Title: Avatar
MPAA: PG-13
Runtime: 162 minutes
Director: James Cameron

Rating: 3 out of 5 stars

James Cameron wanted me to let you all know that, in addition to being "the king of the world", he is now also the king of Pandora. That, of course, is the name given to the moon associated with the planet Polyphemus in Mr. King of the Galaxy's new movie, Avatar. An Avatar is, of course, the binary and digital equivalent of an "AKA", which itself is just an acronymic way of saying "I can't stand on my own two feet, so I'll adopt a more exciting alter-ego".

In this rather bizarre and "meta" way, Avatar is indeed a real avatar: pretending to be its own movie, it is, in fact, a fascinating cross-cut blend of several other films, including Fernfully, Dances with Wolves, Pocahontas, Apocalypto, and maybe a bit of Braveheart. However, since Avatar dresses up its brazen plagiarism with some absolutely stunning and spectacular digital imagery and special effects, we'll give it a pass and probably even hand it some academy awards.

A quick synopsis, then: we Americans are a greedy, unfeeling, insensitive bunch of chunk-heads who have no appreciation whatsoever for other cultures, let alone other planets. We frequently go around with actual dollar signs flashing out of our eye sockets, and we will stop at nothing to make a lot of money very quickly. Thus, the RDA Corporation has set out on a mining expedition to Pandora, where it will blow stuff up, kill innocent life-forms, and generally make a drunken fool of itself in the quest to obtain a valuable mineral called ... wait for it ... unobtainium. Please, stop laughing, Mr. Cameron can hear you.

One of the ways the RDA Corporation intends to get this unobtanium (genus: nowaytoprocuremal) is to infiltrate the native Na'vi people using "avatars" - a human-Na'vi hybrid, specially built for the purpose, and operated by human beings using slightly upgraded The Matrix technology. Seriously, you jerks, quit laughing, this is serious art.

Jake Scully operates the lone avatar that is successful in being accepted by the Na'vi people, and this forms the basis for the movie's morality tale: once Jake gets to know and love the Na'vi (because you just know he will), will he remain loyal to the humans and help them rape the land, or will he become a traitor to his race by helping the Na'vi preserve their civilization? I'll bet you really can't guess, can you?

I liked the film, in a sort of "3 stars out of 5" way. As promised, the CGI and digital effects show was very good, and the epic battle at the end of the film was as epic-y and battle-ish as anyone could want. My point of contention is that James Cameron carved up an over-used story, threw in some seriously shameless and pedantic political propaganda, and used that as an excuse to put on a digital dog-and-pony show.

The Na'vi prance around in their skimpy outfits, with their long and braided hair, worshiping the Mother Nature Goddess Life Energy Force and living off the resources of the land - and they have a pretty catchy war-cry, to boot. You can go ahead and mentally supply the eagle-feather warbonnets and tomahawk dancing.

As the unapologetically mercenary humans prepare to go to war against the Na'vi, their actions are justified as "pre-emptive", and described as a "shock and awe" campaign. Jake complains that we humans have already killed our Mother (earth, I think, although he may have been talking about Mother Teresa), and declares that human beings must be taught that we cannot simply take land away from other civilizations in order to get what we want.

In short, as the climactic battle begins, and the war cry is sounded, the average viewer will be so fired up and emotionally provoked that he may very well leap up out of his theater seat, raise his fists into the air, and scream "DEATH TO THE HUMANS!" Presumably, he will then return to his seat and continue consuming his 885 oz. Pepsi and 50-gallon drum of popcorn, little realizing that he has just sided against his own race in favor of a fictional, digital, alien community.

I fail to understand why James Cameron chose the American people as the antagonists in this film. After all, he was writing a story line that simply needed to pit humans against aliens, but out of all the cultures and races on Planet Earth from which to choose, he selected Americans. Obviously, Mr. Cameron has not watched enough Bugs Bunny or Connery-era 007 films, or he would have known that the nationalities preferred for representing Evil Incarnate in cinema are Russians or Germans.

I can only conclude that James Cameron is himself an alien, currently operating a genetically engineered human avatar, sent here to infiltrate our planet and prepare us for the coming alien invasion by filling us with self-loathing.

Still, he's doing it with some fantastic special effects, so ... who cares? Pass the popcorn.

++++++++++

This review was made possible in part by the generosity of Celebration Cinemas in Grand Rapids, MI. Feel like taking in a movie tonight? Celebration has a broad selection of films, stadium-style seating, a clean environment, and best of all, they never show commercials after the advertised showtime. Visit Celebration Cinemas online.

Dirty cops. Minority criminals. Lots of shooting and cursing. All of this and more can be yours for just two hours of your precious time. Actually, there isn't really any "more" to Pride and Glory, so this is all you get for your money.

The movie begins with a cops vs. cops football game, which was probably a bad move, because watching the game unfold just made me want to eat chips, drink beer, and fall asleep on the couch with one arm dangling to the floor, the remote control loosely gripped in my weary hand. Unfortunately, the movie never recovers from this opening blunder.

