Down On Up
The Oscar nominations are set to be announced early tomorrow morning in Los Angeles, and a steady stream of Oscar talk has pegged Pixar’s Up to be one of the ten films nominated for Best Picture. This is disheartening for several reasons.
First and foremost is the fact that Up is an animated film. The category Best Feature Length Animated Film was created following the confusion over Beauty and the Beast in order to prevent live action films from competing against the more manufactured charms of animated films. While I don’t necessarily agree with this in years when there was a truly special animated film – Finding Nemo or The Incredibles, for instance – this year’s crop of animated films is of a distinctly second-tier quality. Only Coraline really seemed especially worthy of such consideration. Still, why have that category only to nominate an animated film for Best Picture anyway?
But the Best Picture talk for Upbugs me even more because it simply is not worthy of consideration. Most positive reviews (including mine) mentioned the truly beautiful and wordless montage at the outset that tracked the lifelong love of Carl and Ellie. This sequence is easily among Pixar’s finest work, mixing complex emotions with a truly magnificent series of images. But twenty minutes does not a Best Picture make. Those who were blown away by the opening sequences found themselves an hour later staring at talking dogs flying airplanes. And awkward, annoying birds as comic relief. And an old man performing gravity-defying aerial gymnastics. Cartoons are not supposed to be real, of course, but they should have some sort of internal logic.
The entire last section of the film completely dumps on the idea of internal logic, something Pixar usually screws down tightly. Where did the bad guy Muntz come up with all of this technology while living in a cave in some remote jungle? Who built miniature planes for his pooches, or any of the other devices used throughout the climax? If he had that kind of technology, why was he having such a hard time finding a few stupid (and very loud) birds in the jungle? Again, I realize these are quibbles, but these are also elements that Pixar has mastered in the past.
Even worse are the unappealing characters placed at the forefront of this film. Carl is crabby and mean-spirited. Russell is an overweight and insecure kid who constantly yammers throughout the film. The bird is incredibly annoying, sounding unpleasantly like the feathered lizard creature from Revenge of the Sith. Dug the dog had some funny moments, but much of his character is just a blank representation of a dog’s mind. The other evil dogs have more personality, but their “arc” is fairly silly. Muntz has very little plausible motivation, and makes an unrealistic turn into pure, unadulterated evil near the climax. These are serious problems in character development, a disappointing first for Pixar, a studio that once carefully crafted their screenplays.
Yes, there are moments of visual wonder in Up on par with anything else seen in theaters this year. My personal favorite is the launching of the balloon house, the light scattering wild color all over the ghetto in which Carl lives. But these brief flashes of Pixar’s imaginative style cannot disguise the limp plot, terrible character development, and general silliness. Upcannot even compete against Pixar’s own catalogue, where it might rank just ahead of only Cars and A Bug’s Life in quality. It certainly should not be considered one of the finest achievements in all of film in 2009 despite the weakness of the competition.
More than anything, including Up in a list of ten Best Picture nominees means that another, more worthy film might be excluded. This is especially true in a weak year like 2009, when films are struggling to be noticed in the fray. I would be disheartened to see Up nominated while worthy films like District 9, Antichrist, The Watchmen, or Moon remain overlooked for consideration.
Hopefully the Academy realizes what a mistake it would be to nominate a film like Up simply based off of fleeting and manipulative feelings of poignancy. The purpose of voting for a Best Picture is to distill the finest composite example of craftsmanship. Up simply does not achieve such rarefied air.
ANVIL Concert Review
I realize that this is supposed to be a movie site, but I wanted to include this because a movie inspired me.
The documentary Anvil: The Story Of Anvil was one of the best of 2009; here is my review. The film showed Anvil, one of the pioneers of heavy metal music, laboring at menial jobs because they never became famous like their metal brethren Metallica or Judas Priest. Thanks to the tireless dreams of the band, the film becomes an inspirational ode to never giving up on your vision in life.
Thanks to the success of the documentary, the band, after 30 years of trying, have finally found an audience.
