Not much changed when the Fire Nation attacked

The Avatar saga remains faithful to its tried and true formula: visually breathtaking, narratively uninspired

There are truly interesting ideas in Avatar 3 that elevate the themes raised by the first Avatar to questions of thorny significance to the story, and time after time, their resolution goes for the easy answer, the overdone cliché. The Way of Water could be forgiven for delivering very little because it promised very little. Fire and Ash promises a lot and still fails to deliver, which makes this entry in the film series a more regrettable (forgive the pun) misfire.

Let’s begin with the film’s central conflict: Spider, the human boy adopted by the blue aliens. After a sudden bout of cosmic bad luck, he ends up convulsing on the forest floor, with no more human-breathable air left in his mask and far from his stack of replacements. As a desperate last measure, our miracle child Kiri connects to the web of nature and reformats Spider’s entire body chemistry to allow him to breathe Pandora’s air. So far, so good: no more depending on a 24/7 mask to survive. However, Spider’s new metabolism opens the door to a nightmare scenario: he’s living proof that the human body can adapt to survive unimpeded in Pandora’s environment. If the bad guys figure out how to replicate the process, the entire balance of power in Pandora will shift in favor of human colonization.

Now Spider’s existence is a danger to everyone he loves, and his body is an invaluable source of biomedical innovation. The rest of the film has him ping-ponged between enemy factions that want to either cut him open for the benefit of Earth or cut his throat for the benefit of Pandora. But the movie chooses the wrong Na’vi as the mouthpiece for the latter position, and there are no lasting consequences for the personal ties that should have been damaged between Spider and his would-be executioner.

It has a jarring effect that the film brings us to this immense rift between Spider and the blue aliens, only to give everyone a happy ending where he’s welcomed by the ancestors as a member of the Na’vi without further issue. Let’s stress the point again: Spider was almost murdered by people he deeply trusts and loves, because they became convinced that his life put all of them in danger. And this betrayal comes after Neytiri has spent half the film insulting and neglecting him because she’s still grieving her dead son and Spider is a constant reminder of which people took him from her. After his near-execution, the relationship between Spider and the Na’vi shouldn’t be able to go back to normal, ever. At the very least, it should take more for him to take up arms in their defense again. Even his evil not-exactly-father, the half-Na’vi clone of the late Colonel Quaritch, shows him more respect in this film than his adoptive parents.

The other conflict in the plot, which the trailers gave much attention to but actually doesn’t affect the story that much, has to do with the Fire Nation Ash People, a tribe of pillagers who some decades ago survived a volcanic disaster and have since rejected the cult of the nature goddess Eywa. Now they live off piracy and worship the same fire that destroyed their old way of life. This is a fascinating concept that the film does nothing with. It’s one thing to present a schism in a pantheistic faith and create what is essentially a demonic cult; it’s much more compelling to do so in a setting where the nature goddess is demonstrably real and present in people’s lives. What does it look like to despise the natural flow of the life force when that force is visible and has a tangible will?

But also, what does it say about Eywa that she plays favorites between Na’vi clans? The Ash People’s backstory has them praying to be saved from the volcano, but Eywa refused to send help. In such circumstances it makes total sense that they’d form a new religion around fire, which proved to be the more powerful force, and that they’d turn to pillage to survive, both because they no longer have fertile land and because they no longer trust Eywa’s generosity.

Eywa’s will is actually one of the bigger problems with the plotting of the Avatar series. In the first movie, she saved the day via literal Dea Ex Machina, and Avatar 3 repeats the same trick in an identical situation. The critique of real-life environmental devastation is loud and clear: the humans of this future are too dim to notice the obvious intelligence of the space whales they kill for profit, but it takes a civilization-sized Idiot Ball to ignore a whole sentient biosphere telling you to stop.

When you introduce a deity into your setting, and this deity’s opinion matches your stance as an author, it’s very hard to avoid turning your story into a pamphlet. Eywa steers the plot at the times when it’s convenient, in the directions that help the author preach his message, and thus can’t function as a character in the way that the rest of the characters treat her. And the only time we’re told Eywa makes a questionable choice, i.e. letting the Ash People starve, it’s presented in a way that makes them the bad guys instead of Eywa. As often happens with supreme beings in stories, there are no lessons for Eywa to learn, no need for her to change her mind or grow. The story assumes she can do no wrong, even when it clearly shows it happening. Instead of being a character, she fulfills the function of authorial (forgive the pun) avatar that stalls or pushes the plot as needed.

