On a snowy Friday in 2009, I recall leaving the theatre with a friend after seeing Avatar for the first time, pulling off my 3D glasses, and saying something like, "Well, that was wonderful." Because despite the numerous tropes that James Cameron's marvel of a movie borrowed from benign (FernGully) to less benign (Dances With Wolves) projects, and despite the unsettling oddity of the tall, blue Navi, created through motion capture and who knows how many layers of digital shaping and smoothing, I was truly blown away by it. Though perhaps lacking Titanic's emotional (and physical) pull, it was a cheesy, jaw-dropping, roaring epic that was the whole and joyful creation of one person.
However, a matter of weeks later—or, at the very least, As the Oscar season progressed, something changed. Maybe I listened to too many of the movie's critics, or maybe I began to doubt my own original impression of the movie, fearing I had been duped by a dazzling object held out in front of me. Like so many of us, I began to scoff at Avatar before promptly forgetting about it a short while later. Even though I may have caught a scene or two on FX over the years, I never went back to watch the movie on TV and instead let it vanish into the mists of my memory. I laughed at the foolishness of it all when Cameron announced and then really began making his Avatar sequels, confident that no one truly wanted more of that most popular film. forgotten of the greatest box office hits.
But something that had been dormant in me started to stir when I saw the trailer for the follow-up, Avatar: The Way of Water. Going back to the lush, perilous moon of Pandora to spend more time with the Navi and they're -spiritual ties to nature would be a curiosity or even just a little bit of joy. In order to see if I could recreate the exhilarating, if fleeting, sense of awe I felt on the corner of 34th and 8th all those winters ago, I went to see the re-release of the original Avatar this weekend.
Avatar appears to still function. The silly elements are still present, including the corny dialogue, the well-intended but stilted symbolism, and the occasionally stilted performances. However, it was exciting to watch the movie while completely submerged in its stunning 3D lushness and in awe of a director who had such complete control over his towering grandeur. Although I am 13 years older (and very worn out by a decade or more of superhero clutter), I didn't find anything out of date or retroactively recycled in Avatar's maximalism. It looms as enormous as it ever did, not some nostalgically charming thing.
Additionally, the movie is savvier and cleverer than I remembered. Stephen Lang makes a great antagonist, delivering outrageous remarks about jujubes and other such things with just the perfect amount of pepper, simultaneously amusing and seriously scary. As Neytiri the Navi, Zoe Saldana makes a strong impression, radiating strength and soulfulness over the vast digital chasm. The last fight in Avatar is as opulent as anything in Avengers, but its grammar and mechanics are clear. The film's political frustrations are evident in its care for (and mourning of) nature, its better guardians, and its grim but truthful portrayal of corporate greed. In Cameron's portrayal of the Navi, there is undoubtedly a creaking exoticism, but they are more vibrant and textured—both as a fictitious culture and as a real concept—than my memories indicates.
Cameron's extraordinarily extensive world-building, which includes his in-depth understanding of not just who the Navi are but also how this entire ecosystem runs, as well as its flora and fauna and the peculiar science that controls their home, bodes particularly well for the sequels. Of course, future humans' technical advancements also include gear, gunships, and mechanics invent so much—right down to the last bug and breathing device—that you fail to see the story's overarching structure and cliches. Or, at the very least, I could ignore it. I have no doubt that many individuals will make a similar revisit and discover Avatar to be at least as horrible as they remembered it to be.
Beyond the splendor of its design, what I eventually found so compelling about the movie on second viewing is its unwavering seriousness and its purpose-driven, issue-driven momentum. Here is a big-budget movie that doesn't make ironic references to itself and is driven by a seriousness of purpose that won't be dissuaded by claims that it isn't hip. The movie contains humor, but it's all real-world humor. Okay, nearly entirely— Charging Sigourney WeaverIt's clear that she was thinking about aliens while smoking cigarettes, giving a meta-wink to her encounters with the xenomorphs from the Alien films. Avatar, however, prefers to be completely appreciated and understood on its own terms. It is an incredibly independent and self-sufficient organism.
This is a roundabout way of stating that I have recently been rather enthusiastic about the Avatar sequel because I get to go back to a world that was so meticulously and vividly created—possibly by the only director who is capable of doing such a thing. If you can, I urge you to watch the original in a theatre. You might discover, as I did, that it doesn't feel like a throwback movie that is currently receiving a needless sequel update designed to bring the franchise up to speed. Little about Avatar appears ancient at all, which, depending on who you ask, is either miraculous or evil. Me, I'm a fanatic once more, and in 2009, the person who fell out of that cinema in transient awe, we finally reconnected. It's unfortunate that I allowed that emotion to turn sour so quickly. I guess in all my comparatively impetuous youth—and my incapacity to foresee the future—I just didn't know when we had a good thing. At least we now have the opportunity to update the record.
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