Drill, baby, drill
Borrowing liberally from Aliens, A Man Called Horse, and any number of other (and far less taxing) movies, Avatar has the feel of a weak feature-length Disney cartoon, one of the ‘classic’ hand drawn ones which invariably lull me to sleep. There’s little point in discussing its cosmetic merits, though I was initially wowed by the meticulously constructed new world, a visual treat that momentarily justified the ridiculous expense of my high def TV and Blu-ray setup. But the ‘Holy Cow’ factor can only enthrall me for so long and, at one-hundred-and-sixty odd minutes, I need something more substantial than a bunch of caricatures grandstanding in a way that would’ve been an embarrassment of overacting in an earlier era.
I also gather there’s been some brouhaha over the film’s racial-ethnic-political attributes, things I’ll leave to more learned minds than mine to ponder. Except perhaps the political angle. I can only assume that the blue people in Avatar were colored in accordance with the Democrats, while a chest-thumping military and Ivy league corporate dolts represent the Republicans. As I still feel the sting of the Cheney/Bush regime, Avatar was a mostly unpleasant experience, summoning memories of the Iraq invasion, slaughtering thousands of civilians, toppling Saddam Hussein (a campaign promise The Boy President never promised in his initial campaign) and hurling them back to the Stone Age. I have nothing but contempt for G.W. Bush and his thugs, and cringe as the conservative Right currently instigates fear and loathing (through propaganda tools like Fox News) for the same tired dream of domination once sought by the National Socialists in Germany in the ‘30s. Avatar had me thinking of this ungodly shit for far too long, and by the time it was over I needed an aspirin.