Anvil came to my hometown of St. Louis, Missouri on Friday night, where they played at the largest small venue in town. With a capacity of around 2,800, The Pageant typically hosts decent-sized bands of a mid-tier quality. For a band like Anvil, who played to five people in one club in the documentary, this show indicates that they have finally “made it.”
There are three things that St. Louisans absolutely love without question: beer (St. Louis is the home of Anheuser Busch, so, duh …), Cardinal baseball, and rock music. There remains a simmering rock/metal scene in St. Louis, despite the fact that the rest of the music world abandoned those genres years ago. Sammy Hagar plays broomclosets everywhere else he tours, but in St. Louis he sells out three consecutive shows at 50,000 tickets a piece. He’s so popular, I wouldn’t be surprised if they erected an enormous statue of Hagar leaning on The Arch.
But Anvil is another story. Now in their fifties, the band has refused to alter their sound or update their approach. The music on their thirteenth album is exactly the same as their first one so long ago, which is commendable but suicidal in the industry these days. So it was surprising to see such a large and diverse crowd, even in a rock town like St. Louis; there were old men clad in leather, middle-aged suburban housewives, teenagers with mowhawks, and even an eight year old in a wifebeater rocking in the mosh pit. It was a strange mix, to say the least.
After two local metal acts opened (the excellent Gold Tooth, and the decent Conquest), Anvil finally took the stage. Lead singer/guitarist Lips ran out onstage with a huge smile on his face. Instantly you realize: Lips is exactly the same in that documentary as he is in real life. It’s not an act. The guy is goofy but instantly loveable; there needs to be a Lips doll sold somewhere at one of these shows. He’s like a Labrador Retriever that can also play the guitar.
And can he ever play. One of the gripes I had with the documentary is that we never really see how well the band can play. Lips is more than a fun, slightly-strange frontman; he is an excellent guitarist. He’s also a very creative guitarist as well; at one point, Lips pulled out the “famous” silver dildo and played his guitar with it for several minutes. It’s very clear that Lips loves playing metal music for anybody, but especially when he has the love of an appreciative crowd in front of him.
But Lips isn’t the only Anvil member who can deftly handle their instrument. Bass player Glenn Five – a fifteen year Anvil veteran who Lips referred to as “the new guy” – is stunning behind his monster bass, his fingers moving so quickly and maintaining a perfect backbone. However, it was drummer Robb Reiner who shocked me the most. This guy is in his fifties. He’s old. In the documentary, Reiner comes off like a man who might nod off at any moment. But when Reiner gets behind his drum set, he comes alive in a way that is almost spiritual. He unleashed a several minute drum solo that left my jaw on the ground. The fact that this guy has labored in obscurity for thirty years while Neil Peart gets worshipful handjobs is simply a crime. Reiner is amazing.
Where the band fails is in its songwriting, and that, more than anything, is probably the reason why they never made it very far. The music is fine, but the lyrics are generally atrocious. For instance, they have a song off of their thirteenth album called This Is Thirteen. Off of the album called This Is Thirteen. They played this at the concert. It’s completely meaningless, full of metal cliches strung together without any coherency. Even metal music, which generally survives on its aggression, needs to have some sort of point. Anvil songs generally lack this important songwriting aspect.
Despite this, the concert was truly a spiritual and inspirational experience. As Lips declared at one point, the band has finally made it. They quit their depressing jobs, and are now touring the United States and Europe. They are playing in front of thousands of fans every night. They never gave up on their dreams, and those dreams finally came true. It is a beautiful ending to that wonderful documentary.
Lips never stopped smiling Friday night. And, for the sake of the dreams we all have inside, I hope he never stops.
Wall Street Wakes Up To 2010
There has never been a better and more important time for director Oliver Stone to resurrect Wall Street than right now. The entire world just endured two years of nearly-cataclysmic financial ruination at the hands of a group of big banking Gordon Gekkos. Deregulation has spawned a wild new breed of crooks, all of whom wear sharp suits instead of masks and wield fountain pens instead of guns.
It’s amazing how prophetic Stone’s original film proved to be in the years following it. Gekko’s famous line, “greed is good,” became something of a mantra along the lines of “God is dead,” a cultural zeitgeist distilled into three simple words. When Stone made the original, I’m sure he had no idea just how bad things would eventually get.
