CULT MOVIE REVIEW: Planet of the Apes (1968)

"You who are reading me now are a different breed - I hope a better one. I leave the 20th century with no regrets. But one more thing - if anybody's listening, that is. Nothing scientific. It's purely personal. But seen from out here everything seems different. Time bends. Space is boundless. It squashes a man's ego. I feel lonely. That's about it. Tell me, though. Does man, that marvel of the universe, that glorious paradox who sent me to the stars, still make war against his brother? Keep his neighbor's children starving?"

- Taylor (Charlton Heston) in the prologue of Planet of the Apes (1968)

Franklin J. Schaffner's Planet of the Apes isn't only my all-time favorite movie.  I also happen to believe it  is the finest, most artistic work of science fiction film making produced in over one hundred years of cinema history.  

Planet of the Apes is a rousing action piece and a compelling mystery, but it's more than that. It is a detailed, convincing glimpse of an alien world never before imagined -- and on a scale never before seen --but yet it's more than that too. 

It's also a wicked satire that takes dead aim at man's self-destructive tendencies and delusions of grandeur.  Written by Rod Serling and Michael Wilson, and based on the novel by Pierre Boulle, Planet of the Apes truly concerns the world of men during the Vietnam Era.  And it's not a pretty picture. 

I realize that to state that a film (or any particular work of art) is "best" reads like silly hyperbole, or at the very least like an amusing fan boyish caricature from The Simpsons, but I hope to argue my case.  When judging if a film ranks at the apex of its genre, one must consider a number of important benchmarks or thresholds. 

First, does the film succeed on a level beyond mere entertainment?  In other words, does the production in question make you look at the world and mankind himself in a new or different way?

Secondly, and this is especially important in regards to a science fiction film, does the movie expand the boundaries of the art-form itself? And in doing so, does it reveal to the audience something never before witnessed in the history of the cinema?  Simply put, does it use an advancement in film technique or methodology to transport us to a new place?

Additionally, one can certainly measure the success of a film by its impact on the overall culture.  Has the film entered the pop culture lexicon in near-permanent fashion, extended its reach beyond one generation and one demographic, and changed, essentially, the very face of the science fiction film tradition in the process?

Lastly, and this is my own critical benchmark, based on my experience with film as a visual art form, does the form of the film's presentation deliberately and intelligently mirror the content?  Do the visuals find symbolic ways of relating an important theme or other aspect of the narrative?

On all those fronts, one can answer in the affirmative about Planet of the Apes.

In the first category (success on a plateau beyond mere entertainment), the film asks a trenchant question about mankind and then spends 111 minutes hours answering that question.  Planet of the Apes' main character, astronaut Taylor (Charlton Heston) is a self-described "seeker" who leaves Earth behind because he believes there must be "something better than man" out there...somewhere."  He wants to know as well if man has outgrown his war like ways, if he has changed.

In answering Taylor's interrogative, Planet of the Apes searches for some deep (and dark...) truths about the human species and the nature of our life here on Earth. 

Again, the film provides answers based largely on how the writers viewed man in the era of the Cold War, in the turbulent 1960s.  This was an era when the Civil Rights Movement had not yet assured equality for all, and in which there was a strong youth or counter-culture movement.  It was a time in which it seemed possible (at least following the Cuban Missile Crisis) that all human life could end in a flash.  Old ideas and pillars of American society were being overturned, even as America was building up a nuclear arsenal that could tear down much more.

In terms of the second benchmark -- technological advancement -- Planet of the Apes certainly fits the bill.  In particular, John Chambers' (1923 - 2001) expressive and unique apes make-up appliances transformed dozens of actors into convincing-looking simians using a newly designed compound consisting of foam rubber.

Chambers' unforgettable make-up design made Planet of the Apes likely "the best effects film of the pre-digital era" and won him an honorary Academy Award for his achievement.  Chambers' special make-up effects not only succeeded in making talking apes seem plausible, the expressive nature of the appliances actually permitted the actors to develop full-blown personalities, facial tics and quirks for their simian characters.  The apes weren't monolithic "monsters" in rubber suits, but rather readily identifiable as personalities and people.

The believable make-up thus allowed audiences to visit a world populated entirely by believable but essentially alien characters.  By the dozen; large and small; young and adult.   In conjunction with fine costuming and production design, the make-up effects transformed Planet of the Apes into a travelogue of another alternate reality, a tangible one both meticulously conceived and executed.

In terms of impact, it's virtually impossible to question Planet of the Apes or its place in the film pantheon. It has been "aped" (if you'll excuse the pun) in films such as Hell Comes to Frogtown (1986) -- a kind of Planet of the Frogs -- and in countless other films that find a man (usually a scientist or astronaut) out-of-time, or alone dealing with a hostile world or society.  The 1970s version of The Omega Man owes a lot to Planet of the Apes, down to the casting of Charlton Heston in the lead role of the ostensibly last surviving human.

The film has also been satirized in Spaceballs (1987), in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back (2001), and on The Simpsons, and is probably the most heavily quoted Hollywood movie outside of This is Spinal Tap (1984). We all remember (with glee...) Heston utterances such as "get your stinking paws off me, you damn dirty ape," or "damn you all to Hell!" 

Additionally, the original film has been sequelized, adapted to television series format, animated for Saturday mornings, re-imagined, and  is now countenancing a prequel.  For over thirty years, Planet of the Apes merchandise and comics have also proven exceedingly popular items.

On the fourth front, Planet of the Apes remembers -- in ways both droll and weird -- that its form should echo its content.  One scene (pictured at the top of this post...)  physically recreates an old Chinese proverb about three "wise" monkey who see, speak and hear no evil. 

Another sequence, set by the picturesque ocean, reminds us that we are but grains of sand in time compared to the endless, never-ending, never-changing tide.  Man may live and die, but time marches on, oblivious to who is master of the universe. 

