The Dog Brain of Ragetti & the Secret Success of Pintel

The characters Pintel and Ragetti from the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise are no strangers to my blog. I've discussed a few things about them in past entries, mostly on how their actors and the screenwriters view them, but I've never delved into any serious analysis of the characters themselves. As hard to believe as this sounds, I actually think there's a lot to analyze about this comic relief duo, even if most of what you come up with probably wasn't intended by the writers.

Intended or not, the fact stands that in the three Pirates films that feature Pintel and Ragetti, we see a surprising amount of growth in both characters. Since the films rarely explain any of that growth, the door is left wide open for fans to speculate and fill in the narrative gaps. This essay is my own interpretation of Pintel and Ragetti's character arcs throughout the series, and if there's any truth in what I've gathered, then their subplot could be one of the more meaningful ones in the original trilogy.

Played by Lee Arenberg and Mackenzie Crook, Pintel and Ragetti first appear in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl as two members of Captain Barbossa's evil, undead pirate crew. At first they seem like your typical dim-witted henchman duo, but throughout the movie, we get a lot of hints at their personalities, their backstories, their thoughts on their situation, and most importantly, their relationship with each other.


As far as that goes, there are three important things to notice:

1. Pintel and Ragetti are always together

2. Pintel frequently loses his temper and lashes out at Ragetti

3. Ragetti acts like a dog 

I don't mean that Ragetti's lewd, either. I mean that he literally barks and growls at people whenever he gets angry or excited. He also shrinks back with his head down in a very tail-between-the-legs manner whenever Pintel yells at him. He doesn't talk much in Curse of the Black Pearl, but often when he does, it's just to chime in with Pintel. Given that Pintel hits him with a parasol and throttles him purely out of embarrassment at two points in the film, you can kind of see why Ragetti tries to be so obedient.  

The only time we see another side to their relationship is roughly halfway through the film, when Barbossa's crew tries using the heroine Elizabeth Swann to break their undead curse. Right before the proceedings, the crew sorts through the piles of treasure around them, and Pintel and Ragetti more or less have a moment alone to talk. Pintel is curiously sympathetic towards Ragetti, assuring the one-eyed pirate that he can buy a glass eye once the curse is lifted and then patiently chiding him when he rubs the splintery wooden one that he does have. During the curse-lifting ritual, Pintel is seen leaning over Ragetti's shoulder at the front and center of the crowd and playfully nudging his arm to keep him excited about what's happening.

To me, Pintel comes across in these scenes like a guilty parent trying too hard to make up for letting their child down. There's sincerity there, but also a slightly selfish motive behind it. We don't know if he and Ragetti are really uncle and nephew like their actors say, but Pintel is obviously the mentor/decision maker in this relationship. Perhaps he feels responsible for getting his younger companion into this mess with the curse, and perhaps he believes he can clear his conscience by helping Ragetti have a better life after it's over.    

The problem in the meantime seems to be that they're in a situation where Pintel feels he can't afford to look weak. Barbossa and the rest of his crew are frequently shown to be bullies, needlessly mistreating their captives and sometimes turning on each other, and Pintel and Ragetti appear to be at the very bottom of the Black Pearl's ranks. As fond as Pintel is of pillaging, plundering, and shooting people in the face, we see that he's terrified of the crew's first mate Bo'sun — and because of Bo'sun's authority, that can make Pintel fear the entire crew at times. It's conceivable that he and Ragetti always stay close together for security as well as company, and that at least some of Pintel's vicious persona is just a front that he puts up to avoid harassment.

He drops the act during his talk with Ragetti in the treasure cave because despite the rest of their crew being present all around them, no one's really paying attention to them at that exact moment. As soon as Bo'sun walks by and sees them holding the frilly parasols that they've found though, Pintel panics and hits Ragetti with his parasol as mentioned before. The reason he throttles Ragetti later is because Bo'sun has ordered them to distract the British Navy by dressing up as women, and Ragetti makes him feel even more insecure by complimenting the way he looks in a dress.

