Avante Garde Analysis #1

OK, as I believe this blog was MY brainchild *take that Ben* I believe it's appropriate I get a segment... meaning I do a themed post but can't come up with anything else next week so give up and instead deduce victors in bloody combat between various foodstuffs with a sharply declining level of wit.

So without further ado,
the Avante Garde Analysis!

I did a rhyme... classy

Alright, well we all know cinema has hit it's zenith, what with the romantic comedy becoming increasingly and distressingly identical to the nuances of reality and even causing drastic shift in current society (Men are becoming more like Hugh Grant in relationships... they fake them more often).

Sci Fi is no exception. The recently mind blowing 'Avatar' has audiences in hypnotic spending fits. It's like grossing out more people than Titanic I even heard and without a lame love ballad to boot. It has hair raising paraplegic oriented action, convincing artillery fire and finally appeals to the undiscovered frontier of female interest. That's right ladies, if 2001 was too phallic and the tragedy behind a jealous robot separating a pair of gay astronauts by turning one into the orbital death infant in what could be perceived as a bizarre metaphor for the removal of women in reproduction was just downright offensive, you'll love Avatar. It features a breath of fresh air in the ass kicking spunk of 'forgettable blue lady unassisted by complicated alien name', plenty of steamy, skinheaded, muscle bound, propaganda inhaling male chauvanists and plenty of blue, scientifically proven to assist in figure definition!! Imagine that!

Well, let's get to the analysis. Avatar opens with sleeping man Jake Sully who whizzes about in his magical wheel-space-chair, just one of the many phantasmagorical inventions of marketting genius, Cameron's, fully realised world. Jake 'Wheelywheels' Sully as the viewer will grow to affectionately call him informs us that his brother was working on building blue men to wear to impress his sweetheart (Cue Sigourney Weaver cameo, steaminess guaranteed!) at his college's upcoming halloween party. Biff Tannen plays his time travelling rival in love and tragically defeats him for the sake of narrative continuity in a swordfight even Shakespeare would clamour for those chocolate coated icecreams while watching. Thus begins the overlay of Avatar, people, especially Tannen (Colourfully lampshaded in Back to the Future II) can be right great trumping bastards a good lot of the time. This theme permeates the film through the tragic innocence of Wheelie, the lovable talking space-chair-wheel-machine in contrast with the films believable villain, a dementia riddled Bruce Wayne who forgot about batman and has begun to lust after valuable alien minerals that when suspended in mid air, moderately augment the taste of certain coffees.

The film takes a drastic turn as Jakestromverggiola IX leaves his current plane of existence and enters Pandarama, a Nirvana like state where everything appears as colourfully delectable bamboo plants with the offchance of being eaten by a giant space turtle moose zombie. Jake's response is heart cuttingly cold indifference as he wheels himself into the landing bay where he'll no doubt pay an extra $3.99 for the paperback whose purchase he flirted with for too long in the Earth-hell airport. This is where the narrative concealed beneath the well imagined, constantly present and no doubt intoxicatingly interesting for those willing to invest the 11 months and their virginity in learning the various necessities of plot omitted for the film due to drastic last minute censorship involving removal of a scene in which Tree-mum-god makes a filthy allusion to Michael Jackson's tragic passing, flora of Futurama kicks in. John passes a large bipedal mechanoid pilotted by a brash and arrogant, yet strikingly attractive 12 year old boy. Jerome's dream is made manifest and the reader's imagination is brought to life ready to come up with ingenious weaponry to return to institutions of education with for supreme justice.

This is the brilliance of Avatar, in all it's postmodern glory. Avatar uses the viewer's obsession and disturbing lust for gigantic robot suits to draw it in. It never really matters whether Jim and Carnivourous Big Bird win against their militant father at all. The true story is actually of the responsibility when using Transformers reimagined for the 21st century, unlike that movie that features two people running from scrap metal...