And last but never least, the film's stunning climax literalizes the specifics of man's spiritual downfall.  Lady Liberty herself -- a clarion symbol of man's self-determination and love of freedom -- lays half-buried, rusted and forgotten in the sand, right alongside those ancient ideals.  Just imagine, for a moment, witnessing this ending for the first time; in a movie theater in 1968.  That Statue of Liberty moment captured the national Zeitgeist in an important way, and still carries incredible resonance.

Of course, there are other very serious contenders for best "sci fi" film. Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey is a great film; no doubt. And the Russian version of Solaris from the 1970s is another masterwork; an unacknowledged well-spring of ideas for many American films and television programs. And there will be those folks who champion instead  Blade Runner (1982), The Matrix (1999), or even Star Wars (1977).

I don't begrudge anyone their selection, or the reasons behind that selection. But the purpose of this post is not to argue for these films, or for that matter to put them down in any way.  Rather it is to laud Planet of the Apes for what it remains over forty years after its theatrical release: a remarkable and visually-accomplished text that functions and excels on a variety of thematic and narrative levels simultaneously.

The question is not so much where we are as when we are.

An ANSA spaceship carrying four human astronauts crashes on a mysterious planet after several months in deep space.

The three surviving astronauts, Taylor (Charlton Heston), Dodge (Jeff Burton) and Landon (Robert Gunner), believe they have traveled 300 light years from Earth, to the constellation Orion.

They also check their ship's chronometer and learn that Dr. Hasslein's theory of time travel at light speed is correct. Although they left Earth in 1972, their chronometer verifies that it is now November 25, 3978.

The humans brave an arid, seemingly endless desert as they leave behind the dead lake where their ship sunk, and soon discover that primitive humans exist on this world. But the natives are mute savages...unevolved and unsophisticated.

Then comes the real kicker: the planet is ruled by intelligent, civilized apes. The astronauts lose track of one another in a ferocious hunt of the savage humans (a tense, sustained action set-piece), and Taylor ends up in Ape City as a ward of a chimpanzee scientist, Dr. Zira (Kim Hunter), an expert in human behavior.

She and her fiancee Cornelius (Roddy McDowall), a chimp archaeologist, soon learn that Taylor -- unlike all the other humans they have encountered -- can both speak and reason.

The chimpanzee duo defends this unusual human specimen (whom they name "Bright Eyes") from Dr. Zaius (Evans), a self-righteous orangutan administrator who serves as both Minister of Science and Chief Defender of the Faith in Ape City.

Zaius, as it turns out, has very good reason to despise humans, and to fear Taylor.  He knows from knowledge of the Sacred Scrolls that apes inherited their world from men.  And that men nearly destroyed...everything.

Taylor and a savage human consort, Nova (Linda Harrison), flee Ape City with the aid of Zira and Cornelius, who have been accused of heresy for defending the human and advancing the "insidious" theory known as evolution. Together, they head back to the Forbidden Zone to seek the truth of Taylor's heritage.

 Finally, as the ocean tides endlessly beat against a rocky shore, Taylor comes face to face with mankind's legacy and destiny. A strange rusted statue jutting out of rock and sand is mankind's ultimate epitaph and Taylor's evidence that he has at last returned home. In the sand he sees...The Statue of Liberty.

"You finally did it!" He exclaims, pounding the sand at his feet. "You blew it up! You maniacs...God damn you all to Hell!"

I'm a seeker too. But my dreams aren't like yours. I can't help thinking that somewhere in the universe there has to be something better than man.

Many of the reasons I admire Planet of the Apes concern the nature and disposition of the film's protagonist, George Taylor.

In particular, this astronaut is an avowed cynic and misanthrope. Taylor boasts no love for mankind when he leaves Earth for outer space.

"Tell me," he rhetorically asks in the equivalent of a Captain's log, "does man - that marvel of the universe, that glorious paradox who sent me to the stars - still make war against his brothers? Keep his neighbor's children starving?"

Then, after landing in the wasteland of the Forbidden Zone, Landon and Taylor bicker about their predicament. Taylor pokes fun at his companion for displaying an American flag on the shore line of the dead lake. The absurdity of patriotism and hence jingoism -- a reflection of Taylor's earlier comments about man making war on his brothers -- in this far flung place and time is not lost on a bitter Taylor.

Angry, Landon asks him what makes him tick then, if not patriotism or nationalism. "You're negative; you despise people," Landon accurately summarizes his skipper's attitude. Taylor doesn't disagree. His reply is: "I just can't help thinking in the universe there has to be something better than man..."

As you can guess from the film's title, Taylor's quest for something in the universe better than man will soon turn into a cosmic joke.  His quest will be turned against him.

These early scenes establish Taylor's character in a clever way. He's a cynic and critic of man, and suddenly, he finds himself the only intelligent human on a planet of apes. The man who hates mankind is thus forced into the position of being the defender of the species. This is an incredibly ironic development. 

Taylor knows all of mankind's flaws too well.  He calls our culture one in which there is "plenty of love-making but precious little love..." He has searched the stars for something better, but now must be man's advocate and champion on a world in which man has fallen low. What a rich set-up for the film's central debate, and one which fits the production's overriding conceit: that of a world turned upside down; of somebody who boasts one rigid agenda, yet is forced by circumstance to countenance another.  Heston is perfect for the role, as critic Pauline Kael wrote, a kind of ideal "strong" American figure.

Importantly, Taylor -- despite his feelings about man -- is also representative of the culture he hates.  He is arrogant, noting of the primitive humans that if they are "the best" the planet's got, he and his cohorts will be running the planet in "six months."  He is also cruel, showing no compassion or sympathy for Landon.  In fact, he takes great pleasure in Landon's discomfort and unease.  As much as Taylor hates what man has become, he is that man he hates.  And it's fascinating to watch a self-loathing human being put in the position of defending himself and his species.

