Review: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)

After 20 years, it’s clear that Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl is indeed a movie classic, even if it is an imperfect film. Arriving in the summer of 2003, the film sailed past all expectations (and the supposed curse on pirate movies, after the famed flop of 1995’s Cutthroat Island at the box office) to become one of the year’s biggest earners, and a cultural phenomenon to boot. 

At the heart of the film’s success lies Johnny Depp’s performance as Captain Jack Sparrow. The early press suggested that Depp had perhaps gone too far with the character, but he ended up crafting a movie icon—one of those striking and memorable characters who the average person off the street is likely able to name and perhaps even able to quote. With his extravagance giving him an edge over Russel Crowe’s Maximus from Gladiator (“Are you not entertained?”), Captain Jack Sparrow might be the most iconic original movie character of the 2000s (setting aside characters based on books and comics). 

Core aspects of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl still cruise smoothly along. For instance, the general concept for Pirates of the Caribbean remains strong. I recall that the premise was much derided before the film’s release for being “based on a theme park ride”—albeit a ride focused on atmospherics and immersion, rather than jolts and speed—for it seemed to automatically confirm the common critique after Jurassic Park that summer blockbusters had become nothing more than, well, theme park rides. How can you make a good movie based on a ride? 

For starters, director Gore Verbinski—then known mostly for the superbly designed dark farce, Mouse Hunt (1997), and his 2002 English-language adaptation of the creepy J-horror hit, The Ring—leans into the ride’s atmosphere and creates an onscreen world of misty seas, sweaty tropical islands, deserted beaches, naval fortresses, and pirate lairs. The story contains all the core elements, both visual and narrative, of the pirate narrative set by Robert Louis Stevenson all the way back in 1883 with his novel, Treasure Island, and solidified onscreen with the 1950 Disney production of Treasure Island. At the same time, Verbinski also seems inspired by the gritty depictions of history and fantasy of the early 2000s, namely Ridley Scott’s Gladiator and Peter Jackson’s The Fellowship of the Ring. While the production is a big Hollywood behemoth, with huge sets, real ships, and sumptuous costumes, there’s nothing pressed and starched about the feel and nothing clean and technicolour about the look. The cinematography captures varieties of light and shadow, and the sets look stunningly three-dimensional and expansive. The camera never seems to be trapped facing only one direction, as in many epics from the mid-twentieth century.

Furthermore, if you look past the ride from Disneyland you will see that the film does what many well-made popular films do: refashion seemingly outdated conventions with new emphases and within new frameworks. The Curse of the Black Pearl takes elements of the classic swashbuckling adventure and casts them in a new light through the central plot device: ghost pirates. There are familiar action elements, such as sword fights and swinging on ropes. The romance features star-crossed lovers divided by class. And the characters’ choices hinge on the old themes of duty, honour, and loyalty to friends and family. All of this is contained within a fantasy pirate world that reinvents the old swashbuckling for a new era of big fantasy franchises. Recall that Pirates of the Caribbean came out the year The Lord of the Rings trilogy concluded and the year after the second Harry Potter film, Chamber of Secrets. 

The Curse of the Black Pearl also utilizes the classic trio of protagonists formula of two male companions and one female—seen in everything from Star Wars to Harry Potter—to provide a familiar framework for the character interactions. Like Luke Skywalker, Will Turner (Orlando Bloom) is the humble boy who wants to be a hero, and like Han Solo, Jack Sparrow is the charismatic rogue—but who even more so than Han Solo walks the line between deplorable villain and dashing hero. Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley) also follows the Princess Leia model of a young woman who is more feisty and spunky than the constraints of the social and gender roles of her era can handle. 

I was lukewarm on Will and Elizabeth when the first film came out, but now I think they work really well together. Is it simply my fondness looking back, or the fact that we lack classically appealing leads and couples today? Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightely have good chemistry with each other and with Depp’s Jack Sparrow, but they are also normal enough to play as straight roles to the comedic Depp, while delivering enough witty touches to keep Will and Elizabeth from being boring.

