Remember when Jack Sparrow first stumbled onto the big screen? Johnny Depp’s performance blew a cool blast of sea air into the long-dead pirate genre, and made a film based on a theme-park ride far more entertaining than it had any right to be. Sparrow was a drunk with rotten teeth who could steal your gold and your girlfriend, and you’d probably forgive him because he was just so damn charming. The guy made Han Solo look like an accountant.
He may have been clumsy, but like a monk practicing drunken fist, he was far more capable than he appeared. In fact, he gave the impression of always being one step ahead, playing the fool to turn the spotlight away from himself and onto dull choir-boy Will Turner. Like his namesake, a quick and clever little bird, Jack was cunning. A survivor. Jack may have been a mess, but he was nobody’s fool.
At the time of the film’s release, Johnny Depp had carefully cultivated a mysterious aura. His name on a poster was a seal of quality, a guarantee that there would be an electric, unusual performance that would define whatever film he’d chosen to grace his presence with.
Johnny was a very different breed of leading man, an eccentric outsider, the romantic outcast who made Brad Pitt and George Clooney look like soccer dads. He was the man our girlfriends salivated over, and he looked like he couldn’t care less. Tattooed and bejeweled, Johnny was like an idealistic fantasy of an older brother; effortlessly cool, intelligent and brooding. He gave the impression that he spent his spare time doing impossibly interesting things with other impossible cool people. A reckless rebel who didn’t give a toss what those stuffy old executives at Disney thought of his “gay” pirate.
Well, the years have passed and Johnny's quirky performances have started to blend into one another. Edward Scissorhands was the first taste of Depp as a child-friendly lunatic, and Jack Sparrow defined the idea forever. There’s only so many eccentric personalities inside one man, only so many times you can put on face paint and prance about for Tim Burton before it becomes stale. Willy Wonka, Sweeney Todd, the Mad Hatter, Tonto and Mortdecai all felt like Sparrow’s illegitimate children. They shared his DNA but inherited little of his charm.
We didn't let Depp forget Sparrow, and in turn, Johnny wouldn't let us forget about his rockstar pirate. Pirates of the Caribbean movies churned out of Hollywood at an alarming pace, each iteration coming closer to replicating the experience of a theme-park ride. We’re now at Pirates number 5, and the franchise has faithfully followed the original formula since number 1; a sexy young couple search for a piratey MacGuffin with the help of Jack and his companions, while being chased by a supernatural antagonist. But despite fun performances and creative character design, none have ever come close to recapturing the fun of the original.
After the domestic violence allegations, the oversized bottles of wine, the petty arguments between Depp and his management over his reckless spending, it’s become difficult to look at Johnny the same way. The enigmatic outsider has been replaced by a man who appears, correctly or not, to have lost control over his life.
Now, Depp’s appearance in a campy blockbuster is longer met with hungry anticipation, but disappointment. When Depp’s supernaturally smooth face enters the frame, we know what to expect; an inferior spin-off of Captain Jack Sparrow.
And when we are reintroduced to Jack Sparrow in Dead Men Tell No Tales, something has changed. The old sly grin is gone, replaced by helpless befuddlement. He is no longer one step ahead, but two steps behind. Jack seems lost, like a drunken, aging uncle whose years of debauchery are finally starting to take their toll.
Jack spends much of the movie confused, seemingly drunker than normal, informed by his crew that his luck has finally run out. He trips though the slapstick action sequences like Jar Jar Binks, shouting out tired catchphrases. He kicks off the film’s story at his lowest point, by finally trading his magical compass for another bottle of rum. Surely, this is the start of his narrative arc, the first step in a journey toward redemption?
But, strangely, no. Jack simply staggers through the story before finally regaining his ship and his crew. But he doesn’t seem to have his mojo back. Indeed, our final impression of the character is Jack enviously staring at a lovestruck couple, before turning to sail into the horizon, his only destination another watered-down sequel. A sad fate for a great character, and an act stretched far beyond its natural limit.
As for Johnny, we’re about to see his full performance as the dark wizard Grindelwald in the sequel to Fantastic Beasts, a chance at cinematic redemption. It may be another oddball in strange clothes, but maybe he’ll wipe the floor with Ralph Fiennes’ Voldemort and give us an authoritarian villain worth remembering. I sincerely hope so.
The excellent Birdman was released a couple of years ago. For those who haven't seen it, it tells the tale of an actor unable to escape his most popular role, and subsequently losing his mind. The film was reportedly supposed to end with Johnny Depp talking to Jack Sparrow, unable to shake the character out of his mind, and continuing the cycle of insanity. For whatever reason, it didn't happen. But I believe it was a wasted opportunity for Johnny to break the fourth wall, and publicly kill Sparrow by acknowledging the joke the character has become.
But Sparrow is still alive, sailing of in pursuit of … something. Pirates of the Caribbean will not continue without him, and the continued flow of ticket sales are like cursed pirate gold, glistening profits that keep Johnny forever bound to the seemingly endless franchise.
Perhaps one day, he’ll break the curse and be free.