Slapstick comedy aside, Pintel and Ragetti's relationship is not a healthy one. Ragetti's doglike demeanor (his "Dog Brain" if you will) is most likely a defense mechanism from all the abuse and trauma he's suffered, and unlike Pintel's murder-hungry rage, it doesn't seem to be an act. Pintel has contributed to Ragetti becoming a poorly adjusted, socially inept man with low self-esteem who can barely think for himself. That's not going to give him a better life after the curse is over.

We last see the duo getting outwitted by the hero Jack Sparrow and then arrested by the Navy right as their curse is finally lifted. In the second film, Dead Man's Chest, we first see them rowing through the ocean in a longboat with the jailhouse dog as they discuss how they escaped from prison. This takes place one year after the first film, and we get a very different Pintel and Ragetti this time around.

Here are the three important things to notice in Dead Man's Chest:

1. Ragetti is less doglike and more well-spoken than before

2. Ragetti constantly talks back to, argues with, and defies Pintel

3. Pintel never punishes Ragetti for it

He still yells at Ragetti a lot like he did in the first film, but he doesn't physically harm him anymore. And let's face it, doing that could very easily revert Ragetti back to his old self. It's possible the writers just made these changes to make Pintel more likable and Ragetti more three-dimensional since they join the heroes in this film, but this dramatic character growth can be explained in the context of the story.

For someone as naive as Ragetti, being thrown in jail with a guarantee of hanging has to be earth-shattering. It's the complete opposite of all the great things Pintel told him were going to happen after they broke their curse. What did they do to deserve something this awful instead? Ragetti probably had time to realize what they'd done to deserve it, and with all his pirate aspirations in ruins and death on the horizon, he probably turned to the only salvation he could find: religion.

Hence the Bible that he's trying to read in Dead Man's Chest (which he probably stole, by the way). His "beliefs" are flimsy at best, often getting twisted to justify the crimes that he and Pintel keep committing, but he still seems convinced  that "divine providence" was what broke them out of jail. Pintel disagrees, saying that he was what broke them out, but Ragetti doesn't relent. And why should he? Pintel was wrong about what would happen to them after the curse was lifted, so maybe he's wrong about a lot of other things. Ragetti might see it as his duty now to teach Pintel some humility and eventually steer him away from the sinful life of a pirate. This gives Ragetti some confidence, and that makes him rebellious. And I think for all his annoyance, Pintel lets him rebel because he sees it as a good thing.

If Pintel really did feel guilty for involving Ragetti in their curse, he probably also felt guilty for getting him thrown in jail — so guilty, perhaps, that it pushed him to break them out. He probably also did that to save himself, but the fact that he's stopped mistreating Ragetti (thus allowing the younger man to give him grief all the time) says a lot about his own growth. Maybe he doesn't feel the need to act tough anymore now that they're rid of Barbossa's crew. Maybe lifting the curse and losing his immortality has made him so afraid of death that he doesn't mind having a bolder sidekick to watch his back now. Or maybe he's gained some perspective since their arrest and really is trying to rein in his temper for Ragetti's sake. In the little way that he can, maybe Pintel is still trying to make life better for his friend.

Whatever the reason for this restraint, it does seem to be making a positive difference. Along with speaking up and acting out more often, we also see Ragetti perform a few duties aboard the Black Pearl without Pintel, including a hazardous one that involves clinging to the outside of the hull to hold a longboat in place during a storm. By the end of the film, he's built up enough nerve to save Elizabeth from the giant Kraken squid by chopping off one of its tentacles. He never would have taken a risk like that in the first movie.

Not that Ragetti's Dog Brain is completely gone. We see him slip back into it twice in Dead Man's Chest, both at times when he's overwhelmed with emotion. As he and Pintel move in to fight Elizabeth for the titular chest, he sticks out his tongue like he's panting and goes back to mumbling and repeating what Pintel says. During the Kraken assault at the climax, he stops talking altogether and cowers close to Pintel for most of it. These moments seem to suggest that his more mature demeanor hasn't fully found its roots yet.

