PotC2 Review by The Times
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest - Film - Times Online
タイム紙にはおおむね好評。ただしジャック・ダヴェンポートのジャの字もありません・・・。
The Times July 06, 2006Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest
12A, 151 mins
Now where exactly were we? Ah, yes. The poop deck of the Black Pearl. The curse of the stolen Aztec gold has been lifted, and wigs are wildly back in fashion. But there is no respite for wicked idols. Jack Sparrow is about to make another Errol Flynn entrance ― who can possibly forget his last? ― and there’s a brand new price on his soul.
Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest is the epic sequel to one of the most successful live-action adventures in the lengthy history of Disney. The studio has buried a fortune in this picture, but you don’t need a map to find the treasure. The X-factor is flesh and bone. His name is Johnny Depp, and he is as camp as Jagger and as careless as Keith Richards. The star clearly doesn’t give a damn about Gore Verbinski’s preposterous plot, but his magical irreverence is the making of the entire movie. He mumbles his lines with a cod Cockney accent, and baffles the cast with misguided acts of heroism.
You need subtitles, footnotes, and iron buttocks to work out what the hell is going on in the first two hours. Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley are still playing Romeo and Juliet despite being arrested and thrown in irons for aiding and abetting pirates. Tom Hollander is the cruel new face of corporate justice in the West Indies. And Bill Nighy has a face that will give you sleepless nights. He is Davy Jones, of locker fame, the supernatural terror of the film, and he looks as if an angry squid has won squatting rights to his skull. He has a beard of slimy tentacles, a weird Scottish accent, a special relationship with a monster called the Kraken, and the sporting patience of Andy Murray. He is not a man to be crossed lightly.
“Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different?” he grumbles. His ghost ship is crewed by rotting zombies, he has a Faustian claim on Depp’s soul, and he plays doomy tunes on a cathedral organ like the Phantom of the Opera. The really juicy twist ― and I’m giving nothing away ― is that Davy Jones’s still beating heart has been ripped out and locked in a chest. Whoever controls the pumping muscle can rule the high seas. The key and location of this priceless secret underpins the story.
Action films of this magnitude and expense rarely dice with irony. You need actors at total ease in big roles to create the unpredictable chemistry. Verbinski is blessed with Bill Nighy and Johnny Depp. They can turn a thriller full of flat-lining stunts into engaging spectacle.
Depp floats into the opening scene in a coffin that’s tossed over a cliff. He blows the lid off with a musket, rips a leg from the incumbent skeleton, says “Sorry mate”, and starts paddling towards his ship. He proceeds to scamper through endless crazy scrapes like Benny Hill. In short he gets away with murder by seeming to be entirely oblivious to his scripted fortunes.
It’s a skill that eludes Orlando Bloom’s swashbuckling soldier of honour, and Keira Knightley’s wooden-jawed femme fatale. They are dull and pretty British extras. They don’t impede the frothy enjoyment. But they don’t add much by way of charisma.
Meanwhile Depp revels in his pithy script. He tells Knightley: “You know, these clothes do not fancy you at all. It should be a dress or nothing. I happen to have no dress in my cabin.”
The only serious flaw is that the film rambles on, and on, and on. Verbinski is far too tentative with the final edit. There are convoluted loops of plot that strangle the intrigue, and entire chapters that seem to require a Japanese translator. But that’s a small penance for a ripping yarn.
JAMES CHRISTOPHER
