Tuesday, 30 December 2025

OUT NOW: Avatar - Fire and Ash (James Cameron, 2025)

Picking up after the events of Way of Water, the Sully clan are on the verge of breaking up: 

Jake (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldana) are dealing with the fallout of eldest son NeteyamAdopted human son Spider (Jack Chambers) needs a new breathing machine and cannot stay with the family. 

On top of these crises, the family has a new external threat: Varang (Oona Chaplin), the chief of a Na'vi tribe who have turned against the traditional ways and declared war on Pandora's entity Eywa. 


After the glacial build up to the release of The Way of Water, the three year gap between Part Two and Three feels like whiplash. 


The years between the first two films’ releases have not dented their relevance - indeed, by 2022, America and the world appeared hellbent on replicating James Cameron's vision of humanity's future


And since then, things have only gotten worse.


How will Pandora reflect the world today?


Cameron has a good record with sequels - but this is the first time Cameron has attempted a third chapter.


Unlike the previous movie, I did not go back to re-watch the previous films.


Despite not re-watching the previous film, Fire and Ash carries an air of familiarity.


Unlike Way of Water, it lacks new flavour. Or to be more exact, it features new flavours, but does not make them the centrepiece.


Way of Water spent most of its time re-setting our central heroes in the new aquatic world of the coastal tribes. 


I kept thinking of Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome - the first act or so seems to be going in a new direction: with a new dilemma, new antagonist, and a new environment.


It feels like a slight reheating of the previous movie's story. 


This is meant as a feature rather than a bug - the characters are dealing with the fallout of the previous movie, and this film does not feature the same massive jump in time as Way of Water.


This is one element that I cannot get over. I listened to the Blank Check review and the hosts put forward the idea that Way of Water and Fire and Ash were intended as one extended story, split in the middle. 


I am eager to re-watch the film, but one can see a version of the story that collapses the beats of the previous film with this one. 


Let us get into what what works:


Oona Chaplin's Varang is a major addition, giving a uniquely malicious energy


She is concerned with power, finding it and manipulating it to her own ends, using violence, psychology and sexuality to entrap her victims.


When she links up with Quaritch, we get a twisted mirror image of Sully and Neytiri's relationship.


She is a Na’vi perspective completely against the philosophy and way of life we have seen before - someone who is against the entire ethos the previous films have established. 


Because of this, she provides Quaritch with a bridge to his new life as a Na’vi.


Their first meeting is a surreal moment as Quaritch goes from prisoner of the clan to showing Varang how to fire a gun - it is a perverse meet-cute as the two Quaritch recognises someone who shares his love for violence - especially violence against Pandora.

 

The other fresh element is the portrayal and design of the other Na’vi subculture, the Windtraders (props for the cuttlefish-like creatures pulling the Windtraders’ jellyfish-like dirigibles!).


But the Windtalkers are limited to one setpiece, and Varang is relegated to a second banana.


We spend a lot of time in the same locations of Way of Water, with all the same characters going through similar conflicts. 


Britain Dalton’s Lo'ak - Jake and Neytiri’s second son - is still battling for respect, while his best friend, the whale-like tulkun Payakan, is still ostracised by the rest of his species.


I can accept Payakan’s need to fight for acceptance more than I can Lo'ak’s - the big catharsis of the ending of Way of Water is Jake finally accepting him. 


The last major echo is the climax, which feels like a super-sized variation of the endings to both previous movies (basically more boats, Tulkuns body-slamming said boats, and a last-minute deux ex machina that is a clear lift from the original film)


However, the movie is so vast that there are elements to relish:


Following the death of his son, Jake has retreated to what he knows - he is back to being a Marine, mission and process-focused, unable to connect with his wife or his children. As with the last film, Sam Worthington has come into his own as Jake. Playing an older man who is struggling to communicate with his family, he is terrific.


Zoe Saldana, the heart and soul of the first movie, also gets more meat - the death of her son brings out a deep-set resentment toward adopted son Spider (Jack Champion). She is so good I almost took her for granted. 


What foregrounded how good they were was a scene that almost falls apart because of one performance. And that is Jack Champion as human step-son Spider.


He becomes a very important character in this film, one with massive implications for the future of Pandora. And in one scene the Scullys are pushed to consider the unthinkable.


The scene works, but in spite of Champion. I do not mean to slight the actor.


As the one live-action performer in most of the scenes, Champion has the hardest job of all the actors in these movies. He has to work almost exclusively with motion-capture performers, and would have had to perform scenes twice in order to create the seamlessness between the live-action and the computer-generated components. This is a matter of logistics and human stamina. 


In this important scene, it feels like he cannot get to the heavier emotions it requires.


Fire and Ash is definitely the weakest of the Avatar movies - but it is hardly a disaster.


It is the rare opportunity to see a filmmaker operate at this level with a distinctive sense of vision. 


In trying to write about it, it is also weird as hell. The relationship between Varang and Quaritch is pulsing with a sexual energy that has been completely absent from these movies, and the bond between Spider and Kiri (Sigourney Weaver) is so inherently strange, I am very curious to see where they go next.