And this brings us to the third film, At World's End.

I've complained in the past about how this film handles Pintel's character, especially compared to how much better it handles Ragetti's. I still take issue with some of it, but I do feel like it plays out better if you watch it with this interpretation in mind.

We first see Pintel and Ragetti with three other members of Jack Sparrow's crew as they sneak into a building through a basement sewer. Ragetti is leading the mission, impressively enough, but when they enter the basement and a huge guard walks into view, his Dog Brain sends him running to hide behind Pintel again. This time though, the first mate Gibbs intercepts him. Gibbs says they don't have time for that kind of behavior anymore, then shoves Ragetti to the front of the line again.

After this, we start to notice three new dynamics with Pintel and Ragetti's relationship:

1. Ragetti spends more time on his own

2. Pintel spends more time with Gibbs

3. Pintel frequently follows Ragetti's lead without any arguments 

We don't know if these changes have been in place for a while since the second film or if the confrontation with Gibbs suddenly triggered them. Either way, it's interesting to see Pintel spending less time with his closest friend and more time with a former enemy. It's also interesting that in spite of his growing desire to become the Black Pearl's captain, he's willing to go along with Ragetti's ideas and let Ragetti do a lot of the talking for them in this film.

Pintel could just be so overwhelmed by everything in At World's End that he's content to go with the flow for now, even if it means giving Ragetti the oars, but I also think he agrees with Gibbs that Ragetti needs to grow more independent. It could be that letting his younger pal have more space and responsibility is his way of helping that to happen, and that warming up to the Pearl's first mate in the meantime is him trying to further secure a better future for them. The fact that the duo barely argues anymore also says volumes about Pintel's anger management progress since the first film.

Take the scene where the pirates escape from Davy Jones' Locker by turning the Pearl upside-down. Not only does Pintel humor Ragetti's plan to tie themselves to the mast as the ship tips over, but he also keeps a pretty level head after that plan turns out to be terrible. What's more, when this watery escape ruins their gunpowder, Ragetti clunks him on the head with his pistol to practice wielding it as a club instead and Pintel doesn't hit him back. This is the same man who once throttled Ragetti just for telling him he looked nice in a dress. Pintel doesn't even yell at his friend for the pistol incident. He just simmers for a few seconds, then lets it go. If that isn't proof of how much their relationship has changed since Curse of the Black Pearl, I don't know what is.

And just like in Dead Man's Chest, this new approach seems to pay off in the end. The two main obstacles that Ragetti has to overcome in At World's End are his Dog Brain and his fear of people, which are both represented to him by Captain Barbossa. The former cursed captain joins the crew again in this film, and with him comes a whole boatload of Ragetti's old insecurities. Not being allowed to hide behind Pintel all the time anymore probably makes that all the more harrowing.

But after days of being pushed around, slapped around, and even made to give up his wooden eye by Barbossa, Ragetti finally summons just enough courage and confidence to show up his tormentor right before the film's climax. This involves freeing the sea goddess Calypso from her human form by reciting an incantation, which he points out that Barbossa had failed to do properly. Once he frees Calypso, Ragetti also becomes free himself. He's free of his Dog Brain, free of his fears, and is now a stronger, braver, and more capable man.

I used to dislike how Ragetti gets this big moment (and several others) all to himself in At World's End while the biggest moment Pintel gets is a throw-away scene of him chickening out after yelling at Jack and Barbossa. It just felt like the writers were sidelining him and scrapping the duo concept for no good reason. However, if his underlying arc really is about him reforming so he can see his friend better off, then Ragetti's success with Barbossa and Calypso is Pintel's success as well. That big triumphant moment secretly belongs to both of them. It's theirs to share as a duo after all.

