Pirates Of The Caribbean slogs out to sea for the fifth time in Dead Men Tell No Tales
Plot is never the best part of a Pirates Of The Caribbean movie. It’s always some mumbo jumbo about maritime curses, lost treasure, and seafaring ghosts—and Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, the fifth entry in this long-running series adapted from a Disneyland ride, is in no way different. Returning to the basic formula of the three Pirates films directed by Gore Verbinski, in which Johnny Depp’s louche and campy Jack Sparrow played second banana to an insipid love story, Dead Men Tell No Tales finds the dipsomaniacal pirate trading away his magical compass—the one that leads anyone who holds it to what they need most—for a bottle of rum, thereby freeing a ghostly Spanish ship of the line from the Devil’s Triangle. The requisite dull courtship comes courtesy of Henry Turner (Brenton Thwaites), the son of Orlando Bloom and Keira Knightley’s characters from the earlier films, and an orphan named Carina Smyth (Kaya Scodelario). Both are badly written and bereft of chemistry, but that’s how it has to be. All Pirates Of The Caribbean movies have their share of tedium and lard (Verbinski’s Pirates Of The Caribbean: At World’s End was almost three hours long), but these are inseparable from the more irreverent and grotesque qualities that make these things fun. Their stronger moments foster a kind of surrealism that is specific to grossly over-budgeted blockbusters, with Sparrow looking like a silent slapstick comedian as he stumbles and sashays through the mayhem.