Getting It Right the First Time: A Jack Sparrow Case Study
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Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl is one of the most unprecedentedly successful and engaging productions under Disney’s belt to date. The swashbuckling action-adventure epic, released in the summer of 2003, brought a popularity to the pirate genre that still endures to this day. Director Gore Verbinski’s cinematic stars aligned as creative casting, innovative writing, and a compelling score by producer Hans Zimmer came together to turn a popular Disneyland attraction into the blockbuster film that defined a genre. A sophisticated and versatile narrative that leaves plenty of room for further expansion and development of its characters gave the Pirates franchise everything it needed to create sequels that would elegantly capitalize on the success of the first film. Unfortunately, not even one of the subsequent films (regardless of box office performance) seemed able to recapture the unconventional charm and refreshing sense of fancy that Curse of the Black Pearl juggled so effortlessly. One can’t help but wonder what defining ingredients found their way into the first film, but couldn’t make it back for the sequels. What irretrievable combination of unforeseen fortune and cinematic prowess goes into getting it right the first time?
Curse of the Black Pearl’s exploration of a two-hero, two-villain narrative was incredibly innovative in its time. Depp’s erratic and vivacious Sparrow is offset by Bloom’s honorable and heroic Will Turner. Keira Knightley’s Elizabeth Swann offers a witty and capable female lead that establishes the circumstances for Jack and Will’s first meeting, attracts the Black Pearl to Port Royal, and fills out the story’s romantic subplot. These three players represent the plot’s driving force and each actor does an amazing job of delivering the well-orchestrated exposition liberally strewn about the film’s first half. Quality writing helped ensure that the cast suitably displayed characterization for the audience, rather than simply introducing their characters through dialogue.
An early scene sees young blacksmith, Will Turner, delivering Commodore Norrington’s commissioned sword to the Governor’s home before its presentation at the fort later that day. Upon entering, Will almost immediately snaps a candelabra from a fixture on the wall of the entryway. He quickly hides the broken piece in an umbrella holder beneath the fixture. Within seconds, the character has been established as clumsily endearing, yet subliminally mischievous. After a short discourse with the Governor, during which he displays considerable skill in handling the Commodore’s sword, Will looks up to find Elizabeth descending the grand staircase. After he refers to her as Ms. Swann, Elizabeth asks how many times she must ask him to call her by her first name. Fearing the consequences of overfamiliarity, Will declines to openly use such pleasant terms. The Governor praises him for maintaining some sense of “propriety”. As Elizabeth and the Governor depart, Will steps out of the doorway behind them, quietly using Elizabeth’s first name when he wishes her a good day. Much like in this scene, many of the film’s interactions deliver information to the audience via two or more channels at once. While establishing the romantic attraction between Will and Elizabeth via longing looks and requests for familiarity, we are also informed of the significant difference in social standing between the two of them. The rigidity of Will’s demeanor coupled with the softness in his eyes when he looks at Elizabeth simply reeks of a man that’s too in love to be silenced by the constrictions of his societal caste for much longer. Elizabeth’s appearance at the top of the staircase symbolizes the lofty regard that Will holds her in, as well as the inferiority he feels toward her in a social sense. Curse of the Black Pearl maintains audience engagement by employing writing and environmental interaction that requires viewers to use deductive reasoning just as much as their ears in order to keep up.
