In At World’s End, the juxtaposition between our heroes and our villain has never been more clear. Both jilted lovers reaffirm their bittersweet connection to one another here… but sadly, it appears, never at the expense of seeking vengeance on their enemies. At last, the man behind the monster is fully (if briefly) unveiled. Even his monstrous appearance is self-inflicted, powerfully demonstrated in a poignant meeting with Tia Dalma on the eve of battle. What truly makes our favorite squid-man distinct is that despite ample opportunity to leave his villainous exploits behind him, he actively chooses to reject a reformed path. ĭavy Jones and his far more vividly-drawn motivation exists on the other end of the spectrum, embodying the corrupted dark side of another Pirates theme: the power of love. Meanwhile, Beckett is a one-man representation of the greatest evils in the Pirates of the Caribbean universe: colonialism, cutthroat capitalism, and the death of myth. Tellingly, however, Barbossa only ever rises to the level of antihero. Of course, this in and of itself doesn’t make redemption impossible (for every Gollum, after all, there’s an Ebenezer Scrooge).
Though the scope and scale of their ambitions are worlds apart, both are ruled predominantly by greed – materially with the former, the latter ideologically. Respectively, Captain Hector Barbossa and Lord Cutler Beckett serve as the primary antagonists of Curse of the Black Pearl and At World’s End. Not only does this particular character flaw make Davy Jones unique among blockbuster villains, but it also sets him apart from other Pirates ne’er-do-wells. More broadly, this toxic response to rejection rings all too true in our real world. In the micro, Jones’ heartbreak serves as a purposeful foil to Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann’s sweeping romance. So began a devastating feedback loop, denouncing the very idea of love to compensate for his own spurned feelings. That is, until he literally cut it out and hid it inside the eponymous chest all to dull the intense emotional pain of lost love. Davy Jones derives purpose from his cruelest and most merciless moments, but as love is his motivation, this creature must have a heart. Such economic storytelling immediately lays bare the fascinating contradiction inherent within this ruthless foe. They suggest a deeper pathos beneath his tentacles and surely horrific odor.
But until then, these initial clues sufficiently challenge our assumptions. As revealed in the next film, eccentric soothsayer Tia Dalma carries a matching locket the missing half of Jones’ whole. Consider his heart-shaped locket/music box and the tempestuous feelings its mournful lullaby provokes – fierce anger one moment, tearful remorse the next. Only minutes later, our expectations are promptly confounded by his apparent fixation with ( and bitter resentment of) l ove. “Do you fear death?”, Jones searchingly questions one terrified sailor before gleefully executing another to show his resolve. This balancing act begins right from his introduction, arriving precisely one hour (to the second!) into Dead Man’s Chest after considerable build-up and anticipation. It comes down to one simple factor: Davy Jones is humanized, not justified. So what drives him? What allows him to maintain a compelling, watchable presence while practically reveling in his pillaging and plunder? And despite a tragic backstory, we never once consider whether his actions might actually be right. To be sure, no viewer could possibly mistake his arc for potential redemption.
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