At Wit's End

I have thought about At World’s End more than you have.

More specifically, I have thought about the writing that went into At World’s End more than you have. If you really, truly, think that you’ve expended more mental energy on this film’s plot than me, there’s a good chance that you are either Gore Verbinski, Ted Elliot, or Terry Rossio, in which case I would like to say hello, thank you for reading, and that I am a big fan of your work.

In all seriousness, At World’s End is a film that has vexed me for years – not because I hate it, or even dislike it. I actually like it a lot. I simply remain convinced, down to the very core of my being, that it could have been better, and for the life of me I cannot confidently identify how.

Nevertheless, At World’s End turns ten years old this week, which means, as was the case with The Curse of the Black Pearl and Dead Man’s Chest before it, it’s time for me to finally try quantifying those thoughts for all you nice people to politely skim.

A word of warning: I am really going to be digging into this one. We’re going deep, especially at the end. That’s why I would advise you to re-watch the movie before reading this. However, given that the movie is three hours long, I have a backup plan. Namely, summarizing the plot as concisely and in as much detail as possible. The problem is... I don’t want to do that. It sounds hard. So to pick up the slack, I’ve once again called upon the help of my trusty first mate and reliable performer of thankless tasks: Mr. Joshamee Gibbs.

"Take what ya can. Give nothin' back.
Seriously, the job market's terrible. I'm doin' this on commission."

Whenever you’re ready, sir!

Mr. Gibbs Says: The pirate world is starin’ down the barrel of a full-on crisis. Lord Cutler Beckett, head of the East India Trading Company, has gained command o’ the Flyin’ Dutchman, the scourge o’ the sea, and is usin’ it to massacre pirate crews left an’ right. This is all according to Beckett’s plan, o’ course, for by whittling down our options, we pirates are forced to turn to our last resort: the Summoning Song is sung, and the Brethren Court is called.

Meanwhile, in Singapore, Jack’s crew (sans Jack, and plus one Hector Barbossa) seek an audience with the Pirate Lord Sao Feng, hoping to be loaned a ship and some men, in addition to certain very special navigational charts. Sadly – or should I say luckily – the whole thing goes pear-shaped, and when the EITC attacks, it finally occurs to Sao Feng just who the enemy of his enemy is.

From there, we travel to the world’s end and brave Davy Jones’ Locker, where we find ourselves reunited with our dear Cap’n. On the way home, Elizabeth catches a glimpse o’ her father, Governor Swann, who was killed after learnin’ too much about the heart o’ Davy Jones. Turns out that whoever stabs the heart must give up ‘is own and take Jones’ place. The Dutchman must have a captain, after all.

Back in the world of the living, we enjoy the shortest of respites, durin’ which Barbossa convinces Jack to join him at the Brethren Court. But soon enough, we encounter more bad news. See, in all the commotion, Master Will – facing, as he was, both a treason charge and the eternal torment of his twice-cursed father’s pirate soul – had struck a deal with both Sao Feng AND Beckett, and both were lyin’ in wait for us when we returned. Will’s offer was to hand over Jack in exchange for the Pearl, the only ship on the seven seas fast enough to run down the Dutchman. O’course, bein’ a pirate, Sao Feng isn’t exactly inclined to follow through on his half of the bargain, takin’ the Pearl for hisself. O’course, bein’ a conniving businessman with no moral compass t’ speak of, Beckett gets the same idea. No sooner has Sao Feng wrested the Pearl from Will’s grasp than he loses it in turn.

Onboard Beckett’s flagship, the Endeavor, Jack strikes up a deal o’ his own: he’ll lead Beckett to this mass gathering of pirates, on the condition that he be spared in the massacre Beckett has planned. Surely he simply forgot to include his loyal first mate in that assessment.

