Movie review: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

In which the press are requested to remain silent. (Like that'll work.)

by John P. Meyer

While I haven't attended as many press screenings as some of my more senior colleagues, nevertheless I've been to a few during my tenure as Pegasus News Film Guy (official title), and this marks the first time I've ever been asked to keep my (figurative) mouth closed about a film's content.

Walking into the Magnolia this Monday afternoon (May 21), we writer folk were handed a printed sheet of paper stating (and I quote):

"Dear Friends/Colleagues - you are among the first audiences to see Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End prior to its worldwide release on May 25. We respectfully ask (that you) please do not reveal the many plot resolutions that occur throughout the film, completing the characters' story lines from the previous two movies in the series."

The advisory goes on to specifically cite articles, programs, online and blogs as the kinds of specific places where they would not like us to reveal such tidbits, in addition to "any other format." Just in case you were trying to slip this sort of communication past them.

Leaving me with a bit of a conundrum: just what CAN I talk about in this review? How 'bout the film stock (polyester, not celluloid)? Preferred styling of actors' names, perhaps? (Seems Kevin McNally wanted himself credited as "Kevin R. McNally" this time around the maelstrom. Not to imply in any way that there is an actual maelstrom depicted in the film itself...)

When faced with tough ethical decisions such as this, I've found that only one approach has a chance of leading me to the land at the bottom of the giant waterfall where Jack Sparrow is serving an eternal damnation on a flat alkali plain in a ghost vessel populated by crew members who are all clones of him (not to imply that any of the foregoing described scenario is reflected in the film itself), and that is to have another beer.

With that behind us (much like the revelation that the British fleet's commander, Lord Cutler Beckett, is a distant ancestor of lame duck PM Tony Blair... D'OH!), let's proceed to the review, shall we?

There's a twice-employed sight gag early in the film involving telescopes used by competing captains Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) and Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) - basically, it's the "longer is better" argument, and without revealing who has the longer telescope, I can tell you that apparently the filmmakers are clearly of the opinion that longer is, indeed, better: at 168 minutes in the cut that's made it to release, one has to wonder whether "cut" was a concept ever entertained by either director Gore Verbinski or editor Stephen E. Rivkin.

If the film didn't drag during its middle section as though from the deployment of enormous sea anchors, I'd be reporting confidently that those who shipped aboard the Black Pearl during its two prior outings should have no second thought about pitching their duffles into the aft starboard cabin of this square-rigged cinematic leviathan - however, there's so much long-winded exposition taking place about an hour into the piece - and for the better part of an hour thereafter - that one begins to wonder whether any old (or young) salt - even a devoted acolyte of pirate film franchises derived from amusement park rides - really gives a damn about the political machinations of the corrupt colonial powers, and who exactly is in charge of who in the chain of command.

That being said (and the middle-ish hour of the movie aside), there are a lot of entertaining and creative elements splashed up on the screen for the enjoyment of movie lovers, regardless of their nautical bent.

The film begins with high drama (barrel-high, to be exact), as the repressive British government (think: Homeland Security) rounds up and summarily hangs (following explicit waiver of habeas corpus) rank after rank of suspected pirates and those who traffic with them, including - in the case of the boy who must stand on a barrel to reach his designated noose - children. (FIE on those vile British representatives of right-brained, profit-oriented modernism!)

Enter a rag-tag band of subversives (pirates? terrorists?) led by newly-revitalized Captain Barbossa (Mr. Rush, looking dapper in sombrero-like chapeau and seven league boots), Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley, sexy in stripped-down-to-her-pistols piratess shift) and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom, taking a dip in Captain Sao Feng's (Chow Yun-Fat's) stewpot when we first encounter him). These three, for their own shellfish (I mean, "selfish") reasons, have determined to journey beyond World's End (thus the title) to rescue Captain Jack Sparrow (Depp, who we last saw entering the ragged maw of the Kraken) from Davy Jones' Locker, where the Kraken presumably expelled him in some (hopefully) metaphysical fashion.