But now Stone is revisiting the original’s themes of corruption and greed with a sequel titled Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps. I was elated when I first heard of this film, confident that Stone would use Gekko and the topic as a springboard for a chance to attack many of the horrific financial atrocities we’ve seen in the last twenty years.
But then this trailer arrived today, and my heart sank just a bit.
Yes, the trailer for this upcoming sequel is fun and ironic. Yes, it’s great to see Michael Douglas back in his cock-of-the-walk mode, strutting his considerable stuff once more. But the awkward rock guitars, the flimsy attempts at humor, and Shia LeBeouf all seems to indicate that this film is going to be a much more lightweight affair than I had hoped – and a film much sillier than the current economic climate requires. Here is the trailer itself:
I will still give Stone the benefit of the doubt until he proves me wrong. This is a man who feels passionately about America and her founding principles, and has shown the backbone to go after even the most obscure targets when he is righteously indignant. I just hope he hasn’t lost sight of the true villains as he mocks his movie villain for a few cheap laughs. This is already a guaranteed hit, so hopefully Stone doesn’t dumb down this unique chance to address today’s problems in order to appeal to the average moviegoers out there.
If I Had A Vote
We are mere days away from the final collection of votes for the upcoming Academy Awards. An interesting article posted on Hollywood Elsewhere points to the problems people within the Academy are having in filling out all ten nominating spots on their ballot for Best Picture.
How is it that these people, whose lives revolve around films and filmmaking, are unable to come up with a top ten list of best pictures?? Even casual moviegoers can rattle off a top ten list of films from 2009, and they don’t have the enormous benefit of being mailed screeners in the fall. It really speaks to the worthlessness of the Academy and the Oscars in general, and reveals the entire enterprise as devoid of merit or substance.
Given the fact that the people in the Academy know as much about film as your average pustules sore, I suppose I’ll pretend like I’m a member and go over what would be my ballot entries if I had a vote.
BEST PICTURE
(caveat – I have yet to see Crazy Heart, which is apparently wonderful)
1. The Hurt Locker – simply the best film of the year in a fairly weak one. Concussive, exciting, visceral.
2. Up In The Air
3. Inglourious Basterds – I hate putting this on the list, but it’s pretty well done.
4. An Education
5. Precious
6. Moon – a low budget gem.
7. The Watchmen – I have really started to love this film, which is much deeper than the average film of this sort.
8. District 9 – Just a brutal and searing film.
9. Antichrist – a magnetic and challenging art film.
10. The Hangover
(Read more)
Lucas Disappears Entirely
Once upon a time, there was a promising young filmmaker named George Lucas. He had deep thoughts about religion, drug-use, socialism, dreams, and the power of aspirations. He built powerful and entertaining films around these big ideas, films that redefined technology and sound so thoroughly that one of his films – THX-1138 – is the name of the industry’s leading sound system.
But something happened to Lucas with the blinding financial windfall of Star Wars that slowly destroyed the promising filmmaker, replacing him with a corporate money vacuum plagued by self-delusion. Watch this interesting interview with Lucas on the Daily Show, and marvel at how far Lucas has fallen:
| The Daily Show With Jon Stewart | Mon – Thurs 11p / 10c | |||
| George Lucas | ||||
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It’s disturbing to hear Lucas talk about Star Wars as if he must create these films. This is the most troubling quote of all:
“I love doing Star Wars. In the beginning, I thought it was going to be one little movie, and then move on. It’s not at all what I expected my life to be … But you take what you get.”
Huh? This is the sound of a man who seems to have no control over what he’s been doing in his life, which is ludicrous. Lucas made countless millions of dollars in ‘77/78 with the success of Star Wars. At that point Lucas could have walked away from that film and accomplished anything he wanted. He didn’t do that, of course. He went on and finished the trilogy, making him even richer and more powerful. Following that, Lucas could have easily walked away from the films and made whatever popped into his head. And while he produced a few films – Willow and Howard The Duck spring to mind – he did almost nothing for twenty years before coming back to make more Star Wars films! This idea that Lucas is some sort of Christ-like figure sacrificing his life and career for the good of Star Wars smacks of monumental delusion.