Taylor's fascinating journey - from hater of mankind to last defender of the species - would mean little were he not faced with a powerful, worthy nemesis. Fortunately, the screenplay for Planet of the Apes provides him a terrific opponent in Dr. Zaius (Maurice Evans). Zaius, like Taylor, is a man divided by two thoughts. On one hand, he is honor bound and professionally responsible for the advancement of science.  And science by nature, is impartial.

On the other hand, Zaius also serves as Chief Defender of the Faith, which means he must rigorously maintain the apes' belief in their own superiority, transmitted through the auspices of organized religion. "There is no contradiction between faith and science," he asserts to Taylor at one point in the film; but clearly...there is.

Although Ape Culture is rife with commentary that asserts the simian as the supreme creature of the land ("The Almighty created the ape in his own image," is one very telling ape proverb), Zaius knows the dark truth: that apes rose because man fell; that the return of intelligent, technological man would inevitably spell the end of the ape dominion.

What I love about Dr. Zaius is this fact: by some point of view - perhaps another "upside down" or "inverted" one, in fact - he is the film's unlikely hero. Yes, he hates man and is ruthless to mankind. He performs lobotomies on man, and wants to see the species exterminated. Yet as we learn at the end of the film, he has valid reasons for his fear and loathing of humanity.

After all, It was the humans, not the apes, who turned their cities into deserts in a nuclear war. The 29th Scroll - part of the ape dogma thus warns: "beware the beast man. For he is the devil's pawn." Zaius understands the meaning behind the flowery prose and tells Taylor. "The Forbidden Zone was once a paradise. Your breed made a desert of it ages ago."

In some sense, by preventing a new ascendancy of man, Zaius believes he is saving the planet Earth for future generations, just as he informs young Lucius. A great movie villain is one who believes in his cause; who believes that he is righteous.  And that's Zaius. He believes he carries all of ape civilization upon his shoulders.

Thus Planet of the Apes offers two very strong characters in dynamic opposition. It sends each of them on a journey in which their faith is tested by each other, and ultimately their prejudices are reinforced. Zaius believes man is a primitive destroyer of all things, and after dealing with Taylor, believes that more strongly than ever.

Taylor leaves Earth believing man is a war-like barbarian who would destroy his brother for his brother's land, and -- when faced with the Statue of Liberty -- realizes that he was absolutely right. Man's hunger for territory, for war, did ultimately destroy him. It made the apes supreme and turned the world "upside down."

It's a mad house! A mad house!

The ape culture as depicted so well in the film is a twisted reflection of our own; a mirror held up to our primate faces.  In fact, the film invites us to laugh at the apes' homilies and ridiculous, self-centered beliefs. 

For instance, the belief that only apes possess a soul, or that the ape was created in God's image.   I mean, that's just silly right?

Of course, it is not the apes being lampooned here...it is us, and our belief system.  When spoken by apes, the self-centeredness of such grandiose beliefs become plain...and laughable.  And Planet of the Apes is gutsy as hell for pointing it out; that mankind has constructed an egotistical mythology about his Godliness that doesn't necessarily fit the facts.  If we're so Godly, why do we let children starve?  If we are the only creatures on God's green Earth with souls, why don't we make better use of them?  Why don't we help the poor, or the weak?

Specifically, Planet of the Apes looks at our culture in terms of religious fanaticism.  The apes -- like most 2012 Republican presidential candidates, apparently -- believe that "evolution is an insidious theory."   Instead of answering questions with science or facts, Zaius constantly falls back on quoting Ape Scripture from the Sacred Scrolls.  The Ape Culture is clearly a theocracy, one that maintains the power of the few at the expense of the many.  As long as the Lawgiver's precepts of ape superiority -- really self-glorification -- are not challenged; this will not change.

The film also gazes at affirmative action and race relations, noting that "a quota system" had been established and then abolished.  "All men look alike to most apes," Zira notes at one point, touching on the sin of racism and thus furthering and deepening the film's social commentary.

Basically, the ape society is structured in Planet of the Apes to make us realize the insanity and "upside down" quality of our own religious and ethnic precepts. As long as we cling to such arrogant and egotistical notions - such irrational notions that the world is ours to do with as we please because we're God's "select" -- we are at risk of destroying ourselves.  Hubris precedes a great fall...

In witnessing the ape culture, we get a pretty good idea of how humanity could destroy himself.  The apes are capricious, combative, judgmental and essentially unfair because power rests with the few (the orangutans) and not the average ape.  It's a case of "monkey see, monkey do."  The ape culture functions this way because the human culture it is based on functioned this way too.  We see the apes in us, and us in the apes, to spell out the dynamic.

Planet of the Apes is also fervently anti-war, which is important since the film was released at the height of the Vietnam "police action." Here, the screenwriters imagine a world wherein man's predilection to "kill his neighbors for his neighbor's land" is taken to its logical conclusion: the destruction of civilization altogether.

The barren Forbidden Zone is what remains of New York after a deadly nuclear war. The film's final image, of the Statue of Liberty half-buried in the sand tells us everything we need to know. Mankind has forsaken his spoken ideals of peace and love for wars of conquest. He has destroyed himself and his world over petty, transitory, ideology (capitalism vs. communism, we assume...).

Consequently, the beliefs we hold now about freedom, liberty and God's Will shall ultimately prove nothing but ruined artifacts for future archaeologists to puzzle over.  They are but grains of sand on the beach of eternity. The waves just keep rolling in from the ocean. Rolling in and washing away everything...even mankind.  Perhaps the ocean represents an impartial God, unchangeable in the face of a changing Earth.

The ocean and the waves of the Forbidden Zone are cleansing on one hand, and also, strangely, impartial on the other. No matter what man (or ape) does, the tides just keep coming, and the ages pass. Civilizations rise and fall unmourned, and the tides take no notice.   In the end, the only way we can be truly immortal is to be remembered.  And how do we want to be remembered?  As destroyers of a world?  As mute, dumb savages?  Planet of the Apes seriously takes man of the nuclear age to task for his crazy dance up to the precipice of self-destruction and global annihilation.