The film uses meticulously choreographed action sequences to bridge the gaps between the aforementioned expositional periods. This does not, however, mean that exposition is halted whenever a fight begins. As opposed to something like a musical number, during which the plot’s progression abates momentarily in order for characters to participate in inconsequential displays of pageantry or showoffishness, Curse of the Black Pearl’s fight sequences adhere to the same multi-channel system as scenes more heavily driven by dialogue. This method assists in the development of action sequences that inform as well as entertain. During Jack Sparrow’s short run as a fugitive in the streets of Port Royal, he seeks refuge in the same smithy where Will Turner serves as apprentice. Shortly after freeing himself of the shackles placed on him by the navy, Jack is discovered by Will and the film’s first action sequence ensues. Jack comments on Will’s looking familiar and asks if he’s threatened him before. Will states that he makes a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates. This exchange establishes Will’s forgotten pirate lineage, as well as the disdain he’s grown for pirates in his time living lawfully. Jack’s preliminary approach is confident, as he attempts to ascertain what type of man Will is and assesses his prowess in swordplay. In a heretofore unseen display of skill, Will is able to throw a sword into the latch of the door as Jack makes an attempt to flee. As Jack praises him for his ability, the audience is subliminally reminded that we are learning what both characters’ capabilities are at the same time that they do. This sense of discovery and interaction between viewer and character deepens the audience’s engagement as the fight continues. The two men move about the smithy, utilizing various weapons, tools, and environmental opportunities as they go. Zimmer’s epic and lofty soundtrack fades in and out as the characters double task between verbal and literal sparring. Excellent choreography coupled with creative set design give the fight a sense of dynamism and verticality as our heroes even make their way into the rafters at one point of the bout. When it seems that Will might just be gaining the upper hand, Jack flings the contents of a bag of dirt at him, buying himself enough time to disarm Will and draw a pistol with which to threaten him. After Will refuses to move away from the door, Jack delivers the memorable and mysterious line, “This shot was not meant for you.” As Jack prepares to shoot Will, Mr. Brown, the smithy’s owner and Will’s master, awakens from a nap just in time to smash a bottle over Jack’s head, leaving him unconscious. As the navy detains Jack once more, Mr. Brown happily accepts praise for what were almost entirely Will’s efforts, reminding the audience of the subservient and insignificant position that he occupies in Port Royal. The scene’s use of dialogue is strategic and particular. After a five minute engagement, we can determine that both Jack and Will are extremely capable fighters. And while Will may have won in a more fair fight, Jack’s disregard for the rules of engagement is exactly what allowed him to best his opponent. In response to Jack’s dishonorable maneuver, Will remarks, “You cheated.” Jack’s metered and decisive reply sets the tone of characterization for both characters and presents a thematic concept that remains relevant for the remainder of the film. Coyly, and without lowering his gun, Jack responds, “Pirate.” This word carries considerable weight, as the film centers heavily around the amorphous sense of morality that comes with engaging in a life of piracy. The question that the narrative presents is whether or not one can be both a pirate and an honorable man.
Following this engagement, the interests of the two protagonists align when the Black Pearl sacks Port Royal in search of the cursed pirate medallion that Elizabeth had removed from Will eight years prior, upon their first meeting. When the attacking pirates discover Elizabeth in her home, she invokes the ancient right of parley to protect herself from harm and secure an audience with the band’s captain. This is the first mention we hear of the Pirate’s Code, an extensive codex detailing the intricacies of pirate conduct. (And the only method of governing otherwise lawless men) When asked for her family name, Elizabeth elects to give the Pearl’s crew Will’s last name rather than her own. This decision simultaneously confirms Elizabeth’s romantic attraction to Will, as well as encouraging the pirates to abduct her, as they think she is of Will’s blood. The navy’s meager response convinces Will to enlist the help of none other than Jack Sparrow, solidifying the two-hero dynamic and launching the plot into the second act.
Our two-hero dyad dupes Commodore Norrington and his naval force by making off toward Tortuga on the fastest ship in Port Royal’s fleet, thus drafting Norrington as the first half of our two-villain narrative. Norrington isn’t necessarily evil, but his methods are in direct opposition to Jack and Will’s objective. His dedication to the law represents just the kind of lawful servitude that Jack has spent years evading. Back on the Pearl, we join Elizabeth as she is invited to dine with the captain. Our second villain position is masterfully filled upon our introduction to Geoffrey Rush’s Captain Barbossa. He serves as the antithesis of Norrington, with his undead crew representing unlawful servitude, which Jack finds just as unacceptable as Norrington and the navy. Rush’s compelling performance as the immortal, black-hearted brigand brings to light the monumental importance of a great villain. The revelation that Barbossa was once Jack’s first mate, and was directly responsible for his mutiny, brings greater depth to the relationship between the two characters before we’ve even seen them on screen together. Much of Rush’s character is written to make it seem like he served under Jack for a considerable amount of time. We feel the sting of Jack’s vendetta against his former first mate when we recognize that Jack probably taught Barbossa a lot of what he knows. Barbossa’s eventual betrayal grants credence to Jack’s disinclination to trust people and function as part of a team. It stands to reason that the only adversary that could possibly contend with Jack Sparrow is one that has observed his methods in the past. Curse of the Black Pearl’s writers did an excellent job manufacturing this paradigm. Before Barbossa’s introduction, we don’t encounter another pirate that even comes close to matching Jack’s air of theatricality, or even his vocabulary. The monologue that Barbossa delivers to Elizabeth puts the full measure of his intellect and ferocity on display. The character’s conviction is palpable as he reveals his desperate need to break the curse and regain his mortality. As he takes on his true skeletal form in the moonlight we know for a fact that, aside from Jack, this is the pirate to watch out for.
