In theaters

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: DEAD MAN’S CHEST, directed by Gore Verbinski, written by Ted Elliott and Terry Rossio, 154 minutes, rated PG-13.

Gore Verbinski’s “Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest,” a sequel to 2003’s “Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl,” does exactly what you expect it to do. It supersizes what worked in the original to the point that it becomes less a movie and more a spectacle.

That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, particularly since this film features its share of memorable action scenes. The trouble is that by focusing so much attention on the technical execution of those scenes, what this sequel lacks is the perfect mix of romance, bombast, wit and action that made the first film such an unexpected delight.

At nearly two-and-a-half hours, the movie is too long. Shave off a third and we might have had another great pirate picture on our hands. As it stands, we have a good one, which retains some of the original’s charm in spite of its familiarity.

The film brings back much of the original cast, with the highlight once again being Johnny Depp’s kitschy performance as Capt. Jack Sparrow.

With his mascara seemingly applied by the heavy, rummy hand of Alice Cooper and a beard that’s as wiry as Depp himself, the actor gives a performance that suggests a drunken gypsy drag queen fallen on hard times. He’s nicely unhinged, swaying on and off land as if the ocean is deliriously moving beneath his feet. Even if his performance is a repeat, the movie would collapse without him. Depp is exactly what “Chest” needs to keep it light, particularly since the plot is so unnecessarily dense.

In its most streamlined form – and that’s an understatement – the film finds Sparrow, Elizabeth (Keira Knightley) and Will (Orlando Bloom), among others, fighting to find the buried treasure chest that contains the heart of Davy Jones (Bill Nighy, whose slimy, tentacled head is among the film’s best special effects). Backed by his sea-creature crew of fishy zombies, Jones wants that chest for himself – it does, after all, contain his soul – and so what he brings to the movie is its necessary air of rancid, mischievous menace.

Jones is a rousing villain, indeed, just interesting enough to keep the messy plot and subplots moving. Weakening the movie, however, is its lack of structure and the absolute lack of heat between Elizabeth and Will.

Unlike in the first film, they are oddly out of touch here, failing to generate a spark – and not because they’re often soaked in water. The problem is that the script doesn’t factor in enough of their relationship. It seems like a throwaway afterthought, when really, it’s as essential to the movie as, say, the giant runaway wheel on which an impressive swordfight is staged, the huge octopus that ravages ships, and the gleam in Depp’s eye when he once again manages to dance out of danger.

Grade: B-

On HD DVD

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA, directed by Joel Schumacher, written by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Schumacher, 143 minutes, rated PG-13.

It had to happen – somebody somewhere was clamoring for it to happen – so here it is on HD DVD, the music of the trite.

Joel Schumacher’s decadent, unabashedly over-the-top movie version of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s equally audacious “The Phantom of the Opera,” is about as far removed from Rupert Julian’s 1925 silent classic as it could be, but that’s no surprise. So goes the culture.

This ripe, molten bodice-ripper features sets so heroically lavish they often do the movie a favor, particularly in high definition, detracting from the muddy lip-synching, Webber’s intrusive, repetitious score, the awkward way the characters weave in and out of song and dialogue – often mid sentence.

While no fan of Webber’s “Phantom” will come to the movie seeking subtlety or nuance, even the most diehard aficionados might be struck dumb by the sheer level of the crescendo and camp Schumacher achieves here.

Beginning in 1919 but set mostly in 1870, the film follows the mysterious phantom of the Paris Opera Populaire (Gerard Butler), a disfigured cellar dweller who covets the lovely Christine (Emmy Rossum) through a glass darkly, though she doesn’t know it.

A talented soprano, Christine is on the verge of falling in love with the wealthy Vicomte Raoul de Chagny (Patrick Wilson) when the Phantom, in a jealous snit, decides to make a pest of himself. He kidnaps Christine, drops a chandelier on an audience, murders men at will, beats his chest with brio – and, in the process, he helps to make Christine a star.

Throughout, the performances are as uneven as the music. Butler’s Phantom looks good behind the mask, but his voice can’t soar into the stratosphere asked of it. Rossum is a highlight, though less promising is Miranda Richardson as Madame Giry, who is saddled with the sort of thick, rubbery old-age makeup that looks as if they dipped her face in pancake batter and decided to call it good.

That said, you have to hand it to Minnie Driver as the Italian diva, Carlotta. In an effort to give the movie a measure of life, Driver throws herself to the wolves (in this case, the critics) with the sort of raw, jumpy performance that could have failed if it weren’t obvious she was having so much fun. Her approach to the material is just right. Why try to be sane in a production so obviously insane? Here, she exists purely to mince, pout, scream and claw. Some will be grateful for the effort.

Grade: C

Visit www.weekinrewind.com, the archive of Bangor Daily News film critic Christopher Smith’s reviews, which appear Mondays in Discovering, Fridays in Happening, and Weekends in Television. He may be reached at Christopher@weekinrewind.com.