The only downside is that Calypso doesn't end up saving the pirates like they'd hoped she would. Once she's free, she just abandons them and creates a maelstrom to add chaos to the final battle. We even get a moment where Pintel looks down over the ship's rail and laments that "she's no help at all," almost like he's disappointed for Ragetti. Despite this, the two pull themselves together for the final battle. They help to win it, part ways with the heroes when it's over, and then go back to their usual pirates' lives. The difference this time is that they seem to be working together to move their ways up in the ranks now.

Pintel and Ragetti were supposed to appear in the fourth film, but for various reasons, that didn't end up happening. The Pirates of the Caribbean Wiki site claims that their subplot would have involved them getting separated, each thinking the other was dead, and then reuniting by the end. As nice as it could have been to see their relationship finally get some dramatic focus, I don't think it's needed. Pintel and Ragetti's story on screen ends with them standing side by side as equals on the deck of the Black Pearl, carving a new wooden eye and possibly plotting a mutiny against Barbossa. And since it's been shown that other crew men have survived what happens to the ship before the fourth film, we can assume that the duo did as well. All in all, it's easy to interpret a better life for both of them on the horizon.

Welcome to Everworld

If you were a kid in the '90's, chances are you crossed paths with the book series Animorphs in some way. Written by K.A. Applegate and Michael Grant, this sci-fi/action epic about kids turning into animals to fight off an alien invasion was one of the Scholastic Corporation's most popular IP's of that decade, rivaled only by Goosebumps. It had sixty-four books, numerous video games and toy lines, a TV show that ran for two seasons on Nickelodeon, and even cross promotions with fast food chains like Taco Bell and Pizza Hut that sold Animorphs collectibles with their kids' meals. An official graphic novel adaptation is now in the works, and the series still has a devout fanbase.

And rightly so. I started reading Animorphs at age nine, and to this day, it's easily one of the most powerful and formative works of literature that I've ever read. It was funny but tragic, relatable but imaginative, entertaining but horrific, and it often hit you with a sobering dose of reality that made the message of each book stay with you long after you finished reading. Best of all, its mature themes and ideas about the morality of war have made it just as meaningful and relevant to read as an adult as it did as a kid, so I highly recommend the series.

With that said, I want to discuss another book series that Applegate and Grant wrote during that same time called Everworld.

I occasionally saw ads for this series in the backs of the Animorphs books (exactly four of them), but the ads were always vague, and eventually those back pages were used to advertise other things. A promotional CD called The Everworld Experience was given out in bookstores upon the third Everworld book's release, but if the series was ever sold in Scholastic's monthly school catalogues or at any of its school book fairs, I can't find evidence of that. Botton line, it barely had any of the exposure or success that Animorphs did, and the series came to an earlier-than-planned conclusion after two years and twelve books.

This is a real shame, because now that I've finally sat down and read all of Everworld, I think the series is great. It deals with four Chicago teens (David, Christopher, April, and Jalil) who are dragged by a witch named Senna to a parallel world where the gods, monsters, and famous figures from all of Earth's mythologies live at constant odds with each other. The teens exist in this place, called Everworld, and on Earth simultaneously, with their consciousnesses jumping back and forth from one world to the other whenever they go to sleep. In addition to staying alive, their main goals in Everworld are to save it from an invading alien god named Ka Anor and to keep Senna from transporting more dangerous people to—and from—Earth.

I should start by saying that Everworld was written for an older audience than Animorphs; for high schoolers instead of middle schoolers. As a result, it has a much darker and grittier tone with less, shall we say, innocent protagonists. It shares a few themes with Animorphs, such as the stress of leading a secret double-life and having to compromise personal values for the greater good, but it also deals with themes like letting go of old perceptions as you grow up, realizing the cost of your deepest desires, and deciding whether to keep to the safe life you know or venture into a greater unknown.