For most of the film, I felt as though I had been dropped squarely in the middle of an already-established plot line, but without the benefit of knowing any of the backstory. This left the script free to pummel me with spoonfuls of information that seemed like it was probably important, while never revealing to me what was actually going on. Thankfully, the dialog more than made up for this gap by presenting me with generous portions of well-worn cliches, including the requisite "good cop" who has some mysterious and generic "bad thing" from his past, a thing which he is still not quite over. Don't worry about what the "bad thing" is, just try to enter into the character's angst and internal struggle.

Take this basic principle and apply it to the entire movie, and you will get a pretty good idea of why Pride and Glory is a film that fails to be either proud or glorious. For most of the viewing, the movie grips the strings of the heart and pulls them violently, but never indicates what those strings are attached to, leaving the viewer with nothing but a consistent (and confusing) pulling sensation. It was as if the movie kept repeatedly inviting me to come inside for a few drinks, but never gave me a compelling reason to accept the invitation.

At about 45 minutes into the film, the body of a dead drug dealer is found, but the police are unsure "where he fits in"; a witness is questioned, but is declared to be "scattered" in her answers; then follows a funeral procession/parade played out in interminable slow-motion. I believe that it was at this point that the movie became self-aware, and started sending me encoded messages: portions of the plot don't fit it, the direction of the storyline is scattered, and yet it marches on, slowly, unceasingly, toward its morbid conclusion.

One hour into the film, I just wanted out. Most of the story's "reveals" had been unveiled, and there was nothing left to do but watch the yarn unravel, blandly.

John Lennon wanted me to remind you, on this God-Thanking Friday, that love really is all you need. That's it. Just love. All you need is love. Nothing else. Love. Well, ok, all you need is love, and for that pesky restraining order to get dropped. But aside from that, love is all you need - oh, and maybe a decent pick-up line or two. So, get the restraining order dropped, get a workable pick-up line to throw out there, and then love is all you need. Actually, a nice mix tape featuring Luther Vandross, Michael Bolton, Kenny G, and Aaron Neville would be nice, too.

Ok, so love, no restraining order, a pick-up line, and a good power-ballads mix tape. Get all that together, and love is ALL you need.

Nope, now that I think of it, you'll probably also need your medications to try and keep that whole Tourette's thing under control; and it wouldn't hurt at all to secure a few packs of Dentyne Shiver Mint; oh, and you need to sober up, so grab a biggie-size coffee while you're out.

But really, after the restraining order cancellation, the effective pick-up line, the mix tape, the anti-Tourette's pills, some gum, and a large coffee, LOVE IS ALL YOU NEED. Period.

And a half-pound of bacon.

Actually, you know what? The bacon will suffice. Just get the bacon. Bacon is all you need.

I don't have a problem admitting that I eat fast food from time to time. It's a vice, ok? I'm not proud of it, and I have many, many other vices to choose from when I finally get over this one, so I'm not going to sweat it. It's a little like watching a train wreck, really; I have a morbid curiosity when a fast food chain adds a new item to their menu. I got snookered by the Arby's "Roastburger" (all roast, no burger!); I waited in line for the Burger King "Angry Whopper" (with time and therapy, I have almost completely settled back down); I took my chances with Wendy's "Spicy Asian Chicken" (actually, this was pretty good).

So when Burger King introduced their new Transformers-themed menu and began offering a double-stack burger with freakin' BBQ sauce, I wanted to try it. Meat, cheese, bacon, BBQ sauce, bacon, a sesame bun, bacon ... train wreck! And I marveled at the utter brilliance of the whole thing: you see, it's just like the old BK Stacker burger, except ... shhhh ... they added BBQ sauce!



With trembling lip and weak knees, I wandered into the lunch line, slowly snaking its way toward the counter, where a porcine and ample-skinned woman waited to eventually take my order. And really, I was going to order that double-stacked BBQ burger, until I saw it on the menu, heralded by the words: "The New BK Double Stackticon!" That was when it all changed for me, my friend.

I was with them until they did the goofy play-on-words thing. It's a Transformers 2 tie-in, and the bad robots in Transformers are called the "Decepticons" (oh, how I dearly wish that I could say I had no knowledge of such things). So there it is: "double-stack" plus "Decepticon" equals "burger meal cleverly re-named to sound like a childish robot toy".

I do have some sense of self-awareness and dignity, really, I do. I am a grown man. Ok, ok, the "grown" adjective is heavily disputed in my case, I see your point. But I am a man. Alright, FINE, that statement is also hotly contested by those who know of my abiding love for fine fragrances and expensive moisturizers. But I do exist - can we all agree on that? And as someone who exists (PUT YOUR HAND DOWN, WE'LL TALK AFTERWARDS, OK?!), I really could not bring myself to stand in front of another adult human being and say the words, "I would like the double stackticon, please."

Couldn't do it.

