MY MOVIE SHELF: Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

 

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 26 Days to go: 21

Movie #414:  Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

Jiminy Christmas, these movies get longer with each successive one. Good thing I don’t own any more of these or I’d be here for all eternity.

Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End is the last movie in the series that I own, and it also serves as a succinct (well, not succinct, but satisfying) end to the overall conflict represented over the course of the franchise between the pirates and the British. In this regard, At World’s End is like an existential and fantastical look at the historical growth and ultimate all-encompassing power of the British navy. They were a force that couldn’t be overcome, and they did, in fact, rid most of the area of pirates over time. The actual events no doubt really involved mass hangings and the like, but probably not supernatural sea witches or otherworldly ships meant to usher the dead from the land of the living.

At World’s End is not the worst movie in the world. A lot of it is really funny and enjoyable, actually. But the last like twenty minutes of it is setting up the fourth movie, which, as it doesn’t involve Will (Orlando Bloom) and Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), it’s irrelevant to me.

Yes, once again, I am only really here for the continuing saga of will Elizabeth and Will ever finally hook up? They’ve been in love for two movies, engaged for one, and finally — FINALLY! — get married at the end of this one. It occurs in the midst of an epic sword fight, though, so maybe not the most romantic nuptials. And, of course, there’s the problem of Will being killed by Davy Jones (Bill Nighy), who will then stabs the heart of, taking over as captain of the Dutchman and only being allowed to set foot on land to see his wife once every ten years. These lovers, it seems, will never fully be together. But they do get that one day, and as Will implies, if that one day is special enough, it can kind of make up for the other 3649 or so. I mean, they finally have their wedding night before Will’s first tour begins, and in a lovely epilogue we see that Elizabeth has a son with her ten years later for Will’s return. Plus, it’s entirely possible that she’s still raking in booty from piracy, as it’s never made clear if she gives up the title of King of the Brethren Court.

Elizabeth’s time as captain of her own ship, and her appointment as king, is another highlight of the film for me, along with pretty much everything to do with her, as she’s my favorite character. But possibly the most memorable stuff in the film is when Jack (Johnny Depp) has to be rescued from Davy Jones’s Locker, which as far as I can tell is like being inside a hallucination. He sees multiples of himself and little crab rocks everywhere, and there must be residual effects, since he’s still seeing his multiples well after they’ve brought him back to the living. I guess you never quite get over being dead.

In all, the movie isn’t great, but it’s fun enough, and, like I said, it makes me laugh quite a bit from scene to scene with its jokes and throwaway callbacks and visual gags. However, it’s way too freaking long, and it’s the last one of these I’m going to own.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 27 Days to go: 21

Movie #413:  Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest

First of all, has anyone ever addressed the absurd length of each Pirates of the Caribbean movie? I didn’t mention it about the last one, because it’s so inventive and great, but it was still overlong. And Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest is even longer. Why is this necessary? (It’s not.) Tell tighter stories, people.

Dead Man’s Chest isn’t quite the raucous party Curse of the Black Pearl was, but it does have its merits. For one, the rendering of the crew of the Flying Dutchman and captain Davy Jones (Bill Nighy) himself is spectacular. Half human, half (or more) sea life, the undead pirates are perfectly of the sea — watery and slimy, with tentacles and barnacles and coral and shells — and completely different from the undead pirates of the first film.Not only that but the Kracken (while disgusting and not at all representative of the mythical creature in Clash of the Titans) is some pretty impressive creature creation. Its demolition of the Black Pearl is incredible to behold, particularly on the big screen.

However, the film also has its drawbacks. As sequels generally seek to expand the universe of a film, so does Dead Man’s Chest expand on the universe of the first film. There are more players, more motivations, and there’s more going on. Unfortunately, all this “more” makes things somewhat hard to follow and overly complex. On top of that, Jack (Johnny Depp) is double-crossing Will (Orlando Bloom), who is double-crossing Jones, who is double-crossing Bootstrap Bill (Stellan Skarsgard), who is double-crossing Jones, who is double-crossing Will, who is double-crossing Jack, who is double-crossing Norrington (Jack Davenport), who is double-crossing Jack, who is double-crossing Elizabeth (Keira Knightly), who is also double-crossing Jack. It’s a mess. And that’s before you try to get me to explain any of what was happening on the primitive island with the cannibal tribe, or anything to do with anyone working for the East India Trading Company. Like the magical compass, this movie points all over the place, unable to discern what the heck it wants most.

