What's the matter with theme parks these days?

I snapped the photo above today on the New York set at Universal Studios Florida. If something doesn't look right to you, it's because it's supposed to look like this:



Back in 1990, when I first visited Universal for my 10th birthday, the thrill of the place was the illusion of a behind the scenes look at movie magic. Look! It's New York! But it isn't! It's the movies! This is how movies are made! I say illusion, of course, because there was never much movie magic happening at the Orlando theme park. Still, for a kid from Florida, walking toward the New York Public Library from the theme park entrance felt like peeking behind the curtain of the great and powerful Oz. Look! This is what movies can do!

I used to get the same feeling walking into Disney/MGM Studios (now Hollywood Studios) and seeing Grauman's Chinese Theatre. Remember this view?



Well, you'll never see it again because Disney decided to hide it behind a big ass hat.



What's the matter with theme parks these days? Why do they so willfully and blatantly ruin their own illusions? I rode Rip, Ride, Rockit today, and it's a great roller coaster, but you can't tell me engineers couldn't find a way to make a great coaster without ruining Universal's New York set. And if they couldn't, then they should have torn the set down. As is, it looks retarded. Look at the way the yellow line in the street swerves idiotically. This is just bad design.

Theme parks are about more than thrill rides. They're about a theme, and crappy design choices like running coaster track around the Guggenheim or blocking Grauman's with a big ass hat destroy the illusion of the theme and diminish the experience for guests. I wish the people behind these choices would get that into their thick skulls.

My AVATAR Review

In this promotional image, Pocahontas sings "Colors of the Wind" to Captain John Smith, disguised here as one of the Na'vi.

I'll be honest here and say that I didn't even want to enjoy James Cameron's Avatar, mostly due to the film's promotional campaign. It really hit a low point when Fox ruined an episode of Bones by having the characters talk about how awesome Avatar was the whole time. My instinct told me that any film trying that hard to convince me through advertisement that it was going to change cinema forever probably didn't have the goods to deliver. It seemed to be the strategy of a stinker: get everyone in the first weekend, because word-of-mouth is gonna sink us.

Well, I'm here to give my verdict, and the verdict is this: Avatar is going to change cinema forever. Go see it. In IMAX 3D, if at all possible. Like right now.

THE GOOD

Avatar is more like dreaming than watching a movie. Watching it in IMAX 3D (which I propose is the only real way to experience the film) was unlike any cinematic viewing experience I've had in my life. All that was missing was the smell-a-vision and moving seats, otherwise, I was transported -- fully transported -- to another universe for 161 minutes. When the movie ends, again, it is more like waking up from a dream than finishing a movie. I was almost disoriented, feeling (much like the movie's hero Jake Sully) as if I was emerging from a world more real than my own.

The visuals are truly astounding. You'll probably hear people say something like "the special effects were great." Slap those people. Referring to Avatar's virtual reality as "special effects" is like boiling down a Renaissance painting to its clever illusion. Cameron hasn't created special effects here. He's created an entire planet you've never seen before, in incredible, lush, sensorial detail. The IMAX 3D experience makes wonderful use of this: I found myself frequently leaning one way or another to try to look around a tree or over a bush, only to remember that movies don't work that way.

I have no idea whether these visuals would hold up on a regular screen without the full immersion of IMAX or without 3D or on a DVD at home. My guess is that in any of these venues, the film would still look impressive but the wonder and amazement of the experience would be significantly diminished. If you're curious about this film at all, if you've ever said to yourself, "Eh, I'll catch it on DVD," go see it in IMAX 3D. Seriously. You won't regret it.

From here on out there may be ***SPOILERS***:

THE BAD

Bad is too harsh a word for any of the following critiques, but here I'll address a few of the movie's relative weaknesses. This is not a groundbreaking screenstory by any means. In the hands of a lesser director, the story on its own merit might be worth a viewing, but it wouldn't break any new ground. A lot of people have already mentioned the Dancing with Wolves connection, and the comparison is apt. The plot is virtually identical to Dancing with Wolves and any number of other films like it. It's conventional and incredibly predictable. You can see every Setup and Payoff coming from a mile away. When we see the big, red dragon-bird for the first time, for instance, we know Sully will end up riding it. Again, this isn't bad -- we're dealing in classic Hero's Journey material here -- but science fiction of this kind is ripe for more original storytelling, and Cameron could have thrown in a few surprises for his audience to make the story told as compelling as the telling of it.

The bigger problem with the narrative is the initial scenario that motivates the entire plot. It's odd that a movie with such a believable imagined world has such an unbelievable inciting premise. Supposedly Earth is so stripped bear of natural resources that humanity has traveled what must be a dozen light years or more to the planet Pandora, where an evil corporation with the help of the Marines plans on mining a mineral known as "unobtainium" (I literally giggled when I heard the name) that promises salvation for our own planet. Unfortunately for the Na'vi, the most concentrated site of this potential energy source is under the Home Tree, where the Na'vi live. In hopes of working out a deal with the Na'vi, we've developed technology to psychically inhabit biological avatars that will allow humans to become members of the Na'vi. All of this is ridiculous as a plot device. With the resources it would take to mount such a mission to Pandora -- the time, money, and energy -- surely humanity could come up with an easier solution to their own ecological problems than burning down a giant tree on a distant planet for the "unobtainium" it hides (still giggle at the name).

