Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

You Want to Make a Movie Based on What?

I don’t know that any movie will ever surprise me the way that Pirates of the Caribbean did. In terms of marketing, it seemed like the shallowest, most pandering piece of garbage a money-minded studio executive could concoct; why base a big summer movie on a theme park ride?

The Curse of the Black Pearl dispelled these misgivings and took the summer of 2003 by storm. Though Pirates has endured through the past fourteen years as an enjoyable but admittedly bloated franchise, nothing has quite managed to capture the spark of perfection contained in the first film. Simply put, The Curse of the Black Pearl is blockbuster filmmaking royalty, and I happily induct it into the hall of fame alongside Raiders of the Lost Ark, Jaws, and Star Wars.

Built upon the foundation of classic adventure stories like Treasure Island and Captain Blood, Pirates of the Caribbean is, at all times, a movie that is concerned with the audience having a good time. Few movies combine such an unrelenting propulsion through plot with magnificently observed characters as wonderfully and seemingly effortlessly.

The decision to adapt the world’s most popular (and possibly greatest) theme park attraction into a feature-length film seemed odd at the time of its release, but hindsight has revealed it was a no-brainer. This is not necessarily because the ride begged adaptation, but because the ride itself speaks to the spirit of adventure and discovery captured in the literature and films that inspired it. Pirates of the Caribbean The Ride is thus reincarnated as a cinematic roller coaster that taps into worldwide fascination with pirates as loveable rebels who embody freedom from oppression and fearlessly plunge forward into the mysteries of the wide world of adventure.

So Ye Come Seeking Adventure with Salty Old Pirates, Eh?

That world is beautifully constructed seemingly anew in the film. The English-controlled village of Port Royal is instantly bustling with life and makes us feel welcome in the late 17th century Caribbean. The audience relates to this speck of civilization dwarfed by the immensity of the unknown that resides just over the horizon. Like most great adventure stories, it starts us in a place of comfort, a place where we don’t confront the dangers of the outside world except through ghost stories.

Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley) and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) are very familiar with those stories, especially the ones that relate to bloodthirsty pirates. Yet the two share a fascination with the pirate lifestyle. Elizabeth is attracted to the counterculture of freedom and rebelliousness, a lifestyle that is immensely appealing considering that, as the governor’s daughter, she is trapped in an aristocratic nightmare as confining as the corsets she is forced to endure every day.

Will attempts to fit into Elizabeth’s world against his own nature. Rescued from a mysterious shipwreck as a young boy, he has endeavored to make an honest living as a blacksmith’s apprentice to gain the favor of the upper classes. His honest endeavors do little to impress Commodore Norrington (Jack Davenport) and Governor Swann (Jonathan Pryce), his would-be father in law. Elizabeth and Will condemn the pirate way of life, but it is obvious that the strict social institutions of Port Royal are suffocating them.

The citizens of Port Royal, having never visited Disneyland, don’t have a clue what fun-loving rebels pirates can be. Enter Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp), the epitome of happy-go-lucky buccaneering. Given one of the greatest entrances committed to film, Jack undercuts the morose perceptions of piracy and becomes something of a laughingstock to anyone who ever dreaded the word “pirate.” That tendency to overestimate him will become one of the biggest mistakes the audience or the stiff-necked British ever made.

Sparrow is undoubtedly Depp’s greatest performance and one of the most important original characters of the decade. Jack represents the counterculture so desperately craved by those subjugated by rigid imperialism, but also acts as an antagonistic force as he pursues his own interests.

Jack’s dark doppelganger is Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), the gruff tyrant who led a mutiny against Sparrow and took command of his beloved (and legendary) ship: The Black Pearl. Barbossa represents all that Elizabeth and Will fear about pirates: ruthless, harsh, merciless, manipulative, and deviously clever. When Elizabeth is kidnapped by Barbossa and his crew for the mysterious piece of gold she keeps around her neck, Will reluctantly enlists the help of Captain Jack to get her back from the clutches of absolute villainy.

Part of the fun of Pirates of the Caribbean is the way it calls back to and updates the expected tropes of the pirate movie genre. With his dashing good looks, firm moral compass, and elegant flourish with the sword, Will is the obvious stand in for Errol Flynn ripped straight from Captain Blood or The Adventures of Robin Hood.

Barbossa is the “bad” pirate, one for whom the death of innocents has little meaning if they are obstacles to his own desires. This moral rot is given visual metaphor as Barbossa and his crew are doomed to roam the seas as immortal rotting skeletons (but only in the moonlight, mind you) until they return the cursed gold they stole to its final resting place along with a sacrifice of blood. Rush plays him as the only buccaneer in the film who embraces the “arrrgh” and “avast ye matey” attitude and dialogue we would expect from a classic pirate film, but his intelligence and chilling assuredness at nearly every turn layer him with complexities hardly granted those typified villains.

Jack stands in the middle of these two extremes. While he never robs anybody who doesn’t have it coming either by virtue of their own villainy or smarmy pretension, he is a far cry from an outlaw with a heart of gold. Jack’s sole mission in the film is to reattain The Black Pearl in order to facilitate his desire to pillage, plunder, and drink rum for the rest of his life. Sparrow is a magnificent anti-hero whose every morally ambiguous actions are offset by his unanticipated charm and disarming wit.

Cutthroats and Cutlasses

The motivations for each of these characters is crystal clear, and all play off of one another in one of the most expertly crafted tapestries of plot any film has ever given us. The story is clear and concise whilst weaving us through expected set pieces of any adventure film. At the forefront of digital special effects technology, Pirates still relied on practical stunts and effects work to craft its world and blow the audience away.