What is actually true is that Lucas was possibly the most talented of the young directors that came out of the early seventies film school generation, but he pissed it all away chasing money. This continued talk about Red Tails is simply more PR nonsense designed to make it seem as if Lucas is actually still a viable creative entity. He’s not. As the prequel DVD extras reveal, he’s simply an Emperor in the center of a massive industry, cherry-picking the creativity of others to make himself richer.
What a waste.
Thanks, SlashFilm!
Have Avatar Haters Lost Their Sense Of Wonder?
I walked out of Avatar confused, struggling with certain feelings. The special effects were amazing, I knew that for sure. The 3D, while not yet perfect, was the best I’d ever seen. On the other hand, I also knew that I didn’t care at all for the “characters,” all of whom are less substantial than the floating CGI dust particles on Pandora. The story was predictable and rote, although I thought Cameron told it well enough. Those two opposing opinions within me continued even after I finished my review, bleeding over into discussions in my personal life and online.
Since its release, Avatar has fueled a fiery and emotional debate throughout the online movie community. A majority of movie fans feel that Avatar’s wondrous, transporting effects and Cameron’s ability to tell stories trumps the lack of originality in the screenplay or the lack of depth to the characters. Meanwhile, a vocal minority has consistently hammered at the film’s lack of originality, the flat characters, and the lifeless storytelling. Of course, any movie experience is subjective, and no individual opinion can rightly “prove” itself to be absolutely correct. But, without a doubt, the massive box office numbers – in addition to the glowing reviews – indicate that most people are experiencing something transcendent in Avatar that we dissenters are not.
This bothers me a little bit because it hits me at the core of why I love movies. It makes me ask – have I fallen behind? Have I lost some part of my childish ability to be transported, to be enthralled, to be enchanted, to let myself go off into adventure blindly and willingly and disappear in a sense of wonder?
I certainly had that ability at one time. As a child of the Star Wars generation, I was hard-wired to suspend my disbelief and give in to wonder. Even as I learned more about the technical aspects of special effects, I was still able to turn the analysis off at some point and allow myself to transport into the imaginations onscreen. Films like E.T., Aliens, Terminator 2, and Jurassic Park never fooled me with special effects, but I was able to give in to their power, suspend disbelief, and let my inner child roam in the fantasy of each film.
But I seem unable to do that with Avatar, and I’m not sure why.
The Avatar dissenters have a variety of arguments against the film, but most of them fail to work. The argument propped up against Avatar’s weak, derivative storyline does not work, because films like Star Wars and E.T. had been told a thousand times prior, but it never mattered then. While I believe the performances of Star Wars are much more enjoyable than anything in Avatar, the characters themselves are probably written about as well as those found in Avatar. Dissenters often point to the spectacle of Avatar overwhelming the derivative storytelling, but the same argument could easily be made for Star Wars and Jurassic Park. Haters also mention how manipulative Avatar feels, but the very same accusation could be leveled at E.T. or Jurassic Park. So what argument works here?
For me, I’m not exactly sure why I dislike the film. I know I didn’t really like any character in it except Neytiri; I cannot really name any trait unique to any other character in the film except that the helicopter pilot chick is Latino. The editing is not as crisp as in films like Star Wars, and, in terms of sheer transportation, there isn’t a single sequence in this film that feels as propulsive as the T-Rex attack in Jurassic Park, the bike chase in E.T., the truck/motorcycle chase in Terminator 2, or the final battle in Aliens. Still, those are very subjective aspects, and as criticism they do not really hold much weight.
But it is that struggle within myself that I find so disturbing. Has my inner child died? Have I lost touch with the youthful ability to lose myself in wonder? When I think back to more recent cinematic feelings of jubilation I’ve had – Pan’s Labyrinth, Children Of Men, No Country For Old Men, The Dark Knight – I realize that all of those films are darker visions. None of them operate solely on that childish level of pure fantasy; all of them have subtext, adult ideas that stimulate my adult thinking abilities. I felt transported more by the intellectual worlds of those films, rather than the physical fantasy worlds they inhabit.