By this point, we’re about half way through the film, and most of what makes Curse of the Black Pearl great has already revealed itself. The film certainly doesn’t short its audience on exposition. We’ve met good guys, bad guys, neutral guys, and all of the crews they bring with them. The story has already made its way through three separate locations as each faction makes their way toward the climactic convergence at Isla de Muerta. The film’s trick isn’t in how much information it can pack into a short period. Rather, the genius is found in the consistency that the writers practiced in fulfilling the arcs of each character. Will completes his obligations as the classic hero when he breaks the curse and professes his love for Elizabeth. Jack exacts his revenge and reclaims captaincy of the Black Pearl. Norrington continues to falter in his attempts to apprehend Jack and Will as we’re reminded that this story truly belongs to the anti-heroes. Even Barbossa fulfills his directive of regaining his mortality just in time to die, which was arguably the most mortal thing he could’ve done. Perhaps one of Curse of the Black Pearl’s best features is that everybody does what they’re supposed to be doing. This movie is such a feel-good romp for audiences because there’s a unique satisfaction to be found in watching a cast of remarkable and entertaining characters barrel through a well-crafted, understandable plot. The climax that the first half of the film so meticulously projects is exactly the climax that occurs. Many, if not all of the sequels seemed to wrestle with some notion that they were required to expand upon the supernatural aspects of the Pirates universe. Subsequent films leaned too much on the addition of wow-factors like ghosts, krakens, and mermaids, and suffered a disconnect from the crafty writing and fleshed-out characters that made the first film what it was. We see characters begin to lose their agency as production budgets moved towards special effects and away from the assurance of quality screenwriting. As the narrative structure and the characters progress, we see various cast members rewritten and haphazardly plugged into roles that their characters were never meant to play. The main characters become unlikeable, as Will and Elizabeth adopt Jack’s ethically questionable methods, thereby dissolving the innocence that allowed audiences to better relate to the first film. Bloom and Knightley’s eventual departure from the series left the franchise’s dynamic in even greater disarray. Repeated attempts to fill the voids left behind by Bloom and Knightley failed in predictable and disappointing fashion. As the franchise’s wounds continued to open, producers continued to frantically slap on the wrong sized band-aids in hopes of paying their way back to quality. Maybe all of this would’ve been survivable, had they not criminally tarnished and disfigured the very hallmark that made the series great.
The most apparent pro and con of the Pirates franchise can both undeniably be found in its controversial and praiseworthy leading man. Johnny Depp’s portrayal of the whimsical, morally ambiguous Captain Jack Sparrow was a bold amalgamation of historically based pirate tropes, coupled with the flamboyant aesthetics of modern day rock stars. Depp’s initial direction for the character held considerable sway over the success of not only Curse of the Black Pearl, but over the remainder of the franchise as well. After enduring consistent doubt and questioning from production staff and Disney executives alike, Depp managed to develop a character that unapologetically reflected his beliefs and values regarding what Jack Sparrow, and to a greater extent, the entire Pirates franchise, would be about. Initial reception of his vision was marred by concerns regarding whether the character was consistently drunk, gay, or mentally challenged. Regardless, Depp dispensed a performance that proved that Jack Sparrow is the perfect pirate, simply because he may be all three. Sparrow paid off because he is a perfectly calculated embodiment of freedom, individuality, and personal choice. The character’s aspirations are almost perpetually self-serving, yet audiences can’t help but root for him, as he represents the decidedly honorable principles of maintaining agency and refusal to compromise oneself in the face of adversity. Jack Sparrow isn’t designed to fulfill the role of the classical hero. Rather, he is written as a supporting character that fleshes out the cast while simultaneously setting the precedent for what it truly means to be a free man and an outlaw.
