Blathering about films: Pirates of the Caribbean

Sorry I haven't posted in a few days. Busy busy busy. You know the drill - phalanxes of schedules march on across the weeks, laying waste to the paradise known as free time.

Actually, part of it has to do with summer hours. My office has a sweet little deal where we work an extra hour Monday through Thursday. Fridays, "the man" frees us at noon, and we scatter like schoolchildren who have just discovered the courage to cut classes for an early start on the weekend. It is wonderful, but it means I am getting to clobber the snooze button on my alarm a good 45 minutes earlier now. Five-thirty a.m. It's the new Waking Hour. ("Spoiled brat," you parents with young children are thinking.) Even the sun wasn't up when I lurched out of bed this morning. Or it was still crouching behind one of the neighboring homes. Early, in any case.

Funny how 5:30 when you are camping doesn't seem all that unreasonable. The sky is bright. The birds are wide awake and greeting the new day with morning song. The dew-soaked grass is calling you to play, to explore, to call in sick and have an adventure. Even at the cabin 5:30 is a most agreeable time. Perfect for padding down to the dock and watching the mist burn off the lake.

Not here. No, I must dash off to the bus, where I slouch, close my eyes, and pretend I'm back in bed for the half hour trip into downtown Minneapolis. I shouldn't complain. I don't have to touch my car most days; it stays safe at home in the garage and I get in and out of downtown round trip for what it would cost me to park at the cheapest, farthest-from-the-office parking ramp.

Summer hours mean my efforts at getting to bed "early" go from pathetic and worthless to half-hearted. Mountains of laundry are beckoning even now...

But oh - the reason I decided to post this evening in the first place. This weekend Jenni and the parents and I went to the latest incarnation of Pirates of the Caribbean, number three, subtitled "At World's End." Since they never let me be a film critic at the college newspaper, now I get to unload on all of you faithful blog readers (all three of you?). This movie was pretty good. It certainly was not bad. Well. Actually I don't know what it was. I had fun, I can tell you that. But I feel like I saw this huge movie, yet I can't relate much of it. I have read that you have to see it twice to fully appreciate it. That's probably true, because the beginning was a minefield of subplots. For the first half hour, I had no idea what the hell was going on, and I read a synopsis of the Pirates II plot before I went so that I would be up to speed. Eventually it settles into place. And even then, there's still a lot going on. One thing I did miss was the rollicking good time that permeated the first two movies. There's still a tone of that in III, but things are a lot more serious this time around. That's not without reason - the whole world as our yo-ho-hoing friends know it is at stake. I did miss the unexpected plot twists common in previous movies that were inevitably followed by some character scowling "Pirates!" (much like Jerry Seinfeld says "Newman!") or Johnny Depp saying "Pir-ate!" in his oops-I-got-'ya-again tone. I do have to give two bumbling East India Trading Company guards some credit (you'll remember them from the first movie where Jack Sparrow steals a ship from right under their noses) for a great scene in which they completely distract themselves from their guard duty by arguing about whether the crew of "fish people" aboard a ship has lead to a lapse in standards.

If for not the reason that I am, by film snob standards, extremely unqualified, you may also want to take this review with a grain of salt because of the teeny boppers that sat behind us. They were prone to fits of whispering and giggling, particular during some of the intense scenes. I nearly turned around and threatened to skin their gullets, savvy, but ask yourself...would that have accomplished anything? Probably not. Really, though. Some people's kids.

So Pirates is plenty of bang for your buck. Just don't be surprised if you find yourself a bit confused. Don't worry. The plot pulls together enough for plenty of naval battle ship carnage and swashbuckling at the end. I'm sure it's easier to appreciate everything the second time around.

Ask.com's Ninja was much less kind (but I think his review is better).

Now I must go make a sacrifice to Whirlapoola, the great god of agitation and the spin cycle.