The Irony of Avatar
I found Avatar entertaining, intellectually offensive, and ironic in the extreme.
The story was engaging—a stock tale of sci fi adventure in which the hero goes native, defends his new underdog community from his own oppressive kind, and gets the girl. The film was visually compelling, with imaginative computer imaging, effective 3-D, and enjoyable alterations of garb and scale applied to flora and fauna—calla lilies, jellyfish, and trees; horses, wolves, monkeys, elephants, rhinos, and pterosaurs.
There was one authentically moving moment in the human/humanoid events of the movie: Challenged to a duel by his rival for power and for the girl, the protagonist pulls his knife, then throws it away, saying “I am not your enemy.” It was a gesture of courage, brief but dramatic and noble. Of course it didn’t impress the rival, who is prevented from hurting the hero only by a threatening, tooth-baring hiss from the knife-wielding heroine.
Which brings us to the intellectual offense—the film’s outrageous festival of propaganda. Reality is caricatured as a Manichean war between the forces of light—the nature-wise noble savages of the feminine planet Pandora—and the forces of darkness—the pseudo-military, mineral-hungry, macho capitalist invaders from English-speaking earth. (Pandora means “all gifts” and is the name of the first woman in Greek myth.) Here are some of the pro and contra opinions the movie is trying to make sure we hold:
We are to be in favor of nature; animals, plants, and particularly trees; the heart; science as curiosity; females and feminism; woodcraft, environmentalism, equality, and non-verbal communication; hunting and gathering; indigenous peoples; dreadlocks; tribalism; and paganism.
We are to be opposed to civilization; technology, metallic machines, and particularly war machines; the mind; science as conquest; males (unless they are rogue males with a feminine side who rebel against evil civilization) and machismo; industry, capitalism, hierarchy, and military orders; mineral (read oil) extraction; white (and token non-white) Americans; uniforms; imperialism; and materialism. (The earth’s great religions are not included among the ideas to be opposed. This is only because there is not the least hint that any of them exists.)
Think American marines in Iraq with Saddam Hussein as Sitting Bull, or in Afghanistan with Al Qaeda as basket-weavers and opium poppies as Gaia’s intercom.
On Pandora all the trees intercommunicate through their roots, making a vast planetary computer that might be called “mother nature,” which can do better anything that science and technology can do (e.g., move a soul from one body to another). The heroine is sufficiently liberated from pre-feminist stereotype to be able to run, fly, fight, and kill. She (or was it her oracle-mother?) observes that “They have destroyed their planet and now want to destroy this one”—i.e., Al Gore was right. She observes about the hero that “Your heart is good, but your mind is very stupid”—i.e., Rousseau was right: gut feelings are to be trusted, rationality is not.
In condescending kindness (which soon blossoms into erotic love despite the androgynous physiology of avatar bodies) she teaches him to become his true and better self. This she does by training him not only properly to run, fly, fight, kill, and generally behave himself on Pandora (e.g., to apologize to a food animal before delivering a coup de grace and to tame one’s horse or pterosaur by grokking it via the mutual intertwining of the split ends of the braids shared by all species). Philosophically, he must also learn from her that man is not rational spirit united to nature but merely nature itself in one of its variations.
In short, Pandora is a literal apotheosis of the neo-pagan nature-worship of late Romanticism.
Movies touting such Rousseauist propaganda have been with us for a long time, and there is no sign that they will soon be grown out of. This one, however, struck me with a particularly intense irony: Avatar could not possibly exist as the nature-worshipping movie it is without the most complex technology of the most machine-loving society in human history. Think of the computers it took to make it, or just read the credits. And the money spent by the billion viewers whom it is teaching to despise capitalist America is going to precisely the kind of mega-corporation the film itself condemns.
How is it possible for this self-contradiction not to be registered by the romantics exiting the theater yearning to be translated into avatar-bodies on Pandora? Can there be a more extreme example of the lack of integrity of the Hollywood enterprise? Argue all you want that this is to treat too seriously what is meant as mere entertainment. Entertaining art has power because it allows us to see what we wish to believe. Does the nature we wish to believe in make us so very mindless that we are blind to such an irony?
As propaganda Avatar seeks to deceive others into believing what its computer-wielding makers cannot possibly themselves believe (see pro and contra lists above). Like the soma of Huxley’s Brave New World, it calculatingly stupefies people into desiring their own dehumanization. Winning our hearts with romance and pyrotechnics, it attempts to clip from our minds Aristotle’s concept of the proper function of man—to reason well consistently with virtue. Then its makers take the clippings to the bank.