Jack’s character arc is most easily described as a roundabout return to homeostasis. This stands in contrast to Will Turner’s heroic arc, in which he embraces his lineage and calling to piracy, rises to a grand ordeal, and transcends opposition to enjoy the spoils of victory and romance. Sparrow entertains no discernable lust for gold, glory, romance, or power. Rather, he utilizes his trusty compass in the tireless pursuit of that which he desires most in the world. Throughout the franchise, this desire comes in the form of his often misplaced ship, the Black Pearl. Later films struggled with convincingly reimagining Sparrow as a heroic archetype because the traditional conventions of heroism stand in direct contrast to the fact that Captain Jack Sparrow’s only unerring allegiances are to the sea and to the ship that he uses to sail it. Even Depp’s mannerisms and choices of body language are representative of the character’s overarching desire to be reunited with the Pearl. Take, for instance, Sparrow’s seemingly abysmal balance, slurred speech, and generally unhinged demeanor. Notice that this apparent lack of coordination and poise immediately disappears whenever opposition stands between Jack and the path to regaining his captaincy. When Zoe Saldana’s character, Anamaria, surrenders the wheel of the Pearl to Jack at the end of the first film there isn’t a slur or lack of balance to speak of. This mechanic suggests that both Jack’s coordination, as well as his proper mental functioning are dependent upon the agency that he gleans from his status as captain of the Pearl. No feat of precision or athleticism is too great when it comes to reconciling this identity that he has so painstakingly created for himself. The desire to maintain said identity pervades the majority of the character’s actions and decision-making throughout the film. The man is, in a sense, addicted to his lifestyle. This would explain his compulsive attachment to his “effects,” which take the forms of his hat, sword, pistol, and compass. These items are a part of the “mythos” of Captain Jack Sparrow, and are indispensable to him throughout the franchise’s entirety. Perhaps even more important to him than these, is his insistence on being referred to as “captain” by all who address him, despite not having a ship for the majority of the first film. In keeping with his values, Jack does not consign himself to the idea that he is any less a captain simply because fate (and a few mutinous crew members) decided to throw him a curve ball. Here we most certainly have a character with a larger-than-life reputation surrounding him. In an early scene of Curse of the Black Pearl, the audience watches on as Mr. Gibbs regales Will Turner with the story of how Jack escaped exile by creating a raft of wrangled sea turtles, which he secured with hair from his own back. Later, when Jack and Elizabeth are abandoned on the very same island where he was first marooned, Elizabeth assures herself that a great pirate like Jack Sparrow must have some plan for escape. She recounts stories she’d heard as a child of him evading capture by the East India Trading Company, as well as sacking the port of Nassau without firing a single shot. Jack doesn’t speak to the validity of these stories, but dispels any doubt regarding the circumstances of his previous escape from the island by revealing that he was picked up by rum runners, not sea turtles. This scene serves to humanize Jack, as we see that some of that notoriety and image is based in fabrication. The following scene sees the reestablishment of Jack’s core values, as he and Elizabeth drunkenly toast to both the Black Pearl and to freedom. The audience immediately disregards the probable illegitimacy of much of Jack’s notoriety, as we are reminded that aggrandized stories and hearsay are of very little consequence to him. This comes with the recognition that Jack is entirely more concerned with being able to face himself than being held accountable to others. Such a recognition grants validity to the character’s obsessive focus on repairing, and subsequently maintaining his identity. Sparrow’s laissez-faire demeanor and insistence on unapologetic self expression enchant audiences and pull them further into the adventure. Fans of the franchise can only fantasize about what could’ve become of the character had Depp and the producers ever been able to recapture the Jack Sparrow that we’re introduced to in the first film. Depp’s iconic role exemplified the pirate philosophy of fighting for the freedom to be wholly and incorrigibly oneself. In a world that pushed a very civilized, supervised, and gender-normative agenda, all Jack Sparrow wanted was his ship, his effects, and the freedom to go out and get weird with it.
