Ahoy! Call me Ishmael. Nah I just be pulling yer anchor. My real name be Bartholomew Ruffin, a lowly swab working the decks of the sloop Prince Philip’s Retribution, commandeer’d years ago from the great an’ terrible Blackbeard himself. Me hearties — a crusty brigade of bold buccaneers — and I have sojourned the seven seas in search of grand adventure. Lamentably, Port Royal and Tartuga were both wretch’d isles that hosted nothin’ save foul pestilence and mutinous drunkards.



After drifting for hundreds of fathoms, a westerly wind caught our sails and delivered us unto a land wholly new to our eyes — Port o’ T’coma. With wallops of joy our weary crew dropped anchor and scoured the mainland seekin’ diversions of all sorts. Most have gone to Tall Ships a-plunderin’ landlubbers of their free trinkets at the many merchants’ tables. Our fearless peglegged Cap’n hobbled over to a queerly-shap’d museum to have his glass eye polished. As for me, a bonny lass has caught me fancy. She shall accompany me on the Sixth of July, to the Olde Rialto Theatre’s screening of the silent classic The Black Pirate.



The film, made in the Year of Our Lord 1926, boasts enough drama and action to shiver yer timbers and buckle yer swashes. The story follows a nobleman as bloodthirsty scallywags maraud his boat on the high seas, slaying his father in the scuffle. Curse those thievin’ dogs! Arrrgh! But by the grace o’ God the son survives and vows revenge. He hunts down the wicked killers and, posing as a pirate, joins their posse. Throw a kidnapped damsel an’ cannons an’ swords a-plenty into the fray and the stage is set for a sea-churnin’ good-versus-evil finale. Aye, movie magic at its simplest and most endearing … and not one villain with a face full of slippery tentacles in sight.  



Plenty of work went into Black Pirate, especially from its star. Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., a favorite of the silent era, not only played the title character but worked behind the cameras as both producer and co-writer. Fairbanks wanted to give fans as rollicking — and authentic — a nautical tale as possible. He developed his own stunts for the impressive action sequences and spent countless hours researching pirate lore. (Great bloomin’ barnacles! I could have been on-set consultant!)



A crafty rogue with a stout heart, Fairbanks convinced his studio to shoot Black in Technicolor. Sayeth he, “Pirates demand color. Stories of modern life … might be told in black and white, but what pirates needed was something more vivid.” Fairbanks parlayed and won, dazzling audiences and making this the second feature ever shot in the new style.     



The Rialto’s revelries commence at 7 o’clock in the evening. The $15 entrance fee gets one a place in the several raffles takin’ place. Profits raised go toward Tacoma’s esteemed First Night, an annual celebration of the arts. Started on New Year’s Eve 1993, the tradition was recently plagued by “weird political and financial” devils, sayeth sweet pea, the events coordinator at King’s Books. First Night rose from the murky depths of Davy Jones’ locker — yar! — last year due to popular support. “There’s definitely a community need,” quoth sir pea. “There’s no event really like it that brings together so many different facets … from kids’ hip-hop dance groups to yodeling.” With a passion for silent films, he enjoys how the Black Pirate screening, like First Night itself, will give people a taste of hidden art.



Without the cries of cutthroats or the clashing of cutlasses, Black Pirate needs a robust score for keeping up with its relentless action. Who better to enliven the film with music than internationally renowned organist (and Tacoma dweller) Dennis James? Hailed by pea as the “preeminent silent movie organist in the country,” James has traversed the globe, studying and playing to sold-out shows for more than 40 years. This Sunday he brings his Silent Film Concerts production company back home. The matey fellow grants his current success to a widespread renaissance of the older cinema: “There seems to be a marvelous fascination for what is now a nearly forgotten part of the original practice of exhibiting film: live musical accompaniment at each screening.”

A virtuoso at the helm of a silent classic? Sounds better than Aztec gold. Yo ho ho! A Pirate night for me!



[Rialto Theater, Sunday, July 6, 7 p.m., $15 at LeRoy Jewelers, Glenna’s Clothing, King’s Books and the Broadway Center box office, 310 S. Ninth, Tacoma, 253.591.5894]