Those who’ve read very many of my previous reflections will know that I avoid dissing movies. I go out of my way to find something worth discussing in virtually every film I watch. Occasionally, however, justice and common sense force me to spew on the refuse I find before me. Other recent movies of this ilk would include Blade: Trinity (2004)—particularly mournful given the two solid entries preceding it, Garden State (2004)—an oft-praised movie that struck me as horribly false, and Mindhunters (2005)—a “thriller” so bad its release was delayed by a year for no particular reason. Normally, I crap and run, not thinking it worthwhile to serve up a steaming pile to a captive (?) audience. In the case of a worthless movie that is breaking all kinds of box office records, however, I feel called to curse out loud.

This movie sucks!

Rarely does a film provide its audience with such concrete, visual metaphors for its own inadequacies. During the mindless action of Act One (about forty-five minutes long), the hapless viewer runs into two distinct scenarios where we find our heroes riding along in oscillating vehicles of makeshift construction. At one point, Will Turner and a few unlucky companions roll down a series of slopes in a spherical cage made of bones and sticks, unable to escape their wildly careening prison until it smashes into some obliging trees. Later, we encounter Jack Sparrow engaged in a preposterous sword battle atop a spinning water mill wheel that has come loose from its housing (see above).

And so this movie goes, round and round with no ground gained in terms of either theme or character. At no point did I care what was happening to the characters I had fallen in love with during the first movie. This is due to a number of factors. First of all, the action scenes and villains are so over-the-top that I never felt the characters were truly in danger. Even the apparent removal of a primary character rings hollow—we all know the last installment in this trilogy will demand the reunion of all the major players. Secondly, character motivation is nebulous at best. The Curse of the Black Pearl rolled forward on cogs greased by swordsmith Will’s love for the elusive Elizabeth, arrogant Commodore Norrington’s resulting jealousy, “Captain” Jack Sparrow’s desire to regain his ship, and villainous Barbossa’s attempt to remove an undead curse from his crew. Dead Man’s chest, by contrast, spins its wheels futilely, its plot spun about by some nonsense concerning a ridiculous villain we’re supposed to take seriously (who instead reminded me of the comic, tuberous deckhand who speaks “flatula” in another modern—but better—pirate movie, Treasure Planet), and Jack Sparrow’s desperate endeavor to escape said nautical baddie by sticking close to shore. Even the nature of the romance between Will and Elizabeth has now become unclear. The movie begins with the rude interruption of their wedding by the film’s villains, but after this point no positive proof of their affection reemerges. Unless, that is, you count the uneasy glance directed by Will at his potential rival (whom I will leave unnamed), a rivalry that develops for no reasons consistent with either the first movie or the sequel’s internal “logic.”

Worst of all, Johnny Depp’s delightful character work in the first movie—which took those unfamiliar with the actor’s versatility by surprise—is trotted out and made to walk the same circuit as before, with nary a new mannerism to be seen. What pleasured us all the first time has—darn it!—become tired and stale. (I had the same problem with Lucas’ decision in The Phantom Menace to have C-3PO rehearse so many of his lines from the original trilogy instead of creating new, equally funny ones. Ugh!)

Please, please, please do NOT contribute to the success of this horrible movie which has already coasted much too far on the strong wind generated by its predecessor.