And that’s a key problem. Although people have read much into Avatar, it’s not operating on a deeper subtextual meaning. James Cameron just wanted to create a kick-ass adventure film with his revolutionary digital toys. To sit through Avatar means to shut off your brain and let yourself be transported to a galaxy far, far away. It is a film made for children, or the children still existing within starry-eyed adults who tightly grasp their sense of wonder.
I guess I must have lost mine somewhere. I see all of the flaws in Avatar, but I feel no wonder. As I watch massive audiences move in and out of screenings of Avatar like joyous, exuberant tides, I secretly wish that my little child of wonder could return just one more time.
Adult Situations
While watching the new Jason Reitman film Up In The Air, which I loved, I was struck most by the adult relationships on display. The characters played by George Clooney and Vera Farmiga are mature, complex, fully-developed people who engage in thoughtful and intelligent conversation. It’s amazing how something that simple can lift and enervate you in ways that $400 million in special effects cannot.
The film made me think back to some other film moments when two characters engaged in relationships, conversations, and situations that felt alive, fresh, and adult. One of my all-time favorite scenes comes from Victor/Victoria. Victoria (Julie Andrews) and King Marchand (James Garner) find themselves sitting on a bed after months of an extremely complicated courtship. The two discuss their relationship – or, rather, potential relationship – in adult, frank, and honest ways. It helps that Blake Edwards’ excellent dialogue is delivered from two terrific performers at the top of their game. But what is so refreshing, so exhilarating, is listening to honest dialogue from two adult characters we have come to care about in the film. Check out this scene right here:
Wonderful, isn’t it?
Another example of this is one of my all-time favorite films, Remains Of The Day. It’s a romance film about unrequited love – the most painful kind – starring two of the most powerful actors of this generation. Again, keen dialogue forms the basis of this dynamic onscreen relationship, and it’s built upon by nuanced performance to make movie magic. Why can’t we see more adults coping with complex emotional situations in mature and fascinating fashion? Why must everything be dumbed down, farted on, and shoveled into the hog trough all the time? Check out this amazing and beautifully-acted scene between these two fine actors:
In the face of intense, realistic, fluid scenes like these, isn’t it shocking that anyone wastes their time watching eye-gouging garbage like Transformers? Mature films like these with adult emotions cost nothing to make, yet they sink deep into the hearts of audiences and stay there forever. Why would we ever want anything else?
Avatar Isn’t Even Cameron’s Best Movie
The last week or so has seen critics and audiences declaring James Cameron’s Avatar a masterpiece and a cultural milestone. Most of this reaction is likely due to the special effects work, which cost a record $400 million to produce and are truly spectacular.
But as a film in total, Avatar is not only NOT a masterpiece; it is not even the best film Cameron has ever directed. In fact, it might be closer to the bottom of such a list.
Here is a list of Cameron’s films, in my order of best to worst:
1. Aliens – Despite being a sequel, Cameron crafts an emotional and cathartic film that stands alone. Every character bristles with life and energy, thanks in part to a screenplay filled with memorable lines. The final act is a legendary example of pacing, editing, and payoff.
2. The Terminator – although its sequel was the one that received all of the attention, this film is nasty, compact, and sleek. Look past the dated hairdos and stop-motion effects, and you’ll see one of the best thrillers ever made.
3. Titanic – Though bloated and a bit corny (I’m looking at you, Billy Zane), Cameron does a masterful job of leading modern audiences through the technical details of the ship and wreckage, while still grabbing their hearts with a pretty potent romance. That romance is helped along considerably by two winning lead performances, and some excellent supporting actors. It is a testament to the film’s power that, even on repeat viewings, one is still gripped by that longing of first romance that lingers in the eyes of an aged Rose on the ship deck at the end.
4. Avatar- Visually powerful, thanks to some incredible CGI work. The central romance between the leads works primarily due to Zoe Saldana’s physical performance, and despite Sam Worthington’s personality-free role. The plot and structure are purely by-the-numbers, and the conclusion is very flat. An interesting film worth seeing, but its legacy will be solely based on enormous wads of cash thrown into special effects technology.
