Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales Review - A Few Saving Graces

Johnny Depp's stock as an actor has certainly dropped in recent years, due to a mixture of personal issues and playing a seemingly never-ending list of idiosyncratic weirdos from Alice in Wonderland onwards. Fortunately for him, he's got a guaranteed money maker in the form of this latest Pirates film to curry favour with the public (damn the UK title Salazar's Revenge, such a new character doesn't deserve his own subtitle). 

Weirdly - more weird than Depp appearing in Yoga Hosers - Depp is the weakest link in this film by a nautical mile. Jack Sparrow was already at risk of becoming a parody of himself, a far cry from the character that brought Depp his first Oscar acknowledgement. Here, Sparrow spends more time than ever drunkenly arsing around, becoming a passenger in his own film as other more dynamic characters do his job for him. He is as much a MacGuffin as the object that everyone desires: Poseidon's Trident. For Will Turner's son Henry (Brenton Thwaites) it could free his father from Davy Jones' curse, while ostracised astronomer Karina (Kaya Scodelario) wishes to find it simply because she has a map. Good thing everyone comes across each other to advance the plot.

Revenge against Sparrow is the driving force for new antagonist Salazar, hence his transformation into a plot device. The strength of the franchise has always been the villains, from Geoffrey Rush to Bill Nighy to Ian McShane. The always brilliant Javier Bardem brings menace to the role, adding to his CV of magnificent cinematic bastards. Salazar and his crew are bolstered by some nifty effects having them appear as they did when they died, setting them apart from previous ghost pirates. How did they die? Well that's where the character of Sparrow becomes problematic. Salazar wasn't evil - he was a pirate hunter doing a reasonable job - so to have him essentially murdered by 'loveable' old Jack as the score heroically swells, you stop rooting for the incompetent swashbuckler and consider his many crimes. Good thing Rush returns to play Barbarossa and distract us, the charming bugger. He even manages to come out of a forced subplot unscathed that comes at the eleventh hour.

Aside from this, new directors Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg wring some fun out Sparrow's sodden old trifold hat here and there, trimming out some of the dead weight runtime and continuing the trend of physics-defying action. An early bank robbery scene makes Fast Five look more grounded than a Ken Loach social-realist drama. Daftness is forgiveable though. Yet another undercooked attempt at a Will Tuner/ Elizabeth Swann love story isn't as much, especially after On Stranger Tide's tepid romance between the Àstrid Bergès-Frisbey's mermaid and Sam Claflin's bible-basher. Thwaites and Scodelario suffer the same fate.

THREE STARS. A mixed bag of sweets, but here and there you find some of those lovely white chocolate mice. Bardem is one of those mice.