Or as Zaius notes, "I have always known about man. From the evidence, I believe his wisdom must walk hand and hand with his idiocy. His emotions must rule his brain. He must be a warlike creature who gives battle to everything around him, even himself."  This comment is both true and hypocritical.  It is true of man, but is also true of Zaius's Ape culture. 

In terms of its structure, Planet of the Apes is beautifully realized and perfectly paced.  The film opens with Taylor's question in the prologue (about the nature of man, and whether it has changed), and then descends into chaotic madness as his spaceship crashes. 

Created in the days before CGI, the film's opening crash sequence is downright stunning. There are no conventional modern special effects to speak of here. Instead, the film adopts dizzying P.O.V. camerawork, as if we're riding the nose of the rocket ourselves. The footage has been tweaked to make it more dramatic - sped up and turned upside down at points - to register the speed and angle of the crash. Even without contemporary visuals, however, the sequence is edited brilliantly. The terror of the crash is palpable.

After the crash, for nearly a half hour, the three lost astronauts explore the Forbidden Zone, and the location work is nothing short of stunning. So much of the movie's mood is "sold" to us here  in dramatic, alien-seeming long shots: utilizing the odd rock outcroppings of Death Valley and "big sky" of Arizona to represent the otherworldly Forbidden Zone.  But also, in these long outdoor sections of the film, something else important occurs.  We get to know who Taylor is.  We start to understand him. 

This is something the re-imagination of Planet of the Apes totally missed.  There, it took approximately fifteen short minutes to get Mark Wahlberg into contact with the apes, and consequently there was no time to develop his character; to make the audience like or sympathize with him.  When Ari (Helena Bonham) notes in that film that there is something special about Leo, her comment doesn't ring true to our viewing experience.  We simply don't know the guy, or detect anything particularly special or intriguing about him.  In the original film, when Zira befriends Taylor, we're already invested in his story and his personality.  He is established before we meet the apes at all.

Another great, and incredibly elaborate scene depicts the hunt in the corn-field.  This sequence gives the audience the first stunning look at the apes (armed, and on horseback).  Forty years later, this action scene remains powerful and even a bit terrifying, because of the exquisite use of sound effects, quick cutting, and some very dangerous-looking stunt work.  Although it is a product of 1960s-1970s cinema techniques, Planet of the Apes endlessly impresses with such formalistic flourishes.

In closing, Planet of the Apes is, in some senses, a ruthless and brutal film.  It doesn't monkey around. It reveals to us a new world where man - because of his arrogance and hypocrisy - has been brought low before a new master race. The humor, seen in many ape proverbs, is absolutely chilling.  And the ending is unceasingly startling: the ultimate statement about mankind's predilection to destroy himself.

Far from being "upside-down" or crazy, Planet of the Apes makes a surfeit of common sense in its observations about human nature.  And by visualizing and speaking meaningfully of that "evil,"  the film proves endlessly stimulating.  Science fiction cinema has never been better.   It has never been stranger, sharper, nor more imaginative than here, in the realm of the talking apes.

Back to the Planet of the Apes...

In just under two weeks now, Rise of the Planet of the Apes will be released theatrically in the United States. 

To help celebrate the debut of the first new Planet of the Apes film in a decade, I'll be posting reviews here this week and next of all the Ape films, including the Burton-helmed, 2001 re-imagination.

I'll also be remembering episodes of the 1974 TV series starring Roddy McDowall, James Naughton, Ron Harper and Mark Lenard. 

If I have time, I might even get to the 1975 cartoon series...

Don't worry: our regularly scheduled summer series -- the Cameron Curriculum -- also continues this week with a review of Titanic on Friday (and next week with True Lies).

In fact, there's even a weird sort of connection between Planet of the Apes and James Cameron.  Back in the 1990s -- shortly after Titanic --  there was hope that Cameron would helm the remake, with Arnold Schwarzenegger in the lead role.  Today, we can only wonder what a Cameron Apes film might have looked like...

So join me in the upcoming days as this blog returns to a topsy-turvy world where the apes evolved from men, or something like that. 

It'll be more fun than a barrel of...well, you know.

The Cult-TV Faces of: The Teacher



Identified by Brian: Donald Pleasence in The Twilight Zone: "The Changing of the Guard"




Identified by PDXWiz: Barbara (Jacqueline Hill) and Ian (William Russell) in Dr. Who: "The Unearthly Child"




Identified by PDXWiz: The Teacher in Star Trek: "Spock's Brain"




Identified by PDXWiz and Jane Considine: Vincent Price in Rod Serling's Night Gallery: "Class of '99"




Identified by Brian: Andrea Thomas (JoAnna Cameron) in The Secret of Isis




Identified by PDXWiz: Jaime Sommers (Lindsay Wagner) in The Bionic Woman




Identified by PDXWiz: Athena (Maren Jensen) in Battlestar Galactica: "Greetings from Earth"




Identified by PDXWiz: William Katt as Ralph Hinckley/Hanley in The Greatest American Hero




Identified by Will: Ian Matheson (Neil Dickson) in She Wolf of London


 

Identified by PDXWiz: Keiko O'Brien (Rosalind Chao) in Deep Space Nine: "In the Hands of the Prophets"




Identified by Nate Yapp: Selena Coombs (Brenda Bakke) in American Gothic: "Potato Boy."





Identified by Jane Considine and Will: Jenny Calendar (Robia La Morte) in Buffy the Vampire Slayer




Identified by PDXWiz: Gillian Anderson as Dana Scully in The X-Files: "Daemonicus"





Identified by Chris G: Krista Allen in Smallville: "Heat"

 


Identified by Bobby: Geena Stafford (Joey Lauren Adams) in Veronica Mars: "Weapons of Class Destruction"



CULT MOVIE REVIEW: Avatar (2009)

"Watching "Avatar," I felt sort of the same as when I saw "Star Wars" in 1977. That was another movie I walked into with uncertain expectations. James Cameron's film has been the subject of relentlessly dubious advance buzz, just as his "Titanic" was. Once again, he has silenced the doubters by simply delivering an extraordinary film." (Roger Ebert, "Avatar," December 11, 2009.)

