Have you ever wondered why a heroine makes the romantic choice she does, because you would have chosen someone else? That difference of opinion has often happened to me over the years, but never more than in the first Pirates of the Caribbean. Seated in the theater, my hands in a popcorn bucket and eyeballs glued to the screen, I knew if I had been lucky enough to be in Elizabeth’s shoes, I would have picked not the dashing and romantic Will Turner, but the witty and reliable James Norrington! Continue reading
JAN / FEB 2015: BY ELORA SHORE
In Dead Man’s Chest Lord Beckett states “Freedom! Jack Sparrow is a dying breed. The world is shrinking. The blank edges of the map filled in. Jack must find his place in the new world or perish.”
I think that Captain Jack Sparrow, originally intended only as an interesting side character of the original three movies, is reminiscent of the sort of embodiment of life that we crave. Elizabeth and Will drive the story, but Jack serves as a certain infusion… a banner representing the grand adventure of life away from strict confines and back-stabbing laws of hypocritical Lords. Though not pretty, I find it interesting that you get to see both sides, in a way. The laws of civilization can be just as piratical and back-stabbing as the anarchy of the freedom of the seas. In every one of us there is a part that craves the ideal of one’s own world, the freedom to live within our own Eden, whatever form it takes, even with gnarly elements of darkness. Continue reading
MARCH / APRIL 2013: BY HANNAH PRICE
The last thing he saw before the world went dark was the gaping mouth of the monstrous beast. Next thing he knew, he blinked in the brightness of an overbearing sun. Cold damp was replaced by a sudden rush of heat, heat that went unabated by even a breath of wind. Captain Jack Sparrow lay on the floorboards of his ship, inert and bemused. Slowly he rose to his feet, steadying his wobbly sea legs and adjusting to the sudden motionlessness of the Black Pearl’s deck. But then, Jack Sparrow was usually unsteady on his feet with the constant stream of rum that ran thicker than blood through his veins.
There’ll be nary a drop of rum to be found in these doldrums, was his first thought as he surveyed the bleak landscape surrounding him. Endless sand dunes stretched to the horizon in every direction without even a rock to add texture to the dry plains. Jack began to fully comprehend his situation. Continue reading