Thirteen years later, we are still living in the world that Avatar built. For as much as the joke may be that James Cameron’s 2009 box office record-breaking sci-fi environmental epic has had little cultural staying power, it did change the mainstream Hollywood movie industry in a way that hasn’t yet been countered. Despite generally diminishing returns, 3D is still pushed as the principal lens through which to experience blockbuster entertainment -a format that Cameron almost single-handedly revived with Avatar. It revolutionized visual effects technology by incorporating performance capture on a level that hadn’t been attempted before -and that technique is still used frequently to render animated characters alongside live-action performers. The creation of whole worlds using this technology has also been popularized to lesser ends. Avatar is significant, it still casts a shadow, however subtle with time, over the blockbuster industry.
And at last its’ long-anticipated first sequel has come to fruition -a sequel I and many others even doubted would see the light of day at one time. It and its’ own three in-development sequels are all that Cameron has been working on this past decade and change -which has been frustrating to those who would rather see more versatility from the director behind The Terminator and Titanic. But it’s also cultivated fascination. If he’s going to devote so much time to this series, it must and better be good.
Daunting qualifications, especially in light of the popular backlash to Avatar that developed, and not entirely unfairly so, over the last decade. Fortunately, the notably derivative story beats from that film aren’t present in The Way of Water, and its’ new characters a fair sight more compelling. Most importantly its’ visual components, both in the CGI and cinematography, are just as distinct and enrapturing -more so in fact; making any other CG-laden blockbuster of the year look embarrassing.
Much like the first Avatar, part of the reason Cameron waited so long to begin production on this film was so that the technology could catch up to his vision -specifically with regards to underwater mo-cap. Ever the sea enthusiast, it’s no surprise that the first new character of his Pandora world that Cameron would seek to explore would be its’ marine environment -and so this is a film that required extensive in-water and underwater shooting, much like The Abyss before it. If the fruits of his endeavours weren’t realized, the perfectionist Cameron wouldn’t have released the movie, so it’s no wonder the results are exemplary. The effects work here is seamless to a degree you might not think about, so convincingly detailed, intimate, and versatile. The alien Na’vi characters still have extraordinary life in their designs, an intricacy rarely seen in other CG movie lifeforms. Here there is an added context of greater diversity in appearance between various clans, in addition to the ways their expressiveness and tangibility can be displayed in water. And unlike so many other CG creations, it’s never in doubt they occupy the same relational space as their human counterparts -of which there are few.
If it wasn’t already apparent Cameron has next to no interest in human beings beyond their capacity for devastation -and even his villains become mo-cap creatures. What’s much more in focus is his world and environment, which comes with its’ drawbacks narratively that I’ll get into, but is beautifully captured in the work of Russell Carpenter -Cameron’s cinematographer from Titanic. Even in a mostly manufactured context, the scope feels immense, the earnest visual choices made through frame and lighting stand out. There’s a breathless quality to certain moments that hearken back to Cameron’s earlier work, and an understanding of the role imagery ought to play in large-scale films such as this. It’s just highly kinetic and attractive filmmaking -proof the sort of thing can be accomplished in a computerized format.
Indeed the fixation on texture, immersion, visual cohesion, and scale is such that the storytelling is obliged to be an afterthought -even Cameron seems to rarely discuss it in interviews. The plot does the wise thing in picking up over a decade after the first movie: former avatar Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) have four children together on Pandora when the human imperial machine comes back, establishes a permanent presence on the planet and pursues Jake in revenge for leading the assault that crippled them. Before long the danger is such that he resigns his chiefdom and exiles his family to the island domains of the Metkayina: a convenient way to neutralize at least to some extent Jake’s latent white saviour authority, but in the context of what is largely just a repeat of the first movie’s plot –only told this time from the native angle. There’s no new dimension to the central conflict, once more a fairly binary clash of ruthless evil colonizers and noble indigenous as told by a man with heavy settler guilt. In fact, it’s the first sequel by Cameron that doesn’t radically alter the genre of its’ preceding movie. Rather The Way of Water is unusually unambitious in its’ overhanging premise. This is especially felt in the way it brings back Stephen Lang’s antagonist Colonel Quaritch, now an avatar himself. Resurrecting a dead villain is usually a cheap idea, and Quaritch was already little more than a dull archetype. There’s an effort here to give him more of an arc, by pairing him with the son he left behind on Pandora, a kid called Spider (Jack Champion) raised in Jake and Neytiri’s family; but ultimately he serves his purpose as an avatar -a hollow avatar for every evil. Edie Falco shows up as the occupying force’s new commander in chief and would have been a much better fit at representing the changing face of colonialism.