The story was engaging—a stock tale of sci fi adventure in which the hero goes native, defends his new underdog community from his own oppressive kind, and gets the girl. The film was visually compelling, with imaginative computer imaging, effective 3-D, and enjoyable alterations of garb and scale applied to flora and fauna—calla lilies, jellyfish, and trees; horses, wolves, monkeys, elephants, rhinos, and pterosaurs.
There was one authentically moving moment in the human/humanoid events of the movie: Challenged to a duel by his rival for power and for the girl, the protagonist pulls his knife, then throws it away, saying “I am not your enemy.” It was a gesture of courage, brief but dramatic and noble. Of course it didn’t impress the rival, who is prevented from hurting the hero only by a threatening, tooth-baring hiss from the knife-wielding heroine.
Which brings us to the intellectual offense—the film’s outrageous festival of propaganda. Reality is caricatured as a Manichean war between the forces of light—the nature-wise noble savages of the feminine planet Pandora—and the forces of darkness—the pseudo-military, mineral-hungry, macho capitalist invaders from English-speaking earth. (Pandora means “all gifts” and is the name of the first woman in Greek myth.) Here are some of the pro and contra opinions the movie is trying to make sure we hold:
We are to be in favor of nature; animals, plants, and particularly trees; the heart; science as curiosity; females and feminism; woodcraft, environmentalism, equality, and non-verbal communication; hunting and gathering; indigenous peoples; dreadlocks; tribalism; and paganism.
We are to be opposed to civilization; technology, metallic machines, and particularly war machines; the mind; science as conquest; males (unless they are rogue males with a feminine side who rebel against evil civilization) and machismo; industry, capitalism, hierarchy, and military orders; mineral (read oil) extraction; white (and token non-white) Americans; uniforms; imperialism; and materialism. (The earth’s great religions are not included among the ideas to be opposed. This is only because there is not the least hint that any of them exists.)
Think American marines in Iraq with Saddam Hussein as Sitting Bull, or in Afghanistan with Al Qaeda as basket-weavers and opium poppies as Gaia’s intercom.
On Pandora all the trees intercommunicate through their roots, making a vast planetary computer that might be called “mother nature,” which can do better anything that science and technology can do (e.g., move a soul from one body to another). The heroine is sufficiently liberated from pre-feminist stereotype to be able to run, fly, fight, and kill. She (or was it her oracle-mother?) observes that “They have destroyed their planet and now want to destroy this one”—i.e., Al Gore was right. She observes about the hero that “Your heart is good, but your mind is very stupid”—i.e., Rousseau was right: gut feelings are to be trusted, rationality is not.
In condescending kindness (which soon blossoms into erotic love despite the androgynous physiology of avatar bodies) she teaches him to become his true and better self. This she does by training him not only properly to run, fly, fight, kill, and generally behave himself on Pandora (e.g., to apologize to a food animal before delivering a coup de grace and to tame one’s horse or pterosaur by grokking it via the mutual intertwining of the split ends of the braids shared by all species). Philosophically, he must also learn from her that man is not rational spirit united to nature but merely nature itself in one of its variations.
In short, Pandora is a literal apotheosis of the neo-pagan nature-worship of late Romanticism.
Movies touting such Rousseauist propaganda have been with us for a long time, and there is no sign that they will soon be grown out of. This one, however, struck me with a particularly intense irony: Avatar could not possibly exist as the nature-worshipping movie it is without the most complex technology of the most machine-loving society in human history. Think of the computers it took to make it, or just read the credits. And the money spent by the billion viewers whom it is teaching to despise capitalist America is going to precisely the kind of mega-corporation the film itself condemns.
How is it possible for this self-contradiction not to be registered by the romantics exiting the theater yearning to be translated into avatar-bodies on Pandora? Can there be a more extreme example of the lack of integrity of the Hollywood enterprise? Argue all you want that this is to treat too seriously what is meant as mere entertainment. Entertaining art has power because it allows us to see what we wish to believe. Does the nature we wish to believe in make us so very mindless that we are blind to such an irony?
As propaganda Avatar seeks to deceive others into believing what its computer-wielding makers cannot possibly themselves believe (see pro and contra lists above). Like the soma of Huxley’s Brave New World, it calculatingly stupefies people into desiring their own dehumanization. Winning our hearts with romance and pyrotechnics, it attempts to clip from our minds Aristotle’s concept of the proper function of man—to reason well consistently with virtue. Then its makers take the clippings to the bank.
6 Comments:
I agree. James Cameron has the requisite hubris to refuse the editing that could have made it a brilliant movie of good verus good, rather than flat paganism versus Halliburton. Cameron managed to waste the considerable talent of Giovanni Ribisi, making him a caricature, rather than a character, which is a difficult and indicative gaffe. Despite the amazing visuals, the players were straight out of central casting, from ivory-tower bitch to kill-kill-kill military man to angry older brother. It was all polemical to the point of being insulting.
