To give the characters that grimy on-camera look, every extra about to shoot was sent by Gore Verbinski to circle the huge, gravel-textured outdoor lot at Disney Studios—under the blazing sun—for the three days Matthew was filming.
It was only late August, but the Los Angeles sun was still fierce.
The root of it all was Verbinski's dissatisfaction with the costumes; even after distressing, the test footage lacked that dirty, lived-in texture.
Verbinski's rule for extras was clear: wear the assigned costumes under the sun for three straight days—no taking them off, no washing. Bathing was forbidden for the entire three days.
Of course, the production paid the extras triple scale.
The result was obvious: after three days in the sun with dust blowing around, the clothes were soaked in sweat and grime, hair clumped together, and the reek of filthy, grimy medieval peasants was perfectly recreated.
It wasn't just the extras; aside from the actors playing English gentlemen, everyone—including Matthew—wore pre-distressed costumes stained and worn so they looked like real, used garments rather than fresh wardrobe pieces.
Matthew knew this was exactly the look the film needed. For a big-budget period adventure—far from a typical Disney fairy-tale, even with fantasy elements—directors, producers, and the studio all aimed for historical authenticity.
Back when pirates of the caribbean ran rampant, only nobles bathed daily. Daily shaves, styled hair—what kind of pirate lifestyle is that? Who expects a band of cutthroat pirates to flash perfect, pearly-white grins?
It wasn't just the clothes; the styling followed the same rule.
Take himself: the makeup didn't hide flaws or give smooth, fair skin; it emphasized rough, rugged lines to showcase the raw, masculine wildness.
Hollywood does this because it mirrors social aesthetics. While practicing reading, he'd seen a famous book on film styling that claimed Western taste still worships the primal, wild charisma born of the industrial age.
In other words, mainstream society favors muscular, untamed beauty.
You can see it among A-list stars: rugged types dominate; delicate, pretty ones are rare.
Walt Disney Group was willing to sink huge money into the project because they believed in its prospects, and Disney Studios prioritized resources for the production.
The massive Stage Two was used for the cave and dilapidated medieval town; Stage Three served as offices and training; neighboring Stage Four was also handed over to the crew.
There, the governor's mansion interior was built.
After a week of shooting on Stage Two, production moved to Stage Four to film scenes before the pirates breach the mansion.
Matthew and Keira Knightley appeared on set together for the first time.
Having just wrapped the shot of Will Turner delivering a sword to the governor, the crew set up the next scene.
Keira Knightley, in English lady's dress, stood on a temporary wooden staircase; at the director's call she began descending.
Footsteps clacked. Matthew looked up; across from him the governor glanced over as well. "Elizabeth, you look beautiful."
"Will!" Keira Knightley's eyes found only Matthew. "It's so good to see you."
She hurried down the stairs.
Matthew stared at Keira Knightley as if she were his goddess, his dream lover.
Ignoring the governor like a father figure, Keira Knightley came straight to Matthew and said eagerly, "I dreamed about you last night."
"Me?" Matthew's British accent rivaled Keira Knightley's.
"Do you think this is proper?" the governor interjected.
Keira Knightley paid no heed and asked Matthew, "Do you remember the day we met?"
"How could I forget?" Matthew's eyes never left her. "I couldn't forget, Miss Swann."
Keira Knightley gazed back. "How many times have I told you—call me Elizabeth."
They stared into each other's eyes, as if nothing else existed.
The scene ended there. Verbinski shook his head and shouted, "Cut! Reset!"
Departments quickly repositioned; shooting restarted, but halfway through Verbinski called halt again.
He walked onto set and said bluntly, "Matthew, Keira—emotion! I need real emotion from you!"
Matthew glanced at Keira Knightley; she happened to look back, their eyes met, then both turned to director Gore Verbinski.
"Right there—that's the feeling!" Verbinski had caught the tiny exchange. "That unspoken chemistry!"
Certain he'd made himself clear, he strode off the set and called, "Let's go again!"
But shooting had barely begun—Keira had only descended the stairs—when he yelled cut. They reset, rolled, he cut again; after the third halt the unit shut down.
Verbinski stepped in, adjusting his gold-rim glasses, and forced patience into his voice. "Matthew, Will Turner adores Elizabeth."
He turned to Keira. "Elizabeth likes Will Turner too. Both feel it, both know it—they're secret admirers who haven't spoken up. Are you giving me that?"
Matthew stayed silent; Keira bit her lip.
"You need to invest emotion, to grasp the characters' mood!" Watching the takes, Verbinski felt the two might as well be staring at a post. He pointed at Matthew, then Keira. "You love her, she loves you—simple. Pour it in!"
"Matthew, Keira—talk it out. Ten minutes," he finished and left.
At those words, the actor playing the governor's father trailed him off the stage.
"Ever done a romance scene?" Matthew asked Keira.
"Yes." She shot back, "You?"
"Me too." He lowered his voice. "Stand close to the lead, look affectionate, touch a little—done."
He shrugged. "This restrained, soulful stuff—never."
Keira pouted, her under-bite more obvious. "I have, but I don't feel a spark for you. Your muscles are too bulky, lines too rough—too wild, not refined. Hard to get a spark."
"Hey, Keira, seriously?" Matthew, proud of his looks, bristled. "Well, I don't feel one for you either."
She sniffed. "Excuses. You're good at action, weak at acting—think I can't tell?"
They spoke so softly, with no one else on set, that anyone outside would assume it was script talk.
Matthew waved a hand. "Keira, you're vain. All I see are your flaws—hence no spark."
"Flaws?" She stepped closer. "Like what? More than yours?"
"Sure." He mimicked her British lilt. "Square jaw—don't like it."
Keira almost touched her face, then stopped for the makeup. She knew she had a square jaw; it's why she'd body-doubled in Star Wars.
Truth was truth—she let it pass.
"And?" she asked.
"Forget it…" He waved. "Let's focus on the scene—real business."
They'd long since strayed off-topic.
Keira nodded. "Your acting's mediocre."
Harsh but true; Matthew wasn't about to argue with a girl not yet eighteen.
"Here's the easiest trick…" Keira, delighted to tutor an older actor, said, "You've dated, right? Pretend I'm your girl—remember how you first chased her—and plug that in. Much better."
Matthew listened, mulling it over.
He was self-taught; Keira, though showbiz-born, had no formal training—another wild card.
Seeing no response, she asked, "Don't tell me you've never dated?"
"I have." He shrugged. "Worth a shot."
"Good." Keira stepped back. "If you can feel it for me, I'll feel it for you."
Ten minutes flew. When cameras rolled, Matthew poured in emotion, treating Keira as his crush. The child-star Keira, though no prodigy, had skill; to Matthew she felt different from the earlier blown takes.
Two more takes and the scene finally passed.