Avatar: Fire and Ash — Smoke and murk

Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for action violence, bloody images, profanity and dramatic intensity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.21.25

James, James, James.

 

Why give editing credits to five people — not including you, as the sixth — if you won’t let them do their jobs?

 

Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) and Jake (Sam Worthington) realize that their sky-faring Na'vi
clan may not be enough to combat the newest assault by Earth's Resources
Development Administration forces.

Calling this film tedious, at a butt-numbing 195 minutes, isn’t sufficient. This slog also is repetitive, insufferably boring and — as we ultimately approach the climax — completely predictable.

Meaning, no dramatic tension.

 

As was the case with 2022’s second film in this ongoing series, director/co-scripter James Cameron spends far too much time on tight close-ups of slow, thoughtful takes; and half-baked lines delivered with artificially measured, melodramatic pauses and intensity.

 

Granted, the production design and SFX work continue to be jaw-droppingly amazing; this truly is a marvelous example of imaginative world-building, down to the tiniest detail of flora and fauna. 

 

The underlying environmental message also continues to be welcome, and increasingly timely. It’s impossible to watch Pandora’s massive, ocean-going tulkun — pursued and killed by rapacious Earthers, in order to harvest amrita, a substance in the creature’s brain with the medical power to halt human aging — and not think about how our own Earth’s whale population has been hunted to near-extinction.

 

Events resume where the previous film concluded, with Jake (Sam Worthington), Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) and their family — Lo’ak (Britain Dalton), young Tuk (Trinity Jo-Li Bliss) and adopted mysterious daughter Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) — now fully embraced by the ocean-going Metkayina clan headed by Tonowari (Cliff Curtis) and his wife Ronal (Kate Winslet), the Shamanic Matriarch.

 

Lo’ak is haunted by the recent death of his older brother Neteyam (Jamie Flatters), who perished during the previous film’s climactic melee. In typical teenage fashion, Lo’ak disobeys his father’s orders, chafes at often being left behind, and also has distanced himself from Tonowari and Ronal’s daughter, Tsireya (Bailey Bass), much to her sorrow.

 

The latter is a shame, since the developing relationship between Lo’ak and Tsireya was one of the previous film’s high points.

 

Avatar: The Way of Water — Waterlogged

Avatar: The Way of Water (2022) • View trailer

Three stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong violence, dramatic intensity, partial nudity and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 12.23.22

Well, it happens to the best of us.

 

James Cameron has run out of ideas.

 

Realizing that their presence puts the entire Na'vi clan in peril, Jake (Sam Worthington,
far right) insists that his family — from left, Kiri (Sigourney Weaver), Neytiri (Zoe
Saldaña), Neteyam (Jamie Flatters) and Lo'ak (Britain Dalton) — must leave their
home, and move far away, to another part of Pandora.

There’s no shortage of opulent, eye-popping imagination in this long-overdue sequel to his 2009 hit; this is sci-fi/fantasy world-building on a truly monumental scale. Every frame could be extracted and admired, for the meticulous detail and all the “little bits” that you’ll likely overlook during first viewing.

That said, sitting through this semi-slog a second time, won’t ever make my to-do list.

 

Writer/director Cameron, with a scripting assist from Rick Jaffa, Amanda Silver, Josh Friedman and Shane Salerno, has basically recycled the first film’s plot, along with — thanks to cloning — the exact same primary villain: Col. Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang). He and his elite team of kill-crazy mercenaries have been transformed into “recombinants” : artificial 9-foot-tall avatars embedded with the memories of the humans whose DNA was used to create them.

 

The character template has broadened a bit, and the setting has shifted from the forest-dwelling Omatikaya Na’vi clan to the ocean realm of the Metkayina clan. But the conflict is identical: Earth’s nasty-ass Resources Development Administration (RDA) returns in force, this time determined to colonize all of Pandora, as the new home for humanity.

 

“Earth is about to become inhabitable,” RDA’s Gen. Francis Ardmore (Edie Falco, appropriately callous) intones, “so Pandora’s natives must be … tamed.”

 

And, as if this bit of déjà vu all over again weren’t enough, Cameron’s climactic third act includes a re-tread of Titanic’s ultimate fate … except, instead of a sinking ocean liner, our heroes wind up scrambling about the shifting decks of a 400-foot-long attack vessel, as it slowly slips beneath the sea. Heck, we even get the same “climb this way … now this way” scramble involving two key characters.

 

All that said, this still could have been a reasonably engaging 150-minute film … were it not expanded into an insufferably self-indulgent 192 minutes. Cameron clearly didn’t trust his three co-editors.

 

The second act, in particular, accomplishes little beyond filling time. So many tight close-ups of slow, thoughtful takes; so many half-baked lines delivered with measured, melodramatic intensity.

 

Mortal Engines: High-octane thrills

Mortal Engines (2018) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13 for dramatic intensity and sci-fi action and violence
By Derrick Bang

This one’s relentless.

