What else can you say about James Cameron's Avatar than "wow?" The visuals are stunning and lead to a feeling of complete immersion incomparable to anything seen in the last decade. Ten years and hundreds of millions of dollars in the making, this film marks a culmination of technologies—the 3D experience and computer generated imagery. The last decade has seen visual effects dominated by computer created phantasmagorias which have led to greater flexibility in terms of directorial license and story-telling possibilities. Shots heretofore unheard of are becoming common-place, as the computer generated world of Pandora clearly demonstrates.
Within moments of the opening shot, Avatar makes it clear that this will be a movie where the envelope has not only been pushed, but stamped, put in the mail, and delivered to a zip code on the other side of the galaxy. Minutes into the movie we as viewers are dropped into the jungles of Pandora and land in a quasi-military installation where a vast nameless corporation has set up a group of scientists and mercenaries to quell the native Na'vi. All of this is vast expense is undertaken to mine a mineral of unknown property which nevertheless sells for (presumably) incredible sums. (According to the movie "twenty-million," but with the economy the way it is and inflation over the next hundred and forty years, who knows?)
Into this world is thrust our protagonist who is recruited to replace his (deceased) scientist brother on the Avatar Project. This is the brainchild of Dr. Grace Augustine (played by sci-fi legend and Cameron alumna Sigourney Weaver) who wishes to establish a repertoire with the natives by infiltrating their alien culture with artificially grown avatars, combinations of human and Na'vi DNA that look a lot like their human "drivers," but are nevertheless blue skinned and pointy-toothed Na'vi.
The plot is pretty straightforward. Good guy discovers an affinity with the natives, uncovers a plot by the evil corporation (in this case their proxy, the mercenary commander played by Stephen Lang), teams up with the bows-and-arrows-wielding natives and through sheer willpower defeats the corporation. Through all of this the viewer is treated to a new world, a wholly invented (and quite inventive) ecology and population rendered in stunning detail that never fails to delight.
None of these plot points are particularly novel and the specific details of foreshadowing are blatant enough that a conscientious viewer will at some point realize what will happen in ten or twenty minutes. But the spectacle of it makes these deficiencies less glaring than they could be. In fact, so engrossing is the movie that even when I noticed the narrative problems, I promptly dismissed them so I could settle back into the movie.
Of particular interest though, is the way in which humanity is portrayed in this movie. Much ink has been spilled over the imperialist designs on Pandora, and the ham-handed way in which Cameron seems to pursue that theme; often these same complaints are addressed in the same paragraph as the very real criticism that Cameron lacks the characterization and plot depths that would make this a truly epic movie. To address those concerns, as a narrative, this is a plot driven story. That's all. As to the other complaints, a story like this must skimp on developing character in order to further its aim. Would you root for the underdog as heartily by the end if you had grown to love—or at least empathize with—several tangential characters soon to be killed in the uprising? Indeed, once the antagonist has been revealed as less the demon and more a human being driven by impulses and urges and rationalities that perhaps you even agree with, he loses your hatred. Military and political leaders throughout history have known this one simple fact, employed ably by storytellers: You must hate a man to kill him. Or in the case of Avatar, you must hate the antagonist to cheer for the protagonist.
Similarly, when examining the anthropomorphous Na'vi I couldn't help but notice the references to the exploitation of the Indigenous American Population by American colonists (of many nationalities) and later the United States. Neither I, nor any of the sons of our fathers, can speak for the intentions of our fathers; we live with the consequences of their actions. Yet, we can learn from them. To this James Cameron seems most intent in the telling of his story. It is, in fact, the central theme.
Innately we sense that it is unjust for the powerful to tread upon the powerless; it is a theme that echoes strongly with us, as cruelty seems often to have been perpetrated upon the weaker by the stronger. This feeling of injustice makes it easier to sympathize with, and then cheer for, the Na'vi uprising that eventually ousts humanity from Pandora.
It is from this and themes like it that stories derive their power, for stories are the object lessons of morality, teaching us the value of justice, honor, love and hope. More than simply lessons, however, justice triumphing over the wicked, of love and honor victorious against violence and greed are tales which transcend their genre and medium. They resonate throughout history, reminding us of our place in the world, and of our place amongst ourselves. They are the myths that are told around fires, passed from mouth to mouth in an unbroken succession until they become legends placed on canvas screens suddenly rendered in depth by a brush made not of horse or camel hair but the digital wizardry of pixels and bits.