Consider the introductory swordfight between Jack and Will in the blacksmith shop. Immaculate sword choreography and stunt work are drenched in an almost overbearing sense of fun. Here is a skirmish ripped from any number of classic swashbuckler films elevated to new levels of excitement with every twist the encounter takes. But it is also telling story, introducing two characters of opposing world views to each other and showing how evenly matched and almost harmonious they are. This is the kind of action that is often missing from blockbusters.

The sword fight is just one of many action set pieces that escalate in urgency and spectacle. The raid on Port Royal, a naval battle between the Pearl and Will’s commandeered vessel, and the climactic battle with the undead pirates are all handled expertly. These are all aided by Klaus Badelt’s exhilarating score that raises spirits with every repetition of its rousing melodies.

Hang the Code, and Hang the Rules

However perfectly executed the spectacle of Pirates of the Caribbean may be, it is not a film that relies only on epic action sequences. This is a high caliber character-driven film that speaks to the oppressions of high society and the consequences of living a life of total freedom outside of civilization.

Where the high-minded British are obsessed with keeping order within their vast empire, Jack introduces an extremely auspicious sense of anarchy and improvisation that taunts all of their best-laid plans. Where Barbossa represents the power of absolute freedom run amok by terrorizing the Caribbean, Jack embodies “good” piracy which acts as an order of government for those with distaste for “decent” civilization.

Elizabeth is well-versed in the pirate code, a set of guidelines which, while decidedly not mandatory rules, attempt to preserve order and a sense of honor among those who refuse to be servants of the king. Will and Elizabeth initially see this code as a blasphemous mockery of their own society’s structure, but come to recognize its value in preserving democratic values whilst enabling each crew member to seize their own fortune and attain freedom on the high seas.

On the surface, The Curse of the Black Pearl follows its inspiration’s tendency to whitewash the bleak and sordid history of piracy to help us see this worldview. Taking its cues from classic westerns, Pirates categorizes its outlaws according to who has regard for life and death. The levels of morality in the film are thus attributed to the methods employed to obtain what every single character desires: a life of freedom and mastery of their own fate.

While Barbossa and his crew are not explicitly shown to embrace the barbaric violence and propensity to molest female captives we historically know pirates to have possessed, these attributes are heavily hinted at. The viciousness with which they raid Port Royal and their disregard for anyone who stands in the way of breaking their curse makes them an immense threat to the innocent settlers also trying to pursue freedom in the wilderness of the Caribbean.

A level above the Black Pearl’s crew is Jack, who, as previously mentioned, is not above selling out those closest to him to get what he wants. Yet he has a habit of striking the fiercest blow against the irredeemably villainous pirates or the British army whose strict adherence to the letter of the law leaves them blind to the merits of this heroic pirate.

There is little fear that, should he obtain the Pearl, Jack will roam the high seas in a reign of terror. His value for human life and ability to recognize and target those serving the oppressive institution versus those trying to carve out a free and decent living makes him, in many ways, the moral high ground of the film.

Will and Elizabeth get to live the classic Hollywood happily ever after. Having tasted the adventure of a pirate’s life, both come out the other end with a new perspective on justice and liberty. Even Commodore Norrington’s heart is softened to bending the rules a little by journey’s end. These “civilized” characters’ new outlook on justice, along with Jack’s triumphant departure into the horizon, remind us of John Wayne’s departures in Stagecoach and The Searchers. While we’re happy for our unbelievably good-looking couple on shore, we’re even more overjoyed that Jack has been spared “the blessings of civilization.”

Drink Up Me Hearties, Yo Ho

These, among others, are the heady undercurrents that flow beneath Pirates of the Caribbean. But, as I said, this is a film that pulls out all the stops to ensure the audience is having a fantastic time at the movies. If it is not astonishing you with breathtaking action, it is familiarizing you with a flawless cast of characters whose witty (and hilarious) repartee makes us pine for those classic Hollywood scripts where every character was intelligent, and a match of wits was enough to mesmerize the audience.

So much of The Curse of the Black Pearl should not work. Its origins are unconventional and seemingly shallow, it’s a call-back to several genres of old Hollywood which the public lost interest in long ago, and its run-time can go a little overboard.

I do not count this against the film. While a common mark against it is that you become aware you’ve been sitting there watching it for quite some time, this has never been a problem for me. Because every moment is so enjoyable, because I love the characters and am fascinated with their desires, and because it is taking me on an adventure through wondrous port towns, mysterious hideaways, and gorgeous Caribbean scenery. I pay nine dollars for a movie ticket whether the film is ninety minutes or four hours, so why complain if the movie is helping me get more bang for my buck and presenting me with more to love?

I count The Curse of the Black Pearl not only as blockbuster royalty, but among that list of films which I consider perfect. Every joke hits home, every cast member does something memorable and interesting with their character (all of whose names I remember like family), each action set piece is amazing and exhilarating, the stakes are high and constantly shifting, and I leave my viewing every time with a giddy smile on my face because I can’t decide which element of it is my favorite.

The film was expectedly sold short both in the critical community and during awards season, though Depp managed to secure a well-deserved Oscar nomination for his performance. But over a decade later when comparing it not only to standard blockbusters but also against its successors in an amusing but messy franchise, The Curse of the Black Pearl obviously sticks out as a special piece of filmmaking capable of captivating imagination not only through spectacle, but through human experience observed in fantastic characters.