Meanwhile, the heroes of the film are mostly a cast of archetypes themselves, though modestly more defined ones. Jake is still often blandly written and he has no story arc to speak of outside of his patriarchy, but he is allowed to exist outside of a rigid format this time. Neytiri isn’t so lucky, sidelined for the bulk of the narrative until the climax. In their stead, the movie focuses heavily on their children, new Na’vi characters who are more curiously drawn. Most notable is Kiri, an aloof teenager played by Sigourney Weaver (once again the films’ best performance), the immaculate conception of her late mother Grace, and Lo’ak (Britain Dalton) the overlooked second son with a lot to prove. Along with the conflicted Spider, these characters are played with resonant honesty and drama that Cameron is smart enough to hone in on, and their individual storylines that relate to the way they interact with nature are well-articulated. Some of this may be attributable to Cameron’s co-writers on this film, Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver –writers on the recent Apes series, with which this movie shares certain tonal traits. Regardless of who brought it, there is more soul to these characters and the beginnings of what may be fulfilling if predictable multi-movie arcs.
And while there may not be much depth to the story, it is solidly structured, even if occasionally the scene contrasts are a bit awkward. Immersion is one of the films’ strong suits, there’s a fierce anti-whaling message that seems a bit trite on the surface up to a point it yields an unexpected catharsis. And let it not be said Cameron doesn’t know how to direct compelling action –especially in his digital space where he has almost complete control. His big third act battle set-piece easily tops that of the first movie –exciting and surprising, and delivering several pay-offs immensely well.
Not everything is paid off, most notably the spiritual thread related to Kiri and her unique communion with the earth –one of a couple set-ups interwoven in for future installments. Pertaining to that series mythology though, the film remains highly enigmatic and too ensconced in a sense of vague mysticism to mean much of anything. The world-building is still rather thin, a side-effect of Cameron’s spectacle-driven approach, its’ chief tenets of culture, religion, aesthetic mostly just appropriated from Indigenous groups. Yes, the stark Native coding is still a major part of the movie, and it is still fairly reductive and fraught. The Metkayina are clearly a stand-in for Polynesians based on a very broad outline of their traditions and customs; and while the film indicates a greater degree of research and consultation, it’s still a touch disconcerting to see real-world racialized groups so blankly identified as blue aliens. What’s more is the inconsistent casting on this front, where you’ve got Māori Cliff Curtis on the one hand as the chief, white Kate Winslet on the other as his wife.
However, Cameron does appear to have listened to his critics on the first movie in at least a few respects, delineating any white saviour motifs, expanding his field of reference, and never once dropping the word “Unobtanium”. It’s noteworthy too that this film contains thematic or visual parallels to just about all of his previous movies –bits that recall Aliens, T2, Titanic. This Avatar series is the auteurist culmination of his priorities as a filmmaker, certainly he sees them as his magnum opus. I think Pandora represents in some way this old environmentalist’s ideal for our planet. The romance of that translates in Avatar: The Way of Water as much as its’ stunning scale and must-see cinematic ambition. It struggles against Cameron’s weaker impulses as a storyteller, it could have done with maybe an hour’s less runtime, but it’s an interesting, thoroughly entertaining time at the movies –whatever else, that’s always been the James Cameron guarantee.
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