Caution: Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy spoilers ahead. For those of you who haven't seen them all and still think you might.
Though I am losing my mind and can't remember quite that far back, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl came out in the summer of '03. I remember things from that summer, things like getting married and going on a honeymoon and working in at a mechanic shop which is just about the worst job ever for a theatrical female. But for the life of me, I can't remember if Troy and I saw that movie before or after our wedding. I'm going to wager that it was before. We spent every waking minute that we could together so I'm sure we managed to fit a movie into the wedding planning shenanigans. Pirates of the Caribbean is my favorite ride at Disneyland. It hasn't always been but what with the musty smell and the sound of forks against plates in the Blue Bayou as you float past and the pitch black fall into the world of pirates and, um, ladies of the night and skeletons and dogs with keys, it has occupied the top of the list for quite some time now. I was eager to see the film. And I enjoyed it. I remember being riveted by how gorgeous Keira Knightley is that movie. I know it's a wig but I'd give my left arm and throw in a big toe and the flower plates I bought at Dollar Tree to have that kind of hair. And then I found out that she was just 17 when she made that movie and I decided that one day I might--might--have to egg her house or something. But still, I liked the movie. We bought it on DVD. We laughed at Keira and Jack Davenport on the commentary. We decided that we rather enjoyed Keira's eyebrow acting. I swooned over Johnny's acting skills and Orlando's, well, Orlandoness. We considered naming a future daughter Keira. The end.
We saw Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest sometime between the day it came out, on July 7, 2006 and the day our son was born on July 20. It was the last movie we saw before becoming parents led to the demise of our film going frequency. I saw a total of two movies during the first 16 months of Garrett's life. Oh my gosh I hated Dead Man's Chest. Keira was still just dandy in all of her, what, twenty year old ness. Orlando was still easy on the eyes. Johnny was still wonderfully, Johnny. But if I'd have known that we were paying 17 bucks to watch Hollywood attempt every single special effect known to man over and over and over again, I might have opted out. Especially because at that point, Garrett's butt needed to GET OUT OF MY RIB CAGE RIGHT NOW! I had started sleeping on a pair of socks because I needed constant pressure on a certain spot in my back and had to take said socks to the movie theatre to alleviate some of the Get Out. Get Out Now I Don't Even Care That It's Not Your Due Date Yet.* And that whole scene with the ridiculous ball rolling and the heart flying all around really just added to my discomfort. Then, here comes the end and there's creepy and disgusting Tia Dalma and I respected her as an actress because what kind of accent was that, even? But, I mean, I couldn't really look at her without wanting to cover my unborn child's eyes. And there was the little matter that I did not know it would end with no resolution. My husband knew this but he had failed to inform me. I had to wait a whole year to find out what the heck was going to happen next. The end.
As it were, we waited twenty months. Last night we rented Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End right off of our TV. I was resigned to the fact that there would be about ninety minutes worth of special effects and fight scenes when only about fifteen of those were actually necessary. I accepted the weird crab thingies. I was even okay with Johnny seeing a million Johnny's because, personally, I wouldn't mind a million Johnny's running around my house drinking rum. It would probably spice things up--or something. But the end, are you kidding me? So, I've waited approximately five years to discover that poor little Keira has to mourn the death of her father on a desolate island and see her husband once every TEN years? And don't even get me started on the fact that it's a darn good thing she was ovulating on the precise day that she got to see him last time so that she could spew forth little Orlando and he could anxiously await the return of his father at the very end, after the credits. And why, exactly, was she not allowed to step foot on The Flying Dutchman to be with him when she'd been on it a few times before? Consistency people, consistency. So I've rewritten it in my mind and Jack Sparrow forces Beckett to stab the heart and he has to ferry souls to the afterlife. And Will Turner (otherwise known as Hottie Orlando) never gets stabbed and they (Orlando and Keira) live happily ever after. The end.
My version is way better. Admit it. Also admit that if you really take a step back and think about it, only the first film was worthy of praise and Tia Dalma/Calypso is really, really creepy and not in a good way. And Keira Knightley is a good eye brow actress.
*I've often talked about how wonderful and easy my pregnancy was. Until the last few weeks it was extremely wonderful and, despite concern about growth restriction and low fluid blah blah blah, I maintain that it was a very easy pregnancy. There was, however, the overwhelming back pain for about three weeks before he was born. No biggie. I'd lay on a pair of socks again in a second for that kid.