"The last third of the movie, a battle between the Na'vi and their human destroyers, is a groundbreaking blend of digital and live-action. OK, it's unnerving that a movie preaching peace hits its visual peak with scenes of mass destruction. But Avatar is no Hollywood wankfest. It extends the possibilities of what movies can do. Cameron's talent may just be as big as his dreams." (Peter Travers Rolling Stone:, "Avatar." December 9, 2009.)

"But Avatar is also a distinctly political work of art, with a strong anti-American and anti-Western message. It can be read on several levels – a critique of the Iraq War, an assault on the US-led War on Terror, a slick morality tale about the ‘evils’ of Western imperialism, a futuristic take on the conquest of America and the treatment of native Americans – the list goes on..." (Nile Gardiner: "Avatar: the most expensive piece of anti-American propaganda ever made." The Telegraph, December 2009.)

"It rests on the stereotype that white people are rationalist and technocratic while colonial victims are spiritual and athletic. It rests on the assumption that nonwhites need the White Messiah to lead their crusades. It rests on the assumption that illiteracy is the path to grace. It also creates a sort of two-edged cultural imperialism. Natives can either have their history shaped by cruel imperialists or benevolent ones, but either way, they are going to be supporting actors in our journey to self-admiration." (David Brooks: "The Messiah Complex." The New York Times, January 7, 2010.)

This week for the Cameron Curriculum, our film selection is Avatar (2009), James Cameron's sprawling, science fiction trailblazer.

As you will no doubt recall, the movie proved itself a veritable box office Goliath, and also earned positive reviews, at least in the majority. By and large, audiences loved Avatar as well. The film stands on the IMDB's list of best rated films (currently perched at 183 in the top 250).

Yet, Avatar's success does not mean that the film is non-controversial, as the above critical quotations make abundantly plain. Some critics and audiences view this James Cameron film as an anti-American political diatribe and despise it specifically on those terms.

Others simply can't bring themselves to approve of a film that proved so hugely popular. This is the so-called "Woody Allen" critique. These fans can't be part of any club that would have them as a member. Many geeks apparently believe they can differentiate themselves from "the mob" by rejecting Avatar out-of-hand....some of them without even seeing the movie in the first place!

What those naysayers missed, however, is a film -- much in the spirit of Aliens (1986) or The Abyss (1989) -- that consists of both enormous heart and vision.  Here, Cameron obsesses on the yin and yang of the human equation.  He recognizes our natural desire to explore the new and strange, and in the process overcome hurdles. 

And -- on the other side of the coin -- he clearly "sees" our uncomfortable tradition of destroying or polluting that which we discover on our brave explorations.  

Exciting, emotional and visually pioneering, Avatar is a modern-day genre masterpiece, even if the sci-fi community has not yet entirely embraced it as such.  In time -- when there is some audience distance from some of the politics raised by the film -- the film's reputation will evolve.  And it will be for the better.

Everything is backwards now, like out there is the true world, and in here is the dream.

On the forest moon Pandora, the indigenous people -- the blue-skinned Na'vi -- unwittingly stand in the way of big business and "progress."

Namely, Earth men have come to Pandora to mine the ground for a valuable rock known as "Unobtanium."  

Business and military interests align to re-locate the Na'vi from their Home Tree in order to mine a rich deposit of the critical mineral.

The handicapped Corporal Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) fulfills his dead brother's contract and heads to Pandora to work as a "driver" for a genetically-engineered Na'vi avatar.  Collaborating with Dr. Grace Augustine (Sigourney Weaver), Jake is assigned to learn more about the Na'vi so he can facilitate their orderly departure from Home Tree.  His military superior, Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang), however wants Jake to gather tactical information about the Na'vi and their environs, should diplomacy fail.  For a time, Jake works both sides of the street.

Inside the body of his avatar, Jake also learns the many ways of the Na'vi.  His teacher is Neytiri (Zoe Saldana), the Chief's beautiful daughter.  She reveals to him the true Na'vi soul, and the duo soon falls in love. 

Meanwhile, Grace learns that all the creatures of the planet, including the Na'vi share a link with Pandora itself, a planet-wide symbiosis forged by "signal transduction."  The Na'vi see this bridge to the planet as a link to their God, Eywa.

Before long, the military and business interests grow tired with Jake's lack of progress, and  under Colonel Quaritch (Stephen Lang) launch a devastating assault on Home Tree, scattering the Na'vi so their giant machines can commence mining.  Neytiri's father and many other Na'vi are murdered in the strike.

Finally realizing where his true loyalties rest, Jake decides to make a stand against the Earth men, and he gathers the disparate Na'vi tribes to fight back against them. 

But to gain the trust of the Na'vi, Jake must first tame a giant flying beast of legend: Toruk Macto.

"You are not in Kansas Anymore" - Avatar as visual experience

As Roger Ebert's quote above indicates, Star Wars is likely a fine point at which to commence an analysis of Avatar.

Like Star Wars did in 1977, Avatar stands at the vanguard of a new technological age, and a new threshold in terms of special effects achievement. 

Only this time, those achievements are in the realm of CGI and 3-D rather than motion control, alien make-ups, etc.

Because of this accomplishment, Avatar truly belongs in a select group of great science fiction films such as Planet of the Apes (1968), Star Wars (1977), Blade Runner (1982), Tron (1982) and The Matrix (1982).  Like those genre landmarks, Avatar absolutely immerses the viewer in a new world of unfettered imagination, complexity, color and depth.

The film's protagonist, Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) notes that his arrival on the moon of Pandora represents indeed a "fresh new start," and that synonym for a "brave new world" might very well be our metaphor for the 3-D and CGI presentation of Cameron's Avatar. 