Fortunately, though, the thing I come for in any and all of these movies is the relationship between Elizabeth and Will, which also becomes more shaded and complex in Dead Man’s Chest, but in really rewarding ways. In the time between the first film and this one, Elizabeth and Will planned to be married, but as their wedding is delayed by their arrest (it’s always something), which is the inciting event that leads them down the path of Dead Man’s Chest plot. In a lot of ways, Elizabeth is underrated as a force to be reckoned with, and she proves herself to be wily and resourceful and really freaking good with a sword. The situation of both she and Will working toward similar purposes in opposite ways (and being separated for large swaths of the film, too, in which each has to get themselves out of myriad scrapes), works to almost wedge them apart, as neither entirely knows what the other is up to or why they’re doing what they’re doing. Adding to that Jack’s blatant flirting with Elizabeth and Norrington’s bitterness over her rejection, and the kiss she plants on Jack at the end of the film (to ensnare him into being shackled onto the Pearl while the others escape) elicits well-founded doubts and insecurities from Will, who never believed such a woman as she could love someone like him in the first place. The fact that he mistakes her guilt at sending Jack to his death for the broken heart of a woman who lost her lover is a complicating factor to them being together, but it is also a perfectly organic development of these characters within this story. And it portrays Elizabeth as a woman just as brave and strong and smart and, when needed, merciless as any pirate on the seas — a really solid deepening and exploration of her character that will carry into the third film.

Let’s move on to that one, then, shall we?

MY MOVIE SHELF: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

 

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 28 Days to go: 21

Movie #412:  Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl

Even as an adult, Disney World is my favorite place to go. It’s always been my favorite place to go. It’s hard for people to appreciate if they’ve never been, or if they’ve never found their trips all that special, but it makes me incredibly happy to be there. There is no place like it. It’s more than just a theme park, it’s an experience — an atmosphere that pervades from the moment you drive onto the grounds and is enhanced by every cast member and every detail of every different land. It’s magical and wonderful. But even for me, the idea of  a film based on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride sounded like a nightmare. What could possibly be the point? What merit or story could possibly be derived? It just felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

Imagine my surprise, then, when it turned out to be a huge hit.

I went by myself — a frequent habit I developed when my son was small. Basically, if I had a couple free hours when someone else was watching him, I would go see a movie. So I sat in the darkened theater, in the center of the second row as is my wont, and I readied myself for whatever would come. As it happens, what came was a rollicking good time — a perfect summer film full of fun and joy and blissfully creative elements.

Most people site Johnny Depp’s performance as Captain Jack Sparrow as their favorites, and with good reason. He’s sloppy and tilting and listing with every movement. He’s slurry and flirty and deceptively smart. He is, in short, an incredibly fun character. But the other characters are a lot of fun too, and shouldn’t be discounted.

For me, the best parts of Pirates of the Caribbean (and its sequels) have always had to do with Elizabeth Swan (Keira Knightly) and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom). I was at first disappointed Turner wasn’t gloriously blonde like Bloom’s Legolas role, but aside from that the character is aces. Will Turner is a lowly, undervalued, overlooked citizen of the Caribbean town from where the events of the film commence — undervalued and overlooked by all by Elizabeth, that is. He came with the Swans as a refugee of a downed merchant ship and works as a blacksmith’s apprentice making swords. He’s good-hearted and noble and he loves Elizabeth from afar. And he’s not a bad swashbuckler either, as far as that goes.

Elizabeth, too, is a great character. She’s plucky and smart and doesn’t shy away from confrontation. She holds her own with every pirate on the seas and shows virtually no fear fighting for herself or for Will. She’s pretty crafty too, as evidenced both by her employing of parlay and her giant island bonfire to ensure her rescue. Plus, any woman who calls out the ridiculousness of a corset is to be held in admiration.