Barbossa does manage to reason with Sao Feng, bringin’ him back into the pirate fold by revealing the Ace he’s got hidden up his sleeve: Calypso, a goddess bound in human form, powerful enough to stop Jones, Beckett, and the EITC – but it’ll take the entire Brethren Court to free her. Sao Feng agrees, though he insists on takin’ a little leverage along: in this case, Miss Elizabeth, who the Pirate Lord had erroneously pegged as bein’ the goddess Barbossa spoke of.

The mistake be a reasonable one, says I. 

T’ make a long story short, we reclaim the Pearl, make a daring escape from Beckett’s forces, and split up with Sao Feng, both headed to Shipwreck Cove, where the Brethren Court hold… er… court, I s’pose. The Pearl is swift, but Sao Feng’s ship, the Empress, ain’t so lucky, as it falls victim to Jones and his Dutchman. A dying Sao Feng passes his Piece of Eight on to Elizabeth, makin’ her one o’ the nine Pirate Lords, as she and the rest o’ the survivors are brought aboard the ghost ship. There she encounters Will’s father, ol’ Bootstrap Bill, who warns her once more about the curse that awaits Jones’ killer.

O’course, for good ol’ Jack, that curse is lookin’ more and more like an opportunity: an eternal life on the sea – with one day ashore every ten years, to stock up on rum and other such essentials. He says as much to Master Will, after catchin’ him in the act of leaving his own trail for Beckett. With a wink and a shove, he sends Will over the edge, a victim of his own treachery.

Back on the Dutchman, Elizabeth and her crew are freed by the lady’s erstwhile fiancé, Admiral James Norrington – now in Beckett’s employ – though the gesture costs ‘im his life. Will, meanwhile, gets picked up by the Endeavor, where he discovers that Jones hisself was the one who taught the Brethren Court how to imprison Calypso, his former lover. Will demands he, Elizabeth, and his father all walk free. In exchange, he’ll guide Beckett to Shipwreck Cove, using the magic compass that tricky Jack had slipped him.

As the Brethren Court prepares to meet, Tia Dalma (née Calypso) reminds Barbossa that she didn’t bring him back to life out o’ the kindness o’ her heart. She wants to be freed, so she can take revenge on those who imprisoned her those eons ago. Hector makes his case to the Court, but Elizabeth favors all-out war, an action that only a Pirate King may declare. Jack, notin’ that parley also falls under a Pirate King’s jurisdiction, calls for a vote, and casts his ballot for Elizabeth, breakin’ a potential nine-way tie. King Swann sets up a meetin' with Beckett and Jones, exchangin' Jack for Will and puttin’ him aboard the Dutchman, just as the Cap’n wanted.

Barbossa, over Elizabeth’s protestations, performs the ceremony to free Calypso. Will tells her o’ Jones’ betrayal, and she slips away into the sea, causin’ the mightiest storm this old hand’s ever seen.

The Pearl and the Dutchman take each other on, though Will and Elizabeth, in a case o’ what I would call questionable priorities, find the time to join hands in holy matrimony. By and by, Jack finds hisself holdin’ Davy Jones’ heart hostage, only for the squid-faced fiend to create a whole new mess by stabbin’ poor Master Will through the heart. Facin’ a tough choice, the Cap’n allows young William to stab the heart in his place, and the storm breaks as Jones, now dead, falls into the drink.

With the Dutchman now under Will’s command, it and the Pearl broadside the Endeavor, destroying it and killing Beckett. The rest of his fleet turns tail, leaving the age o’ Piracy to continue on just a mite longer.

…

Whew. Everybody okay?

As you can see, this is a plot that features a lot of moving parts, especially near the middle. Everyone kind of explodes out in all directions to whizz around for a while before suddenly regrouping. Which is pretty standard for storytelling. After all, if the first act is about establishing a problem, and the third act is about solving it, the second act should, in theory, be about acquiring the tools – both mental and physical – that are necessary to solve it. What strikes me about this particular story, then, is that when you break it down, not that many tools are acquired during that middle bit, and the ones that are tend to be pieces of information. (One of those pieces of information – that whoever stabs the heart of Davy Jones must become the Dutchman’s new captain – is acquired extremely early on, and yet goes on to be acquired a second time after that. Perhaps just to make sure we don’t forget?)

