“Nobody expected you to fall in love with Smurfette. You went to learn from them but instead you became one of them! Right? Fought against your own kind, when you knew we’d stop at nothing!” – Wendy Testaburger
Note: Lots of Avatar spoilers below.
For starters let’s acknowledge that these are secondary and tertiary discussions, at best. Avatar is fundamentally a big budget action movie the primary focus of which is spectacle. In that it succeeds enormously and I don’t think many would disagree. But there have been a lot of complaints about the other aspects of the film and it’d be a pity to let them go unchallenged.
Before we get to that though, there is a less acknowledged success for which Avatar must be commended. Secondary to spectacle (and this is where most big movies lose themselves), even the biggest film must have a coherent story and follow its own rules. The “rules” thing is one that is all too often ignored by explosion oriented films (Michael Bay’s and Joseph Nichol’s are probably the two worst examples from this year). The essential properties of a character or device (especially important in a science fiction environment) shouldn’t change for no reason to serve the immediate scene (e.g. the Transformers are alternately extremely delicate or extremely tough, the machines John Connor/Batman fights seem to vary from being ruthless killers to utterly incompetent). Avatar doesn’t change its rules willy-nilly; it uses the rules of its world to drive its story (e.g. Jake Sully has to hide the trailer where he controls his Avatar, the shared neurons of all the living things on Pandora allow them to communicate with each other). There are many fantastic and unbelievable things on Pandora, but they don’t change just because the movie needs to resolve a plot point. The story works within the world in which it is set and that makes Avatar fundamentally more solid, and, if you will, believable than many of its would be competitors.
Naturally there are criticisms, particularly of the simplicity of the story. Cinematical summed them up well:
As advanced as the concepts are, stories filled with clichés and clunky dialogue. No one will dispute Cameron’s mastery of the visual and conceptual aspects of filmmaking, but in terms of dialogue and character development, his films often leave much to be desired. In Avatar, Cameron crafts quite a few howlers or ham-fisted lines of dialogue, and embraces a number of boilerplate movie catchphrases (the most egregious of which is probably “you’re not in Kansas any more”). Not to mention the story has been told dozens of times before in dozens of similar ways: scrappy soldier goes undercover in an alien (or foreign) environment only to fall in love with the culture he’s investigating, ultimately facing off against his former superiors. Plug in Native Americans and you’ve got Dances With Wolves, or mobsters and you’ve got Donnie Brasco.
This strikes me as rather unfair. It’s true that “stranger in a strange land” is an oft used story structure. But there’s a reason it gets used a lot: it’s a pretty good one. It allows the movie to show the audience the strange new land through the eyes of someone similar to them. The Na’vi have a reason for revealing their world and their secrets to Jake Sully. It may not be one of filmmaking’s most original stories, but it is one of filmmaking’s most original worlds. The story structure makes sense within the setting and the fact that it’s been used before doesn’t mean that it can’t be used effectively and originally, especially when what’s being shown off is something as large and varied as Pandora.
Saying that these kinds of stories “leave much to be desired” is a cheap and almost meaningless criticism. Beowulf involves a hero from outside who comes to save a people. The “Divine Comedy” has a stranger being taken through terrible and wonderful places. Shakespeare stole almost all of his stories but he recounts them with such artistry that we can’t help but love them. There are only so many ways to tell a story and James Cameron picked the one he thought best fit the science fiction universe he created. Knocking him for that is tantamount to searching for a problem.
As for the dialogue, I can’t help but notice that most of the complaints about the phrasings are about military banter. “You are not in Kansas anymore” seems to take the lead in terms of most cited example. (That the line has been in a number of the advertisements can make it seem like a bigger part of the movie than it really is.) In The New York Times Manohla Dargis cites Jake Sully’s macho declaration “Yeah, who’s bad”. These lines are not going to cause anyone with a literature degree to swoon, but that’s beside the point. Chest puffing military jargon is not supposed to sound layered and clever to civilian ears, it’s supposed to sound one dimensional and hard assed, which it does. High testosterone speech is perfectly appropriate to the militaristic setting. (Besides, if the various mercenaries in the film were spouting nuanced lines that showed how deeply they thought then Cameron would be criticized for making his mercs talk like warrior poets.)
As for the contentions that Avatar is racist, or at least racially boring, well, now we’re getting into thornier intellectual territory, but here too the criticisms fall short and miss the point. First up, io9 complaining that we’ve seen this before and it’s no more fun this time around:
These are movies about white guilt. Our main white characters realize that they are complicit in a system which is destroying aliens, AKA people of color – their cultures, their habitats, and their populations. The whites realize this when they begin to assimilate into the “alien” cultures and see things from a new perspective. To purge their overwhelming sense of guilt, they switch sides, become “race traitors,” and fight against their old comrades. But then they go beyond assimilation and become leaders of the people they once oppressed. This is the essence of the white guilt fantasy, laid bare. It’s not just a wish to be absolved of the crimes whites have committed against people of color; it’s not just a wish to join the side of moral justice in battle. It’s a wish to lead people of color from the inside rather than from the (oppressive, white) outside.
