Avatar: Fire and Ash - Review

Synopsis:

Jake Sully and Neytiri continue their life on Pandora with their family after the events of The Way of Water. Still grieving the loss of their son Neteyam, they are drawn into a new and dangerous conflict when an aggressive Na’vi tribe known as the Ash People emerges, threatening the balance of Pandora and forcing the Sullys to confront darker forces than ever before.

Review:

Say what you will about James Cameron’s “Avatar: Fire and Ash”, but one thing is undeniable: it’s a LOT of movie.

First, let’s just get the obvious out of the way: visually-speaking, it’s hard to deny the impressiveness of what Cameron has achieved here. From top to bottom, nearly every frame of “Fire and Ash” feels vibrant, meticulously composed, and overwhelmingly immersive – Pandora has never looked more ALIVE. Over the last 17 years since the first film’s release, Cameron and his team of effects artists at Wētā have perfected their “world-building toolkit,” and the result here is a level of immersion that, for the first time in the franchise’s history, feels truly tactile – this is no weightless CGI fever dream (Marvel, I’m looking at you), but a fully realized environment that feels like it can be stepped into and lived within. Whether it be lava-scarred landscapes, bioluminescent oceans, or lush jungles, the sheer variety and clarity of the visuals in “Fire and Ash” are consistently breathtaking, and honestly? They’re kinda worth the price of admission alone.

It helps, too, that Cameron (like Peter Jackson with his “Lord of the Rings” trilogy) has a game cast to anchor these visuals around and ground the spectacle in human emotion. Sam Worthington and Zoe Saldana continue to add new emotional layers to their characters, as do returning players like Sigourney Weaver (playing the oldest daughter Kiri, in an age-reversed role), Kate Winslet, and Cliff Curtis. Unsurprisingly, however, it’s Stephen Lang who once again steals the show here, imbuing his villain Quaritch with new layers that are unexpected, to say the least (no spoilers here, but his arc takes a turn here that had me genuinely surprised – always a nice treat in a modern Hollywood tentpole). And as the evil fire-spewing Navi named Varang, Oona Chaplin injects the proceedings with a level of menace that is…well, not exactly family-friendly (parents, be warned: this one skews more darker – and even sensual - than the prior two films). When she and Quaritch are on-paired together on-screen, that’s when “Fire and Ash” most sparks to life, momentarily making you forget how long you’ve been sitting in the theater.

Speaking of…let’s talk about that length. At 197 minutes, “Fire and Ash” is the longest, by far, of the trilogy. It’s also, easily, the most stuffed, plot-wise. For all of his technical brilliance, Cameron has never exactly been a “minimalist” storyteller, and “Fire and Ash” represents perhaps the apex of his “go big or go home” narrative tendencies. Whether it be navigating family trauma, continuing to introduce dense environmental mythology, expanding inter-tribal Navi conflict, or continuing to hit home the same colonialist allegories that have come to define the franchise since the first film, there’s a LOT going on here, much of it engaging in the moment, a lot of it visually and emotionally compelling…and most of it VERY derivative of story beats from the prior films.

Say what you will about “Avatar” and “The Way of Water,” but they were relatively focused endeavors, the kind that knew exactly what lanes they wanted to stay in and how to most effectively keep the audience locked in. “Fire and Ash,” on the other hand, often feels like it’s running on fumes story-wise (no pun intended), rehashing old conflicts and even exact emotional scenes beat-for-beat. As a collection of awe-inspiring moments go, it’s impressive stuff; as a piece of storytelling, however, it’s hard not to be a little let down by the lack of narrative risk-taking here.

Still – despite the bloat of the film’s runtime, it’s the beauty of the images here that I find myself lingering on days later. “Fire and Ash” might not be the most satisfying, narratively, but it’s undoubtedly the series’ high point in terms of visual ambition and technical execution. It’s also proof-positive that James Cameron can make even the thinnest of stories feel epic through sheer force of will. And by golly, it’s hard not to respect him for it.

Grade: B -

*SPOILERS*

Spiritual Overview:

Grief is one of life’s most universal experiences. It also, depending on how one chooses to navigate it, can prove to be among its most isolating. And as “Avatar: Fire and Ash” illustrates, that tension is something that will ALWAYS need to be reckoned with, whether we want to or not.

Throughout the film, we watch as the Sully family struggles to process the loss of their son Neteyam, who was killed at the end of “The Way of Water.” Some turn to anger, choosing to view humans as an enemy that must be eliminated by any means; others withdraw inward, refusing to truly reckon with their feelings. But the overriding thread that connects each of their responses here is unresolved grief and a reluctance to fully confront it.

Interestingly, the Bible actually has quite a bit to say about the grieving process, specifically in the sense of acknowledging loss rather than avoiding it. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Similarly, Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

What I find so striking about this Scripture is the way that the act of mourning is so readily affirmed here. It’s a painful but necessary fact of life that all of us will, at one point or another, grieve – whether it be the loss of a loved one, a relationship, or a season of life. It’s an undeniable reality of the human experience, and it’s something that we are clearly told to walk THROUGH, not around, and to let God in on, versus shut Him out of. In times of deep pain, it’s easy to want to shut down, lash out, or hide…but it’s important to remember that grief unacknowledged doesn’t disappear, it festers. And, as “Avatar: Fire and Ash” ultimately suggests, the cost of NOT dealing with grief can often result in even greater devastation.

What did you think about "Avatar: Fire and Ash"? Did it live up to the first and second films, or did you also find it to be a bit of a step down, story-wise? And what did you think about the way it examined grief, especially in a spiritual sense? Comment below.