Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Will Never Have to Watch This Movie — I mean they tell no tales, alright?
Sometime a few years ago I’m guessing Jerry Bruckheimer, the once-powerhouse producer who’s been hard-pressed for a hit film outside this franchise recently, said, “hey, how about we do a fifth ‘Pirates’ movie?” Johnny Depp, feeling much the same, said, “okay,” and the people who matter at Disney, possibly aware that these films have grossed over three billion dollars so far, said, “how much do you need?” I’ll further speculate that perhaps sometime last year before filming began a studio reader may have cautiously approached Bruckheimer and said, “you know, this script could maybe use another rewrite…” to which Bruckheimer promptly slapped this ungrateful pawn, yelled “the movie opens next May — got it?” and returned to his Scarface-sized mountain of cocaine in his office.
Before I continue, for reference/comparison/fun, here’s my brief opinions on the first four ‘Pirates’ adventures…
The Curse of the Black Pearl: A real treat; stellar sword-play, a hummable musical score (when was the last time a blockbuster had that?) and a hilarious performance which deservedly made Johnny Depp a movie star make this a picture that reminds you why you used to go to the movies in the summer. Also Geoffrey Rush is the man.
Dead Man’s Chest: A mostly-solid sequel; after a clunky beginning this one becomes a pretty good time once the actual story gets rolling. Certain things are set up for the next movie, and then…
At World’s End: At nearly three hours running time, this is an near-fascinating example of messy excess that will exhaust you and leave you frustrated that a trilogy that started so fun needed to get so damn complicated and absurd.
On Stranger Tides: Seemingly a conscious attempt to drop the convolution of the third film, and move towards a simpler Indiana Jones-style adventure, (the finale even closely mimics ‘The Last Crusade’), even the welcome new cast members can’t stop director Rob Marshall and his writing team from turning this into a neutered, boring journey, where even the once-exciting sword fights lose all impact thanks to an over-active editor.
And now the one based on the thing the parrot says before you go down the dark tunnel…
The MacGuffin this time round is the Trident of Poseidon, and a movie that goes for that might at least have the decency to give us a Patrick Stewart or a Liam Neeson as Poseidon. Alas, the aquatic Greek god is nowhere to be found in this film, though we do get Johnny Depp made up to look considerably less tired than he does in real life these days, so I guess that’s something. Old Captain Jack gets a few funny lines in here, so that combined with Javier Bardem and a neat sequence involving a runaway house (it’s one of those signature ‘Pirates’ scenes with people who run all over the place for sometimes hard-to-pinpoint reasons and questionable physics) that covers most of what’s enjoyable about this movie.
So Javier… He’s a Spaniard (big stretch I know) who hated pirates so he killed a bunch of them and then young Jack Sparrow killed him, you know, the part you saw in the trailer. Too bad he died in the Bermuda Triangle so that means he and his crew become cursed ghost pirates. That’s how that works. Then twenty years later Jack sells his enchanted compass for a drink of rum, and that means Javier and his boys get released from their phantom cove of doom and get to sail after Sparrow. That’s how that part works. Bardem gets a digital makeover, with a face like a cracked china doll and a general look suggestive of those goth ghost girls from Japanese horror films. His wonderful voice and intensity fortunately shines through the computer coding. Also you could construct a drinking game around the number of times he says “Sparrow,” and get nicely drunk.
I’ll also mention that the Salazar’s (that’s Bardem’s character) backstory sequence also serves as a ‘Last Crusade’-style explanation for how young Jack got all of his cool pirate stuff, as well as his nickname. It’s stupid.
Also along for the ride is Brenton Thwaites (he was the handsome prince who was brushed aside for Sleeping Beauty’s true love, Maleficent, in that movie) as Henry, the son of Orlando Bloom and Kiera Knightly’s characters from the first three movies (not a spoiler — you find this out in the first scene). Henry wants the trident of Poseidon to free his dad from his duty to captain Davy Jones’ Flying Dutchman underwater ocean tours experience. Again, that’s just how that works.
As a love interest for Henry (caution, revealing that just spoiled it for you if you’ve never seen a movie before) we’ve got feisty woman of science Carina (Kaya Scodelario), who says intelligent things which make men accuse her of witchcraft, but still must be punished for her excessive reading via near-death experiences involving ghost pirates. Because some things you can’t read in a book — a man’s gotta teach you, baby. The movie is saying this, just to be clear, that’s not me.
Geoffrey Rush shows up once more to collect a paycheck, though bless the man for always committing to this kind of nonsense (he also shared the screen with Thwaites briefly in last year’s dreadful ‘Gods of Egypt’ and even there seemed to be having a pretty good time). And there are a few more recognizable faces on the crew from the previous films like Kevin McNally and Martin Klebba. So good for those guys.
‘Dead Men Tell No Tales’ feels considerably more tired than 2011’s ‘On Stranger Tides,’ and as I said earlier, that movie was not good. This new flick, nearly devoid of all charm and excitement, is a great example of how Hollywood will run something into the ground forever just as long as some kids will drag their parents to a brand name they recognize. It feels like one of those tiny production companies that makes knock-off monster flicks for TV got given a huge budget and decided to run with the ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’-style script that got nixed ten years ago in favor of a vampire thing. So if your friends want you to go see this with them, I recommend reminding them that Disney has a deal with Netflix so that you can watch this for free around Christmas time in a more appropriate environment in which you can talk shit the whole time.