That it’s nothing novel to have the white guy taking over the tribe is true. But by dismissing it on the grounds that it’s a racial fairy tale (and a white guilt palliative) as old as the hills is to dismiss the cautionary aspects that Cameron has writ so large and bright across his screen. It may be tiresome to see “alien” cultures portrayed through a white guy, but it was white culture that created the bombs that can vaporize us all. It was white culture that clumsily industrialized the world to the point that we’re slowly killing ourselves.
As the multicultural roster of names on the credits make clear, what’s being portrayed here is no longer “white” culture. It’s an increasingly multi-hued “Western” culture which sits astride the globe and is crashing blithely into its own apocalypse. Dismissing the movie’s message because it targets that most influential (and lucrative) of audiences is narrow minded to the point of being reactionary.
James Cameron has never been pro- or anti- “military”, or pro- or anti- “corporate”, whatever those things may mean. The one thing he has been is anti-military-corporate, or if you prefer the more common phrasing, anti-military industrial. From The Terminator (1984) to Aliens (1986) to The Abyss (1989) to – especially – Terminator 2 (1991),* Cameron has always had dire, dire consequences resulting from the mixture of military arms and profit seeking. Avatar fits quite snugly into that tradition.
And it is in that anti-military-industrial context that the racial aspect of Avatar needs to be placed. Similar to this summer’s excellent District 9, Avatar grafts a well known racial subtext onto an alien species with, as Scott Eric Kaufman from Lawyers, Guns and Money puts it, “the subtlety of a fry pan upside my head”. But to call it racist because it requires the white guy to become one of the tribe is a simplistic reading of an already simplistic plot. Kaufman’s charge, that Avatar is racist because it sees no way for humans and aliens to coexist, is just factually incorrect:
The humans are to be resisted not because they are economic imperialists (though they are) and not because they glory in militaristic combat (though they do) but because they are different. They do not belong to the planet and therefore there is no possibility for peaceful coexistence.
The Na’vi don’t resist the humans because they’re different, they resist because the humans attacked their home. Plain and simple. There’s even a scene, when Avatar Jake first goes to the Na’vi village, where the old shaman woman explains to him that the humans do not listen because (and I’m paraphrasing because I don’t remember it exactly) their cup is already full of knowledge. (Which, by the way, was a nice piece of dialogue.) The Na’vi tried to understand the humans, the humans didn’t listen (and, to some extent, vice versa). Whether they did so out of arrogance, or greed, or both is irrelevant; neither side views coexistence as a fundamental impossibility.
The inability of the two sides to get along comes about because the humans want access to a mineral deposit underneath the home of Na’vi and are willing to place military force in the service of a for profit venture. Nowhere is it stated that this particular deposit is the last one, only that it’s particularly large and desirable. It doesn’t need to be taken, humanity won’t die without it. There is simply a resource that the military-industrial force sees as obtainable, regardless of other considerations.
Sigourney Weaver’s scientist character understands – and dies for – that tragedy. She knows that her research is only possible because of the profitability of the venture, but she at least believes that it’s possible for both sides to, in some minimal way, get along. Her humanitarian (if that is the right word) instincts are overridden by a profit hungry corporation that feels invincible because of its perceived military superiority. The message here isn’t that the white man has to redeem the savages, or that corporations are inherently evil, or even that environmentalism should trump all other concerns. It’s that marrying military might to profit seeking is inherently short sighted and leads inevitably to calamity. That it comes wed to an old fashioned racial fable is a storytelling necessity, even in what we like to think of as our relatively enlightened time.
Cameron is what he has always been, a supremely capable filmmaker whose talent for spectacle is so great that it causes everyone to take notice of and dissect what he has done. Here he tells a simple story in a grand manner, pairing it with the worthwhile message that placing violence in the service of profit is a terrible thing. To focus on the racial history he piggybacks on, to quibble with the jargon, to scoff at a story that has been told before, all of these complaints wither before the scope of this movie. Avatar is a monumental achievement, one that uses its technical supremacy to tell a good and simple parable in a manner that will garner it the widest possible exposure. It knows its audience, it understands its context, and it will make enormous sums of money. It is a perfect slice of our time. Avatar is moviemaking at its most grand, profound, and memorable, a spectacle so great it demands attention. Piddling complaints have their place in its wake, but only as the most buried of footnotes.
*Terminator 2 is, very quietly, maybe the best anti-war movie that has ever been made. That it is never mentioned as an anti-war movie is a tribute to just how sneakily good it really is. Not only does it terrorize its audience with the only semi-realistic depiction of nuclear holocaust in any major motion picture, but it concludes with a plea for simple human understanding so earnest and heartfelt that it cannot be anything but sincere.
End Note: Plenty of the politically natured criticisms of Avatar have perhaps revealed a bit more than they intended by assuming that the movie’s super valuable mineral is a stand in for oil. The io9 piece linked above did this (“a mineral called unobtainium that can serve as a mega-energy source.”), as well as that great South Park episode I quoted (“one smurf-berry can power the school for two months!”). To be fair, Parker and Stone were working before the movie came out, and it’s at least possible that the press kit or other promotional material refers to it as an energy resource. But the movie itself leaves the purpose of the mineral deliberately unknown. It never reveals what it does or why it’s so valuable. Pressing that blank slate into service as an oil metaphor is a careless criticism. It’s an understandable assumption, but it says more about the pre-conceived political notions of the person using it than it does about the movie itself.