Instead, the priority seems to be maneuvering the various pieces into their proper positions for the endgame. The result is a movie that has a lot happening to little effect, or at least relatively inconsequential effect. Take, for instance, the three-person scene between Will, Beckett, and Jones aboard the Endeavor. I do quite like it, not least of all because it features this exchange:

“You betrayed her.”
“SHE betrayed ME!”
“And after which betrayal did you cut out your heart, I wonder?”

Oh, snap.

Nice, right? It’s a well-written line, and it shades in Jones’ character. But the only thing that scene truly accomplishes is revealing to Will – and the audience – that Jones taught the Brethren Court how to bind Calypso. Will also hands over Jack’s compass to Beckett, allowing him to find Shipwreck Cove, but both Will and Jack had already promised to lead him there, and Will was doing so from aboard the Pearl. So the question becomes: is this revelation about Jones information that Will, specifically, needs to know? He does use it later in the film to send Calypso after Jones and the Dutchman, but that storm-whirlpool combo isn’t exactly what I’d call a targeted attack. So I would have to say that, no, it is not.

And yet, what happens to make this scene possible?

Mr. Gibbs Says: First things first, the Cap’n needs to throw Master Will overboard. That’s simple enough, o’course, but then, ol’ Jack’s never come across a task he couldn’t approach with a hearty bit o’ flair. So it still takes a couple o’ minutes. Subsequent to that, he has to find his way back to us, which Elizabeth manages during the parley, when she hands Jack over to Jones as an exchange. Naturally, the Code is quite clear on the fact that only a Pirate King can call fer such a parley, which means we find ourselves needin’ to backtrack even farther, and ensure that Elizabeth finds herself on the Empress when the time comes for Sao Feng to shuffle off this mortal coil. And THAT bit o’ difficulty can’t be sorted out unless Sao Feng believes, at least for a time, that our fair Elizabeth and the goddess Calypso are one and the same. It’s all a bit… much.

I want to be clear – this isn’t sloppy writing. Every action is motivated, with nothing happening simply because it ‘has to.’ And these intricate gambits are executed with a high degree of elegance. One little bit of intricacy that I love is the fact that the sword Will gets stabbed with in the end is the very same sword he makes for Norrington in the first film, and that Norrington uses to justify dropping the charges against him in its final scene. That’s pretty neat. No, my argument is simply that intricate gambits aren’t necessary in the telling of this story. Because, in spite of the way Mr. Gibbs made it sound, the plot of this film is extremely simple. To be honest, from beginning to end, only four things truly NEED to happen.

1. Jack needs to be brought back from the Locker, so that the Brethren Court can be assembled (and also because we miss him).
2. The Brethren Court needs to meet, so that they can declare war on Beckett and Barbossa can collect his Pieces of Eight.
3. Beckett needs to find Shipwreck Cove, so that he can engage the pirates in battle.
4. Jack and Will need to get aboard the Flying Dutchman, so that one of them can stab the heart of Davy Jones.

Everything else that happens, with the minor exception of Barbossa’s Calypso subplot, is simply a means to one of these ends. The chain of events I just laid out, while ultimately tying into the Calypso element as well, mostly occurs to facilitate that fourth goal of getting Jack on the Dutchman for the climax. By contrast, how does Will get on the Dutchman?

He swings aboard on a rope during the battle.

Kinda makes you wonder if Jack could have done that as well.

So, okay. It’s pretty convoluted, but that’s fine, as long as the logic checks out (it does, mostly – but we’ll get back to that), and as long as the character work is strong enough to make us care. In other words, it’s time for my favorite subject: arcs.