Of course, the other pirates are quite entertaining as well. Barbossa (Geoffrey Rush) is equal parts vile and impressive, and he makes for a fantastic villain. As do the monkey and the several other ones, mostly called out for comedic effect. But some of the most enjoyable parts of the film have to do with callbacks to the actual Disney boat ride — like the dog holding the keys to the prison cell, or Mr. Gibbs (Kevin McNally) wallowing in slop with the pigs. It took the goofy concept that was fashioning a film after a theme park ride and made it the most fun I think it could’ve possible been.

The most impressive aspect of the film, however, is the skeletal special effect, in which all the pirates of the Black Pearl, when bathed in moonlight, show their true selves as the living dead. It’s creepy and fantastic and expertly done — especially when they move in and out of the shadows, partially exposed and partially whole. It’s amazing, and astounding and stunning work. I could watch those transitions all day. I especially love the underwater scene because it’s so brilliant and so unexpected and so masterful. I mean, wow.

Really, Pirates of the Caribbean wowed me in a lot of ways, in almost every aspect of its execution from the story to the design to the characters to the dialogue to the effects. It’s an all-around great popcorn flick, and one I could watch multiple times. (And have.) Even better, now that the ride at Disney World has been updated to match the film, it makes me want to go back there again. More so than usual.

MY MOVIE SHELF: What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 138  Days to go: 95

Movie #300:  What’s Eating Gilbert Grape

Small towns and families, amirite? They know you, they support you, they oppress you, they suffocate you — all in equal measure, it seems. You can resent them in the same moment that you defend them. You can hate them as much as you love them. That’s What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.

Gilbert (Johnny Depp) is the man of the family. His father is dead, his older brother is gone, and though he’s in his early to mid twenties, he has to support the household. There’s a lot on his shoulders. He’s got two younger sisters, a younger brother, and his mother to take care of, but just the care and keeping of his brother Arnie (Leonardo DiCaprio) is a lot to shoulder. There aren’t specifics given, but Arnie has some sort of mental disability. He’s about to turn eighteen, but he has the mind of a child. He doesn’t understand danger, he has no impulse control, he can only barely follow directions, and a lot of times he doesn’t know right from wrong. He can’t take care of himself at all. Since Gilbert’s the only other male in the house, a lot of the personal care of Arnie, like bathing, falls to him. It’s not hard to see how that could back up on you and make you crazy, make you hate your life, make you wish more than anything for some sort of release. Even with all the love in your heart, no one has infinite patience.

Gilbert’s mother (Darlene Cates) is another story. She’s morbidly obese and confined to the house. Confined to the downstairs, even. She can’t climb the stairs, she barely ever walks anywhere. Gilbert resents her too, because it’s easy to blame a fat person for becoming fat. It’s easy to mock her and disdain her or gawk at her, but at the same time, he loves her. Of course he does; she’s his mother. When she has him take her into town to get Arnie from the police station following his latest escape, she’s like a freak show. Everyone in town gathers around, like she’s her own circus, and that, Gilbert finds, he can’t stand at all. For while it’s okay for you to hate your parents, it’s almost never okay for anyone else to criticize them. It hurts your heart, because you know their heart is hurting and humiliated. And the last thing you want is for your loved ones to be laughing stocks. When Gilbert’s mom passes away, it’s only right that they burn her, and the house her husband built, to ashes. Gilbert won’t let her be humiliated again.

The other women in Gilbert’s life are varying degrees of vexing. His one sister is too overwhelmed, having been basically thrown into the role of stay-at-home-mom to her disabled mother, disabled brother, and bratty younger sister. And the youngest sister is bratty because she’s fifteen, and that’s how fifteen-year-olds are. She resents the shame and obligation of Arnie possibly more than Gilbert does. She wants to be pretty and popular and she wants to not be an outcast, which you kind of can’t blame her for, and yet Gilbert kind of does because he’s under these same burdens himself and he doesn’t have the luxury of being a bratty fifteen-year-old.