For once, CGI effects actually seem to comprehend the subtleties of flesh: the nuances of movement, expression, and even the "weight" of gravity.  

No doubt the visual wonders of Avatar will one day be eclipsed, but for now (and for the foreseeable future, given the state of films this summer..), they are certainly state-of-the-art.  In this arena, Avatar is never less than entirely convincing.  You never feel like you're watching special effects or limited, animated digital figures.

Instead, you see characters, creatures and strange lands.

What I find particularly noteworthy about the use of the CGI and 3-D is that Cameron uses the special effects techniques to make Avatar perhaps the very first movie in human history not scaled to us; not scaled to human proportions.

Although Lord of the Rings (2001) inventively blended pint-sized hobbits with human-sized elves and other humanoid beings, the general effect was still one of putting other life forms (Hobbits) into a world we recognize as ours.  Avatar takes a different and far more impressive stance.  It lands us in a world not made for us; and one in which human concerns are secondary. 

And that's very much an example of form following content.  Thematically the film is also about petty human concerns dwarfed by alien but ultimately more important ones.  The universe isn't always about us, and we see that idea (that slap in the face?) reflected in the very colorful, very dangerous, very oddly-scaled world of Pandora.

Accordingly then, Pandora exists against a backdrop that we can hardly conceive, and which is consequently awe-inspiring. Unlike many directors attempting to deploy 3-D, Cameron doesn't merely toss things at the audience in a blatant "coming-at-ya" style. On the contrary, he marshals the process to develop visceral emotions in the audience: to generate vertigo, for instance, and to dramatize for us extremes of height, and altitude and speed. 

Cameron also utilizes 3-D to reveal the depth and breadth of the Pandoran wilderness, escorting us into the greatest silver screen jungle since Kong's lush Skull Island in 1933. 

Again, the level of detail and complexity in this landscape is simply staggering.  I'm not exaggerating.  We get the feeling here not of a small geographic region in sight of a limited camera -- a region encumbered by the exigencies of movie budget -- but of a whole world stretching as far as the eye can see.

The point of the height, altitude, speed and depth, of course, is total emotional immersion.  And because of Cameron's integrated (rather than carnival...) approach to 3-D, in Avatar, audiences come to believe most profoundly in this fantasy world.  Avatar is magnificently unbound from the sound stage (and human proportions), but not at all in the static fashion of the Star Wars prequels, where characters seem to be forever standing in front of green-screen compositions.

Now, I don't share many fans' hatred of those three Lucas films (I rather enjoy 'em, actually...), but they certainly appear shallow in conception and execution next to Cameron's rich, layered vision for Avatar.  Here, every plant, every creature, every insect that swings, stampedes or skitters into view, captivates the attention and the imagination.  Cameron doesn't just record another world for us, he creates an otherworldly ecosphere from top-to-bottom.

Certainly, there's much you can debate regarding Avatar, but as a resounding technological and imaginative triumph it is virtually unimpeachable  No film director in history has utilized 3-D and CGI as inventively and in as integrative a fashion as Cameron has here, and on those grounds alone, Avatar is a watershed event.

"I see you" - Avatar and its themes

Avatar very much concerns the yin-and-yang of the human spirit.  

As a species we are always looking to explore what's over the horizon. And yet when we reach our destination, we yearn to make that new land ours; to harness the dirt and the water and make it serve our needs.  This is a fact of life.

We don't always use our resources wisely, yet the hunt for resources will one day, I'm certain, carry us to the far reaches of this solar system and beyond.  We are driven to explore. And apparently just as driven to use up that which we find along our journey.

In Avatar, we are introduced to a character, Jake Sully, who exemplifies the best aspects of this human equation.  

Despite suffering a physical impairment, he broaches not just a new world, but the "most hostile environment known to man."  And when he takes part in the Avatar program, Jake throws himself into his work.  He learns the Na'vi language. He learns to hunt, ride, fly and live as another life form all together. 

Again, Cameron reveals to us mankind at his most noble: questing and searching for meaning over the next hill.  A wise person once noted that disability is just a matter of perspective, and in some way, Jake's journey reflects that truth.  He first countenances, then embraces, a new way of living while also maintaining the finer qualities of our species (to love; to balance morality, and more).  This is what evolution  truly is: integrating new ideas and new concepts into the self as one's horizons expand.

The opposite side of that human equation, of course, is colonialism and imperialism, and Avatar's central conflict revolves around those very controversial issues.  Although we boast a history of imperialism in this country, we are not alone in that characteristic.  Not by a long shot.  Ancient Rome, England, Nazi Germany, the Soviet Union, France, China and other nation-states have also gone to war (again and again...) over a desire to "take" strange lands and harness them for explicit purposes of Empire-building.

Specifically, Avatar crafts a futuristic metaphor for the settlement of the American continent. 

It's easy to read the lines of the comparison.  The Earth men are the Europeans, come across the ocean of space to take and develop the land.  And the Na'vi are the Native Americans who see their existence and way of life threatened.

In film history, we've seen this very dynamic played out in Kevin Costner's Dances with Wolves (1990),  Walt Disney's Pocahontas (1995) and Malick's The New World (2005), among others.  It's not a new idea by any means, but that's acceptable because the presentation is new...and cutting-edge. 

Star Wars wasn't new in terms of narrative, either, especially if you have any familiarity with the oeuvre of Akira Kurosawa.  And Star Trek, of course, looks very much like a variation on Forbidden Planet (1956)  Avatar harnesses the familiar metaphor of the Native American/European conflict to tell its tale, but does so in ways that boast resonance both as science fiction, and as a reflection on contemporary times.

In the case of Avatar, I would argue that the film succeeds rather admirably in making its case about the moral evils of colonization or occupation.  It does so -- as is Cameron's tradition -- in entirely emotional, manipulative, and even grandiose fashion.  

That's the very nature of the medium of film and Cameron exploits that nature.  Ruthlessly.  As an artist, he is not merely interested in making audiences think about an issue; he wants us to feel it, intensely. 