James is never content with his sickening and grossly overweight blue body. He falls for the illusion of relationships with bitchy temperamental blue women, eco terrorism of the highest order in the name of a twisted sense of justice learned from talking trees, sticking his neck genitals in the various wildlife of Oz and the search for Pantomime's next pop idol. The realisation that his real dream is to confront his father, a combination of He-man's He-Man and Street Fighter's Guile with face markings from something that Cameron obviously thought had more significance than I did. This father figure casts a castration metaphor in his staunch defiance of his son and his terydactyl 'special friend''s need to pilot a Decepticon. I will transcribe the oedipal hangar scene right now.

Jeff: 'Dad, I wanna ride that one'
Army mandad: 'You?!? Stupid wheelybin, you can't ride anything!' (wheelchair flashes making dad's intensifying insanity more prevalent)
Armymandad: 'See this young lady, (Scoffs at masculine humour) this is a dogtag, it's what dogs wear on their necks and earlobes'
James: I know, but doesn't it have a (pause for dramatic effect) secret (zoom for suspenseful effect) function? (Pivot for FANTASTIC effect)
Armymandad: Yeah, you can put your keys on it and keys start the giant robo boy I like to climb inside and hurt things... like I hurt your mother... seven years ago... inside a giant boy(subtle foreshadowing, you'll catch it on the second viewing, one of Cameron's ploys at repeated viewings)

Clearly we see the complicated relationship between father and son. Evidently, one has created the other, and the other, the product of the other. You follow? Well when Johannesburg loses his dog, and subsequently dog tag and subsequently keys to home and mech suit, he suffers the ultimate castration at the hands of his father. His father, being the expert on literate method and analytical psychology, points this out with his unfathomable charm in majority of his screentime, often lending to the fan theory that his unmatchable and intelligent wit makes him future Seth Macfarlane cryonically frozen, chipped, baked and served at a moderate temperature.

Well the movie continues, some noteworthy pivoting occurs (in the 3D version audience participation is encouraged by the characters, a sing along section is also present in which the entire audience sings in that hispanic sounding language the aliens speak and are graded ala singstar by a giant blue Simon Cowell who occupied the role of All Father in no more than 11 deleted scenes). The movie becomes a riotous journey of love for nature and all that crap any self respecting gun junky didn't leave a Quake LAN match to come see. But the final scene in which Jehova confronts his father in his father's mech, 'Big Man Inside Boy' a homage to the naming conventions of popular 80's mecha where machines would be named after mesopotamian deities with such sly plot relevance only the mentally distressed writers knew of them. Jormungandr uncharacteristically attacks his father and tells him how he feels.

In epic to the death combat as a final 'get the fuck outta my cinema' to the women in the audience as a delighted and shockingly sexist Cameron emerges from the seat in front. Cameron proceeds to rewind the movie and explain what he was trying to achieve with each individual scene. This is not received well.

Cameron discovers that film goers don't like to be treated like morons and constantly beaten over the head with a theme of demonised humanity that stopped being edgy a millennium ago before we woke up and smelled the Panorama roses. By now the film is allowed to end and Cameron apologises and buys everyone drinks and hires out a whole floor of a swanky apartment complex for a party with disappointing food and underwhelming music, but those comfortable pouffes that you must only be legally allowed to have 9 of because there're never enough for everyone and you have to wait for someone to get up and then deal with their friends you pretend not to know. Everyone has a better time there than being forced to discuss the movie at length with 'that theatre going companion everyone seems to have' and leave promptly at 11:30 (cameron is filming Titanic 2 tommorrow, half the runs have the proper ending in a devilish plan to obtain repeated viewings by those obsessive Titanic fans). You're left to help clean up, Cameron places his hand on yours, you pretend it didn't happen, depart and then everytime he ends up sitting in front of you at the movies you say hi, but don't share your popcorn again.

I'd give it 4 stars and a Jupiter that's only visible for a third of the year.

THE END

...woah... They'll never let me do that again, oh and did I make it very obvious I don't know Cameron's first name?

Oh well, bye