Might as well try to stand at the counter and say, with any sense of self-respect, "I'd like to order to Mickey-Rin-Ticky Dilly-Woggle Beefy-Weefy Dub-dub-Cheezer Portly Platter, but make it snappy, the mayor is waiting for me to join him on a top-secret mission to Uranus."

So I got to the counter, looked her square in the eye, and then gestured wildly at the menu sign while grunting incoherently. Oddly enough, I got my burger, and managed to preserve my dignity.

Words! Hooray!

I like words. I love words. I dream in words. I eat words for breakfast. I take words with me to the movies. I lather up, rinse, and repeat - not with words, with shampoo, but believe me, I'm either thinking of words or actually speaking words the whole time. If I could, I would marry words, then fight with words constantly for years and years, and end up going to marital counseling with words, just so we could have a stronger relationship in the end.

It hardly needs to be said, then, that I become weepy and emotionally unbalanced when I have to drive all over town at 1:30 in the morning, and can't find a single Wendy's that is still open and able to help me satisfy my sudden craving for a Baconator. Oh, and also, I become visibly upset and start fondling my Celtic cursing stone when people abuse words.

For the enrichment of all, I take the time to draw attention to a few commonly abused phrases. The purpose, of course, is not to make you, personally, feel bad for possibly having abused these phrases yourself. The purpose is to learn something new and correct old habits, so you can then put on elitist airs and begin making other people feel bad for abusing these phrases. And by "make other people feel bad for abusing the language", I obviously mean, "beat the living trough-muck out of them until they either call the police or promise to stop abusing our beloved mother tongue". Ha ha! Not really! Don't inflict physical harm on anyone after reading this, ok? Just, you know, tell the offenders that they're worse than Hitler, and leave it at that.

It begs the question - If there is no argument being had, and someone says, "well, it really begs the question", chances are pretty good that there is no question-begging going on anywhere in the near vicinity. The phrase means "you have made an assumption that has yet to be proved".

So, for example, if you're arguing with a friend about which movie to see, and he says to you, "Public Enemies is going to be a crappy movie, because Johnny Depp is a terrible actor", you may rightly respond, "that just begs the question". Your friend has assumed as fact, without proof, that Johnny Depp is a terrible actor, and has drawn a conclusion ("the movie will be bad") based on that assumption. He has begged the question. (Note: this does not apply to movies starring Seth Rogan, in which cases it is always safe to say, "This movie is going to blow chunks if only because Seth Rogan [is the star/makes a cameo/was anywhere near the set during filming]")

In most cases, when someone says, "it begs the question", what they mean is that a question has been raised. Example: "I heard Seth Rogan is making a new movie, but he's such a mammoth chewer of scenery, it really begs the question, who is still hiring him to act in movies?" Utterly true statement, but a wretched abuse of the phrase.

It was all for not - This is one of those phrases that gets heard incorrectly first, then misunderstood, then spelled incorrectly in a company-wide memo that is emailed to the entire West Region. However, since the memo was sent by the Division Executive Chair of Directives and Corpulence, everyone in the cube farm assumes the phrase was spelled correctly, and the next thing you know, the error is being perpetuated exponentially by well-meaning pencil-pushers who are trying to sound as smart as they assume their superiors are ("smartness" here being measured in units of Lexus ownership).

"Naught" means "nothing", and so the phrase "it was all for naught" means that it - whatever it is (probably a Seth Rogan movie) - was a waste of time, or did not accomplish anything. Example: "I worked long and hard on that manuscript and spent many sleepless nights, but I never got a book contract, so it was all for naught."

HOWEVER! "Naught" sounds like "not" (especially if you are possessed of that lilting, mellow nasality so common to the Michigan dialect), and so the phrase gets the stuffing kicked out of it when it appears in writing as the rather confusing, "it was all for not". I'm looking right at you, Herr Direktor.

I feel nauseous - Part of me wants to put this one to bed once and for all, but another part of me hopes that it lives on forever, so that I can continue enjoying my own private little joke inside my head. But, hey, he who laughs alone laughs creepily, so I'll let you in on the punchline: to be "nauseated" means to feel sick to your stomach; "nauseous" means causing a feeling of sickness. Thus, that rancid meat pie was nauseous, and after I ate six slices of it, I felt nauseated.

What's the joke? That so many people use the word "nauseous" in reference to themselves, i.e., "I'm nauseous", little realizing that they've just admitted to being a cause of queasiness to others. Sometimes, when someone leans up against me at the bar, reeking of cheap whiskey and stale cigarette smoke, and gurgles the phrase, "I'm so nauseous right now", I chuckle to myself and quietly agree.

Nip it in the butt - Ok, last one. The phrase is "nip it in the bud". Just ask Don Knotts. The "bud" in question refers to the bud of a flowering plant, and to "nip" said plant in the aforementioned "bud" is to stop the flowering process early, preventing it from ever reaching full bloom. The phrase "nip it in the bud" is used to describe an action intended to stop something from making progress. In my experience, any "nipping" that took place near the "butt" area, rather than the "bud" area, tended to lead to making progress rather than stopping it.