Showing posts with label Captain Jack Sparrow. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Captain Jack Sparrow. Show all posts

Sunday, May 22, 2011

REELING


PotC4 not a complete shipwreck, but could have been so much more.


Almost nothing remains of Tim Powers' gorgeous historical fantasy, On Stranger Tides, in the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. ("Suggested by," is the way the book is acknowledged in the credits.) Still, incoming director Rob Marshall's film is a more seaworthy vessel than the leaky old rustbucket that was PotC 3: At World's End. Johnny Depp's reeling and raucous Captain Jack Sparrow is front and center, providing droll commentary and having a blast. Penelope Cruz is on board in fine swashbuckling form as Angelica, daughter and first mate of legendary pirate Blackbeard—played with dark, ferocious brio by Ian McShane. And Geoffrey Rush is back, stomping around on a peg leg in a powdered wig as pirate Barbarossa-turned-privateer for King George.


There are a lot fewer undead pirate crews than is usual in the franchise (surprising, since they feature so prominently in Powers' book), and believe me, those rotting, eyeball-popping skeletons are not missed. And the action is more focused: everyone is searching for the Fountain of Youth. But, as usual, it's in the storyline that the movie starts to lose steam.


Longtime scriptwriters Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio don't so much craft a narrative plot as string a bunch of gigantic comedy set-pieces together (most of which involve Captain Jack extricating himself from some tight situation). These can be amusing; it's always fun to see Depp swinging across the screen on a rope, or launching himself out of a palm tree as if it were a giant slingshot. But when it comes to the basics of plot construction, like character motivation, the writers remain clueless.


As in the book, the Fountain doesn't restore youth; it's a magical place where death can be defeated—temporarily—if a supplicant performs a ritual by which he can steal the extra years of a designated victim. Or something. Unlike the book, immortality doesn't seem to be part of the deal, and so the writers are overtaxed trying to explain why everybody is all afire to go there. Blackbeard has heard a prophecy that he'll be killed within a fortnight, and so wants to be prepared. Angelica apparently wants to buy her father a few extra years in order to save his soul—she's Spanish, see, and the Spanish are shown to be a nation of religious zealots who are also searching for the "pagan" Fountain in order to destroy it.


Still with me? Barbossa is sailing to the Fountain because he has a grudge against Blackbeard and wants a showdown. And Jack Sparrow? Well, um, he was once in possession of a map to the Fountain, so he's shanghaied aboard Blackbeard's ship to guide them there. Otherwise, he seems to have no particular interest in the Fountain, as either a power source or a potential profit-making venture. Indeed, Jack has no motivation of any kind except saving his own skin from one scene to the next, and this is where the film (and the series) fails its audience. Jack Sparrow never has any desires, none of the compulsions to do or achieve or win anything that creates plot. He's just along for the ride, making witty remarks, and although he's an entertaining companion, you'd think that after nearly a dozen hours of screen time in four movies, the writers could have developed a more complex character for Depp to play.



Disappointing too is his pairing with the fiery Angelica. Sure, they argue and swordfight, but they're never allowed to graduate into a grown-up relationship. They once had a tempestuous affair (notice how all of Jack Sparrow's notorious affairs are in the past, so the writers never have to show us any mushy stuff), but now she's just another character with an angle for Jack to be wary of. Seriously, would it kill this franchise to let Jack Sparrow have an onscreen relationship with a real woman? It wouldn't have to be X-rated; a bit of fun, sexy, camaraderie from two people who obviously enjoy each other would be so refreshing. But, no; the PotC franchise might let its heroines dress in trousers and wield swords, but it continues to shy away from the dramatic possibilities of introducing a complicated grown-up woman into the mix. They're still Wendys among the overgrown Lost Boys of the PotC world.


Still, Cruz and Depp have some fun with their banter. (Trading insults, Jack finally blurts, "You walk like a girl!" Angelica ripostes, "You should know!") There's a lyrical eeriness to a sequence involving mermaids surrounding a boatload of men—until they turn into bloodthirsty sirens, with vampire teeth, yet. And even though it's never explained where Blackbeard gets his magical powers, we get some cool scenes of his ship reefing up its own sails and live, slithering ropes that suspend a bunch of would-be mutineers at odd angles in the rigging.


Locations (mostly in Hawaii) are ravishing, and everyone seems to be having a hell of a good time. (Including Keith Richards in his obligatory cameo as Jack's father, asking sardonically, "Do I look like I've been to the Fountain of Youth?") As always, we just wish there was a bit less empty razzmatazz, and a little more there there.