Also, we have a lot of very long scenes that lead nowhere, including gratuitous destruction, whereas the protagonist's fight with the large sky creature is glossed over, which could have been action-packed and meaningful---one of the many missed opportunities to make this something besides a movie made mainly to sell popcorn.
What could have fixed the movie was a longer exposition, where there was an actual depiction of persons on Earth suffering, plus nuanced portrayals of the bad guys who are reluctant to destroy another planet, plus a more conflicted protagonist who is after more than tail. Probably too much to expect from a writer and director who shouted, "I'm the king of the world!" at the Oscars and failed to mention the fifteen hundred persons who actually died on the Titanic.
Thank you, Dr. Van Tessel, for your excellent comment, in particular for its final sentence. Raplog is honored to count you among its readers.
Do you mind having a different opinion on your blog?
I honestly don't think James Cameron purposely tried to make this movie all about anti-capitalism or "neo-pagan nature-worship". Maybe he was focusing on how to make the alien world unique and interesting for the audience, hence all the "trees" and "nature" you pointed out. (Obviously not that different than other fantasy worlds like the elves... oh wait, the common theme of "trees" and "nature" apply there as well, guess thats...what was it? "neo-pagan nature-worship?"
I guess you could be intrigued with the fact that as humans, we have proved to be excessive in every way. Gambling shows our nature of wanting to win more money at the expense of flawed logic. Even biologically, our bodies build up tolerance and resistance to drug use. We simply need more. Resources are no different, we use them until they are gone, move to a different place, then multiply.
All the stuff in Avatar was cool because this alien race had a unique balance between their environment which contributed to a sustainable cycle of life. I think that's all you should take away from it. It's not anti-capitalist because capitalism wouldn't even work as a feasible model for that race.
The film isn't telling us to be in favor of "hunting and gathering" and "paganism". I don't see how paganism and/or God plays into this at all. Unless...you're saying this film is "telling us to be in favor of ...paganism" because the aliens aren't Christian? My goodness...
If you think your God is better, or more powerful, or more "legit" than all the other religions/Gods/whatever in the world, you're entitled to your opinion. But please...don't call a Hollywood movie that has a Pocahontas-esque plot propaganda. That's just silly.
Yes, I'm willing to post differing opinions, so long as I think they are worth reading and perhaps responding to.
It doesn't matter to my critique what Cameron's motive was (though it is impossible entirely to separate motives from results). My comments were about the film's meaning and effects. Whether Cameron believes in the wrong ideas of Rousseau consciously or unconsciously, his film is promoting them.
Of course human beings are excessive. But that is my point. We are fallen and need redemption, and it doesn't come just by "getting in touch with nature." If it did, we might have returned to Pandora-Eden long ago.
I'm sorry you found my argument silly. Despite your comment I think it is dead serious. Not, however, because I think every movie needs to propagandize for my opinions as opposed to someone else's. My point was that the film is propaganda not honest illumination, mindless cliche nature-worship at the expense of human reason, intellectually 2-D despite being visually 3-D. (For another way of putting it, see the comment of Dr. Van Tessel above.)
In one respect you and I agree. I too think that you "don't see how paganism and/or God plays into [the discussion]." Most people don't. That was my point. My effort was to get you perhaps to think about how they do play in.
None of this means that you shouldn't enjoy the film. I did. But I will not, I'm afraid, be able to fulfill your request that I refrain from calling such films propaganda.
I recommend to you C.S. Lewis's "The Abolition of Man" for a very good discussion of the difference between "propaganda and propagation." Cameron and the studio would no more choose to live in a natural outback without film-making equipment and banking than you would choose to be eaten by a velociraptor. But they want us to believe that we do long enough to shell out our $12.50. That is, they are selling us ideas that they don't themselves buy, perhaps a good enough definition of propaganda for the nonce.
I agree with Dr. Van Tessel that we can't really expect a thought-provoking and moving film from a director who glossed over one of the greatest failures of human morality in favor for a Cinderella-esque love story, but I haven't lost faith in Hollywood. While blockbuster films generally remain devoid of anything meaningful, there are still great movies coming out. The Hurt Locker was probably the best war film I've ever seen, at least one about the Iraq war, and I would definitely recommend it to anyone who wanted to see a war movie without the "boo America!" overtones that seem to be omnipresent in other war movies. So I'm optimistic that Rousseauist garbage won't ever fully consume the movie industry.
There may be good movies being made, but damn few coming from the Hollywood big-budget studios. It's all about ROI(return on investment). All you see are remakes, sequels, and the same old same old. No one wants to take any real risks. Save your money. Stay home and watch TCM. Last night, Sunset Boulevard was on. You can't beat that and it's free.
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