Everworld's premise is clearly a metaphor for coming of age, a representation of the crossroads between childhood and adulthood where you need to start finding a direction for your life. For all of its fantastic settings and elements, the series is really about the four main characters' internal conflicts, not the external conflict around them. The external conflict is just a device that serves to make the characters deal with their internal conflicts, and this is important to keep in mind when reading the series. We don't see much of how the teens change Everworld by getting involved in its dealings, just how much deciding to get involved changes them.

As for the characters themselves, I think we're given a pretty well-rounded and relatable main cast. We have David, the self-appointed leader who feels unfulfilled in his normal life and is desperate to prove his worth due to his toxic masculine upbringing; Christopher, the less-than-sensitive class clown who leans on immature humor and sitcoms to cope with his problems; April, the wily, religious idealist who takes care of business when she needs to; and Jalil, the level-headed skeptic who tries to learn the science of everything so he can master it. A huge part of the overarching conflict is these four learning to get along and work together, and once that starts to happen, they become a fun group of friends to go through all of these crazy adventures with.

I've read complaints that some of their early character flaws (especially Christopher's tendencies towards xenophobic humor) turn off a lot of readers after the first few books. That's understandable, but the point of giving the characters those flaws is that they eventually see the error of their ways and reform. I don't approve of Christopher's intial brand of humor, but I actually like him the most out of the four because he undergoes the biggest and most dramatic transformation throughout the series. You see how finding a life goal in a world where he can't tune out reality so easily makes him a better person.

The other major character is Senna the witch, who really serves as the main antagonist of the series. Not that she's a villain; a major part of the story is trying to figure out her motives and allegiances, since she seems to help the four leads as often as she gets them in trouble. We even get a book narrated by her eventually, and that does a great job of swaying you to feel one way about her right before the series yanks you in the other direction. She's not as complicated as Snape from Harry Potter or Gollum from Lord of the Rings (even though she does shape-shift into him in one rather amusing scene) but I found her arc just as engrossing and its conclusion extremely rewarding. The whole series is worth reading just to get that rush at the end.

And that level of engagement is the ultimate reason why I recommend Everworld. It's one of the most immersive works I've read in a while, both in setting and tone. It takes you right back to the '90's from Page 1 with its now-nostalgic pop culture references and laid-back view of the world, and then it slowly pokes at that bubble with an ominous undertone until all hell finally breaks loose. The descriptions of Everworld effectively capture the feel of every location and threat, and Applegate and Grant's tongue-in-cheek humor goes a long way in keeping the series self-aware enough to avoid turning hokey. One of my favorite parts is in Book 4 when the teens try to catch a wild boar for food, only to have it beat them up and then suddenly order them in English to give it what little food they do have. It becomes a running joke after incidents like this for David, Christopher, April, and Jalil to mumble, "W.T.E. Welcome to Everworld," and then move on with their business.

Also, borrowing so many of its settings and characters from preexisting mythologies (with the authors' own creative twists, of course) builds anticipation as you wonder what other pantheons the series might explore as it goes on. It also gives the protagonists some prior knowledge going into each conflict, especially when some of them start using their "visits" back to Earth to research mythology. This helps endear them to readers by showing their proactive sides, as well as their overarching growth throughout the series as they start trying to help Everworld instead of escape from it.

What's interesting though is that the scenes on Earth are also very descriptive and immersive. It's easy in cross-world narratives like this for the "real world" to take a back seat to the more creative fantasy world, but the Earth scenes in Everworld have their own overarching story that also builds into a genuinely suspenseful conflict. This really sells the idea that David, Christopher, April, and Jalil still have some grounding in their normal lives that keeps holding them back from fully embracing their new lives in Everworld.

With that said, I do wish that their families had more of a presence in the series. The families in Animorphs were very well defined and prominent in a lot of the B-plots of some books. This made us like them almost as much as the Animorphs themselves by the end of the series, which raised the stakes tremendously whenever things started to escalate. In Everworld, we see the families occasionally but get very little sense of their personalities or the teens' relationships with them.