Some people may object to this approach, but in doing so, they object to Cameron's singular gift as a filmmaker.  Using breakthroughs in movie technology, he brings the experiential, emotional aspect of visual storytelling closer to the audience than ever before. He constructs these intense dramas (like Titanic) based on intimate human relationships and ideas (like the interconnectedness of all life) because he apparently believes in a unique axiom: the more advanced the film in terms of technical prowess and achievement, the more it can impact your heart.

Not that the emotional approach doesn't have downsides.

For instance, the villains in the film are not truly fully developed people, but rather true evil-doers.  Giovani Ribisi plays a despicable character named "Parker Selfridge."  Selfridge?  Sounds like selfish.  Or maybe his name is about what we hope to find over that next horizon or ridge: something for the self. 

And the nasty Colonel Quaritch refers to the Na'vi as "blue monkeys" or as "cockroaches," and basically attempts to bomb the Na'vi back to the stone age.  He's a racist and a destroyer, and entirely easy to hate. 

Yet, to give Avatar some credit, it's pretty clear why Quaritch thinks as he does.  It's not because Cameron is anti-military as some insist, but because Quaritch has had a very negative personal experience with the Na'vi. 

On his first day on the planet, he was badly injured (and scarred) by them.  Fear and hatred have thus colored his perception of the planet and its people.  Quaritch can't put aside his negative experience with the Na'vi in the face of new thoughts, new ideas.  He can't evolve.  He stays as he is...never outgrowing his fear. He is thus an effective counterpoint to Jake in the story, if not a fully dimensional character in his own right.  This echoes the character of Coffey in The Abyss as we discussed last week.  Both characters effectively move the plot forward and effectively reflect a larger, symbolic issue (intransigence or stagnation in the face of facts, the self-destructive nature of nuclear war, etc.), but on some human level they aren't adequately developed.

Avatar: Does it hate America?

Many people have asked: Is Avatar anti-American?   Unfortunately, that's the wrong question to ask. 

Certainly, Avatar knowingly mirrors much of America's journey in the last decade (2000 - 2010).  Colonel Quaritch notes near the end of the film that "Our only security lies with pre-emptive attack.  We will fight terror with terror," invoking the Bush Doctrine.  

Furthermore, his mission to drop a bomb on a Na'vi holy site is also equated with a "shock and awe" campaign, conjuring memories of our siege of  Baghdad in the second Iraq War.   Also, we have seen people like Tom Tancredo suggest bombing the holy sites of our political enemies.  He mentioned bombing Mecca, specifically.

Following this line of thought, many critics have also looked at the Home Tree assault -- with twin plumes of smoke stretching high into Pandora's sky -- as a thinly-veiled reference to Al Qaeda's attack on the United States that Tuesday morning in September. 

Even the Earth men's hunt for natural resources on Pandora -- with war backing up that hunt -- can be seen as a coded reflection of the belief by many Americans that the war in Iraq was launched so our nation would have direct access to Middle East oil.

These points are certainly unmistakable; but they don't make Avatar anti-American.   That's where there's a crucial fallacy.

On the contrary, all of these issues simple reflect what many Americans truly feel about the direction of our country in the last ten years.  This commentary by Cameron is only anti-American if you assume that America never makes mistakes, that America is always right in the international actions it pursues, and that President Bush's decisions represent the full spectrum of American beliefs about this country.

I mean, is what Tom Tancredo suggested doing to Mecca the American way?  Is pre-emptive war the American way?  Is that the America that people defend when they claim that Avatar is anti-American?

And frankly, I'm baffled by people who want to view Avatar only as some kind of America-hating film anyway.  Avatar is the same story, essentially, as Battle: LA (2011), a film which has clearly not been debated in such terms. 

To wit: in both films a race of extra-terrestrials attack and occupy another planet to gather its resources (alternatively Unobtanium and water). And the natives in both situations strike back against the invaders, mounting a violent resistance to the plunderer.  The invaders in Battle:LA are non-human.  The invaders in Avatar are human.  That's the only difference, in broad strokes, in terms of narrative. 

So why is Battle: LA not anti-American, but Avatar is?  Both films argue the immorality of occupation/colonialism and the imperative to fight back against invaders.

The plain truth of the matter is that Cameron aims for a higher morality here. His statement is simply that it is not right to go to someone else's land and take their resources.  Simple as that.  It seems to me that ought to be something everybody can agree on in principle. It's true whether you're American, Chinese, Russian, Klingon, Jedi or Sith.  In the situation depicted by Avatar, the human beings are seeing only what they can take, not that they have no right to take it.  Now, you can argue the Machiavellian politics of the whole thing; that if mankind is dying out, he must take the Unobtanium and is justified in doing so.  Self-preservation and all.

But by the same Machiavellian mind-set, then, you must accept that the Na'vi -- in trying to protect their own existence -- are also justified in fighting back against the Earthers.  It doesn't only work one way.

It always bothers me when people are unable to see both sides of an issue.  We would hate it if aliens landed on our soil and began mining our land.  We'd fight back, and rightfully so. Just as the Na'vi fight back in Avatar.  But since humans are placed in the role of bad guy (as they are in many sci-fi films, from Conquest of the Planet of the Apes, to District 9, to Blade Runner, even...) then Avatar is suddenly anti-American.

Here's my long-winded point: being leftist is different than being anti-American, and to conflate the two is the facile trick of the propagandist.

Go back and watch Planet of the Apes (1968) -- made at the height of the Cold War and the Vietnam War -- and honestly tell me that it is not a leftist film too; about man's self-destructive, warring nature.   It ends with a symbol of America, Lady Liberty, destroyed.  So is it anti-American too?  If Avatar is, then Planet of the Apes is.

It's only because we live in such hyper-partisan times that Avatar is constantly saddled with the moniker Anti-American, when what the film actually concerns is a human truth: that our drive to explore and increase our knowledge is a double-edged sword; It keeps us alive, but also, often, puts us in conflict with each other, and with nature itself.