But regardless of where and when they are told, it is the skill of the storyteller that paints pictures most vivid in our minds and allows them to transcend the bounds of time and resonate with us again. With Avatar, James Cameron has demonstrated that he is such a storyteller.
Within moments of the opening shot, Avatar makes it clear that this will be a movie where the envelope has not only been pushed, but stamped, put in the mail, and delivered to a zip code on the other side of the galaxy. Minutes into the movie we as viewers are dropped into the jungles of Pandora and land in a quasi-military installation where a vast nameless corporation has set up a group of scientists and mercenaries to quell the native Na'vi. All of this is vast expense is undertaken to mine a mineral of unknown property which nevertheless sells for (presumably) incredible sums. (According to the movie "twenty-million," but with the economy the way it is and inflation over the next hundred and forty years, who knows?)
Into this world is thrust our protagonist who is recruited to replace his (deceased) scientist brother on the Avatar Project. This is the brainchild of Dr. Grace Augustine (played by sci-fi legend and Cameron alumna Sigourney Weaver) who wishes to establish a repertoire with the natives by infiltrating their alien culture with artificially grown avatars, combinations of human and Na'vi DNA that look a lot like their human "drivers," but are nevertheless blue skinned and pointy-toothed Na'vi.
The plot is pretty straightforward. Good guy discovers an affinity with the natives, uncovers a plot by the evil corporation (in this case their proxy, the mercenary commander played by Stephen Lang), teams up with the bows-and-arrows-wielding natives and through sheer willpower defeats the corporation. Through all of this the viewer is treated to a new world, a wholly invented (and quite inventive) ecology and population rendered in stunning detail that never fails to delight.
None of these plot points are particularly novel and the specific details of foreshadowing are blatant enough that a conscientious viewer will at some point realize what will happen in ten or twenty minutes. But the spectacle of it makes these deficiencies less glaring than they could be. In fact, so engrossing is the movie that even when I noticed the narrative problems, I promptly dismissed them so I could settle back into the movie.
Of particular interest though, is the way in which humanity is portrayed in this movie. Much ink has been spilled over the imperialist designs on Pandora, and the ham-handed way in which Cameron seems to pursue that theme; often these same complaints are addressed in the same paragraph as the very real criticism that Cameron lacks the characterization and plot depths that would make this a truly epic movie. To address those concerns, as a narrative, this is a plot driven story. That's all. As to the other complaints, a story like this must skimp on developing character in order to further its aim. Would you root for the underdog as heartily by the end if you had grown to love—or at least empathize with—several tangential characters soon to be killed in the uprising? Indeed, once the antagonist has been revealed as less the demon and more a human being driven by impulses and urges and rationalities that perhaps you even agree with, he loses your hatred. Military and political leaders throughout history have known this one simple fact, employed ably by storytellers: You must hate a man to kill him. Or in the case of Avatar, you must hate the antagonist to cheer for the protagonist.
Similarly, when examining the anthropomorphous Na'vi I couldn't help but notice the references to the exploitation of the Indigenous American Population by American colonists (of many nationalities) and later the United States. Neither I, nor any of the sons of our fathers, can speak for the intentions of our fathers; we live with the consequences of their actions. Yet, we can learn from them. To this James Cameron seems most intent in the telling of his story. It is, in fact, the central theme.
Innately we sense that it is unjust for the powerful to tread upon the powerless; it is a theme that echoes strongly with us, as cruelty seems often to have been perpetrated upon the weaker by the stronger. This feeling of injustice makes it easier to sympathize with, and then cheer for, the Na'vi uprising that eventually ousts humanity from Pandora.
It is from this and themes like it that stories derive their power, for stories are the object lessons of morality, teaching us the value of justice, honor, love and hope. More than simply lessons, however, justice triumphing over the wicked, of love and honor victorious against violence and greed are tales which transcend their genre and medium. They resonate throughout history, reminding us of our place in the world, and of our place amongst ourselves. They are the myths that are told around fires, passed from mouth to mouth in an unbroken succession until they become legends placed on canvas screens suddenly rendered in depth by a brush made not of horse or camel hair but the digital wizardry of pixels and bits.
But regardless of where and when they are told, it is the skill of the storyteller that paints pictures most vivid in our minds and allows them to transcend the bounds of time and resonate with us again. With Avatar, James Cameron has demonstrated that he is such a storyteller.
Tell Your Friends