The genius of Depp’s performance is that it is actually more calculated and restrained than the reactions at the time would suggest. Much has been said about Depp’s inspirations for the role (such as Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones) as well as the mode of the performance (having elements of slapstick and silent era physical comedy, as well as constant sly turns with his mouth and eyes). With the bandana, jewelry, heavy eyeliner, and dreadlocks, the costume looks more Bohemian or 1960s counterculture than authentically pirate, and Depp’s voice for Sparrow sounds like he’s always on the verge of passing out from too much drink. Individually, so many aspects of the performance would seem to fail, but to Depp’s immense credit, he fuses them all together and manages not to overdo them. Depp’s performance turns a bunch of fruity elements into fruit salad—a flavourful mix that is easily palatable. Viewed today, it’s more perceptible that Depp could have gone full wacko with the role and didn’t, and instead crafted an appealing and endlessly surprising eccentric character.

Apart from the lead trio, the supporting cast is also very strong, creating many memorable small characters who would become pleasures to see again in later films (as well as some surprising reinventions, as with Jack Davenport’s Norrington). In particular, I would note Kevin R. McNally’s first mate Gibbs, Mackenzie Crook’s and Lee Arenberg’s bumbling pirate duo, and Jonathan Pryce’s Governor Swann (Elizabeth’s father). 

I also cannot forget Geoffrey Rush’s Captain Barbossa, whose vocal and facial mannerisms absolutely draw on the prototypical cinematic pirate, Robert Newton’s Long John Silver in Byron Haskin’s Treasure Island (forging further connections with Disney’s first big live action film). In fairness to Rush’s performance, Barbossa is the main villain and fourth lead, and to the film’s credit, Rush stands equal to all the other leads. His charismatic and enjoyable villain is too often overshadowed by Depp in people’s memories.

As strong as the film’s premise and characterizations are, the film has its weaknesses. For instance, the supernatural elements of the film are uneven. The ghost pirate idea is compelling, but the background about how it all happened remains muddled. Furthermore, having the ghost ship, the Black Pearl, come about only 10 years previously makes the legend less impressive and difficult to believe. Having Jack Sparrow want his former ship, which is the ghost pirate vessel, back under his control is a key plot anchor, but it dispels any possible mystery about the vessel rather quickly. 

Likewise, the fantasy world, with its references to cursed Aztec gold, are evocative but never as fully realized as the best fantasy worlds and space operas. Comments about a vaguely Christian Judgement Day alongside the curses of heathen gods suggest a strange and not entirely thought-out syncretic storyworld.

Overall, while Gore Verbinksi is supremely capable of luxuriating in visual atmosphere, in the cinematography and set design, this isn’t a film that luxuriates or deeply explores the narrative mystery and legend, and it is somewhat poorer for that. It’s too fast paced to generate that sort of narrative depth. It is more about putting characters into chases and then keeping the chasing going until the end.

I always found the story overstuffed and unclear, and after multiple viewings and a recent revisit, the plot remains incoherent. There are at least one too many double-crosses and one too many pursuits by ship. After about an hour and a half, we stop trying to understand where things are headed and just want to see if it will come together. It mostly does, but it’s not elegant—more like an ungainly and well-loaded galleon than a swift clipper. Basically, despite many conventional features, the plot lacks a clear archetypal narrative: this may be a quest, but the directions are muddled, the reasons and objectives murky and revealed only in parcels when required.

In spite of its deficiencies, the impact of Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl on cinema is significant. It is the film that relaunched Disney’s production of big-budget live action movies, and it is also one of the most successful fantasy franchises of its era. You can see its influence on the Marvel Cinematic Universe (which has also struggled with giving its interesting characters the plots they deserve.)

While the movie’s narrative remains unclear and overly long, these aspects cannot overshadow the many ways that Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl has established itself as a justly celebrated adventure film, with brilliant performances, thrilling sword fights, and great comedy. 

8 out of 10

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003, USA)

Directed by Gore Verbinski; screenplay by Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio; starring Johnny Depp, Orlando Bloom, Keira Knightley, Geoffrey Rush, Jack Davenport, Mackenzie Crook, Lee Arenberg, Kevin R. McNally, and Jonathan Pryce.

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