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How to watch Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End
2007 · Gore Verbinski · Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End on Sightlines
5 things to watch and listen for on a first viewing, without spoilers, and 4 more once you have seen it. Each names something you can see or hear, the pattern it belongs to, and what noticing it gives you. How these keys work.
On a first viewing
Watch how little color Wolski lets into the opening scenes. (light)
The film opens bleached and cold on Singapore and the gallows, then keeps sliding toward storm-black. Dariusz Wolski shoots the sunniest genre in movies with the color pulled out of it, holding to hard silhouette.
Payoff: Verbinski keeps the swashbuckler's shapes and inverts its light, so the adventure arrives looking like a ghost story.
Watch Davy Jones's face while nobody is speaking. (performance)
Bill Nighy's captured performance runs through a tentacled computer-generated mask built by ILM. The smallest movements survive the translation: a twitch at the mouth, a look held too long. Jones has wanted Calypso for centuries and never says so.
Payoff: Feeling registers on a face that was never photographed, and you read it anyway. In the reading: icon of power (the intensive face). Those micro-movements pile toward something Jones never acts on, which is what the reading calls the intensive face.
Count how many people Verbinski packs into a single frame. (staging)
Rick Heinrichs builds every set as layered clutter: the waterlogged Singapore of Sao Feng, Shipwreck Cove assembled out of broken hulls. Large ensembles get arranged in tableau, and every surface is weathered and ornamented.
Payoff: The density is the design. The world reads as old and used rather than built for the shot.
Track who has just betrayed whom in each scene. (structure)
Nearly every character double-crosses another. The arrangements between Sao Feng, Barbossa, Beckett, Jones, Will and Elizabeth reset constantly. Follow the current pretense instead of the plan.
Payoff: The story is hard to follow because no one holds a position long enough to be checked. In the reading: puissances du faux. This is what the reading calls the powers of the false: truth stops being reportable, so the characters make it instead.
Listen for Zimmer's motifs returning under the ship noise. (sound)
Hans Zimmer writes by motif, and the Davy Jones music comes back whenever his world does. Under the score the sound design keeps working: creaking timber, roaring water, the mechanical grind of the Flying Dutchman.
Payoff: The motifs organize a plot too crowded to organize itself, and the ship noise keeps the fantasy heavy and physical.
Once you have seen it
Look at how much empty white the Locker leaves around Jack. (setting)
Wolski shoots a salt flat under a hard colorless sky. Nothing to sail, nobody to outrun, no high ground to take. The most kinetic star in popular film gets a place with no handles on it.
Payoff: The adventure machine stops for a stretch, and the film becomes something to look at instead of something to follow. In the reading: any-space-whatever: emptiness. A space drained of every coordinate that action could grip is what the reading calls an any-space-whatever.
Watch Jack share the frame with copies of himself. (performance)
Depp plays the Locker as farce, hallucinating a whole crew of Sparrows. He built the character on Keith Richards. The film then hires Richards to play Jack's father.
Payoff: A performance assembled out of imitation spends its return surrounded by imitations, and the casting joke says how the character works.
Track how the maelstrom cuts race between ships toward one rescue. (cutting)
Craig Wood and Stephen Rivkin cut convergent lines, the oldest American montage pattern, with practical gimbal-mounted ship sets welded to simulated ocean. Character beats, spectacle and crosscut threads build one sustained crescendo.
Payoff: Griffith's last-minute rescue is doing the structural work under all that water and money.
Notice that the arena itself rotates during the sea battle. (staging)
Verbinski inherits the broadside blocking of the classic pirate picture, grapple and board and rigging, then removes the floor. Two ships circle a hole in the ocean while the ground of the fight keeps turning.
Payoff: Blocking you have seen a hundred times stops being readable in the usual way once nothing underneath stays still.
Carry this in: Let the halves come apart. Take the Locker as an art film and the maelstrom as an old rescue at enormous scale.
A Deleuzian reading of Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End →