5. Terminator 2: Judgement Day – A pioneering special effects extravaganza in its day, the film has lost a lot of steam over the years thanks to a weak screenplay. Like Avatar, T2 is littered with flimsy, cringe-worthy dialogue. What T2 also suffers from is a second act transition (Sarah drives off to kill Miles Dyson) so ridiculous and ham-handed that it defies logic. Add to that some clunky narration (another Avatar problem), and you have a film that has not aged well at all.
6. The Abyss- Technically a marvel, and in some ways the best screenplay solely written by Cameron. The dynamic between Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio and Ed Harris is electric, and the cast is rounded out by several standout performances. What doesn’t work is the silly alien plot lurking in the background for most of the film. It makes an enormous and fairly stupid entrance late in the game, and transforms this tense underwater action film into the sappiest environmental-message film of recent times.
7. True Lies- The film has some terrific action set pieces (a Cameron trademark), and it also has some decent chemistry between Jamie Lee Curtis and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Mostly, though, this film is just a formula film without much of Cameron’s personality evident throughout; it might as well have been made by a second-unit director in his stead.
8. Piranha 2: The Spawning- C’mon .. it has flying piranha. It’s the worst.
Overall, it’s safe to say that Cameron has had a tremendous impact on filmmaking in terms of technology and the use of formulas to drive ticket sales. But his legacy as a storyteller is still in doubt, often coughing up cliched stories and scripts upon which to hang his very expensive gadgets. He is one of the most successful directors working today, but one could say the same thing about clueless hacks like Michael Bay. Box office grosses and technological advances alone cannot be the mark of a great director. One must produce output that consistently fires on all cylinders.
To date, Cameron has yet to do that.
The Use Of Archetype In Avatar Versus Star Wars
As James Cameron’s $500 million dollar CGI spectacular Avatar rolls across theaters this week, many have labeled it a bland cross between Dances With Wolves and Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace. While there are similarities to both of those examples in terms of storyline and tone, Avatar bears a striking similarity to another massive blockbuster in its use of archetype to tell and sell its story.
When Star Wars hit theaters in 1977, many critics quickly pointed out the canny use of archetypal characters and situations employed by Lucas to build his story. Lucas, a thoughtful student of the writing of mythologist Joseph Campbell, crafted a soaring space opera around easily-identifiable archetypes, which allowed his fairly bizarre world to translate to modern audiences around the world.
Until now, Cameron has rarely used archetypes to manage his stories, relying instead on stunning, character-driven set pieces and action sequences to drive his films. But in Avatar, Cameron has attempted to create an archetypal story much like Star Wars, perhaps in the hope that his very expensive film would resonate with audiences in the same way that Star Wars did thirty years earlier. The failures of Cameron to properly utilize these archetypes goes a long way in explaining why Avatar does not leave the same impression as Lucas’ fantasy blockbuster.
First, let’s look at the Cambell-esque archetypes used by both filmmakers in the crafting of their individual stories:
Lucas followed Campbell’s outline to the letter, while Cameron made some slight deviations from it. One of the great strengths of Star Wars is its use of the hero and shapeshifter characters to create terrific amounts of tension and friction. Han Solo’s motivations throughout the film make the main threesome of Luke, Leia, and Han a potent dramatic force that pays off handsomely in the final minutes in the attack on the Death Star.
In Avatar, Cameron attempts to use Pandora as the shapeshifter, even down to the last-minute rescue of the heroes by this “character” that directly mimics Han’s last-minute change of heart. But what was a thrilling key moment in Star Wars lacked the same dramatic thrust in Avatar primarily because this key character was not really a character at all, and not one that an audience can really know in any meaningful way. Therefore, Pandora’s sudden rescue of the heroes carries little dramatic weight.
In Star Wars, Lucas wisely inserted C3PO and Artoo Detoo as trickster characters, which then inserted a lot of gentle humor into the film. Cameron’s Avatar sorely lacks a prominent trickster character. This robs the film of much warmth and humor, leaving the film somewhat leaden and stoic and preventing the film from attaining any dramatic altitude.