Remember the scene at the end of the very first PotC, when Captain Jack is finally restored to his ship, the Black Pearl? Standing at the helm, gazing out over an infinite sea, he commands his eager crew, "Fetch me that horizon." That's the kind of stirring moment, full of the promise of adventure, that we long for more of in this series.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

YO HO HO


Long before Captain Jack Sparrow came reeling out of the fervid imagination of Johnny Depp, there was Jack Shandy, reluctant pirate captain and hero of Tim Powers' gorgeous historical fantasy adventure, On Stranger Tides. Now that the folks at Disney have appropriated Powers' novel for the fourth Pirates of the Caribbean movie (due on local screens Friday, or 11:59 tomorrow night, for the terminally obsessed), I thought it was time to put in a good word for the original book.


I first encountered On Stranger Tides in the spring of 1989, when this paperback cover leaped out at me from a shelf at the old Bookshop Santa Cruz. Back then, I was reading everything I could find about pirates, getting ready to write my own pirate novel, The Witch From the Sea. With its elements of dark magic, voudon (or "voodoo"), zombie pirate crews and the Fountain of Youth, you couldn't exactly classify Powers' book as strict historical research. But unlike the PotC movies, the novel is rooted in a very specific historical time and place—chiefly, the pirate island of New Providence in the Bahamas, ca. 1718. This was the year Governor Woodes Rogers came out from England to "reform" New Providence by buying off the pirates with the King's Pardon to give up the trade. It was also the last year in the short but spectacular career of Ed Teach, aka Blackbeard.


Even though Powers' book is set a century before mine, I started reading it for its realistic depiction of the pirate life on board ship and ashore. But pretty soon I was devouring it for its lush, and simmering sense of magical forces bubbling just under the surface of real life (and history). Powers contends that magic has run its course in the Old World, but is still viable in some wild, remote regions of the New World, where it has not yet been civilized out of existence. The "Fountain of Youth" at the heart of his story does not restore youth; rather it's a power spot of dark sorcery where the living can be made immortal, and the dead resurrected (albeit zombie-style).



The action gallops from New Providence to Port-au-Prince on Hispaniola (now Haiti), to Kingston, Jamaica. Young Englishman and puppeteer John Chandagnac is sailing into the Caribbees to claim a family inheritance when his ship is captured by pirates in league with Blackbeard. They are there to rendezvous with another passenger, Hurwood, an elderly Oxford don and magical scholar who's en route to the Fountain; maddened by the death of his wife, he's planning to resurrect her in the body of his nubile young daughter, Beth. Determined to save Beth, Chandagnac joins the pirate crew, who rechristen him "Jack Shandy," and after several raucous adventures in which his desperation or sheer foolhardiness are mistaken for bravery, he's elected their captain.


The centerpiece of the story is a hair-raising trip to the eerie, demon-haunted Fountain in the company of Blackbeard himself, the only man who's ever been to the Fountain and come out again. (Hurwood needs the pirate to show him the way.) I just love how Powers seeds his supernatural plot so plausibly into what is historically known about Teach. According to Powers, he didn't do the immortality rituals properly the first time, and came away troubled by phantoms and ghosts—which neatly explains Blackbeard's historically well-known nuttiness and rages. Powers also suggests that Blackbeard engineered his own "death" in that famous fight with Lt. Maynard (which occurs in the book) in order to come back in a completely new—and immortal—identity. How does this ruse play out? Read the book and find out! (Shop local: pick up a copy at Bookshop Santa Cruz , or Capitola Book Cafe.)



One shudders to think how the PotC franchise will adulterate this material. Parts of the book seem tailor-made for the series, what with all those pirates getting killed and resurrected as zombies. There's even a sea battle between two historically correct ghost ships, the Charlotte Bailey and the Nuestra Señora di Lagrimas, resurrected from the bottom of the sea with their phantom crews when a magic spell goes astray.


We also know in advance that Blackbeard appears in the movie (although this time, he's the one with the daughter), and the plot evidently revolves around the Fountain of Youth. But the mermaids who figure so prominently in the movie PR are not to be found in Powers' story at all. And how are they going to insert Jack Sparrow into all of this? We can only hope the PotC brain trust rises to the occasion with a movie that's worthy of Powers' book, Depp's marvelously loony creation, and the eager viewing audience.


In the meantime, if you find yourself in the mood for more buccaneer action, check out my pirate movie review page. (Yes, that's me over there, in full yo-ho-ho regalia.) Granted, this personal and eclectic list doesn't include every entry in the genre, but there's still plenty to choose from, good, bad, and ugly, vintage or contemporary, from Anne Of the Indies to Yellowbeard. Cruise around and enjoy!

