Move over Rosa Parks. Step aside Joan of Arc. According to a recent interview with The Times, Johnny Depp—yes, that Johnny Depp—has declared himself the official crash test dummy for the #MeToo movement. That’s right, folks. The man best known for playing a drunk pirate in 19 consecutive films has heroically revealed that he, not women speaking out about systemic abuse, was the real sacrificial lamb in Hollywood.
Let’s give him a moment of silence. Or better yet, 127 minutes—the runtime of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales, which also functions well as a metaphor for his career.
The First Martyr of MeToo (™)
In a world where Harvey Weinstein had barely tripped over his first subpoena, Johnny was already falling nobly on the sword of public opinion. Or so he claims.
“I was the crash test dummy,” he said, presumably while sipping something aged in a skull-shaped bottle and wearing 43 rings. “I got hit first. Before the car even left the lot.”
Sure, Jan. Never mind the literal dozens of women who came forward about abuse and harassment long before you and Amber turned the courtroom into a circus themed around mutual toxicity and poorly photoshopped bruises. No, according to Johnny, accountability wasn’t inevitable, it was targeted. At him. Like a cannonball in a slow-motion Michael Bay montage.
He was just out here, trying to wear scarves and mumble in peace.
Depp vs. The Mob (By “Mob,” We Mean Consequences)
In the interview, Depp paints a portrait of a man wronged by cancel culture, trial-by-Twitter, and—most tragically—a loss of eyeliner endorsement deals. It’s a tale as old as time: man becomes millionaire playing quirky, problematic characters for decades; man faces allegations; man declares himself the true victim because…people were mean to him on Instagram?
“It was like being punished before the trial,” he lamented, apparently unaware that the phrase “public opinion” does not come with due process. Also, Amber Heard didn’t invent cancel culture, but thank you for your white-linen TED Talk on male fragility.
To be fair, Depp was dropped from projects—some of which were, let’s be honest, unwatchable cash-grabs riding on fumes (Fantastic Beasts, anyone?). But being fired from a job and being sentenced to jail are not the same thing, unless your idea of jail includes $30 million penthouses and unlimited scarves.
The Problem with the Crash Test Dummy Analogy
Let’s unpack this metaphor. Crash test dummies are passive, mute mannequins used to test the limits of destruction on impact. They’re lifeless tools that serve to save actual people from harm.
If Johnny is a crash test dummy, then by definition:
- He contributed nothing to the betterment of the people driving the car (read: society).
- He was hurt purely because someone needed a body to launch at a wall.
- He learned nothing from the crash.
Honestly? Maybe he’s right.
Revisionist Redemption Tour: Stop 127
Like many men caught in public controversies, Depp is trying to flip the script from “maybe not a great person” to “tragic legend of the misunderstood.” It’s a vibe. A delusional vibe. But a vibe nonetheless.
What’s next on the Redemption Tour? An NFT line called Scars of the Caribbean? A podcast with Russell Brand called Uncanceled & Unfiltered? A memoir titled Just the Tip (of the Iceberg): How Hollywood Tried to Sink Me?
We’re just waiting for the part where he reveals the real villain was feminism, or possibly Aquaman 2.
Meanwhile, in Reality…
Survivors of abuse—men and women—continue to face real consequences for coming forward: harassment, loss of income, shattered reputations, and retraumatization. Meanwhile, Depp’s fan base includes suburban moms with Jack Sparrow keychains and incels who think due process means “she should shut up because I like his movies.”
Let’s not forget: this wasn’t an innocent man caught in the crossfire. This was a relationship that devolved into mutually assured emotional destruction—and instead of examining that truth, Depp decided to put on his victim cape (leather, probably) and declare that the real injustice is that he wasn’t asked to do Pirates 6: Jack Sparrow Goes to Therapy.
Why This Narrative Matters
When high-profile men co-opt movements built to protect the vulnerable, it muddies the waters for everyone. It reinforces the myth that being questioned—or criticized—is the same thing as being oppressed. It turns public accountability into a pity party with catered absinthe.
Depp isn’t a crash test dummy. He’s a celebrity with the resources to reshape his public image via curated interviews, selective evidence, and a fan base frothing at the mouth for reasons that have little to do with justice and a lot to do with projection.
He didn’t crash. He drifted. In a Porsche. Through a red carpet. On the way to a Rolling Stone interview where he’d probably compare himself to Van Gogh and say the scissors in Edward Scissorhands were a metaphor for his soul.
Final Thoughts
Johnny Depp wants us to believe he was punished before anyone asked questions, burned at the stake while holding a bottle of Sauvage cologne, a misunderstood hero whose only crime was being eccentric in public.
But let’s be real: this isn’t the crucifixion of a good man—it’s the very public ego flare of someone who thought he could outrun the reckoning.
And now? He wants a gold medal for showing up late to the crash and yelling, “But what about me?”