I wish the ending had more of a button - as is, it is a little soft, leaving the opportunity for certain threads to be picked up. This is the one part of the movie where one feels the broader economic imperatives behind the franchise.


BITE-SIZED: Rebel Ridge (Jeremy Saulnier, 2024)

Terry (Aaron Pierre) arrives in a small town to bail out his cousin. When the local police, led by Chief Sandy Burnne (Don Johnson) rough him up and steal the bail money.


When the local coppers block every legal route he has to get his money back, Terry is forced to draw on the skills from his last career - as a Marine instructor in unarmed combat…



I hate it when movies like this come out on Netflix. Having that ease of access makes it easy to let it slide. And watching it on a device means I will probably be distracted by something else.


I would love to have seen this in a theatre.


An ultra-slowburn action thriller, Rebel Ridge feels like a spiritual successor to First Blood, in its focus on a single protagonist using their combat skills, and in the conflict our hero enters with local authorities, after they push him too far. 


Largely unspoken, race is a constant theme, and the potential violence is constant.


Pierre’s Terry makes for a smart, formidable action hero. What is great about the film is that it never forgets that he is one man fighting multiple adversaries, who are in turn upheld by a system designed to take advantage of any mistakes he makes. 


The film recognises forward momentum and escalating tension as just as important as traditional setpieces.


Taking its time between the fireworks, Rebel Ridge is tinged with an existential edge. Even though the villains are in the wrong, Terry’s avenues for defeating them are believably limited.


The performances are excellent - Pierre is an instant movie star. He is so charismatic, like a planetary giant around whom the supporting cast orbit. 


While it is never stated, the film also seems to be aware of how attractive he is. There is an ease to the way in which he gets onside with local woman Summer McBride (AnnSophia Robb) that is helped by Pierre looking like a god. 


The film does not build to a romance, choosing to focus on a slowly building friendship that is forged by mutual need. 


From fighting white supremacists in Dead Bang to playing one, Don Johnson does not go for caricature - instead, he plays Burnne with deceptive good manners and a sense of righteousness. Johnson’s Burnne is a fundamentally weak, arrogant man who is purely coasting on the power of entrenched systems. 


AnnaSophia Robb always seemed a little underrated to me. She was always solid as a child actress, and she did not seem to have trouble with the transition to adult roles - she also did not get the kind of break-out role to become a bigger name. 


She is really good here, and has great chemistry with Pierre. She never comes across as a damsel in distress, nor an action heroine. She feels recognisably human - which brings me back to what I love about the film.  


It does not build to a larger scheme, or bigger setpeices, but higher stakes.


A low-key, smart thriller that is sadly relevant to the America of 2025.

Licence renewed? Looking back at Licence to Kill (John Glen, 1989)

Following the attempted murder of his friend Felix Leiter (David Hedison) and the murder of Felix's wife Della (Priscilla Barnes) by drug lord Franz Sanchez (Robert Davi), James Bond quits his job to go on a personal mission of vengeance.


When I was growing up in the mid-nineties, Licence to Kill was dismissed. The consensus was that it was a misguided attempt to jump on existing trends and missed the humour and fantasy of ‘classic Bond’.


Around this time, Timothy Dalton was the odd one out of the Bond actors. Sandwiched between the 12-year tenure of Roger Moore, and the incumbent Pierce Brosnan, he was treated as a mistake - an actor who took the role far too seriously.


I first saw Licence to Kill around nine or ten. From memory, I believe I watched the movie alone - which probably did not help. If it had turned into a family viewing I am not sure if they would have let the kids sit through the shark attack and the head blowing up. 

 

It was far too violent for my little brain, and I remember leaving that first viewing disturbed.


I did not rewatch it for a few years until I was given it for Christmas in a collection with a couple of other Bond films. This was during the era when the films were just coming out on DVD, and the films were released in bundles.


So for about 5 years it was my one example of eighties Bond, and Dalton’s portrayal.


Because it was one of the few Bond movies I had access to, I would watch it fairly regularly, but it never became my go-to watch.


After watching Casino Royale for the first time, my brother was keen to watch another Bond movie in a similar vein. The closest thing I could think of was Licence to Kill. We started watching it, but we only lasted a few moments before we turned it off.


Around this time, I finally had the means to start buying Bond movies on my own, and I was able to re-watch Dalton’s debut, The Living Daylights, for the first time in about a decade.


I had always enjoyed Daylights, and I gained a new appreciation for it in the noughties. I had a new reason to ignore Licence to Kill. I cannot remember the last time I bothered to watch it.


Hilariously, it was around this point in time that Licence to Kill really began to experience a critical revelation. Craig’s success as a ‘serious’ Bond that was closer to the Fleming books probably helped.


But it never really affected my own opinion.


Why would I bother watching an attempt at a darker Bond that does not fully work when I have other films (Casino Royale, The Living Daylights) that do a better job in a similar vein?


As Craigs’ movies got darker, I found my own taste shifting.


As always with the franchise, the variety is what keeps me interested. Other films began to rise in my estimation. The most notable is Octopussy, a movie I never had strong feelings about before.


I had also enjoyed rewatching Licence to Kill’s spiritual sibling Quantum of Solace last year.


