Or "James Cameron's CG Wetdream on Film"

Allow me to begin this by stating that I speak of James Cameron's 12/18/2009 release, not Shyamalan's Spring 2010 release.


What do I have to say? The movie was great. Excellent. Not Butt-clinchingly "revolutionary" as Cameron stated it would be, its no District-9, but pretty fucking badass in it's own right.

I knew that Cameron was overreaching with his claims of it being "the best thing to hit film" and I knew it wouldn't live up to its hype (I mean the man's been out of film for 12 years, and the last time he got behind a camera he made Titanic... yeah, THE Titanic.) But I know Cameron's a good guy, just look at what he did with Scott's Alien in Aliens!

But the hype was immense especially when, upon recieving his last oscar for Titanic, Cameron claimed he was "King of the world!" you have to think the king of the fucking world is going to do some tremendous shit.
Not only am I not one to be swayed by hype in the slightest (ooooh but I am a sucker for viral marketing!) I also had the slight beef with the outcome of the arm wrestling match between Cameron and Shyamalan for the name "Avatar" as a movie.
As you should know when I think Avatar, I think a little bald kid with arrow tattoos and serious mommy-issues. So I was less than pleased that our fan-worshipped film had to drop the name for the simpler "The Last Airbender" because Cameron decided to name his movie "Avatar" rather than the more appropriate "Dances with Blue Furries" (Or more aptly, Cartman's "Dances with Smurfs" suggestion)

Despite all this, I knew I had to do my man Cameron the rights and shell out the extra $2 or whatever for the 3D IMAX viewing. Packed in at 3pm on a Friday afternoon in an (extremely) warm IMAX theater, I watched James Cameron's Avatar.

I walked out with respect for the man, awe at the movie, and an extremely odd sexual attraction to blue furries that I couldn't quite comprehend. I am, as of this moment still confused by those latter feelings, though they have since been remedied by a healthy dosing of furless boobies.

Considering what Cameron spent on this film, I can give him respect for gambling so big on a December-release film. I can respect him for actually SUCCEEDING with that gamble and making the highest-grossing December film of all time. But I can definitely respect him for making over half the film's budget opening weekend worldwide. The domestic gross may have been underwhelming (a mere $77million to the film's $500million budget) but with the $197million international weekend, the man knows his work.

I walked out with awe because the movie was stunning, the visuals were outstandingly done, the best CG I've ever seen and it supported a very well done story. A lot of people are trying to hate Avatar because they think that "the story lacks" or it has "uninteresting flat characters who like to satisfy their inner-furry" but those are unfounded statements.
I may not have felt for these characters as I did for say, Clive Owen's Theo Faron in Children of Men but I definitely felt more connected to on-again off-again crippled blue furry Jake Sully, played by Sam Worthington more than I could even jokingly feel for Orlando Bloom's Will Turner, or even Russell Crowe's Maximus. Yeah, I said it, I connected better with James Cameron than Ridley Scott. Crucify me now, fellow Scott-worshippers, but Avatar was so well emotionally driven and excecuted, I wanted to go visit Pandora and have blue kitty sex under glowy trees say hi to the Na'vi, even if the planet would have eaten me alive with all those badass creatures it has.
Some people have said this is sci-fi "Dances with Wolves" But why do they say it so negatively? Why is that so bad? Dances with Wolves was a great fuckin' movie! That was true story-telling! And Avatar fulfills in every department.

And come on, Neytiri was hot for a giant blue kitty. Then again I've always had a thing for "big girls" now haven't I?

James Cameron, I give you the honorary 9/10 which qualifies you for an honorary Z-Oscar, only given six other times in history.



Now where's my God-damned Slumdog Fire-Prince?