JAMES CAMERON is never leaving Pandora. That much is certain after seeing Avatar: The Way of Water, his sequel to 2009's ginormo hit Avatar. In the past, the director has teased the idea of making smaller, more personal projects after each of his blockbusters. But The Way of Water makes clear that Cameron no longer needs to leave the confines of this (virtual) extrasolar moon in the Alpha Centauri system to create something closer to the heart. He can bend Pandora to his will, and now he's bent it to make what may be his most earnest film to date.
Cameron has always been an artist divided: equal parts gearhead and tree hugger, swaggering stud and soft-focus softy. That's the secret of his success as a showman. He has the authenticity and know-how to sell all that fake movie science and testosterone-fueled dialogue (not to mention the perversity and skill to pull off creatively violent set pieces), but he uses them toward explicitly emotional (a.k.a. family-friendly) ends. The Abyss nearly drowns in jargon and macho bluster until it suddenly becomes a sweet movie about salvaging a marriage while peace-loving, glow-in-the-dark sea aliens save the Earth. Titanic is one-half wide-eyed teenage love story, one-half gnarly death demo reel.
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