What is it about pirates that we find so attractive?

More to the point, what is it about an eyelinered-up, dreadlock-sporting Johnny Depp that unleashes torrents of oestrogen to gush down the cinema aisles?

There's plenty of time to ponder this while watching Dead Man's Chest, the second Pirates of the Caribbean instalment, as it weighs in at a self-indulgent - albeit entertaining - two hours.

Jumping in where the first film left off, we're treated to the aftermath of Jack Sparrow's escape - Keira Knightley's attempt at a disconsolate expression, complete with mildly heaving bosom.

As Elizabeth Swan, she and Will Turner (Orlando Bloom), are arrested on their wedding day by the dastardly Lord Beckett for aiding Jack's flight.

Before they can make it up the aisle, Elizabeth's clapped in irons and Will is offered a deal by Beckett. Bring him Jack's compass, and they'll be set free.

So off he goes, only to find that Jack is more intent on escaping the clutches of Davy Jones (he of locker fame), having promised him his soul in return for the captainship of the Black Pearl.

The only salvation from an eternity of drudgery on Jones' ghost ship lies in a locked chest buried somewhere in the Caribbean.

By the time they set off to find it, they've been joined by Elizabeth, the defrocked Commodore Norrington, and Will's dead father, who is already part of Jones' supernatural flock.

There's plenty that's good with this film, with spectacular special effects making Jones' crew look like grotesque Drer paintings, Elizabeth and Jack's Judas kiss and some rollicking set piece fights incorporating bell ringing and giant hamster wheels.

Johnny Depp's turn as Jack is faultless. His shambolic swagger and rolling eyes effortlessly carry the film, and there's a fantastic scene with him ending up a human kebab while fleeing from bloodthirsty cannibals.

Morphed into a giant squid, an unrecognisable Bill Nighy also puts in a stellar performance as Davy Jones.

It's a shame the same can't be said of the Knightley-Bloom coupling, whose only outstanding feature is the ample fake tan which makes the other cast members look positively albino beside them.

True, they look great - Knightley's unflattering centre parting is largely covered by a hat, and Bloom gets his Darcy moment by emerging, white shirt-clad, from the waves.

But their lacklustre performances make an otherwise fantastic film drag just a little too much.

The end isn't an end as such - more a frustrating to be continued' teaser for the final instalment.