Jack, it's explained (by the exotic and deliciously-accented Naomie Harris, as Tia Dalma), is there serving time (eternity, that is) not so much in penance for his numerous past misdeeds as in punishment for trying to weasel out of his deal with Davy Jones (the be-tentacled Bill Nighy). The landscape of Sparrow's Hell is surreal in the extreme: a featureless white expanse upon which Captain Jack must "navigate" with his crew of brain-damaged shipmates (all of whom are him). Periodically he resorts to running one of himself through with his cutlass in order to press home a point of discipline. "Dismounting" from the vessel when this routine becomes too cloying, he strides about on the desert-like hardpan, tossing aside the occasional flat river stone in order to make it slightly less impossible for him to pull the ship, by hawser line, upon its chartless course. Only, the stones are not really stones...

Further stuff happens, much of it involving character-driven plot resolutions, which I am honor-bound not to tell you about (BURP!). ARR, what the hell: no prisoners, right?

A key source of conflict lending suspense to the remainder of the proceedings involves Davy Jones - and, more to the point, who will kill him, thereby replacing him as immortal captain of the Flying Dutchman. It seems to be a fait accompli that he will be dispatched by someone - perhaps that's why he's going around so angst-ridden for most of the current episode. Both Will and Jack proclaim themselves up for the F.D. captaincy: Will so he can rescue his father (Stellan Skarsgård, as "Bootstrap" Bill Turner) from his crusty purgatorial integration with the moldering ship; and Jack so he can immortally sail the seven seas, an idea that appeals to him primarily by virtue of its daily routine, and secondarily because it provides him with an optimal platform for limitless high-seas hijinks.

The other cyclonic circulation on the horizon resolves itself into the British fleet, massed in imposing numbers (and with inexorable efficiency) for the single purpose of wiping out the pirate menace once and for all - thereby maximizing the profits of their sponsored world-wide sea trade. Greedy profiteers - i.e., run-of-the-mill capitalists - having been established as the epitome of evil in the ethos of this multi-episode story line, we are left with the free-spirited, laissez-faire example of the pirates as lifestyle role models. But, wait a minute: these guys (and gals) are robbers, thieves and - when occasion or circumstances warrant - murderers (dare I call them the terrorists of their day?), leading one to wonder what moral lesson the Disney group are foisting on our impressionable youths. (Pssst: Homeland Security! Yoo hoo! Over here!) Poor Walt is probably spinning in his grave. (Or at least his ashes are vibrating at high frequency.)

Speaking of poor, there's the case of Elizabeth Swann. In bringing the events of the last movie to a close, she kissed Jack Sparrow before leaving him to his Kraken-munched fate, and it's the memory of this kiss of death that she has to keep her warm at night - now that Will has distanced himself. (He surreptitiously witnessed the kiss in question, and notes her enthusiasm at the prospect of an expedition to rescue said rogue; thus his ardor towards the saucy wench is cooled, if not fully extinguished.) In her secret heart (and I'll refrain from exposing the tenor of her heartstrings, in the unlikely event that anyone has doubts in this regard) Elizabeth bears a burden of guilt at offering up Sparrow as a sacrificial lamb so the rest of her crew could escape.

I'm drawing (but not quartering) the line at revealing how these various conflicts are resolved, who ends up at the helm of the Dutchman, and whether or not events conclude by leaving the Disney dinghy provisioned for yet another voyage in the P(irates) C(aribbean) sea saga - you can probably make a good guess on that last point.

I will drop this little hint: if your bladder can stand it for another ten minutes (thereby rounding out the three hour experience), stick around until the credits are completed to catch a concluding scene appended as something of a bonus for those willing to read (or at least sit attentively through) page after scrolling page of attributions. It's a genuinely touching scene.

NOTED NODS: a musical and cinematographic one to Morricone/Leone, and a thematic one to Being There.

SPECIAL GUEST: Jack's father turns out to be notorious pirate boss (and keeper of the pirate code) Captain Teague, portrayed quite believably by Keith Richards. Who probably needed little in the way of makeup for the role.

DECLINE OF THE RIGHT BRAIN: "The immaterial has become immaterial." - Lord Cutler Beckett to Davy Jones.

GLAD TO SEE HIM?: "Well slap me thrice and hand me to me mother - it's Jack!" - Gibbs to assembled shore party.

WHAT'S THAT AGAIN?: "It looks bigger up close." - Jack to a pair of shady ladies, in reference (at least overtly) to his ship.

BIGGEST WARDROBE MYSTERY: Where does that little slip of a thing, Elizabeth Swann, hide all those pistols under her little pirate slip?