Again, it's much easier to brush off Avatar with a simple label ("anti-American") than it is to examine Cameron's story and take it for what it is really about - human nature.  Does the film have a leftist bent?  Absolutely. Just as some science fiction films have a rightward leaning (Zardoz [1974] for one.). 

The right has not been alone in attacking Avatar for perceived "philosophical" flaws.  The left (plus David Brooks) have really gone after the film as being an example of "The White Man's Burden."  In other words, this is a film in which a white man saves a native culture and ascends to leadership of it.  Apparently, that's insulting to ethnic minorities or something.

Again, this is a more simplistic view of the film than is merited.

For one thing, when was the last time that a handicapped character took a leadership role in a major, over-200 million-dollar action film?  Jake Sully is a white man, it is true, but he's also one who has been largely discarded by his culture because of his physical impairment.  He's not physically powerful alpha male Kevin Costner, for instance.

Jake is not the typical "messiah" in that regard.  Instead, he is a perfect man to lead the fight because he is also, like many of the characters in the film, separated and isolated from his true nature.  His physical handicap has prevented him from being what he knows he can be; from doing what he knows he can do.  The avatar program grants him the capacity to tap that potential and to become whole again. 

The film is as much about the Na'vi (and the Na'vi experience) saving Jake as it is about Jake saving the Na'vi.  He learns much through their interconnectedness, after all.

David Brooks' comments bear closer scrutiny.  He writes that the film depicts colonists as "rationalist" and "technocratic" while colonial victims are "spiritual and athletic".  He should take a gander again at Quaritch, a man who is also quite athletic; so damned athletic in fact, he can pick off human targets some distance away while holding his breath for minutes at a time (in Pandora's poisonous atmosphere).  Qauritch is no armchair general.

And why does Brooks assume that the film says "illiteracy is the path to grace."   Nowhere in the film is illiteracy even broached.  The path to grace in the film is through inter-connection; through the link and harmony between man/woman and the land.  Because we cannot see this psychic connection, the Na'vi might very well call mankind "psychically illiterate."  

Again, this attack on Avatar is too simplistic. 

Would it have been nice if the Na'vi could save themselves without Jake as the leader?  Well again, look very closely at the actual specifics of the text in question.  Which character destroys the villain?  Hint: it's not the white man Jake.  No, he is rendered paralyzed, in the final battle featured in the film. 

No, Neytiri finally takes out Quaritch.  She is no mere "supporting player" (as Brooks puts it).

And who turns the tide towards the Na'vi in the battle?  Again, it's not Jake or any other "white man." 

It's Eywa, who through her powers of inter-connection, summon the forest animals to attack the occupiers.  So again, it's not entirely accurate to say that Avatar suffers from this movie "Messiah Complex."   

On the contrary, Jake is present in the film to serve as surrogate for the audience.  He is our (human) entrance point into the world of the Na'vi, an example of -- again -- how mankind can go beyond what he knows and explore a new and alien situation. 

Even the film's ending is about this idea of crossing the next hill; evolving to the next point.  Jake is able to cast aside his human body and become fully Na'vi.  This is because he has embraced the better part of our human nature.  He has overcome his limitations (physical and mental) and become what he had only once "dreamed."   If you're James Cameron, you can't make this argument about human nature without featuring a human protagonist in the film.

In terms of the Cameron Curriculum, there's many points of commonalities between Avatar and Cameron's other films.  For instance, the Na'vi saying that goes "I see you," (meaning "I see your true self") is carried forth from Titanic. In that film, Jack and Rose share an exchange that seems familiar. "You see people," says Rose.  "I see you," says Jack. 

Also, like Aliens, The Abyss, The Terminator and even Titanic to an extent, Avatar features as a hero someone who is "blue collar," in this case a so-called "grunt."  This also makes three Cameron films (Aliens, The Terminator and Avatar) in which a military man is amongst the protagonists, making it more difficult and less plausible for critics to argue that Cameron is somehow against the military.

And, of course, like out-of-time Ripley, an emotionless Terminator in T2 or Mrs. Tasker in True Lies, Jake is an outsider or fish-out-of-water in Avatar.  In a way, he is both outside of the human race because of his handicap, and outside the Na'vi because of his nature as a "Sky Person."  In many Cameron films, only those who are "outside" the dominant coalitions can bring a sense of balanced perspective to crises.

Earlier in the review, I brought up George Lucas and the Star Wars films.  Avatar treads on some territory familiar to that franchise, namely a primitive people waging a war against a technological foe. 

In Return of the Jedi the Ewoks battled the Empire, and in The Phantom Menace, the Gungans battled the Trade Federation.  Lucas essentially played both of those battles for laughs. 

By contrast, the final battle in Avatar is anything but funny: it's a harrowing, tense descent into all-out war.  In Avatar, the primitive species carries the day only because of a gift from Pandora: the ability of all  native creatures to communicate and connect with one another.  That's something the humans can't do, at least on a planetary scale.

Interestingly, Eywa does not normally "take sides."  She protects "only the balance of life."  But in this case, man is so egregious, so awful in his attacks, even God herself must become involved.   This is the environmental message of Avatar, another point that has enraged some people, apparently.

It's another critiique I don't really get.  What could be more conservative, more traditional, than taking good care of the planet you happen to live on?

Avatar is a great film because of the advances it makes in terms of technology, because of the commentary it offers about the double-edged sword of human nature, and because, perhaps, people just can't stop arguing about it.

So many people "see" Avatar.  Or at least they think they do. My recommendation to them is to watch the movie again, this time keeping in mind Neytiri's admonition for those whose mind is already sealed tightly shut.

"It's hard to fill a cup which is already full."


Next Week:  Are you ready to go back to Titanic?

Sci-Fi Wisdom of the Week

"...all energy is only borrowed, and one day you have to give it back."

- Avatar (2009)