In the ‘70s and 80’s, George Lucas changed the face of sci-fi film with the first three Star Wars features.  New technology needed to be created in order to make the movies possible, and that technology took special effects to a level never before imagined.  Moreover, the plot was exciting, heartfelt, and insightful, capturing the hearts of children and adults alike.  The movies defined a generation and made sci-fi fans of both males and females from all walks of life.

Avatar is the Star Wars of the 21st century.

I went into the theater already knowing that I would be witnessing history in the making.  Having worked with one of the digital imaging technicians for the film, knowing his attention to detail and his eye for perfection, I couldn’t wait to view the completed product.  I knew I was about to embark on an amazing journey—but nothing could prepare me for the breathtaking masterpiece I saw today.

Avatar is by far the most visually stunning film I have ever had the pleasure to watch.  The digital effects were flawless, the story was beautiful, and overall the work was brilliant.  The characters were believable, even the digitally generated Na’vi, and the scenery was amazing.  I have read criticism that has called Avatar “Dances with Smurfs,” and I can only shake my head.  All filmmakers know that there are seven basic plots; storylines and characters can change, but they will always fit into one of those basic plots.  James Cameron meshed the plot most associated with Dances with Wolves and The Last Samurai, placed it on an alien planet, and added an impeccable hero’s journey.  There are no Smurfs, here—Avatar is thoughtful, meaningful, and artfully executed.

I only have a couple of minor criticisms of the film.  If you have not yet watched Avatar and do not wish to read any spoilers, please do not continue.

Spoilers
ahead.


This
is
your
last
chance
to
turn
away.

My main criticism is with the plot dumps at the beginning of the film.  While I realize that Mr. Cameron was working under time constraints and had no choice but to use them, the dialog felt a little choppy: characters were telling other characters pieces of information that they should have already known, in ways that seemed slightly out of place.  A revision in those couple of pieces of dialog would have made a huge difference in the beginning of the film.

My second criticism is the “unobtainium.”  The name alone takes away from the serious realism the rest of the movie achieves, the play on words being just too obvious.  More importantly, we never see any characters actually mine the precious metal—and it is never made clear just why it is so precious.  Online searches reveal that the mineral is supposed to be a superconductor and powerful energy source, but we are never given this information in the film.  We are told that Earth is a dying planet; wouldn’t something life sustaining be more worth fighting over?  Why are the humans mining “unobtainium?”  Why is it worth so much?  Can it save lives?  Can it save our dying Earth?  Eliminating the unobtainium and making the planet itself the commodity would have eliminated the out-of-place plot dumps about the mineral.

Thirdly, but just as importantly, Mr. Cameron could have reallocated several precious screen minutes to better use by making the main character’s initial loss of his twin brother available through plot dump, as opposed to actual footage.  The film is nearly three hours long (which does fly, given its amazing content); the beginning would not have suffered had the cremation scene been cut and the information about the brother been offered through a few well executed lines.

Beyond those small criticisms, I have nothing but positive words to offer about Avatar.  I laughed, I cried, I gasped with awe, and I left the theater feeling as though I had just watched a top-notch live action movie.  I did more than that, though; I witnessed the beginning of a new era in digital film and I experienced a story that will stay with me for years to come.

And I didn’t even watch the 3D version.
 
 
As a writer, I deal with fictitious entities all the time--but no matter how unreal they are, they always have some type of base to reality.  My fiction does what the fiction of many authors does: it offers commentary and insight on our world by integrating reality in fiction.  The unreal becomes a tool to state what might be otherwise too sensitive or difficult to touch upon.  There are real monsters out there--they might not be supernatural or superhuman, but they do exist.

Rarely do I blog about issues that have nothing to do with my writing.  There are plenty of opinions out there and mine is but one of them.  However, upon reading the news today--and the responses to it--I could not hold my peace.  Today an NFL player, Chris Henry, was reported deceased.  The man, according to previous reports, had engaged in numerous criminal activities, including battery and destruction of property.  He died trying to pursue a woman clearly attempting to flee him.  Despite the man's history, fans are treating him like a fallen hero.  According to a Yahoo Sports commentary, Henry was a role model in waiting who simply did not have the chance to prove himself due to his untimely death.

This is nothing short of outrageous.  This man had a lengthy rap sheet, with numerous violent offenses.  As the survivor of domestic violence, I know how a domestic dispute can progress--and what measures a person will take to flee a real-life monster.  If Henry was anywhere near as violent a person as my ex, whom I left in 2001 (I am making no assumptions or accusations, here, just an innocent comparison for the sake of a point) then more power to the young woman who was behind the wheel of that fleeing truck.

When I finally left "Jeff" for good, it was with a cracked skull, torn rotator cuff, split lips, and bruises from head to toe.  When he was on a rampage and I tried to leave, he would block my way out--he even ripped the telephone cords from the walls, so I could not call for help.  He would truly become a monster: irrational, unreasonable, out of control, literally foaming at the mouth.  Had there been a time when I could have gotten as far as the car, I would have thrown him off the back if he had tried to pursue--and if that had resulted in his "untimely" death, then good riddance.  I know one of his exes had once tried to run him over with her car, forcing him into a ditch to keep from being killed; I don't blame the woman--actually, I applaud her--he was probably trying to block her escape.  Jeff is nothing more than a worthless, abusive bully who is so spineless that he has to pick on women half his size in order to feel in control of his life.  There are too many "Jeffs" in this world.

Why is it that people are so quick to defend and deify certain talented people, despite their horrific acts?  Does being a gifted athlete negate a person's rotten personal life?  Does one's physical prowess make up for his or her personal transgressions?  How is it that we live in a world where violent criminals who just happen to reach stardom are treated as saints, and those who might call them on being the monsters they are find themselves being branded as jaded and unduly judgmental?  What is wrong with society?  Where have our values gone?  Are most people so superficial that they really don't care to see a person for who he or she truly is--that the image is more important than the potential monster hiding behind it?

I just don't get it.