Yo ho, yo ho – a decent film to see
I walked into Gore Verbinski’s Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl expecting to criticize it mercilessly for the omission of the classic “Yo ho, yo ho / A pirate’s life for me” drinking song from the Disney theme park attraction on which it is based. The film not only opens with a lovely and subtle rendition of said song, but proceeds to make the right cinematic choices from that point onwards.
Pirates can hardly be faulted for being such a direct stab at being a definitive portrayal of the swashbuckling high-seas adventure archetype that it ventures into the realm of caricature. The reason for excusing its nature as a formula flick is that for all its cartoonish glory, it is remarkably well-drawn. It is a visually stylish period film, exuberantly designed in much the same manner as the ride that is its source, and colourfully photographed under daylight and moonlight to produce an immersive atmosphere and later serve as a plot device.
The content of the film itself is more like a two-hour version of the Treasure Island stunt spectacular in Las Vegas than anything, full of clanging swords and cannon fire, swinging from ropes and ladders, and bursting with all of the traditional pirate-story elements: the damsel in distress walking the plank, the climactic naval battle with Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, the rum-drenched pirate shanty town, the irresistible treasure chest that turns out to be the Aztec equivalent of Pandora’s Box. Pirates unashamedly aims for cliché, but does such a good job in the presentation that its well-established roots should hardly preclude one from enjoying it.
It is hardly all style and no substance, either. The lifeblood of the movie is pumped by the four lead characters, each with a fierce personality. Johnny Depp boards the movie and steals it as Captain Jack Sparrow, a clever and enigmatic bandito who can unquestionably be elevated to the ranks of the great adventure movie characters. This is the standout performance of this summer’s crop of mainstream action flicks. Orlando Bloom, at his current pace, seems to be on course to becoming recognized as the closest thing this generation has to an Errol Flynn. In his role as the pirate-hating poor-boy blacksmith who naturally has an affinity with the high-born governor’s daughter, he does tend to enunciate everything in the same intense and worried tone in such a manner that is almost irritating, but it suits the character. Keira Knightley has a convincing level of spunk in portraying the aforementioned high-born governor’s daughter Elizabeth Swann; Geoffrey Rush plays a villain who truly shines in his scenes with Sparrow, pun entirely intended.
And speaking of that shining, mention must be made of the movie’s token visual gimmick, the undead pirates morphing into skeletal form under moonlight. The transitions in and out of this mode are completely seamless, and the skeletons’ movements are so human as to be a fully integrated part of the visual experience instead of sticking out as an effect. This is the capitulation of everything for which Stephen Sommers’ The Mummy aimed, a corporeal bridge between life and death that characters cross on command.
However, Pirates is hardly perfect, though perfection should not be expected in the first place. The plot begins to wander near the end and stretch the running time a bit long, with back-and-forth kidnappings and raids that border on redundancy. There are a few decidedly campy moments, although they are apparently intentional, given how the abundance of conceptual clichés is largely responsible. Some of the comedy is considerably better-written than the rest; the very British banter between two of the guards works, whilst chasing eyeballs down slippery surfaces was already done in Minority Report, and better. But what ultimately saves the film from being thin, in addition to its energetic cast, is that it is never overtly stupid.
What is most commendable about Pirates of the Caribbean is that as a successful translation of a Disneyland boat ride into a fun adventure movie that plays in the same key as Martin Campbell’s The Mask of Zorro, it leads to some admirable implications. Perhaps it is only a matter of time before somebody in Hollywood figures out how to make a tolerable movie of this sort out of a video game, for instance. The real curse has nothing to do with black pearls, but franchise-motivated adaptations; we should applaud Pirates of the Caribbean for breaking it.
