Yo ho ho and a bottle of ho-hum

Rating: 1/10 (4 June 2007)

Do you think he plans it all out,' asks a befuddled British officer, marveling at one of Jack Sparrow's characteristically miraculous escapes, 'or just makes it up as he goes along?' It's a million dollar (okay, a $400 million) question, one that should be aimed at now uber-successful director Gore Verbinski. At World's End really doesn't seem to have any sort of real script, presumably cobbled hastily by excitable Hollywood executives in an urge to please every demographic.
The result is a tremendous mishmash, a hideous blend of cliché and hammy acting, with a few tiny slivers of wit.
But then, of course, there's Johnny Depp.
It's painfully ironic to consider that Depp -- that quirkiest of the super-talented leading men, the man behind films of groundbreaking ingenuity and insane characters -- seems to have sold his soul to Davy Jones' Dollar.
As a result, the films are now designed around clever Jack one-liners, the bloated plot and thick character stew serving only as backdrop for moments Jack mercifully chooses to come on screen and seduce us, instantly. Except, alas, he doesn't do that enough.
It's as if the old sea dog knows the film is tripe, and couldn't be bothered to help it along more. The plot has an interesting premise,with gallows and song. The East India Company is taking over the high seas (the world, pretty much) and the only form of rebellion is coming from the Pirates. It's a great concept for the world today, spanners thrown into the corporate machinery by swashbuckling purveyors of piracy, freeing up expression and sticking it to the man. The film, of course, chooses to ignore this entirely, getting tangled up in a ridiculous story instead.
And what a messy yarn it is, chock-full of curses, goddesses, alter egos, clones and crabs. And a slew of characters.
Figuratively, that is; Chow Yun-Fat's Sao Feng is admittedly blessed with pretty scars, but that's pretty much it. A bad French pirate and a squeaky Sikh? How's that for wealth of character.
And Knightley is particularly painful, the pouty anorexic expression doing little for the stunner as she overacts her way, chewing up scenery.
Of course, this is way, way larger than life. The budget is massive, and so there is much detailing. The art direction is excellent, as are the costumes, and some special effects set-pieces are simply stellar. It's just that in a film stretching to almost three hours (and feeling close to four), after a point it just all seems like one big wet sword-fight.
This one -- save for the incredible screen moment of seeing Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards play dad to Jack Sparrow, the character modeled loosely on himself -- has nothing, really. And is much, much longer.
The first Pirates Of The Caribbean was an absolute corker, a film that made you switch to rum and sport an eyepatch. This new film requires you wear two.