Let me make the point of this blog post absolutely clear:

Avatar is shit and I am going to have a rant about it.

You have time to stop reading. If you wish to continue, feel free to debate with me or whatever, or shut the fuck up. I shall be happy either way. I also would like to point out that I went into this film knowing nothing other than the fact it had blue people and film reviewers seem to like it a fair bit.

NOW. Let’s be clear on this: the plot of Avatar – henceforth to be referred to as SPoS, which stands for Steaming Pile of Shit – is Pocahontas dipped in facepaint. Not persuaded? How about the whole thing of the big bad guys wanting to mine valuable shit (like the stuff that this film is NOT made of) out from under the bare feet of the free-spirited hippy layabouts with stupid little braids and feathers and crap natives? How are we gonna do it? WITH FIRE.

You could watch Dances With Wolves through a blue sweet wrapper and get the same effect, I promise.

Yeah, OK, it’s pretty and whatever. But I don’t really care what shiny shit you throw at me, SPoS, no amount of sparkly jellyfish things can hide how abysmally thin your wanky plot is. Here’s the bit that infuriates me: the IPNA (look it up if you really seriously have no idea) suffered in the exact same way because of Manifest Destiny. Except they didn’t have flying bird monsters. Or if they did, no one thought to record this fact. But there was no great resurgence from them: they became a minority until they became zoo attractions. Then Stephenie Meyer got hold of one of them and had a bit of a fanwank over him, poor guy. SPoS cheapens the plight and suffering of such native groups and turns it into “IT’S OK GUYS, THESE PEOPLE WITH THEIR LUCKY CONNECTION TO THE CREATURES CAN WIN LIKE.”

OH yeah that too – that deus ex machina of “If I think how much I need help, THE RHINOS WILL FIGHT FOR ME FUCK YEAAAAAH.” That this sort of thing doesn’t happen until the Na’vi are totally desperate makes it both maudlin and way too fucking convenient.

I must thank James “No Imagination” Cameron for making me realise how overused and recycled and SAMEY fantasy elements are.

…Oh like not blinking when facing a Hippogriff?

…OH, like the wand choosing the wizard?

*Epic flying swoopy bit with bird monsters*
*Epic flying swoopy bit with Hippogriff*

Can we not think of ANYTHING new? I admit, that tentacle tail thing the Blue Man Group had going on was promising… until it was used for convenient things. Like controlling that big bird thing that tried to eat them but could be controlled by THE ONE. O FATE YOU ARE SO FICKLE LOLZ!

OH and the length. The length. Ouch.
I’d like to point out that I can sit through a four-hour film and not get bored – when it’s well-made, clever and endlessly entertaining. (See this gem) But 2+ hours of half-assed fantasy crap painted with glitter glue and chocolate sprinkles swiftly becomes tedious. No amount of fizz and sugar could make it better. I tried this self-medication. Repeatedly. My bladder paid but my eyes and my intelligence were paying still harder.

And the hilarious dialogue. Me speak English.

I don’t have anything against fans of the film. I DO have a thing against people who are now obsessing over it as if it’s the greatest piece of filmmaking ever. For future reference, those who I know will ask, I prefer stuff like Lucky McKee’s May. That’s got guts and smarts, so to speak. And it’s genuinely funny. But SPoS is too preachy and long for a kid’s film, and too big and dumb to be an adult movie. James Cameron, your ten years were wasted, please read some books and stop feeling so self-important.