Meanwhile, the married woman he’s been having an affair with — Betty Carver, played by Mary Steenburgen — feels him pulling away from her. Maybe she’s not as exciting as she used to be. Maybe he fears her husband finding out. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be at anyone else’s beck and call. Whatever it is, she reacts to his withdrawal with ever more neediness and resentment at his sudden interest in a stranger — Becky, played by Juliette Lewis — who was driving through town with her grandmother when their truck broke down. It’s not until Betty finds her own unexpected release (which is both welcomed and not), that she’s able to give Gilbert his. And even though he’s been ready for it, he’s sad about it too. Those seemingly conflicting yet coexisting emotions are what the film’s all about.

Take Gilbert’s town, for example. It’s too small, too insular for words. There is nothing to do, nowhere to go. The most exciting things to happen are the recent acquisition of a Food Land supermarket and the impending arrival of a Burger Barn fast food chain, even though these are the exact same things that will no doubt be accused to stealing the town’s character and destroying its small businesses down the line. The small grocery Gilbert works at is already feeling the effects, but they can’t compete — not with Food Land’s lower prices or its selection or its ability to provide a big, fresh-made birthday cake with only hours notice. Simultaneously, they are bringing the town together and pulling it apart. Conflicting, yet coexisting.

Becky, of course, knows this and accepts it. She tamps down Gilbert’s wanderlust a bit, even as he’s drawn to her exotic “different-ness” of being from somewhere else, of having been other places. And in a funny way, the things that are supposed to make her so appealing — this almost perfect ideal of acceptance and zen she represents — are the things I find most annoying about the film. Yes, she gives Gilbert perspective. And yes, her optimism is definitely needed to offset Gilbert’s jaded views of everything. But I find her completely without dimension, with her rejection of beauty standards and her complete loving, patient acceptance of Arnie and of Mrs. Grape and of Gilbert’s relationship with Mrs. Carver. It’s all a little much. Where is the conflict coexisting inside her? (Plus, I hate her hair. It’s much better when she comes back a year later and its’ grown out a bit.)

Outside of Becky’s existence, though, I find the other characters really rich and interesting. And the performances by the actors, as well. A lot of attention is rightfully paid to DiCaprio, because it’s so immersive. Even in an “Oscar-bait” type role, he knocks it completely out of the park and loses all identity that is not this boy. It’s really quite striking, and I’m not ashamed to say I wish he would’ve won that year over Tommy Lee Jones and his “I don’t care” from The Fugitive. I like it, but come on.

The real accomplishment, however, is by Johnny Depp. Gilbert is the whole movie; he’s in almost every scene. He’s the emotional heart and its upheaval. He conveys all the heartache, the frustration, the pain, the love, the confusion that Gilbert’s plagued with and he does it without any of the showiness that’s become a bit of a hallmark for Depp of late. It’s a graceful, nuanced performance, and I like it a lot.

The town I grew up in was not small in the way Gilbert’s is small, but it still felt oppressive and suffocating. I still battled and clawed to get out of it. And now that I’m out I’ve missed the familiarity and comfort of it on more than one occasion. Life’s so funny and weird that way.

MY MOVIE SHELF: The Corpse Bride

The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015.  Remaining movies: 299  Days to go: 289

Movie #74: The Corpse Bride

Tim Burton has sort of cornered the market on this particular kind of digital claymation horror flick, and kind of as a general rule you expect to see (or hear) his life partner Helena Bonham Carter and long-time friend and collaborator Johnny Depp in every one of them. The thing is, though, I’d totally forgotten they were in this one and I somehow missed the opening credits until it got to Emily Watson so I watched the whole thing without noticing Depp and Bonham Carter were the voices of Victor and Emily (with the other Emily, Watson, actually voicing Victoria).

Danny Elfman, in addition to providing his usual trippy score, writes a bunch of catchy songs as well. You really have to hand it to Tim Burton — he know what works for him and he continues to crank that sort of thing out, working with the same people, year after year. And yet he still manages to create new and interesting stories.