With Craig in the rearview, I wanted to take another look at Dalton’s last stand.


His movies always felt like the type of adventures I wished Craig had done.


And having gone through the increasingly dour Craig tenure, Licence to Kill has added historic value - this is the first attempt at what Bond would become in the 21st century.


After a decade in the wilderness, Licence to Kill’s moment had come.


On this viewing?


I cannot say I have had any major revelations about it, but the highs are higher.


Bond’s vengeance plot - once it gets underway - is the best aspect of the film. The way he puts Sanchez against his own people is clearly set up and paid off.


Sanchez is a solid antagonist - deceptively calm, hiding a paranoid, explosive temper. He feels like a real threat, and part of that is because his motivations are understandable.


The finale with the tankers is so well-executed i left the movie with a good feeling - even the arbitrary tag scene does not undermine it.


But overall, I still left feeling like it was a missed opportunity.


I was really struggling to think of what my key problem with this movie is.


Part of it is that the film does not have the power of its convictions.


Firstly, Bond’s motivation. Ostensibly he is seeking vengeance on behalf of his friend Felix for the death of the man’s wife. Della’s death is meant to echo Bond's own loss in On Her Majesty’s Secret Service.But the symbolism only works for people with a knowledge of the series.

 

Della is barely onscreen - it would have had more impact if the filmmakers had made the logical choice to kill Felix. 


The older I get, the more I realise the key ingredient for Bond - most of the time - is the relationship between Bond and the woman of the film. 


This is one of the key reasons why The Living Daylights always had a leg up over its successor. Licence to Kill just misses on this count.


Pam Bouvier is almost great. Tough, independent and a professional in her own right, she is set up to be Bond’s equal and a potential rogue variable..


But the film shows a depressing regression with the decision to have the pair become lovers. It feels inorganic - the characters have barely met each other. And the only growth to their relationship is when Lupe becomes an alternative for Bond’s affections.


Cary Lowell is solid in the role, even if she seems a shade too young for what the script wants, but she is hamstrung by the script’s constant reversion to romantic cliches.


Licence to Kill’s aesthetics have come under a lot of criticism. I share the complaint about the look of the cinematography, but I have a bigger issue with the overall direction. 


First of all, I like John Glen. He is a solid action director with a good understanding of how to construct a set-piece. I also want to credit him for making Bond more vulnerable in these scenes, less reliant on gadgets and more of a master improviser.


All that being said, as a filmmaker he has limitations - he shows little facility for imaginative blocking, and tends to favour editing over camera movement. The focus on editing coverage over following action in one take results in films that can feel less dynamic and more televisual, rather than cinematic.


His work with actors seems entirely dependent on the performer’s own experience and abilities. While established actors like Moore and Dalton seem unaffected, this lack of care shows elsewhere - such as the one-note hysteria of Tanya Roberts, and Dalton’s first Felix Leiter, John Terry.   


Licence to Kill features some terrific performances - Robert Davi, Benicio Del Toro and Anthony Zerbe are personal standouts - but that weakness shows in the younger performers. I have already mentioned Lowell who I think does a decent job, but it feels like the first draft of something more specific.  


To her credit, Taliso Soto does have the right handle on Lupe Lamora's sense of trauma - the issue is that there is not a lot else to the performance. Considering the way the character shifts allegiances, her approach is too blunt and unyielding.


I do not think either of these performances are bad, but with how this film wants to play with the archetypes of the Bond formula, it requires a more refined sense of performance, and Glen bears some responsibility for the result.


The other issue is tone. I was listening to the Blank Check podcast and the hosts quoted Ethan Coen talking about how the role of a director is tone management. John Glen has many strengths, but I do not think he has a feel for this film’s tone.


The Brosnan films are criticised for their wild swings between the light comedy of Moore and darker material, but Licence to Kill has similar problems. The film wants to be more realistic and violent (the attack on the Leiters, Milton Krest’s (Zerbe) death) but then you have the cartoonishly ridiculous bar brawl and the tanker truck doing a wheelie. The film’s sense of humour seems to be calibrated at a broader level to match the violence, but it comes off as discordant and disruptive. 


It also has the effect of undermining the movie’s overall intent - it wants there to be consequences and repercussions where character deaths are supposed to matter. The gags seem ported in from a different cinematic universe.


Ultimately, I think Glen was ultimately better suited to the style of Roger Moore. As the filmmaker responsible for grounding Bond for the Eighties, he was more than up for the job. But with an inherently more serious take on the character, Glen was on less sure footing.


Considering the change in direction, Licence to Kill would have been the perfect transition point to a new filmmaking team. 


Why do I not like this movie? More importantly, do I think it works?


These are different questions: The difference between my own subjective interest, and my own subjective barometer for whether the movie succeeds at its objectives.


I do not know if I will ever entirely come over to the cause of this film. I see it as a great concept with a sloppy execution. 


As a film, Licence to Kill is a solid piece of entertainment. It is not a masterpiece, but a welcome attempt at originality. After 15 movies, the franchise needed it. The powers that be have probably taken more lessons from it than they would be willing to admit.


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