Not as valuable as a black pearl, but far more intersting than a dead man's chest

I have a theory about Hero Stories that has become in many ways the interpretive key I use to unlock the layers of meaning within stories and movies. This theory is best applied to superhero and fantasy stories. Pirates is not quite either of those genres, but I would argue that the extensive use of magic, the paranormal, mythology, and superhuman abilities places us very near to fantasy—near enough for my purposes.

In short, my hero theory runs as such: when an author writes or draws a superhero, he has limitless options on what this hero will look like and what his superpowers will be. Consciously or unconsciously, this hero reflects the inner ideals of the author. Whatever the author thinks is the most important virtues, ideals, elements, cultural and political agendas, etc, will all come out in the way he creates his hero. The same applies, inverted, to the arch-villain. In fact, if the author is inspired and thoughtful, the same sort of logic can be applied to all sorts of images and characters throughout the story.

OK, theory posited; let me use an example to make it more understandable.

Superman is a hero born during WWII. He is the “man of steel” whose suit sports some distinctly American color schemes (red, blue, and yellow substituting for the white). He is compared to technology: faster than a speeding bullet, stronger than a steam locomotive, can leap over tall buildings in a single bound. He is an absolute loner who fights evil for completely altruistic motives. He is Caucasian and physically flawless. Superman is a rich character, so these are only some surface details, but it is enough for exemplary purposes. He is a self made man, strong, independent, fighting for freedom, a “doer” and not a thinker. His biggest dilemmas are not about “what is right?” but “how can save everyone with my super strength?” In short, Superman is the American ideal put into ink and paper.

Decades later a new generation of superheroes arise: the X-men. These are not clean, perfect, altruistic heroes. No longer superior to technology, they are genetic mutants whose superpowers cast them to the fringe of society. They are flawed, persecuted, divided and struggling. Unlike Superman, they are much more vulnerable. They are centered around a “university” with Professor X as their ad hoc leader. I don’t claim to be an expert in X-men, but I think the shift here is very noticeable—and I argue that it is a cultural shift. This is the difference of American culture between the 40s and the 70s. Authors coming from different points of view create different heroes to personify their ideals.

And so, with that extensive, but necessary, prologue, I am now ready to turn my attention to the World’s End and hang out with some pirates.

First of all, let’s look at our pirate heroes. Why pirates? Pirates are, by definition, thieves. How does a pirate become a hero? Permit me to quote an elegant explanation given in another classic pirate movie:

"Now take Sir Francis Drake, the Spanish all despise him

But to the British he’s a hero, and they idolize him

It’s how you look at buccaneers that make them bad or good

And I see us as members of a noble brotherhood!”

--Long John Silver, “Muppet Treasure Island”

Compared to the greedy, stuffed-up, totalitarian, lying, cultural monopolizers (i.e. the British), the pirates are defenders of freedom, liberators of the oppressed minorities, bulwark of cultural diversity, the Robin Hood of the seas, rough and tumble real-world rebels who don’t live by the sterile customs of the British Imperialists. And to reinforce the antagonism, the only time we see our Pirate Heroes steal anything or kill anyone, it is part of the British navy.

What else do we know about our Pirate Heroes?

Pirates are very cosmopolitan and international, embracing all cultures and ways of life.

They are also a strangely mystical group who have a relationship with the nature goddess Calypso. In fact, they ultimately decide to “free” this goddess so that nature will once more have the powers that humans once took from her.

The real enemy is Big Business (the East India Trading Company) which is allied to Government Military (British Navy). This Evil Alliance hires out demonic terrorist death-squads (the Flying Dutchman) to fulfill their malicious goals. Pirates are not evil, they are simply persecuted because they stand up against this Totalitarian Terror.

Pirates do, however, have a great respect for Law, Order, Fair Play and the Democratic process. They end up electing a pirate leader, who, for some reason renounces her feminine title and assents to be called “King” and not “Queen.” (I’ve always felt there was something about feminism that secretly hates being feminine; this little detail only strengthens that theory.)

As you can probably tell, the ideals that the Pirate Heroes stand for are not the necessarily consistent nor virtues that I would endorse. My comic heroes would be differnt--but that is another topic.

Another theme is Betrayal, which is the modus operandi for every character in the film, pirate or not. It shows the effects of selfishness, the need for trust and authenticity in relationships. The lack of trust is the basis for the disunity that also weakens the Pirate alliance. But most of all, I think double-crossing is a plot device to make the most convoluted script possible. Why? Because the first movie had a complicated plot. It seemed full of random twists and turns, but we find out with Will that Jack had this “planned this the whole time.” The third (and second) installments have tried to imitate that unpredictability that made the first Pirates so wonderful, but it is a poorer imitation and lacks proper resolution. Instead of being clever, it is simply confusing.

My favorite line in the movie? When Barbosa said “it’s not about livin’ forever Jack; it is about livin’ with yourself forever” (approx quote). Jack’s Hell in Davy Jones’ Locker was exactly that: he had to live with himself and what he had become. It has some echoes of Dante’s contrapassio, the punishment of forever reliving your sins and their effects. God doesn’t punish you in Hell—you punish yourself…again, and again, and again, and again…and the only reason you can’t leave is because you are too proud to admit that you are wrong. Jack’s Hell and Barbosa’s commentary were possibly the deepest and truest ideas in the movie.

In fine, I enjoyed the movie, especially for it’s action/adventure value. I mean, a movie that starts off with Ninja Pirates—how cool is that?! Pirates III takes us to the Edge of the World—and also reflects our own world back to us, and maybe a glimpse of a world beyond death. Not as good as The Curse of the Black Pearl--but perhaps we will never find two such pearls.

(For an alternate review, see an angel's blog.)