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

IN STITCHES



In Oscar season, it's all about the clothes

Look at this cool website I just discovered! For the last 17 years, the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (FIDM) in Los Angeles has hosted an annual exhibit of the year's best movie costumes during Oscar season (February-April). The exhibit is not limited to the year's Best Costume nominees (although they are included), but covers films of all genres and budgets for an annual look at the most interesting onscreen clothes. (That's Arwen's coronation gown, designed by Oscar winner Ngila Dickson, and worn by Liv Tyler in The Lord of the Ring: The Return of the King, in situ at the FIDM exhibit from 2004.)

This years exhibit (costumes from 20+ movies from 2010, including all five Oscar nominees, up close and personal) runs through April 30. But for those of us not heading south anytime soon, the FIDM website provides a virtual online archive of its movie costume exhibitions. Not all of them; this year's and last year's exhibits are not yet online. Exhibits from 1997 and 1998 are represented only by a few fuzzy still photos. But from 1999 through 2009, the online collections expand to numerous photos images (many in drool-worthy detail) of an astonishing variety of films—the Elizabeth movies; the Lord of the Rings and Pirates of the Caribbean trilogies; Julie Taymor movies (Titus and Frida); Tim Burton movies; Austin Powers movies; Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon; Moulin Rouge; The Girl With the Pearl Earring; Chicago; Shakespeare In Love, and, well, the list goes on and on.

My only complaint is the lack of consistency on the site. In some featured years, only costumes from the five nominated films are online, while another year might feature costumes from 20 films or more. And no two of these online exhibits are organized exactly the same way; you have to do a lot of scrolling around and searching for appropriate buttons to access all the displays. Some have drop-down menus, others pop-up windows (the 2008 exhibit is only represented by a video featurette, where you can hardly see the clothes at all), but in most cases, if you can find and follow the prompt arrows, or the words "Enter" or "View," you'll probably see it all eventually. And it's worth seeing, especially the 2000 gallery, which features a side exhibit of costumes and accessories from the previous 100 years of film, from Fred Astaire's elegant dancing shoes to Sharon Stone's rude little white dress from Basic Instinct.

And let's face it, at Oscar time, it's all about the clothes. Me, I'm as much a sucker for the clothes worn to the ceremony as the clothes worn onscreen, so at this Sunday's Oscarcast (ABC, 5 p.m.), I'll brave the inevitable blithering of the TV interviewers to catch the red carpet fashion parade during the pre-game show. After all, by the time the actual ceremony rolls around, there aren't going to be that many surprises onstage, so we depend on the red carpet to deliver the drama.

My all-time favorite Oscar dress? Probably that luscious, faux-Edwardian teal green number that Kate Winslet wore the year she didn't win the Oscar for Titanic. To my amazement, this dress churned up a lot of controversy; self-appointed fashion Nazis lambasted it as too weird or matronly or something (this no doubt from the same pundits who used to complain that Kate Winslet—Kate Winslet, fer crying out loud!— was fat). But I just thought it was stunning, in a funky-chic retro way. After all, it's not like she showed up with a dead swan draped around her neck. (Which reminds me: I wonder what Natalie Portman will wear this year?)

You want to know how demented I am about the Oscars? For years, I've paid my own homage to the art of movie costuming by dressing up my vintage Barbie dolls as the Best Actress nominees. It began as something I did as a lark to spruce up the place back when Art Boy and I used to throw lavish Oscar Night parties, but then I started getting into the challenge of the thing. (You try transforming a Barbie doll into Kathy Bates in Misery. I dare you!) We don't throw those big parties any more, but I still find it therapeutic now and then, in a non-verbal, Zen sort of way, to costume the occasional doll.

Nominees in big, juicy, historical epics are the most fun to dress, of course; I was delirious the year both Gwyneth Paltrow in Shakespeare In Love, and Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth were in the running.


Not that the 20th Century can't be interesting too. This was my tribute to the nominees from the lurid '50s melodrama of Far From Heaven, the sassy, Depression-era '30s of Chicago, and the bohemian '20s and '30s of Frida.


And sometimes, it's all about the props, like the year Susan Sarandon and Geena Davis were both nominated for Thelma and Louise.


The Best Actor costumes are rarely as much fun, but I made an exception for Captain Jack Sparrow. I had to go to Goodwill and pop two bucks for a recycled Ken doll, but seriously, Ken never looked better.


So kids, in the spirit of this year's Best Picture nominee, Toy Story 3, the moral is, never throw your toys away. Recycle them to the Goodwill instead. You never know what sort of swashbuckling afterlife is waiting for them there!