Grown-up fans of Pirates of the Caribbean may have noticed a few strange things about
this swashbuckling franchise.
What's up with Will and Elizabeth?
How did Jack become a captain?
Who is styling all those beards?
Keep watching for all this and more.
A ship without a captain is little more than a mindless pile of driftwood.
In the cutthroat days of the Age of Piracy, a ship needs particular guidance, especially
for its daft crew members, who can easily succumb to superstition and scurvy.
The most notable captain in the Pirates of the Caribbean series is, of course, the one
and only Captain Jack Sparrow.
Johnny Depp brought the character to life in all five movies, displaying an acting savvy
that — let's face it — pretty much carried the series.
"You are without doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of."
"But you have heard of me."
Depp's turn as Jack Sparrow is one for the ages: it entertained the kids, made the adults
feel like kids, and indirectly reminded everyone that Keith Richards is somehow still alive.
That being said, by the fifth film in the franchise, adults might find themselves looking
past Depp's performance and asking: why do any of these pirates even follow Jack?
Pirates are a superstitious bunch, of course, so it makes sense that Jack would be able
to prey on their childish minds with his powers of manipulation.
That's his only real power as a leader, though: his ability to spin his self-serving aspirations
into a palatable mission statement for everyone on board.
Beyond that, he runs away from basically every confrontation and frequently throws his friends
to the wolves, with his only sense of direction coming from a compass that usually points
to the rum bottle.
Surely a gentleman of fortune could find a better boss than Jack?
The Pirates franchise begins in what appears to be the early 18th century.
That said, it all takes place in a fantasy land in which you can sail off the edge of
the world and end up in the afterlife, so the when of it all probably isn't too crucial.
Whenever it is, they still make ships out of wood, and water operates the same as it
does in our reality — unless there's a ship carrying a main character during a battle,
that is.
Then, the wood will regenerate, or water will wash innocently over shredded hulls, outright
refusing to follow the laws of physics.
It's unlikely that kids are thinking about ship engineering and structural integrity
in the middle of climactic battle sequences, of course.
But adults may be wondering why the heck these wooden death traps won't just sink.
On multiple occasions, ships pummel each other with a barrage of cast-iron projectiles, ripping
holes from port to starboard.
"Stop blowing holes in my ship!"
Despite their hulls being transformed into swiss cheese, most of these ships still manage
to sail away in decent working order.
They only ever take on enough water to force a bit of a high step while below deck, unless
it's a ship whose demise is meant to serve the plot — in which case they plunge into
the sea in a matter of seconds.
The Pirates of the Caribbean mythos is vast indeed, but one thing that's never addressed
is what master craftsman assembled these remarkable, invincible ships.
Twirling beards and tight dreads are a mandatory aesthetic for the pirates of the Pirates franchise.
The merchants of Tortuga must receive regular shipments of Dapper Dan pomade so that pirates
can trade gold doubloons for the tools necessary to maintain their sex appeal at sea.
That is the only explanation, at least, as to how the mustachioed treasure seekers keep
their facial hair in check, despite those long voyages across the oceans.
Jack Sparrow's mustache always remains at the perfect length — flirting with unkempt
but never out of control.
Even his usual first mate, Gibbs, sports some nicely manicured mutton chops for most of
his travels; indeed, it actually looks like Gibbs somehow finds the time to run a comb
through those gnarly roots.
There's nothing wrong with giving your face some TLC, of course.
It's just interesting that these men, so scornful of social decorum, would be so apt to maintain
visually pleasing face threads.
Still, at least they're teaching the kids a little something about the value of self-maintenance.
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line — or at least that's what
fundamental physics lessons have taught us.
Those lessons mentioned nothing about inverting your ship at the moment of the green flash
to cross into another plane of reality, of course, but the fundamentals are still there.
When sailing on the open sea, you are able to travel directly to your destination…
but so is everyone else with a ship.
So how is it that, among the near-infinite vastness of the ocean, all these ships are
able to track each other down so efficiently?
On a number of occasions in the Pirates franchise, a ship will set off in pursuit of another,
sometimes days after their target has left.
Lagging departure is of no consequence, apparently, because they catch up with them in no time,
even in the open ocean.
The mind of a kid will see sound logic: "They are going where they are going, so of course
they will see each other."
Any adult with any inkling as to how vast the ocean is, however, may have some qualms
as to the accuracy of navigation among The Pirates of the Caribbean.
What is a great Disney epic without a tale of love woven into the fantasy?
In Pirates of the Caribbean, the heartstrings are pulled with a never-ending sense of melancholy
by Elizabeth Swann and Will Turner.
The first film offered a cute love story that led to a doomed wedding at the beginning of
Dead Man's Chest.
Shortly after those developments, though, this relationship unraveled.
Adults will be quicker to see the cracks, of course — and might have noticed that
these two hardly even spend any time together.
Throughout the second and third films, Will and Elizabeth's communication is basically
nonexistent.