The script for Avatar also mishandles the mentor character, which again robs the film of dramatic weight. Dr. Grace Augustine, played by Sigourney Weaver, introduces Jake to the Avatar program and guides him into the world of Pandora. Her presence after the first half hour is severely limited, however, and so her character is never able to gain any dramatic momentum by the time she is sacrificed. This is in stark contrast to the Obi Wan Kenobi character, who is a strong constant throughout. His interactions with both Luke and Han establish him as a wise, strong, but gentle leader. The script forces us to consider Obi Wan from Luke’s respectful perspective. When Obi Wan is killed by Vader, the shock resonates through Luke to the audience.
In addition to the misuse of character archetypes, Cameron also fails to provide situational archetypes in the structure of his screenplay. In Star Wars, Lucas created an archetypal battle station/fortress in the Death Star; the attack on the Death Star figures as the place of the dramatic showdown between good and evil. Its destruction at the end provides catharsis as the hero archetype fulfills his destiny. By comparison, Avatardoes not provide a specific delineation between good and evil forces. The “hometree” of the Na’vi is destroyed in the opening segment of the battle, but it is not even the most sacred place for this alien race. Therefore, its destruction carries no discernible weight, since it is not the primary goal. This failure on the part of Cameron serves to dramatically confuse audiences, since the objects being fought over do not have any specific meaning or importance.
The very principles used by Lucas to give his simple space opera drama, tension, and emotional lift are the very ones missing from Avatar, and it ultimately shows in the lifelessness onscreen. Very little that occurs in Avatar feels impactful or important, despite the constant exposition about the meaning of life. The characters in Avatar, though loosely designed around the same template as those in Star Wars, never achieve any measurable connection to the audience the way the primary characters in Star Wars do. This is primarily due to Cameron’s failure to provide the necessary archetypes, or to give the audience identifiable markers for each archetype so that they will resonate subconsciously.
Though Avatar is a good film with impressive special effects, its lack of easily identifiable archetypes prevents it from achieving the universal emotional appeal that Star Wars enjoyed during its transformation from simple space opera to cultural milestone.
Did Racism Blunt The Princess and the Frog?
Animated films have been all the rage over the last several years. They are assured moneymakers; even cheaper, independently-produced animated films (think films like Hoodwinked) make remarkable returns on their investment. And for major players like Disney and Pixar, their animated films are almost legendary moneymakers.
In recent years, there has been an almost insatiable desire for computer animated films, as opposed to the traditional hand-drawn method. This is mostly due to the market unearthed by Pixar’s Toy Story, which showed that computer animation looks more like a child’s toy, and therefore translates into retail product much easier.
But traditional animated fare has survived – and even thrived – despite the rise of computer animation. Films like Coraline and The Fantastic Mr. Fox show that traditional animation methods can produce healthy box office returns.
Given this, what caused the relatively small box office take for Disney’s hand-drawn The Princess and the Frog this past weekend? The film made $24.2 million on a whopping 4,800 screens, hardly matching the larger returns for Disney cartoons of the past. Despite the film setting a record for box office returns in December for animated films, this sum must be considered disappointing by anyone rationally watching such things (namely, Disney accountants). By comparison, Coraline made $16 million and then $18 million in two weeks the dead zone of February of 2009 on far fewer screens, and that film wasn’t promoted nearly as hard as this newest Disney film. Disney is probably looking at a domestic gross of only around $120 million for this film, far lower than the monster hits of the past.
So if not the audience, what caused the lack of performance? For me, it comes down to simple racism. The film, which features Disney’s first foray into African/Cajun themes since Song of the South, simply seemed too ethnic for the majority. The witchdoctor character seemed too black … the setting is too Louisiana backwoods … and the heroine seemed just a bit too “what-choo-talkin’-bout” for most people’s tastes.
One cannot blame Disney’s promotional team, which seemed to hit the right notes with the trailers and teasers. You certainly cannot fault the animation itself, which is gorgeous. And let’s not forget that the film had star-power with voices like Oprah Winfrey and John Goodman in the cast.
In the end, I don’t think average Americans want to see this much ethnicity and cultural “flavor” in their animated children’s films. It’s a sad commentary on how far we have yet to come to embrace differences and instill that in our young.