Pirates, Cursed Seamen, and Trade Magnates: What Are Their Arcs? Do They Have Arcs?? Let's Find Out!

As was the case with Dead Man’s Chest before it, At World’s End tries to be more of an ensemble movie than one built around a single protagonist. This time, we divide things up even more, offering us five characters with five different sets of goals.

• WILL needs THE BLACK PEARL to KILL DAVY JONES and SAVE HIS FATHER
• BARBOSSA needs JACK to ASSEMBLE THE BRETHREN COURT and FREE CALYPSO
• BECKETT needs ALL PIRATES IN ONE PLACE so that he can KILL THEM
• JACK needs TO BE ALIVE AGAIN so that he can LIVE FOREVER
• ELIZABETH is PRETTY MUCH JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE AFTER ACT ONE

As we already noted, this makes the plot nice and twisty and (relatively) engaging, but it also makes it difficult to find an emotional through line. It would be nice if we could put the focus back on Will as we close out the trilogy, or even make Elizabeth the main protagonist, just so that everyone in the core trio gets a turn. But while our two star-crossed lovers certainly have the most things happen to them – as I said once before, they end the film as Pirate Grim Reaper and Pirate King, respectively – neither one undergoes any notable growth as a person. Elizabeth absolutely comes into her own as a capable woman who has surpassed any need of rescuing, but she’s arrived at that point before the film starts. (She might even have arrived at that point before the last film ended.) As for Will… y’know, he sure is there on screen. Walking around. Doing stuff. He really wants to save his dad, that Will. Good for him.

Pictured: Will Turner, doing his best

This all means that, once again, our hopes for a traditional protagonist rest on the shoulders of Captain Jack Sparrow. And, once again, Jack’s arc actually looks pretty good, in theory. It even does a lot to salvage the seemingly arc-derailing send-off that he got in the second movie. Let’s look at it while adding in the context from that earlier film:

Mr. Gibbs Says: The poor Cap’n’s been havin’ a rough go of things. After bein’ raked over the coals for his selfishness, Jack finally does something to help someone besides hisself, and it proves to be the death of him – in a sadly non-metaphorical sense. After his so-called friends (and faithful crew) miraculously return him to the world of the living, only to reveal that they got selfish reasons o’ their own, he decides that bein’ charitable just ain’t his bag. He’ll be looking out for hisself, first and foremost, and that means makin’ sure he never, EVER finds himself in that Locker a second time. And yet, at film’s end, with immortality restin’ in the palm of his hand – again, in a distinctly non-metaphorical sense – he chooses to be selfless, and gives it up for the sake o’ love. Someone else’s love, at that.

Like I said, that’s pretty good. I would rather the arc not have to span two movies, but the breaking point is well chosen, and length is essentially the only reason these are two movies anyway. What I’m getting at is, he has an interesting, nuanced starting point, and an ending point that provides closure. The difference between those starting and ending points is substantial enough to be satisfying, but small enough to make sense. That’s the frame of a good arc.

The problem, then, is that Jack’s movement through this arc isn’t very well motivated. You could argue that not a single thing that happens in this entire, two hour and fifty minute movie moves him in a direction where he would be willing to make that sacrifice. Elizabeth does nothing to make amends for her betrayal, Will doesn’t seem inclined to forgive and forget being handed over to Jones, and Jack shows no affection towards either one of them. In fact, if you’ll forgive the tangent, I would go so far as to say that none of the relationships, between any of the characters, are advanced at all in this film. For a movie this long – and one that closes out a trilogy, no less – that’s not great. The characters work with one another to further their own goals, but for Jack in particular, that’s true of literally anybody. And it means that all of our de facto hero’s growth happens in that singular moment aboard the Dutchman. His arc is… well, not really an arc so much as a choice.