Another character whom the story treats far more favorably than their actions deserve: Jake Sully, whose boot camp style of parenting will probably push Na’vi culture to invent psychotherapy on its own. Even allowing for the sad reality that the entire Na’vi people is in a war for survival, Jake has no excuse for the way he treats his children, and he’s repeatedly portrayed as heroic for it.

Avatar’s in-your-nose parable about colonialism and predatory greed has been repeating the same basic points for three movies, and doesn’t have any original perspective to add to the discussion. James Cameron has clearly exhausted all the tricks in his box. This film series should stop before its incomparably gorgeous landscapes can’t disguise the mediocre storytelling anymore.

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

First Contact: The Terminator

A machine monster chase film with a romantic, time loop twist

The Terminator debuted in theaters in 1984. I’m embarrassed to admit that forty years later, I’m seeing this blockbuster for the first time. I’m an old-school nerd, so I’m not sure how this happened—especially since the original The Terminator is one of my sister’s favorite movies. She speaks of it with such intense affection that I have always felt as if I knew the story or at least the concept: A time-traveling hero goes back in time to save a woman from a time-traveling android assassin. Long before he was the governor of California, this was the film that solidified Arnold Schwarzenegger as a box office superstar and was soon followed by the even more famous sequel Terminator 2: Judgment Day, which gave us android Arnold as a hero. I’ve heard the Terminator lingo with classic lines like “I’ll be back” and “Hasta la vista, baby.” I knew all the catch phrases anecdotally and I have seen clips and parodies over the years as the Terminator films became entrenched in our culture the way Star Wars and Rocky did. Film clips were played so often that I felt as if I understood it enough. Did I even need to see the actual films? My sister was horrified to recently discover that I had never actually watched the original 1984 The Terminator. So, a few weeks ago, I bought a digital copy of the film and, for the first time, I sat down and finally watched it.

Summary: [Warning: Spoilers] The Terminator (Arnold Schwarzenegger) is a killer android from the future who arrives in town on a mission to kill a woman named Sarah Connor (Linda Hamilton). Soon after, a young man (Michael Biehn) also arrives from the future to intercept the Terminator and save Sarah. Sarah Connor is an ordinary and unremarkable young woman working as a waitress. After seeing news reports of the murders of other women named Sarah Connor, she quickly realizes she is the next target. She contacts the police but they are largely unhelpful. Sarah notices a young man following her and fears he is the serial killer. However, the man, Reese, protects her when the real Terminator shows up and ultimately, after a brief encounter with the police, the two go on the run. Reese explains that he is from the future, where Skynet, an organization of intelligent machines, has subjugated and almost destroyed humanity. The Terminator has been sent to kill Sarah because she is destined to have a son, John Connor, who will lead a successful rebellion against the machines. While hiding at a motel, Reese confesses his love for Sarah and the two spend an intimate night together. Later, the Terminator arrives, and after an extended violent confrontation with Reese and Sarah, the Terminator is finally defeated, but Reese is killed in the process. Later, a pregnant and grieving Sarah leaves town while planning for the future battle that is to come. In classic time loop fashion, Reese became the father to the same John Connor who sent him there.

First impressions: 1) The overall vibe of the film is intensely and nostalgically ’80s: the muted audio, the intensely teased hair, the ’80s acting style (in your face, no subtlety). 2) Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor is so different from the tough, weapon-toting person I have often seen in the clips from later Terminator films. In The Terminator, she is ordinary, unsure, and not particularly skilled. 3) Michael Biehn as Kyle Reese is so young. I’ve seen him in later roles in Aliens and The Abyss, playing the sturdy, mature, good-hearted hero, but here he is almost adolescent. He’s not just physically young, but also emotionally immature. He is the most stressed and angsty character in the film. 4) The thing that made the biggest impression on me was the Terminator himself. I can see why this role was so pivotal. In a sea of subdued dialogue, he was a scene-stealing show-stopper. He shows up (body-builder) naked in the first scene and walks around unconcernedly wreaking carnage until he finds clothes and goes hunting for guns and ammo. His flat, pragmatic, lethal persona was a perfect foil to the emotional drama in the film.

