Check One for Exposure

Every aspect of James Cameron’s Avatar is hyper-sensual. From the iridescently glowing foliage to the rich, supernatural colors that clothe the planet and its beings, Pandora is a world where the dullness of regimented modern existence fades away, revealing the adventurous playfields of the natural world. For this reason, it takes a relatively tried and true formula, the “messianic” melodrama, and breathes into it new life and effectiveness. Its box-office success was no less a product of the massive marketing budget devoted to its exposure as it was to its formulaic properties. And it is the formula that Avatar employs, coupled with its otherworldly computer aided effects, which interests me.

Avatar might be classified under the action or fantasy heading if you were to stroll into your local movie-rental store, those that still exist to be accurate, but it could just as easily fit under the romance, political, or science-fiction labels. And this ambiguity allows Avatar such wide appeal or distaste, both of which achieve attention. I will personally applaud James Cameron on exploiting about as many of humankind’s weak-spots as is possible within a 2-3 hour period. His use of humanoid natives in Pandora offers the observer a sense of reality that is just fantastic enough to pass as myth and not outright documentary. Myth by some authors, Roland Barthes being a progenitor, bridges the gap between reality and fantasy or image and self-image. It allows a subjective human consumer the ability to recontextualize his or her existence within the parameters of a slightly more free or positive world. In Avatar, Jake Sully, the paraplegic Marine, is reinvigorated with the use of his legs in Pandora through a virtual reality mechanism. Colonel Miles Quatrich, head of security forces on the planet, is able to face an unbeatable foe and so satisfy his need for a worthy opponent. Parker Selfridge, field manager for an inter-planetary mining company, commands one of the most potentially fruitful business ventures in history, and Neytiri, daughter of the Na’vi tribal leader, is able to find love with a compassionate, powerful, righteous white man [no dubiousness here] and teach the infidels about the sanctity of the natural world. So too are the reviewers and observers of Avatar given the opportunity to envision a world more vibrant and fulfilling then their own: love is an organic quality of this planet, the natural world works in harmony with its “self-knowing” companions, one can simply cast away structure and modernity, and become who they were “meant to be.” The addition of political and social commentary on the establishments: military, business, and science, offers more fodder for the charged viewer. Finally, the special effects demand that anyone with a half-interest in technological advances should see this film as a magnum-opus. This all adds up to a very real canvassing of target markets, leading Avatar to outrageous box-office success.

But it is the melodramatic, romantic, action packed, fantastic, political, science-fiction formula that does its work on the individual and public culture that places Avatar in the realm of modern-day myth. With every swell of James Horner’s soundtrack and every glint off a wet fern, Pandora draws us inexorably toward our better selves, and tells us a truth that we could never tell ourselves. It allows us to float through the clouds, feel the mist, and reconnect with nature; something severely absent in today’s living. It works, in part, because thousands of other stories of its breed have before it, we are reacting rotely not uniquely. But it works better for the embellishments, namely 237 million dollars-worth, that Cameron added. I would urge anybody to watch the movie, but I’d caution that whatever reaction you may have, the film still accomplishes its primary objective: exposure.