash to how the two unite, but while that turns off you and, admittedly, many others, to me, it perfectly captures what being a pirate is all about.
I actually appreciate that they keep most of the supporting characters from the past while adding new ones to them, because this is a group that’s now forged a bond that carries them to the edge of the Earth, but they still need to spread and increase their numbers in order to face both the evil mastermind (Beckett) and his supernatural muscle (Jones), both of whom need their own supporting cast because they don’t have any trust for one another. I will agree with you that the third film has problems, in that so much time is spent on the ultimately wasted Chow Yun-Fat that the other pirate lords lack much beyond surface development, and the Calypso plot, while necessary, was played too dour and, while I like the crabs and whirlpool, does lack a final payoff for her character and tragic romance with Jones. These are flaws, yes. Enough to break the film for you, fine, but not for me. Return of the Jedi and Return of the King have far deeper ones that are harder for me to reconcile.
I very much disagree that Will and Elizabeth are reduced to plot devices. Yes, their allegiances swap around just as much as the others, but the story is still about Jack bringing these two together, then ultimately dooming them to a life apart in the dream roles he desired for himself. And from their angle, they get to go out and live the dream of adventure on the high sees, and they coast along high and strong until the very end, when the duplicitous reality of the dream cuts out their heart. They’re still alive, and can still be together, but only once every ten years, as he stays eternally young, and she ages away. You say the film lacks epic, but that right there is epic to me. And oh so much more than a simple plot device.
And why cut Mackenzie Crook and his chum when the already good writers are still making the old comic relief work? For me. Not for you, obviously, but welcome to the subjectivity of humor.
You know what I love to read? People defending, with a passion, films that others hate. There’s something wonderfully warming about seeing to-hell-with-you-all passionate writing. Great, great stuff.
Great detailed review of the series! I agree with you on most points, I really love this series and am kind of baffled about what people don’t like about the later ones. The only thing that bothers me is how Elizabeth goes from being a Pirate King to waiting around on an island to only see her lover every ten years. It felt out of character for her, but maybe I was taking it too literally and she still went off and had adventures in the space between.