I am writing this far later than planned, mostly because I have just woken up from the kind of sleep you fall into only after dragging yourself to a 9pm screening of a three hour blockbuster. At my age, this is no small feat. Every Christmas for nearly two decades I have taken all the kids and cousins to whatever epic fantasy was on offer. Hobbits, Harry Potters, the occasional Lord of the Rings re‑release. It served two purposes. I was crowned Best Aunt and I escaped the family festivities for a few blissful hours. Somehow, even now that they are grown, scattered and studying, we still gather for Pandora.
I remember how vividly impressed I was by the first Avatar. The technology was groundbreaking in 2009 when the film was released, the kind of innovative 3D wizardry that made you lean forward like a child at a magic show. The story felt fresh too, a proper new world adventure with glowing forests, floating mountains and creatures that looked like they had escaped from David Attenborough’s dreams. Even the environmental message, the idea of a planet in danger was like a hopeful warning, not the daily news. And Sigourney Weaver made the whole thing feel new. But "Avatar: Fire and Ash", oh well is a very different experience...
This third chapter takes us into the volcanic world of the Mangkwan clan, led by Varang (Oona Chaplin), who brings a witchy, unpredictable energy that the film clearly hopes will shake things up. To be fair, Chaplin is magnetic and sexy even when the script gives her little more to do than smoulder and posture.
not to be trusted.
Zoe Saldaña remains the emotional anchor as Neytiri, although she is underused for quite a long time, and Sam Worthington’s Jake Sully spends most of the film in a state of permanent crisis that made me wonder if he has a future.
I could say the problem is the length, but honestly, that is my age talking. If they want to do the epic thing, fine by me. Next year I will simply take everyone to the cinema at six. Sorry kids, I do not do nine or ten o’clock screenings any more. I am too embarrassed to risk snoring.
Because the real flaw is not the length. It is the deja vu feeling. Scene after scene erupts in fire, ash, explosions and chases, yet the emotional core that made the first film so memorable is nowhere to be found. It is dazzling, yes, but also strangely hollow, like watching a screensaver with a billion pound budget, a billion times more than Cyprus' culture budget.
No matter how much fire and drama they hurl at the screen, it still circles the same ideas.
And here is where the fatigue set in. I did not simply drop dead the moment I got home. I found myself zoning out in the cinema itself, every time I thought this must surely be the end. Instead of excitement, I kept wondering what on earth Avatar 4 could possibly offer. Oh right, perhaps the actual Earth. Yet even that idea does not lift the enthusiasm.
Because if the Na’vi really do come to Earth next, it is hard not to imagine a plot that feels like a blend of Tarzan and King Kong, with blue people treated like curiosities or guinea pigs until they inevitably save the world. And now that the novelty of 3D has worn off, you cannot help wondering what more Avatar has left to show.