What surprised me: 1) The famous Sarah Connor, the main character in the film, has almost no backstory and very little context. She doesn’t have tragic origins, major life obstacles, special skills, or even a goal she is working towards. She is a blank slate on which the ensuing adventure is written. 2) Likewise, the Terminator is just a killing machine. It has no stated unique motivation or agenda other than the assassination ordered by Skynet. In our current era of complex or semi-sympathetic villains, I was surprised to be so entertained by a straightforward killing machine. 3) Most surprising is Reese. Of all the characters, he has the most emotional context. He comes from a war-torn life and he is her (future) son’s friend who volunteered to protect Sarah. He volunteered to go back in time because he was in love with the idea of her. He does not grow to love her; he arrives in love with her —fairy-tale style— because he has fallen in love with a photograph of her long before he meets her. He shows her the photo and says he always wondered what she was thinking about in that moment. Later we see the photo being taken while she is thinking of Reese. I love a good time loop. And it’s remarkably romantic for a film that’s mostly about killing. 4) Sarah’s roommate and the roommate’s boyfriend get a significant amount of screen time. They are adorable side characters who meet a violent end. I’m not sure why we see so much of them, but it’s surprisingly enjoyable. 5) Finally, in addition to the leads, I was surprised to see veteran actor Paul Winfield in the role of the grumpy Black police captain and the immediately recognizable Lance Henriksen, who plays Bishop, the future android of the Alien franchise. These reverse cameos helped anchor my sense of The Terminator’s place in my film-watching timeline.

Overall impression: After so many years of knowing about the franchise but never really watching it, The Terminator feels like a classic human-versus-machine story. As our society struggles with issues related to technology and AI, The Terminator still feels relevant, although the film style seems intensely old fashioned. And, honestly, I love the irony of that.

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The Math

Nerd Coefficient: 7/10

Highlights:

• Excruciatingly ’80s
• Classic chase film
• Surprisingly romantic

POSTED BY: Ann Michelle Harris – Multitasking, fiction writing Trekkie currently dreaming of her next beach vacation.

Avatar: the way of self-indulgence

James Cameron's new toys are pretty and shiny, but do they mean anything?

Back in 2009, it seemed like the first Avatar film would set the standard for visual effects for decades to come. It was a completely unexpected technical masterpiece that wowed audiences with hyperrealistic landscapes capable of lulling the mind away from the embarrassing flatness of the characters and the story.

Look at us now, jaded and benumbed by four Avengers, one Gemini Man and three Hobbits. We're in an era when digital magic doesn't impress the way it used to. The sequel Avatar: The Way of Water is doubtlessly gorgeous, with lifelike beasts that look solid and tangible, and edge-on shots of 3D ocean surfaces that make the viewer sway in the chair with the waves. But moviemaking isn't just composing beautiful frames. Despite all the trailblazing technical innovation created expressly for this film, the three hours of Avatar: The Way of Water end up feeling like a three-meal course made entirely of plain water.

We return to the exomoon Pandora, where humans continue to exploit natural resources with no respect for the native population. It's been roughly 15 years since the events of the first Avatar, and our human-reincarnated-into-alien protagonist Jake Sully is now a family man. But the greedy humans are back with a vengeance, and Jake has to flee with his family to avoid bringing any further destruction to the natives. And here we have the first eyebrow-raising choice in this film: the implication that 15 years of Jake integrating into an alien ecosystem and culture to raise four kids of another species doesn't seem worthy of telling, and only when humans reenter the scene do we get to continue the story. For all the lip service that this franchise professes to respecting indigenous communities, it's, at the least, noteworthy that director James Cameron only tells the parts of this community's story in which their colonizers get involved.