There’s a charitable reading of this somewhere; while we can throw out the idea that Jack has always been a fundamentally good person – remember that he previously served Will to Davy Jones on a silver platter – he does always have his own best interests at heart. And I can see him being self-aware enough to recognize that this time, a selfless act really will be to his benefit in the long run. As his father points out to him, it’s not just about living forever. It’s about living with yourself, forever.

I honestly don’t know if I like that suggestion enough to forgive the misstep overall, because, as in the last movie, we can clearly see those dominoes being set up over the course of the first hour. But I will say that it’s close. It’s very close.

I don’t have much else left to say, except for one minor point. So in the spirit of the film, I’m going to use that one minor point to justify the inclusion of… well, of just a whole big thing. You’ll see.

There is a MAJOR plot hole in this film that I’m amazed no one else has picked up on, if only because there are scenes upon scenes dedicated to otherwise filling the space it occupies. Lord Beckett, after successfully forcing his opponents’ hand and bringing about a meeting of the Brethren Court, is in need of someone to lead him to their location. Over the course of the film, both Jack and Will promise to do this, and both of them fulfill that promise in their own way. At least half of the second act is dedicated to it, and this bargaining chip is the only reason Jack even escapes his confrontation with Beckett alive. Given that so many moving pieces go into his acquisition of this information, one gets the sense that Shipwreck Cove must be impossibly difficult for outsiders to find.

If only Beckett had an ally who had been there before.

Say, someone who had attended the very first meeting of the Brethren Court.

*Cough Cough*

Yeah. I don’t know what to tell you.

OR DO I?

Four years ago, in my first real post on this blog, I made the claim that At World’s End is about as well-told as it could possibly be, short of a page one rewrite.

So guess what I did?

No, it’s not REALLY a page one rewrite, but it definitely involves some substantial changes. Let’s just say that if my version went through WGA arbitration, I’d get a writing credit for sure. But I’m tired. So to lay it all out for you, I’m once again going to give Mr. Gibbs the floor.

Perhaps ye knows too much. Ye've seen the way I think. Ye know how I likes to talk. Now proceed at your own risk. These be the last friendly words you'll hear. You may not survive to pass this way again.

Mr. Gibbs Says: Before I say anythin’ more, we’re gonna have to make some changes lookin’ back. A year ago, I suggested an alternate ending to our last bit of excitement what ended with Cap’n Jack’s untimely demise. We’re going to assume, for our purposes, that this ending holds true, minus th' part where the Dutchman's crew goes free. And if’n you don’t feel like going back to check, suffice it to say that both the Kraken and Davy Jones are dead. Perhaps that sounds drastic to ye, but trust me, I know what I’m doin’.

That exchange aboard the Endeavor that we quoted above and all agreed was so nice? We’ll change it, just a touch, so it’s not so obviously Calypso bein’ discussed, and slot it into the last movie in place of the Liar’s Dice scene, which I never liked anyway.

Now then.

For a time at the beginning o’ this version, we’re gonna play coy about who’s captaining the Dutchman in Jones’ absence. Point o’ fact, that be the secret that Elizabeth’s father is killed for learnin’: not that the heart MUST be replaced, only that it HAS been.

The rest o’ the first hour wouldn’t change much, until we return from the Locker. Rather than a triple alliance, between Sao Feng, Will, and Beckett, Will has made separate alliances with each of ‘em, promising the Pearl to Sao Feng and Sao Feng (plus Jack) to Beckett. I reckon that gives Sao Feng more incentive t’ join us in the end, and clears up what everyone thought they were getting outta the deal. I fer one never understood why Sao Feng would want to risk a deal with Beckett when his only leverage was the promise of a lone, already-dead pirate. When we split up, both Elizabeth AND Will would go with Sao Feng – one as an honored guest, the other in the brig.

