Ace Weekly

Despite the nearly simultaneous release of Pirates of the Caribbean and Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, swashbucklers are a dying genre. And that's not a bad thing. The poor suckers who had to sit through the masterpieces of monotony that were The Count of Monte Cristo, The Musketeer, The Man in the Iron Mask, Treasure Planet, and Cutthroat Island are few and far between.

In fact, the only really good pirate-related film seen since Jason and the Argonauts was The Princess Bride (1987), and that film was more cutesy fantasy than shiver-me-timbers adventure. Undaunted, Disney decided to transform its beloved Disney World ride, "The Pirates of the Caribbean," into a live-action extravaganza, replacing the animatronic mannequins with the slightly more exciting Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, and Orlando Bloom.

Depp plays Captain Jack Sparrow, a swaggering, slurring, clumsy braggart of a buccaneer who also happens to be one of the world's most cunning pirate masterminds. Through a yo-ho-horrible turn of events, Jack finds himself assisting lovelorn blacksmith Will Turner (Bloom) in recovering his abducted love, Elizabeth. Naturally, Jack has his own reasons for participating-Turner's paramour has been kidnapped by Jack's mutinous former first mate, the evil Captain Barbossa (Rush), and Jack wants revenge.

There's also a curse involved, which gives the film an excuse to showboat its lone special effect. Each time a beam of moonlight strikes one of the Black Pearl pirates, he is revealed to be a living skeleton, complete with tattered clothes, lolling eyeballs, and big, toothy grins. It's a neat (if overused) gimmick, and the sequence in which the skeletons are introduced is the film's best: Elizabeth escapes onto the deck of the pirate ship only to be tossed around by legions of the undead moving in perfect dance-team synchronicity. It's sinister, funny, and creepy.

The rest of Pirates progresses like a typical Disney film. There's a rag-tag assembly of underdog heroes, each of whom magically fulfills one another's emotional needs. After establishing their individual quirks, they unify to fight overwhelming odds, making sure to throw in a dash of "absent dad" melodrama along the way. Yes, like most Disney characters, Will grew up without a father, and Jack becomes his psychotic surrogate, slowly drawing forth the true pirate within him.

The film's message-that even a filthy pirate can be a decent person-is a dubious one in the face of so many questionable characters. The pirates are so goofy and loveable that it's easy to forget that, whoops-they're rapists and murderers! Meanwhile, the English army is so stuffy and aristocratic that it's easy to forget that, whoops-they're supposed to be the good guys!

This is especially troublesome during the frequent, lengthy battle sequences between the pirates and the English. These scenes leave the audience marooned at sea, for we have no team to root for. Morally ambiguous characters (like Jack, for example) are fine, but there's a line between "morally ambiguous" and "who gives a hoot?" The pirates and the English are equally uninvolving, and leave the audience waiting for somebody-anybody-to win.

Basing a motion picture on a theme park ride-rather than the other way around-is obviously a lame idea. (Although there have been worse ideas-does anyone else remember the candy-inspired Saturday morning cartoon Gummi Bears?) In truth, though, Pirates of the Caribbean is much like what you imagine the Disney World ride to be: some nervous excitement, a couple of vibrant characters and a handful of honest scares before the whole process starts over again, over and over and over.

Indeed, the plot is so repetitive it borders on hilarious. The English soldiers chase the pirates onto one boat, then another, and then back to the first boat. The pirates perform a secret ritual in a cave, then emerge to fight, then go back in and out and in. Jack and Elizabeth are captured and released and captured and released. By the time the film passes the dreaded two-hour mark, it has become the ideal drinking game: "Take a shot each time Jack gets thrown into jail." Buy a six-pack, play along, and by the end of the movie you'll be having a lot more fun.

FILM Yo Ho-Ho A long way from 21 Jumpstreet By Daniel Kraus Ahoy! Is that Donnie Brasco?! Despite the nearly simultaneous release of Pirates of the Caribbean and Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas, swashbucklers are a dying genre. And that's not a bad thing. The poor suckers who had to sit through the masterpieces of monotony that were The Count of Monte Cristo, The Musketeer, The Man in the Iron Mask, Treasure Planet, and Cutthroat Island are few and far between. In fact, the only really good pirate-related film seen since Jason and the Argonauts was The Princess Bride (1987), and that film was more cutesy fantasy than shiver-me-timbers adventure. Undaunted, Disney decided to transform its beloved Disney World ride, "The Pirates of the Caribbean," into a live-action extravaganza, replacing the animatronic mannequins with the slightly more exciting Johnny Depp, Geoffrey Rush, and Orlando Bloom. Depp plays Captain Jack Sparrow, a swaggering, slurring, clumsy braggart of a buccaneer who also happens to be one of the world's most cunning pirate masterminds. Through a yo-ho-horrible turn of events, Jack finds himself assisting lovelorn blacksmith Will Turner (Bloom) in recovering his abducted love, Elizabeth. Naturally, Jack has his own reasons for participating-Turner's paramour has been kidnapped by Jack's mutinous former first mate, the evil Captain Barbossa (Rush), and Jack wants revenge. There's also a curse involved, which gives the film an excuse to showboat its lone special effect. Each time a beam of moonlight strikes one of the Black Pearl pirates, he is revealed to be a living skeleton, complete with tattered clothes, lolling eyeballs, and big, toothy grins. It's a neat (if overused) gimmick, and the sequence in which the skeletons are introduced is the film's best: Elizabeth escapes onto the deck of the pirate ship only to be tossed around by legions of the undead moving in perfect dance-team synchronicity. It's sinister, funny, and creepy. The rest of Pirates progresses like a typical Disney film. There's a rag-tag assembly of underdog heroes, each of whom magically fulfills one another's emotional needs. After establishing their individual quirks, they unify to fight overwhelming odds, making sure to throw in a dash of "absent dad" melodrama along the way. Yes, like most Disney characters, Will grew up without a father, and Jack becomes his psychotic surrogate, slowly drawing forth the true pirate within him. The film's message-that even a filthy pirate can be a decent person-is a dubious one in the face of so many questionable characters. The pirates are so goofy and loveable that it's easy to forget that, whoops-they're rapists and murderers! Meanwhile, the English army is so stuffy and aristocratic that it's easy to forget that, whoops-they're supposed to be the good guys! This is especially troublesome during the frequent, lengthy battle sequences between the pirates and the English. These scenes leave the audience marooned at sea, for we have no team to root for. Morally ambiguous characters (like Jack, for example) are fine, but there's a line between "morally ambiguous" and "who gives a hoot?" The pirates and the English are equally uninvolving, and leave the audience waiting for somebody-anybody-to win. Basing a motion picture on a theme park ride-rather than the other way around-is obviously a lame idea. (Although there have been worse ideas-does anyone else remember the candy-inspired Saturday morning cartoon Gummi Bears?) In truth, though, Pirates of the Caribbean is much like what you imagine the Disney World ride to be: some nervous excitement, a couple of vibrant characters and a handful of honest scares before the whole process starts over again, over and over and over. Indeed, the plot is so repetitive it borders on hilarious. The English soldiers chase the pirates onto one boat, then another, and then back to the first boat. The pirates perform a secret ritual in a cave, then emerge to fight, then go back in and out and in. Jack and Elizabeth are captured and released and captured and released. By the time the film passes the dreaded two-hour mark, it has become the ideal drinking game: "Take a shot each time Jack gets thrown into jail." Buy a six-pack, play along, and by the end of the movie you'll be having a lot more fun.

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