James Cameron
Avatar

Twelve years after the blockbuster Titanic, a film by James Cameron returns to the big screen, and it is a triumphant return for the director from Kapuskasing, with a film that promises to become the cinematic event not only of the just-begun 2010 but of the next decade: Avatar.

Only a few numbers would be enough to explain such a sensation: fifteen years of production, a 200-million-dollar budget, most of which was invested in the full development of computer graphics techniques, with cameras created specifically for direct shooting in 3D, in order to use the new Digital 3D like never before, developing its full potential, changing its conception in a revolutionary way, turning it from a mere aesthetic expedient, from an almost playful element of the vision, to a primary, foundational element of the work itself.

A truly "titanic" operation, as only James Cameron can do, aimed at finally giving shape to the vision the director had since '95 and which he had to abandon due to the then too immature animation techniques. That vision had a name: Pandora, the colorful alien world that is the setting for the clash between humans and the indigenous Na'Vi, a world suspended between reality and fantasy, incredibly estranging yet so real. A realism impossible to achieve without the new generation of special effects developed by the technicians of Weta Digital, special effects finally at the service of the work and not, as too often happens, mere filler or artifice.

But let's get to the plot: in 2154, an Earthly company wants to conquer the Pandora planet to seize a particular mineral that could solve a deep energy crisis, but the alien atmosphere is unbreathable for humans who have therefore genetically developed a human/alien hybrid called avatar, a hybrid that a man can control by connecting to a sophisticated mental interface that allows him to live in his simulacrum. Jake Sully, a former marine who became disabled, is chosen to control an avatar sent to the planet with the precise aim of mingling with the Na'Vi aliens, primitive and peaceful, learning their customs and attempting a diplomatic approach. However, Jake will change his mind and side with his new kin to defend Pandora from the bloody invasion.

At first glance, nothing transcendental; the story, not innovative, seems almost a mix between Matrix and Dances with Wolves, but it is the extraordinary modernity, not only technical but also conceptual, that makes Avatar special, turning it into a metalinguistic reflection on the cinematic medium itself. The most attentive will indeed notice within the story the seeds of a new way of conceiving cinema and the attempt to break its boundaries, a planned structural renewal metaphorically embodied by the character of Jake Sully. He, immobilized by his disability, learns slowly to move in the new body and to familiarize with the new reality. Similarly, the viewer, seated and immobile, moves like Sully in his "avatar" experience: initially dumbfounded and amazed, quickly learns to understand the new environment, until being enveloped by it, becoming part of it, just like the Na'Vi aliens are in spiritual communion with their planet.

Here is the extraordinary merit to recognize in Cameron: having succeeded in revolutionizing, or rather enhancing, the classic cinematic device (the dark room, the seats, the booth, the projector, the white screen) and thereby truly breaking the screen barrier, bringing the viewer inside the fiction thus turned into reality. Thanks to this incredible magic, Avatar could then not only be for today's science fiction what Blade Runner was thirty years ago but, in terms of modernity, transcend the genre boundaries and become a milestone for cinema as a whole. Don't miss it.