Director Christian Rivers’ exhilarating adaptation of Philip Reeve’s Mortal Engines is sci-fi world-building on a scale we’ve not seen since Lord of the Rings and Avatar. This impressively ambitious, post-apocalyptic saga hits the ground running — literally — and doesn’t let up during a bravura 127-minute adventure that barely seems long enough to contain its opulent wonders.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire? Tom (Robert Sheehan) and Hester (Hera Hilmar,
right) are moments from a fate worse than death, when they're snatched away by the
enigmatic Anna Fang (Jihae). But is this a rescue ... or something more sinister?

Scripters Fran Walsh, Philippa Boyens and Peter Jackson have done an impressive job of condensing Reeve’s 2001 young adult novel into a slam-bang romp that faithfully follows roughly half the book and hits most of the key plot beats. (That said, Walsh & Co. deviate seriously during the climax, likely in the interest of anticipating a sequel.)

These events take place a millennium after what has come to be known as the “Sixty Minute War,” when Western nations unleashed a cataclysmic weapon that destroyed much of civilization, while causing planet-wide geological upheaval. Forced to adapt to earthquakes, volcanoes and other instabilities that continued for hundreds of years, metropolitan centers were retrofitted with massive wheels and engines, in order to become mobile “traction cities”: a steampunk method of survival known as Municipal Darwinism.

Countries have vanished; civilization per se has developed into cooperative bands of peaceful small-town traders, constantly on the alert for fast-moving, scavenger settlements.

Along with the biggest threat of all: the massive predator city of London, which hunts, pursues and dismantles (devours) other cities for resources.

All this by way of back-story, because Rivers opens the film without preamble, as the massive bulk of London chases down a small mining community known as Salthook. Production designer Dan Hennah, cinematographer Simon Raby and a huge visual effects team — Ken McGaugh, Kevin Smith, Luke Millar and Dennis Yoo, take a well-deserved bow — swoop the camera in, around and through London’s jaw-dropping hugeness and complexity, layered with bits and bobs clearly snatched from countless earlier captures.

It’s an absolutely amazing, stunning sequence, particularly as many of London’s thousands of residents gather at their city’s layered edges, cheering the pursuit with the bloodthirsty savagery of heartless nationalists (an allusion to current real-world behavior, in which this film frequently indulges).

Salthook has maneuverability and quick turns in its favor, but it can’t compete with London’s stronger engines. The outcome is inevitable, with one of the smaller community’s residents — a young woman with a red scarf concealing part of her face — watching with (we’re surprised) what appears to be mixed feelings.

Conan the Barbarian: Quite barbaric

Conan the Barbarian (2011) • View trailer for Conan the Barbarian
Two stars. Rating: R, for strong, bloody violence, gore, nudity and sensuality
By Derrick Bang


You sure didn't want to be a woman during the Hyborian Age.

Or a horse.

Conan (Jason Momoa, left) has just rescued Tamara (Rachel Nichols) from a
bad guy. Conan's now about to beat the stuffing out of said bad guy, while
Tamara cowers in terror. In fairness, Tamara soon will demonstrate quite a bit
more pluck: a good thing, because this gloomy flick needs all the personality
it can get.

The latter, apparently deemed of no value, routinely had their legs cut out from under them, in order to unseat the rider for easier dispatch on the ground.

The former, apparently deemed of minimal value, were enslaved or snatched as chattel, reflexively raped and passed among fellow mercenaries like biscuits at an afternoon tea. Which, from all appearances, seems not to have bothered these usually bare-breasted babes, who enthusiastically accepted their lustful lot in life. (I believe we call this a male-centric point of view.)

Exceptions existed, of course. Some women were lucky enough to train as sequestered monks; they lived a peaceful life until adversity forced them to demonstrate damn impressive fighting skills. (You never can tell about those monks!)

Alternatively, a growing young woman could become a witch, at which point she got to wear Freddy Krueger-style razored fingernails and summon sand demons. While remaining more or less fully clad, which I guess would have been a bonus.

These efforts at mocking levity represent the sole comedy relief you'll get from Conan the Barbarian, as humorless a thud-and-blunder bloodbath as I've seen in awhile. Yes, author Robert E. Howard's iconic warrior has been resurrected yet again: the most recent entry in a revival that began in the early 1970s, when Howard's 1930s Weird Tales novelettes were adapted into a popular Marvel Comics series, which in turn encouraged paperback reprints of the original stories and, a bit later, a 1982 film — and 1984 sequel — that boosted Arnold Schwarzenegger's nascent career.

While this new film's Jason Momoa certainly sports the necessary physique for all this hacking and slashing, he's at best only a marginally better actor than Schwarzenegger was. Young Leo Howard does a much better job as Conan's boyhood self, in this film's first act; for openers, he has a much better scowl.

Not that acting chops are of much significance. Momoa gets by on the sort of monosyllabic grunts and chopped-off sentences that Johnny Weissmuller made famous as the similarly heroic Tarzan, way back in the day. The so-called story here — stitched together by Thomas Dean Donnelly, Joshua Oppenheimer and Sean Hood — is long on battlefield fury and eyebrow-raising coincidence, and short on plot logic or common sense.