Now that the "ride" -- as in "wild ride," "thrill ride," "rollercoaster ride" -- seems to be an accepted film category, if not quite a genre, it makes sense that a film would be modelled after, or at least named after, an actual amusement-park ride. But Pirates -- not the first Disney movie to bring to the screen a Disneyland attraction, if you count The Country Bears -- is more of a long ride than any other kind of ride, a two-and-a-quarter-hour kiddie film, loud and broad, about ratchet-voiced, pasteboard pirates who turn out, to the detriment of the sword-crossing scenes, to be really the ghosts of pirates. (Trying to kill the already dead is a tedious business.) The visual effects of these pirates turning from flesh to bones as they pass in and out of moonlight are marvelous to behold, as is the effect of their stealthy advance on foot across the ocean floor. But director Gore Verbinski, fresh off the throat-clutching frights of The Ring, cannot hope with this one to scare a five-year-old. Orlando Bloom, on the team of humans, looks as stoutheartedly heroic as in the Lord of the Rings films; and Keira Knightley nimbly makes the leap from proletarian jock in Bend It Like Beckham to cosseted, corseted aristocrat: or in more practical terms, from little "indie" to high-stakes blockbuster. And Johnny Depp, with raccoonish rings of mascara around his eyes and a perpetual Dean Martin slur in his speech, lets you know in every way possible that he's not taking any of this seriously, other than his paycheck. With Geoffrey Rush and Jonathan Pryce. (2003) — Duncan Shepherd