Once the basic conflict is established (emphasis on basic), the rest of the movie is an extended theme park ride followed by an admittedly good battle sequence. Avatar: The Way of Water repeats numerous plot beats from the original, dropping our focus character into an unfamiliar environment where he needs to learn the rules of survival, earn the trust of the locals, and fight to defend his new home. We hear the same vaguely New-Agey platitudes about interconnectedness and the cycle of life, we're told again that the whole world functions as a hive intelligence, we watch yet another predatory expedition to destroy a natural beauty for (literally) astronomical profit, and we're left with the same simplistic message: nature good, humans bad.

Worse still, this repetition of preachy talking points occurs without the already minimal character development of the first Avatar. Four alien teenagers are introduced with the single personality trait of "they're teenagers." The lead duo are reduced to the most commonplace clichés of married couples in movies, with a Jake who has confused martial discipline with parenting, and a Neytiri who only reacts to events by making concerned faces but leaves no footprint on the plot. The return of archnemesis Colonel Quaritch might suggest a thematic statement about the damaging effect of human intervention (mirrored in Jake's clumsy attempt to raise his alien kids by introducing them to all the bad parenting techniques of Earth), but that's not what Cameron is interested in exploring. We're here to gasp at picture-perfect fish, not to reflect on the mistakes of humankind.

Even when the dialogue alludes to the ecological problems back on Earth, that crucial piece of context isn't afforded the prominence it should have. Colonel Quaritch's personal vendetta against the Sully family feels absurdly small compared to the actual problem of the entire human species planning to move to Pandora permanently. A plot development that raises the stakes of the main conflict in exactly the way a sequel is supposed to doesn't get more than a throwaway line that Cameron evidently doesn't intend to address until a future movie. The same frustrating approach is used with the character of Kiri, the only truly interesting addition to the story, who spends the length of the movie carrying a neon sign that flashes "I'll matter later."

If Cameron gets his way, we'll have three more entries in this franchise. The problem with multiple sequels in the Age of Marvel is that directors have forgotten that films are not, and should not try to be, TV episodes. Avatar: The Way of Water would have been a serviceable filler episode in a streaming show, with its temporary change of setting, a self-contained chase subplot, and just enough links to the larger arc. But as the standalone movie it should have been expected to be, it's drowned in blue pixels that enchant the eye but have very little of substance to say.

The Math

Baseline Assessment: 6/10.

Bonuses: +100 for once again pushing forward the quality of visual effects in cinema.

Penalties: −100 for having only the faintest, digitally rendered shadow of a plot, a theme, or actual characters.

Nerd Coefficient: 6/10.

POSTED BY: Arturo Serrano, multiclass Trekkie/Whovian/Moonie/Miraculer, accumulating experience points for still more obsessions.

The Roger Corman Interview

Roger Corman has been, arguably, the single most important voice in the history of independent cinema. It was an absolute honor to be able to sit down with him in his office to discuss his new film, Death Race 2050, and specifics from a career that spans seven decades.


For the uninitiated, Roger Corman began writing, directing, and producing in the mid-1950s. He launched the careers of actors like Jack Nicholson and Peter Fonda, and revived or reinvigorated the careers of Vincent Price, Peter Lorre, Boris Karloff, and others. As a producer, he gave directors like Ron Howard, Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Joe Dante, and James Cameron their starts in filmmaking. He worked extensively with writers such as Twilight Zone alumni Richard Matheson and Charles Beaumont, who were also seminal sci-fi and horror writers in their own right. His distribution company won foreign language Oscars for the films of Ingmar Bergman and Federico Fellini.

But at the end of the day, this is a guy who just made a lot of great movies. From the 1950s beatnik satire A Bucket of Blood to the 1960s Edgar Allan Poe adaptations, to the 1970s punk hallmark Rock n Roll High School and beyond, Roger Corman may have spent a career working with low- and medium-budget films, but he managed to create lasting art, documents of the times, and just goddamn fun movies, and he continues to do so.

If you haven't, check out Death Race 2050, streaming on Netflix and on DVD and VOD or watch the original, Death Race 2000, on DVD or streaming on FilmStruck. And enjoy the interview. I sure as hell did.

Posted by Vance K — co-editor and cult film reviewer for nerds of a feather, flock together since 2012, musician and songwriter, and Emmy Award-winning producer.