Monthly Archives: February 2010

Looking for a Blue Tarzan

I wanted to see Avatar again before I drew any definitive conclusions. Griz and I have been sci-fi fans forever, but Griz periodically dozed off during our second viewing (he’d only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before). And although I stayed awake, I have to admit I was more restless and impatient than I anticipated. The 3D shock-and-awe just didn’t compensate for the thin plot and dialog on the second run.  I was more irritated by the noise and violence.

Still – I’m glad I saw it again. The visual artistry is worth a second take. I noticed a lot visually that I missed the first time and I look forward to a sequel.

After all, it’s not as if James Cameron doesn’t warn us about the simplicity of his parable. If the stereotypical characters don’t jump out at you early on, by the time you hear the word “unobtainium,” you should have a clue.  James Cameron’s forte has always been special effects.  An old story with a new look works for him (and apparently his audience). Everyone who saw Titanic knew the outcome before they entered the theater.

I suspect James Cameron has great fun making movies, and I think he wants his audiences to have fun, too.  Nothing wrong with that.  Giving the Nav’i elongated canine teeth  is such a clear ploy for today’s vampire popularity that it’s laughable. He probably threw in many of Avatar’s other cliches and plot deficits just for fun, too (perhaps to see if we’d notice).  Cameron’s close enough to my age that I’m sure he saw the same old Johnny Weissmuller Tarzan movies on TV that I did as a youngster. In Avatar, the only thing missing when the deus-ex-machina beasties stampede in to save the Nav’i is this:

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And from what I’ve read, it seems most people (including reviewers) come away from Avatar with the message they took into the theater beforehand. The rejecters reject the same things they always reject, the admirers admire the same things they always admire.  Appreciating good art is like that – the best art offers each of us an intimate subjective experience. With Avatar, gamers get a techie game, spiritual seekers get transcendence (although some devout reject Avatar altogether as promoting paganism), environmentalists get ecological connectivity, pessimists get to feel depressed because Earth isn’t as sublime as Pandora, optimists get to hope Earth is becoming Pandora.  Lots of good guys and bad guys to go around – with cross-overs and a paradox or two.

Here’s what I walked into the theater with: I am fortunate enough to live in an area where Earth’s vibrant glory is readily accessible and visually competes damn well with anything you can create digitally. This, of course,  keeps me fairly optimistic about life in general and our environmental direction in particular. Though not religious – spiritually, I lean toward nonduality.

Here’s the message I took out of the theater: The  Nav’i R Us.  We are rejecting our small, violent selves and becoming something larger. We are connected to all life, but life itself is a school and there are often mortal risks associated with learning to make the important connections. Ultimately, caring and connectivity will prevail and we’ll choose to banish our small, violent selves.

But the best thing about Avatar is this: popular movies are a reflection of our cultural consciousness. Even if the ideas are presented in elemental terms to reach the masses, ticket sales in response to Avatar’s themes of environmental responsibility and global connectivity represent very positive trends.

I had fun, too.

“Solitude is Large”

“Loneliness is like sitting in an empty room and being aware of the space around you. It is a condition of separateness. Solitude is becoming one with the space around you. It is a condition of union. Loneliness is small, solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its roots in words, in an internal conversation that nobody answers; solitude has its roots in the great silence of eternity.”

- Kent Nerburn

via whiskey river

It’s Not Just Curiosity – It’s Courage

Think about it. You really do have to admire cats for their courage.  Their diminutive size alone makes their cultivation of human alliances fairly courageous. Their tolerance of human stupidity is endearing.

Our formerly feral cats seem very smart. I don’t know whether their innate intelligence helped them survive in the wild, or if surviving in the wild enhanced their intelligence.  I do know neither of them would be stupid enough to leave smelly things exposed in bear country like this brave cat’s humans did:

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It took some time after Dodge adopted us before she became comfortable sitting in my lap. She was initially very nervous in front of the television, though she eventually realized my television viewing often created lap opportunities for her.

During her first year with us, I started watching a nature program while petting her.  The nature program was about black bears with some very clear footage of a black bear walking toward the camera. When Dodge noticed the television bear, she stood in my lap and growled. As she continued to watch, she first moved to the chair arm and then to the floor beside the chair.  She alternated focusing on the bear and looking at my face while vocalizing short bursts of alarm to make sure I’d also noticed the bear.

She could not smell the bear, of course, so she was uncertain, but she was clearly familiar with the visual configuration of a black bear.  Was this instinctual? Or had she dealt with bears during her forest life? We’ve speculated that may be what happened to the rest of her litter. (When Dodge first arrived at our house, Dart was her only remaining kitten.)

But whatever the reason, it was obvious Dodge wanted nothing to do with bears.  Even so, she stayed by my side, coaxing, until she convinced me to leave with her. How stupid was I anyway?

At that point in our relationship, Dodge still identified outdoors as the safest haven from any perceived threat, so per her wishes, I let her out onto the deck.  (If you’re thinking she only coaxed me out of the chair so she could get outside  – she also had a cat door she could have used.)

I followed her outside and the first thing she did was walk furtively to the north end of the deck  where she peeked carefully around the corner of the house, so she could see the opposite corner (which the television backs up to). She was apparently checking to see if the bear was still out there. Perhaps her understanding of broadcast vs. live bears was limited, but her accurate spatial orientation between the inside and the outside of the house surprised me. So did her loyalty and courage.