New 'Pirates of the Caribbean' Dead in the Water

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides is a splendid title. It suggests that the Jerry Bruckheimer-Disney franchise has somehow regained its footing.

After an unnecessary trilogy caused the adventure yarn to lose any semblance of its initial charm, Bruckheimer ordered a reboot that promised to focus on the franchise’s most beloved character, Captain Jack Sparrow, an indelible creation of the endlessly inventive Johnny Depp.

It’s obvious why Depp can’t seem to give up this role. His portrayal of Sparrow in the first installment in 2003, The Curse of the Black Pearl, was so quirky and bizarre that it terrified studio executives. Yet it was precisely Depp’s uncompromising originality that caused the film to become a global phenomenon and transformed the actor from a cult idol into an immortal superstar.

Captain Jack took on a life of his own, delighting children around the world. He even took a break from shooting the current Pirates release to make a special appearance at one fan’s school.

Unfortunately, the success of Sparrow has caused the once chameleonlike Depp to sell out, favoring easy paychecks over artistic integrity. What was once fresh and startling about the character has now become as formulaic and familiar as every other ingredient in Bruckheimer’s proudly mediocre stew.

Each aspect of Depp’s multilayered persona has been externalized by another character. His resemblance to Keith Richards caused the Rolling Stones guitarist to be cast as his father. His oddly effeminate behavior and signature use of mascara inspired the producers to pair him with look-alike Penélope Cruz. I have no doubt the producers will find a role for Pepé Le Pew in Pirates 5. 

None of this would be a problem if the pictures were the least bit imaginative. Bruckheimer’s blockbusters are so simple minded that they could easily pass for children’s entertainment. Yet there’s nothing remotely family friendly about the Pirates series, with its gloomy art direction, repulsive characters, wall-to-wall violence and gobs of mind-numbing exposition.

What’s left for children to appreciate, besides scene-stealing monkeys and Depp’s silly facial expressions? No amount of mugging can save On Stranger Tides from quickly becoming duller than dishwater. 

The film opens with Sparrow posing as a British judge, which is one of many funny ideas that are never milked for their comic potential. This leads to the movie’s first and best set piece, following the clever pirate as he demonstrates his parkour skills by leaping atop carriages, planks of wood and a few skulls to escape his enemies. He even finds time to neck an uncredited Judi Dench.

But sadly, as in all Bruckheimer films, the plot eventually kicks in and proves to be as tiresome as ever. The script by longtime Pirates scribes Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio once again makes the fatal error of relegating its most interesting character to the role of bystander. All of the needlessly muddled action swirls around the befuddled Sparrow, who’s left to mutter, “Complicated, is it not?”

Anyone even mildly familiar with Hollywood escapism is guaranteed to find this plot hopelessly derivative. Sparrow is swept into a new adventure by a vengeful old flame (Cruz), who may or may not be the daughter of the fearsome pirate Blackbeard (played by Ian McShane of Deadwood).

Blackbeard forces Sparrow to assist him on a quest to find the Fountain of Youth, while pursued by the moldy Barbossa (a wild-eyed Geoffrey Rush). The climax is so shamelessly unoriginal that it should’ve earned the film a different title: Captain Jack and the Last Crusade. 

Depp’s deadpan whimsy does manage to elevate certain moments, such as when he pauses mid-battle for a pastry or swig of alcohol. But his character is routinely thrust aside for humorless subplots that aren’t the least bit involving.

The absence of the trilogy’s star-crossed lovers, Will (Orlando Bloom) and Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), made me hopeful that On Stranger Tides would instead center on the chemistry between Depp and Cruz. But the filmmakers lose their nerve by adding two new would-be lovers: an ethereal mermaid (Astrid Berges-Frisbey) and a bland pious bore with perpetually upturned eyebrows (Sam Claflin).

Cruz is left to do little more than shriek in her Spanish accent. Her performance is as lackluster as her Oscar-nominated work in the botched musical Nine, which was also directed by the overly slick Rob Marshall.

Despite the $90 million domestic gross--according to Box Office Mojo--raked in during its first weekend by this Pirates installment, there are hints that American audiences may be tiring of the well-worn series. Yet that hardly matters, since Bruckheimer’s films are designed to make more money overseas, and this picture has already earned more than $92 million from foreign viewers, bringing its worldwide total to $182 million for the movie's debut.

It’s clearer now than ever that the Pirates franchise is generic fast-food, tailor made for international consumption. It takes no risks and inspires no dreams. I’d rather watch a two-and-a-half hour blooper reel of Depp’s discarded improvisations than sit through one more of these tedious money-making machines. Only ticket-buyers can send this ship to Davy Jones' locker.

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