I don't think either of David's parents ever makes an appearance throughout the whole series, and I actually forgot for a while if Jalil's mother was even alive until he mentions her in one of the other characters' books. Things like this make it hard to feel the full emotional weight of certain events near the end of the series. I guess the idea is that teenagers going through major life changes like these just aren't always that close to their families, but it still feels like this particular element of the story could have had a little more focus to sell how torn the characters are between their two lives.

It's worth noting that Christopher's parents and brother probably get the most character out of all the families, with scenes as early as the second book showing their interests and personalities as they banter with him. Given his similarities to Marco, the main comedic character from Animorphs, I'm starting to think Christopher was the authors' favorite lead as well.

Also, one of the Earth antagonists in Everworld is named Mr. Trent. This was also the human alias of the main villain on the Animorphs TV show, which predates Everworld. I can't find any information on how both of these characters came to have the same name, as Applegate and Grant didn't write the TV show, but it certainly has me conjuring all kinds of theories about the two book series existing in the same universe.

So why wasn't Everworld more successful if it's so good? Why didn't Scholastic advertise the hell out of it to at least try and hook the millions of Animorphs fans back then?

Sadly, I think the answer lies in the reader demographics. When you're dealing with kids, a couple of years can mean a huge difference in maturity and what's considered appropriate material for them. Animorphs was surprisingly graphic and intense for a children's book series, but it was still written for children. I can't recall a single swear word ever being said in it, and things like drugs, sex, and xenophobia were either very vaguely implied, disguised in metaphors, or presented as problems that the alien characters (not the humans) struggle with.

The very first Everworld book features flashbacks where David recalls seeing a camp counselor molest a child and hearing a football coach call a player the "F" word for not being tough enough on the field—and they don't just say "the 'F' word" in the book either. Add a few dollops of religion, sexuality, infidelity, teen alcoholism, and other adult language throughout each book, and there was no way Scholastic could promote this series to the same kids who read Animorphs. The Everworld books don't even have that bright red Scholastic logo at the bottoms of their covers; there's just a tiny, inconspicuous logo on the spine and an even less conspicuous trademark credit on the back.

Again, I can't currently find any information about this. I'm very curious to know how this situation came to be though. Did Scholastic give the authors more leeway for Everworld because of Animorphs' success and then found out too late how far the pair had run with that? Did the company want to experiment with publishing more adult material but then started getting cold feet closer to Everworld's release?

The worst part of this, if it's true, is that Scholastic may have been right to worry. According to some of the YouTube comments and online book reviews I've read, a lot of kids who read Animorphs in the '90's were barred by their parents from reading Everworld. Some say their parents found the series too dark and inappropriate. Some say their parents took issue with it for religious reasons, due to all the pagan deities that it shows to exist. One person even said they were almost barred from Animorphs too after their parents vetoed Everworld. Not the kind of thing a Scholastic executive in 1999 would have wanted to hear.

I know that Scholastic would go on to publish the Harry Potter and Hunger Games series over the next decade, and both of those saw their share of controversy too. All things considered though, I do side a little with the parents when it comes to Everworld. The topics that I listed three paragraphs ago are important for teens to discuss, and it's realistic to include them in a story about teens, but I feel like the series presents them a little too bluntly for me to totally disagree with the parental discretion. There's an entire book about a lustful underworld goddess who does nothing but capture men and force them to "please" her under threat of castration, and there's an ongoing subplot where April questions what the existence of all the different pagan deities in Everworld means for her own Catholic beliefs. Even if this series had come out today, there would be a legitimate reason for the concerns.

I'll never say to bar your kids from reading anything, but here's a thing to consider: the main characters in Animorphs are roughly thirteen years old at the start of the series, they're sixteen by the last book, and the Everworld characters are sixteen throughout their series. Maybe letting your kids read Animorphs first and giving them a chance to mature alongside those characters is a good gauge for when you think they'd be old enough to read Everworld.

And if they decide for themselves that they don't want to read Everworld, then that's them choosing a direction in life, just like the series would want them to make.