Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

May 25, 2007

Let’s talk about sequels.

The problem with most sequels is that characters tend to take control of the story, rather than the other way around. This is especially true if the sequel is for a movie that was a bit of a gamble in the first place, and thus the existence of the sequel was in doubt – or never even considered in the first place. So, in the first one, you’ll have vivid characters and wild ideas, thrown out there with a distinct sense of thrill, risk, and kamikaze joy. If these elements come together just right, then you have something truly special.

But say that first risky venture succeeds, and not just in a minor way. Say it pleases critics, draws in astonishing crowds, and breaks financial landmarks with a speed and certainty the filmmakers never dared dream possible. Word comes from the studio: We want more. A trilogy. You obviously know what you’re doing despite our initial misgivings, so we’re going to give you anything you ask, from budget to film scheduling; just keep making that magic you make.

The filmmakers go back to doing what they do, but there’s a distinct difference; the critical and financial success of the first outing give them a confidence they didn’t have before. Maybe a little too much of it. The audience really liked this character’s out-sized mannerisms? Well, let’s play that up to hell and gone – and hey, while we’re at it, why not just bring in the real-world inspiration for the character in a cameo role? We can do whatever we want now, so let’s go out of our way to wink at the audience. That’s cool, right?

Let’s employ set pieces and stunts that would make a latter-era Pierce Brosnan 007 movie blush. And, for the hell of it, let’s have a little homage to Attack of the 50 Foot Woman. Before long, the sequels don’t sound anything like what made the first work so well.

So it is with Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, the second-best of a trilogy that threatens to spin off into a full-blown Jack Sparrow franchise. At World’s End is a damn sight better than Dead Man’s Chest, that numbingly messy second entry, but still manages to be only about half as charming as the first while seeming to contain 50% more blubber. No small feat, that. The first Pirates was hardly a model of restraint.

I mentioned that characters tend to dominate the story rather than vice versa in sequels. This was true in Dead Man’s Chest, and becomes absolutely inescapable in At World’s End. I’m speaking specifically of Jack Sparrow, of course; who else? Everyone else, from the murderously hot voodoo queen (Naomie Harris) to the walking storehouse of expositional lore named Gibbs (Kevin R. McNally) has had their dialogue chopped down to cryptic pronouncements whose sole purpose is to advance the movie. Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) wants to free his father (Stellan Skarsgard) but doesn’t tell his lady fair Elizabeth (Keira Knightley), therefore this is all he’s allowed to talk about for most of the movie. Elizabeth was responsible for Sparrow’s death in Dead Man’s Chest and neglected to tell Will, and therefore this is all she’s allowed to talk about. And so on.

The exception is Sparrow, who picks up all the extra slack with mildly amusing character moments that go on for approximately thirty hours. He’s a very original character concept, but now everyone seems terribly aware of this, and a lot of the fun is sucked out of each scene he’s in. No longer allowed to be the eccentric and amoral loser we cheered for in Curse of the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow is now something like a mythological figure in the world of the pirates. Too bad.

You’ll notice I haven’t used the word “plot” yet. That’s because there isn’t one. At World’s End< runs more like a sequence of events that tie together because everyone keeps mentioning the same proper nouns (nine pieces of eight, the Brethern Court, etc) in all of them, bookended by shots of ocean and islands that I’m sure the location scouts got a hefty paycheck for finding. Everyone betrays everyone else, which is fun, except the characters keep making promises to each other as if they’re not aware of all the triple crosses they themselves were involved in in the recent past. It’s a funny thing, but when everyone’s just out for themselves and no one truly cares for the others, it’s hard to give a damn about any of them. The bastards are no longer lovable. They’re just bastards.

I didn’t hate it. The sensory barrage put me into a trance-like state that sometimes came very close to resembling actual enjoyment. It was an effective trance. About two hours in is when we get our first sword fight, arguably the major staple of the whole series. To the movie’s credit, I didn’t notice this lack until that first sword fight actually started. I can’t tell if that’s an endorsement.

At World’s End plays like competent fan fiction. It’s indulgent, imaginative in a half-bright way, a little too in love with its main character and fascinated by special effects and set pieces that must seem grandiose to its creators but only come off like so much CGI noise to the audience. There are worse ways to spend 168 minutes of your time, but much better ones, too. Might I recommend seeing 28 Weeks Later twice?