They refuse to tell each other anything about their feelings whatsoever.
Every omission of truth angers the other in a vicious cycle that teeters on toxicity.
In the third installment in the franchise, Will looks at Elizabeth and says:
"If you make your choices alone, how can I trust you?"
Which, of course, is an absurdly counter-intuitive statement.
By definition, trusting a loved one means trusting the decisions they make.
The two make a terrible couple for over four hours of Pirates films before they randomly
decide to get married in the middle of a massive battle in an oceanic hurricane, swirling around
a gaping vortex that happens to serve as a perfect visual representation of the relationship
itself.
Kids see two pretty people who just need to hug it out.
Adults see two people who don't belong together, trying to force a square block into a round
hole.
Boxers and wrestlers have the ring.
Mixed Martial Arts has the octagon.
Sword fighters have… the entire world, apparently.
Pirates are renowned sword fighters and likely know that a clash of steel might occur anywhere
at any time and in any place.
Naturally, the exhilarating soundtrack and audible clanging of swords is enough to enrapture
the younger audiences.
But adults might begin to feel incredulous by the time a sword fight has broken out on
a giant rolling wheel in the jungle.
Of course, when compared to the formalities of, say, fencing, the contrast actually makes
a bit of sense.
Aristocratic sword battles entail a posh atmosphere, complete with dorky outfits and flat, fair
ground.
Meanwhile, the rascals of the sea can fight anywhere — even balancing on a sail mast
in a hurricane.
Pirates of the Caribbean stretches credulity for adults with its over-the-top and near-endless
sword fights, but take a cue from the kids on this one and remember that Jack Sparrow
is a bona fide legend.
By the time the third Pirates film rolls around, most of the characters on the screen have
become full-blown machiavellian schemers, each with their own highly complex machinations
at play.
Some have plans that reach far out into the future, like Will or Barbossa.
Others' stretch as far as grabbing a chest in a moment of opportunity and running into
the jungle.
But in order for those more complex schemes to come together, numerous moving parts must
work together in order for the desired outcome to present itself.
Now, kids will no doubt get a kick out of watching a miraculous set of circumstances
come together and form a positive outcome for a hero or a villain.
Adults, however, may be wondering how anything ever works out at all.
It's astounding that anybody ever succeeds at anything in the Pirates universe, given
that no one ever makes a peep as to what's at play.
If a single element in a character's plan didn't turn out the way they wanted, everything
would crash down in spectacular fashion; a simple solution to this problem might involve
being at least slightly more forthcoming about your intentions, even if only to your allies.
But no, not for a pirate — here, the name of the game is hoping for the best and proudly
accepting the glory when you accidentally succeed in a plan that existed nowhere but
in your own mind.
Take notes, kids.
For the finale of your swashbuckling pirate-themed trilogy, you're gonna want something big:
something god-like, even.
The ending moments of At World's End sees the pirates of the Brethren Court release
the goddess Calypso.
Apparently, pirates of yore had previously gathered some trinkets together and used them
to bind the goddess into an earthly form — thus taming the seas themselves.
These fabled pirates were so poor, however, that they had to use whatever random stuff
they had lying around to cast the spell.
"Aye, the original plan was to use nine pieces of eight to bind Calypso, but when the first
Court met the Brethren were, to a one, skint broke."
So, in order to release Calypso at a later time, they had to assemble all those pieces,
toss them in a hat, and light them on fire while whispering an incantation.
That may be enough to satiate any child's curiosity, but adults will be wanting to know
more.
Once Calypso is unleashed, she morphs into a wave of crabs, assumes her celestial form,
and takes command of the ocean.
That means the Calypso we see creating oceanic maelstroms is the Calypso the pirates in the
stories faced.
How in the heck did a bunch of pirates — who were so poor they had to use junk drawer contents
as their trinkets — capture a goddess?
Sure, Davy Jones clearly betrayed her and told the pirates how to bind her, but it seems
unlikely that you can just lasso someone with that kind of power.
Anyone who has been to a Disney amusement park knows that visiting the Pirates of the
Caribbean ride is an essential part of the experience.
At Disneyland, it all starts with a gentle glide through a bayou filled with fireflies
and then a gentle dip into the lower tier to sail through the story itself.
Most of the ride is a slow trip through an animatronic song and light show.
It features cannonball fights, drunk pirates balancing on barrels, parrots, and all sorts
of mischievous behavior.
The kids get a kick out of it, and the parents can sneak in a quick nap.
All good, right?
So how is it that this ride experience spawned a barrage of films centered around cursed
sea dwellers and monsters galore?
It's a pretty big leap, and kudos to the filmmakers for not putting a cap on the limits of their
imaginations.
Without Depp's Jack Sparrow softening the blow with a hearty dose of comedic gold, most
of these films would be the stuff of nightmares.
Sea monsters, undead sharks, skeletal pillagers, and weird hair are just a few of the horrors
that the franchise draws from its source material.
Still — the end result is nothing to be sniffed at.
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