The Corpse Bride is definitely my favorite of the animated Burton films. It plays with ideas of obligation versus desire, and love versus longing. Lines are crossed between the land of the living and the world of the dead when Victor accidentally slips his wedding band on the petrified zombie finger of Emily, the corpse bride, reaching up from under the ground beneath a tree. The use of color to differentiate these planes of existence is excellent and plays against expectations, as Victor and Victoria’s lives are composed of pale and pasty shades of gray and sepia, whereas the underworld is all bright colors and unnatural complexions. It’s beautiful and interesting to look at.

The most fascinating part of The Corpse Bride, however, is how it empowers its young women. Victor is a nervous man, and while he definitely finds strength through the course of the film and proves to be a stand-up guy, Victoria and Emily are actually the heroes. Victoria, though she is foiled and forced to marry Lord Barkis (Richard E. Grant), is the only one to fight for Victor and try to save him from the underworld. And Emily, who has been wallowing in the heartbreak of her lost love (and murder most foul), learns to be strong on her own. She doesn’t need a man to be happy, and she releases Victor to be with his true love Victoria. However, she neither goes back to her wallowing, nor does she allow herself to be run over by the villain. She stands up to him, takes back her life (or death, as it were) and returns to the underworld in a flutter of magical butterflies. It’s a vision of a woman being set free from the things that can hold them back, and I’m all for that.

MY MOVIE SHELF: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

This is the deal: I own around 350 movies on DVD and Blu-ray. Through June 10, 2015, I will be watching and writing about them all, in the order they are arranged on my shelf (i.e., alphabetically, with certain exceptions). No movie will be left unwatched . I welcome your comments, your words of encouragement and your declarations of my insanity.

Movie #47: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

I find that most people of my generation prefer the original, erroneously-titled movie, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but my personal leanings favor this one. The visuals are rich and gorgeous, the songs are catchy and fun, and Tim Burton’s aesthetic really suits the story well. Not only that, but Johnny Depp’s own eccentricities make him successful as a much more emotionally-stunted and socially-disabled eccentric Willy Wonka than Gene Wilder’s somewhat mean-spirited and vengeful one.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory also focuses on Charlie (Freddie Highmore) and his poor but happy relationship with his family as the heart of the movie. He’s not just an example to be compared against the other children, over-indulged and ungrateful as they are, he’s an example to be compared against Willy Wonka himself as well, for allowing his differences with his father to destroy their relationship.

In the movie, as in the book, Violet Beauregard (AnnaSophia Robb) is my favorite of the terrible children and is dispatched in my favorite way. Anyone who doesn’t spit out a piece of gum that tastes like freaking tomato soup deserves what she gets, as far as I’m concerned. Honorable mention, though, goes to Veruca Salt (Julia Winter), both for the biting suggestion that Blueberry Violet be entered into a county fair, and for being attacked by a hundred squirrels who deem her, quite literally, a bad nut.

And as I mentioned, Johnny Depp’s performance really works for me here, too. His delightful goofiness throughout wins me over time and again, from his desire to watch his introductory show rather than be in it, to his matter-of-fact way of shutting down most everyone’s comments, particularly his insistence that Mike Teavee (Jordan Fry) is a mumbler. In addition, he effortlessly pulls off both the knowing smirkiness that indicates he is aware all along how this tour will go, and the innocent uncomfortability with which he approaches social contact and affection — one of the reasons I really don’t mind the added flashbacks and storyline involving Wonka’s childhood and father. I even like the way Wonka pronounces the H in “heir.”

Let’s not forget the fabulous work done with the Oompa Loompas (all played by Deep Roy), either, who look much more real and varied and interesting in this version. They’re comedic and wonderful instead of distracting and weird, and the CGI work required to put them into the film is flawlessly done. It only adds to the film’s endless watchability, which is a good thing when you have children who want to see it over and over again.

Really, though, I could watch this movie just for the chance to get the lyrics “Augustus Gloop, Augustus Gloop, you great big greedy nincompoop” in my head.