Like much of the known movie-loving universe, we decided that we couldn't wait any longer - yesterday we saw "Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest". And even though it's gotten loads of bad reviews...they weren't even close to bad enough. I left the theatre strangely confused and filled with misdirected rage, looking for defenseless dogs or Mormons to pummel. But I'm luckily redirecting that energy into my rating - a flat D. If it were 45 minutes shorter, it would have gotten a D-plus. Since I'm sure there are those of you who enjoyed the thrill-ride silliness and unbridled escapism of this Part Deux in the "Pirates" cheesy thrillogy (I'm talking to you, Stubbs), here are my preemptive responses.
Sure, beautiful production design. But at the cost of enduring an utterly indescribable plot. Intolerable logistics (everything in the Carribean is apparently a few minutes away by rowboat). And more Orlando Bloom than even his Mom could tolerate. I can't blame Johnny Depp for whatever it was that he was doing other than to wonder...what the hell was he actually doing? The often hilarious and delightful Bill Nighy played Davey Jones as if he were told to chew his way through every line like a toothless, elderly shark - thrashing about constantly but with little obvious effect other than to spray a whole lot of water everywhere. The fawning appreciation for Keira Knightly who is unquestionably gorgeous and stunningly tanned herein should be redirected toward someone even more in need of suck-up praise. Like Paris Hilton. The overall effects of this folly were as fulfilling as a buffet table piled high with Splenda-sweetened, fat-free, tofu-flavored frozen yogurt. If you love summer movies that make absolutely no sense, insult your intelligence at every turn and laugh at you all the way to the bank - get yer arse to this poopdeck, Matey! But all I could say after seeing this was "Arrrrrgh!"
Hope the planks you need to walk today to be entertained are short. Rock on.
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