When the Dutchman attacks… aye, that’s where things get tricky. I can’t seem to shake the thought that Will shoulda been the one to become a Pirate Lord and then Pirate King – both for irony’s sake, given his hatred o’ pirates back in th' first film, and because his later death would return the Brethren Court to its status quo. But the title suits Elizabeth just as well, makin’ this, essentially, a matter o’ preference. What really matters is the revelation o’ the Dutchman’s new commanding officers: Ian Mercer, Beckett’s attack dog of a right-hand man, acting under the supervision of one James Norrington.

Elizabeth has the same confrontation with Norrington in regard to her father’s death, but now Master Will has a chance to speak with his father, face to waterlogged face. It’s here that we learn, fer the first time, that only the Dutchman’s captain can free a member of its crew, and that killin’ the captain brings about dire consequences. I reckon ye can be nice an’ leisurely-like with this sequence, considerin’ that the relationships between those on board are stronger, and there be no threat o’ Jones hangin’ over everyone’s head. When Norrington does eventually let the prisoners go, he belays Bootstrap’s attempt to raise an alarm, an order ye figure the elder Turner must be happy t’ obey. (I always did wonder how Elizabeth escaped the way she did, with the Dutchman’s crew on high alert and barely a minute’s head start.) When Mercer tries to give Norrington hell for it in the morning, the Admiral calls his bluff, sayin’ only that Beckett would be mighty cross should he end up dead.

From here, ye can either have Jack leave a trail for Beckett as he promised, or have William do it from the Empress, layin’ the groundwork for a deal with Mercer. Again, it’s a question o’ preference. (Though notice that with Jones out o’ the picture, the thought of Beckett needin’ help to find our hideaway regains its significance.)

When our trio reunites at Shipwreck Cove, Jack learns of this new possible immortality, and his clever mind gets right to work. He jumps ship on the Calypso idea, so t’ speak, and backs Will’s (or Elizabeth’s) plan for war. Once the king be elected (whichever o’ the two ye like), Jack sneaks off alone to board the Dutchman. No doubt gettin’ caught and tryin’ t’ invoke parley his own damned self.

Changes t’ the final battle would be minor, to a point. Jack fights Mercer for the key rather than Jones, but there still be a whole mess o’ confusion about. Will duels with Norrington, but when the Admiral nearly strikes down Elizabeth, come to help, Will acts on instinct and stabs his wife’s former fiancé through the chest, revealing that HIS – not Mercer’s – is the heart bound to the Dutchman.

Ol’ Jack arrives on the scene, heart in one hand, dagger in t’other, but Elizabeth pleads with the Cap’n not to do it. Norrington, if ye can believe it, feels less strongly about the whole thing. He doesn’t much care fer bein’ cursed, y’see, and welcomes Jack takin’ his place if that’s what he really wants. T’ prove his point, he drops his sword. Furious, a disarmed Mercer scoops the sword up and plants it into the nearest torso, which happens t’ belong to poor William. Seein’ this, Bootstrap dives on Mercer and… well, let’s just say he kills ‘im.

Observin’ his former love’s grief, Norrington offers his heart to Will – if Jack be willin’ to hand it over, that is. All eyes turn to him, and o’course, he does the right thing in the end. A dyin’ Norrington says his farewell to Elizabeth, and plunges into the sea, his sacrifice in the name o’ love calming Calypso’s fury an’ ending the storm. (I like the thought o’ seein’ his corpse send out a shockwave once it’s beneath the waves, sort of a parallel to Elizabeth’s necklace at the start o’ the first film. Bookends, and all that.)

The rest would play out just as it did. After all, if ye change EVERY part o’ somethin’, is it even that thing anymore? Huh. How’s that for a paradox? Came up with that meself, I did. Think I’ll call it the Ship O’ Gibbs Paradox. Aye.

So there you have it. A trilogy of films four years in the making becomes a trilogy of blogposts four years in the making. I feel like I should say something poetic to put a nice bow on things... but like I said, I’m tired. Mr. Cotton, you can have the last word. Don’t waste it.

"*Squawk!* Abandon ship! Abandon ship! *Squawk!*"

Oh, that's real nice.