The 3D technology is certainly better than it was decades ago, but it's still no big deal. It only makes a difference for those moments when something on the screen comes directly at the camera, and that isn't very often in Avatar. There was no scene I can think of in this movie that begins to compare with the moment in Jurassic Park when a velociraptor launches himself up toward the air vent where the humans -- and the camera -- are. All in all, I wouldn't pay extra again to see a film in 3D. (I was at Disneyland a few months ago; the 3D they use in some of their shows appears to be exactly the same: good, but not worth much of a premium price.)
I won't trouble you with describing the plot. Avatar is, basically, Dances With Wolves with computer-generated aliens instead of Sioux Indians, and a happy ending, as predictable as the prize in a box of cereal, instead of a poignant one. I've heard this movie described as having a "heavy-handed environmentalist message," but I'm relieved to say it's not as heavy-handed as people have made out. Still, the message is simplistic, completely lacking in nuance, as are all of the human characters. Colonel Quaritch, played by Stephen Lang, could not be more of a cardboard cut-out if the part had been written by Dick Cheney (who probably considers the character an heroic one). Corporate lackey Parker Selfridge, played by Giovanni Ribisi, is an insult to cardboard characters, and of course to corporate lackeys everywhere. (I wonder if the corporate lackeys at Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation felt anything personal?) Even Sigourney Weaver's character, Dr. Augustine, has all the depth of a Melba toast square. Only the computer-generated characters had depth and detail.
But this movie isn't about characters. Sitting in the theater watching it, you are perfectly content to dispense with agonizing over the subtleties of characterization, or looking for any nuance in motivation, and concentrate instead on the lush visual experience on offer. It is amazing. No wonder many viewers are suicidally depressed at not being able to go to Pandora themselves. Sometimes, when my life is as dreary and empty as theirs must be, I feel the same way about not being able to go to London.
The detail in the computer-generation of scenery, flora, fauna and characters is as mind-blowing in the 21st Century as the first Star Wars movie's special effects were in the 1970s. Every detail seems to have been given full attention; I can't recall any moment when I thought something looked incomplete, half-baked, or out of perspective. This is especially surprising in those moments when the elegantly tall Pandorans, the Na'vi, are shown interacting with real human actors. Even Peter Jackson's magnificent Lord of the Rings trilogy didn't quite get that sort of juxtaposition right every time.
Still, for all the fabulous images and beauty in this movie, I predict it will not join the ranks of Timeless Great Films. Its message, its meaning, is essentially a currently-popular political viewpoint; it won't be that long before it seems naive, trite and hackneyed. This gorgeous movie is no Titanic, no Gone With The Wind, not even a Star Wars. At bottom, it's a phenomenally well-crafted piece of money-making entertainment, a technological tour-de-force instead of a classic for the ages. Go. See. Enjoy. Get over it.
