Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
Director: Gore Verbinski
Grade:C-

Critics don’t often like to confess to momentary lapses in judgment. We cling tenaciously to our decisions, positing them as infallible and final. Better to fight vigorously in favor of what many perceive as a shortsighted evaluation for dignity’s sake than admit error on such matters (anyone who thinks otherwise should check out my review of Running Scared and ask me how I feel about that film).

Well, allow me to step outside my constrictive critical box for a moment and admit my own error in assessment concerning the original Pirates of the Caribbean movie. I gave it a rather mediocre review, commenting that while I immensely enjoyed Depp’s performance and the look of the film, it ran a bit long and possessed no clear purpose. As time wore on, however, this goofy little film grew on me, and what I once viewed as its shortcomings, I now perceive as its chief strengths.

With the release of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest I saw my opportunity to right my past wrong and embrace a film my elitist disposition once forbade me from accepting. And so, in a rare opening night attendance, there I sat, huddled in the darkest, most secluded crevice I could find in a theatre of screaming children, their fat parents, and all the other miserable assholes who had nothing better to do on a Friday afternoon in the middle of smalltown Iowa (I was on an impromptu vacation to the area to escape the art house arrogance of the big city)

Then the movie began and I sat forward with eager anticipation. It started a little slow, but I was convinced things would pick up. So I waited as the movie played on… and on and on and on and on and on. Two and a half hours later, I left the theater a bit disillusioned amidst the excited chatter of my portly compatriots, mostly revolving around the film’s (supposedly) exhilarating finale and the fate of Capt Jack Sparrow. Truth is, I couldn’t care less about Jack Sparrow this time around, because the film gave me little reason for attachment and, in fact, saw fit to strike down any leftover feelings for that character I may have held from the previous film. Sadly, Dead Man’s Chest represents a joyless romp upon the high seas that plays like the cinematic equivalent of what I imagine being shanghaied into unwilling servitude on a freighter ship might feel like.

Now perhaps history is merely repeating itself and in time I’ll warm up to this one as well, nevertheless something felt as if it were missing. The first film had the element of surprise on its hands. Remember how, when that film was still in production, everyone was wondering why they were making a movie based on a Disney World ride? We were all a little surprised by its subsequent success. Alas, for Gore Verbinski lightning doesn’t strike twice. Whereas the first film transcended its source material, this one’s kind of like being trapped on that ride while it’s being repaired.

To be fair, the film is just as aimless and overlong as its predecessor, but somehow it never feels as enjoyable. True, there are exciting moments and some truly marvelous special effects. Of note is the Flying Dutchmen boat that emerges from the depths of ocean, helmed by Ahab-esque captain Davy Jones who appears more squid than man. But Depp’s performance comes off as phoned-in, as if he merely appeared out of obligation. Not that he changes any of his nuances from the previous film, but the screenplay provides him with no witty lines. His jokes fall flat, and his character appears somehow extraneously placed in a film in which he should be the main attraction.

All this isn’t to say the film is an utter waste of time. If one were self-destructive enough, one could subject themselves to crueler fates at the theaters this summer than viewing this benign if pointless film. But would it be worth the time or effort?

The way I see it, Dead Man’s Chest shares much in common with 3D Doritos. It wasn’t as if they added a new flavor or something else that the public was clamoring for, but an extra dimension – an unnecessary one at that – that no one really wanted in the first place. The product never really took off despite Frankie Muniz’s ringing endorsement. In the end 3D Doritos receded back into the oblivion from which they sprang forth never to be seen again. Not that Dead Man’s Chest shall share the same fate, but it does suffer from the same inadequacy, mainly that it attempts to dress everything up in an unnecessary layer – in this case unrelenting action – when at its core, it provides us with nothing fresh or worthwhile. Maybe the film will grow more tolerable with age. Who knows? In any case, if I’m wrong, you won’t hear it from me.