director
Gore Verbinski
screenwriters
Ted Elliott
Terry Rossio
story by
Ted Elliott
Terry Rossio
Stuart Beattie
Jay Wolpert
producer
Jerry Bruckheimer
cinematographer
Dariusz Wolski
music
Klaus Badelt
Alan Silvestri
editors
Stephen Rivkin
Arthur Schmidt
Craig Wood
cast
Johnny Depp (Jack Sparrow)
Geoffrey Rush (Barbossa)
Orlando Bloom (Will Turner)
Keira Knightley (Elizabeth Swann)
Jack Davenport (Norrington)
Jonathan Pryce (Governor Swann)
mpaa rating: PG-13
running
time: 134m
u.s.
release: 7/9/03
video
availability: VHS -
DVD
official website
other gore
verbinski films
reviewed on this website:
- the
mexican
- the
ring (2002)
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What you've heard about Pirates
of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl is more or
less true: the movie exists for Johnny Depp and wouldn't exist
without him. Given a role in a big-budget Disney film, Depp goes
at it as though it were a private, subversive experiment; he
plays the scurvy pirate Jack Sparrow ("Captain Jack
Sparrow," he always clarifies) as a gay Gary Oldman (think
Drexl in True
Romance) channeling Hunter S. Thompson. His mannerisms
are so specific that when co-star Orlando Bloom, as the comparatively
bland hero Will Turner, briefly mimics Jack's loopy motions,
it gets a big laugh. Like many another great farceur, Depp stylizes
Jack's constant drunkenness, achieving a kind of addled grace.
The rest of Pirates of the
Caribbean is competently mounted if essentially uninspired
action-adventure, with some anti-climactic moments, some cavernous
dead spots, and a generally sputtering pace. The premise is that
a crew of cursed, undead pirates is looking for the final piece
of Aztec gold that will lift their curse. Political daughter
Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley of Bend It Like Beckham)
possesses this piece, which she plucked off the semi-conscious
body of Will Turner when they were both children. Will, a blacksmith
now, loves Elizabeth from afar, but skunky imperialist Norrington
(Jack Davenport) claims her hand, with the approval of her obsequious
governor dad (Jonathan Pryce).
The dynamic is familiar: the
sincere Will is Luke, the imperilled Elizabeth is Leia, and the
disreputable scoundrel Jack is Han Solo. Pirates of the Caribbean
comes closer to the uncomplicated thrills of the original Star
Wars trilogy than George Lucas' own recent Star Wars
attempts have. When the movie sticks to simple pleasures -- like
the deftly choreographed duel between Will and Jack (hey, where's
Grace and Karen?) when they first meet -- it's fine. But the
script suffers from the common clever-writer affliction of forced
linkage, wherein everything has to be connected in some
way. A late-inning revelation about Jack, for instance, diminishes
his stature as a flawed, human anti-hero, and the bitter history
between him and Captain Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush), the commander
of the zombie-pirate ship the Black Pearl, feels a bit
rote.
POTC is amiable fun (if draggy at two hours and fourteen
minutes) but almost instantly forgettable, except for Johnny
Depp's running self-amusement. Director Gore Verbinski seems
to lack focus and personality; he'll direct any high-concept
stuff you toss his way, whether a kiddie farce (MouseHunt),
a romantic comedy (The
Mexican), a remake of a Japanese horror smash (The Ring),
or now a screen version of a Disneyland ride. Verbinski and writers
Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio (Shrek,
Treasure Planet) are serviceable second-tier hacks who
lucked into big hits and now appear to have sworn never to endanger
their status as rainmakers.
A pirate movie -- especially
a modern one like this or Cutthroat Island (much more
fun, I thought) -- has the advantage of those massive, suicidal
sea battles wherein two ships float within yards of each other
while firing cannonballs back and forth. (One neat moment: Jack's
crew runs out of cannonballs and has to load the cannons with
whatever comes to hand.) There's the obligatory sailing-in-a-violent-storm
bit, and much growling and baring of rotten teeth, and poor,
delicately beautiful Keira Knightley gets passed from man to
man and ship to ship while stifling in a tight corset. Bah. Give
me Geena Davis's freewheeling pirate queen in Cutthroat Island
any day; helpless purity is hard to care about.
If POTC is to be remembered,
it will be for the effortless skewed professionalism of Johnny
Depp, who has become one of our great chameleons and one of the
most honorable and inquisitive stars in the business. Depp approaches
Jack as a colorful supporting role -- the movie's main arc belongs
to Orlando Bloom, who doesn't do much here that he didn't do
as Legolas -- and he throws vanity to the wind and creates a
surly wreck of a man who nevertheless can rise to the moment
and turn into a fierce warrior. Conceptually, the character is
tired, but what Depp does with it has the restless energy of
a hungry character actor trying to break through in a big summer
movie. Depp, however, doesn't care about breaking through; he's
done that already. He just wants to keep himself interested and
entertained, and he takes us with him.
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