The good news is that the silliness of all of this doesn't really matter. After all, the movie's an allegory, and these logical flaws don't get in the way of appreciating the greater truths the film seeks to address. You're along for the ride from the moment the movie starts, so it's unlikely these little bumps will affect your experience.

THE UGLY

As I've said, Cameron's composed an allegory here, and it's worth exploring the implications of that allegory. There's a lot of really positive stuff here: respect for the environment, respect for ethnic diversity and culture, spiritual openness, what have you. However, there's no escaping the fact that Avatar boils down to a white racial fantasy in which a white oppressor switches sides, not only to become an accepted member of the oppressed minority, but to become the leader of this exotic ethnic group.

[I never posted a review of Princess & the Frog, but I had similar issues with it. I absolutely loved the film but was also uncomfortable with the fact that Disney's first African-American story placed such a profound emphasis on the power of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps through hard work.]

This actually cuts to the heart of one of the problems I had with Titanic. Aside from the fact that Cameron marginalized the deaths of 1,517 real, historic victims to tell a fictional love story, he also exploited the conditions of the poor to tell the entertaining coming-of-age journey of a spoiled, rich, white aristocrat. Look! She's dancing with the poor people! She's redeemed!

The racial implications of Avatar don't bother me nearly as much as the class implications of Titanic, partly because in Avatar, Cameron really is trying to relay a message of ethnic sensitivity and inclusion, and that message is effective. Likewise, I'm okay with white filmmakers working out white racial guilt through their fantasy films. Dreams are the proper place to work out our neurosis, after all, and as I've already said, Avatar is more dream than motion picture. Discussion of such implications is still important, however, lest we all buy into the fantasy that the world is in need of our brand of salvation. That, I fear, may be an unintended message relayed by the film, particularly for those not sophisticated enough to deconstruct the myth.

The word is that Cameron has two sequels in the works. If they're as compelling as Avatar, I can't wait to see them.

I've Finally Arrived: My First Negative RateMyProfessors Rating!

I won't say it didn't sting my ego, but in a weird way, I feel like I've sort of passed through some threshold of initiation: I've finally received my first bad review on RateMyProfessors.com. Well, technically speaking, I received one low rating before, but the student who gave it to me actually came to me after class and explained that she'd meant to give me a good rating but misunderstood the rating system and her review itself was very sweet. So this was my first legitimate negative rating.

Easiness? 2! Helpfulness? 2! Clarity? 4 -- well, hey, that's something. And the review:

He made a class that I was looking forward to, into the class that I dread going to. He is pretty negative, and only agrees with the people that have his same taste.

I'll admit I laughed giddily at that last bit, as I've never disagreed with a student's opinion or point-of-view, and I've made it explicitly clear that the films I screen are not chosen as a matter of taste but to illustrate specific issues being covered in class. Liking or disliking the films is irrelevant. I only ask the students to engage the films on the issues being discussed. As for negativity, well, I'll admit that I've frequently found myself at the end of my rope with this particular group of students. There's a fantastic minority who are there to learn and make a real effort, but a huge majority of the class has been rude, disinterested, and unengaged. I've had to scold them a few times like a naughty study hall because of it, which I'm sure hasn't exactly endeared me to them.

The only part of the review that really bothers me though is the low helpfulness rating, especially since I've stayed late week after week answering student questions, reviewing test materials, and even giving those who've asked for it academic or career advice. I've never once turned a student away because I was too busy to help them. And this particular review was posted the very day that I announced a set of grading policy changes that would benefit the entire class, so I feel like the 2 in helpfulness was hitting a little below the belt.

Oh, well. I guess that's just the name of the game. I'd be lying if I said I enjoyed teaching this class (Cinema Survey) or teaching in this environment (Rosen School of Hospitality) as much I've enjoyed my other teaching experiences, so maybe that has had an effect. I guess I can take comfort in the emails I've received from students telling me they've enjoyed the course and appreciate the effort I put into it, and remind myself that next semester, I'm back to teaching the classes I really enjoy in more familiar turf.

You can't win 'em all, so I'd better make peace with that now as I pursue a full-time faculty position.

Moon River, wider than a mile.

Been swamped lately, with no time to write (really crimping my efforts at becoming a star of the blogosphere). But in honor of this:



. . . I thought I'd post this:



Thanks to Jon Friskics for clipping the cool HuffPost headline.

Time-Travel Adultery Pact (an open letter to my wife)

Dear Angelyn,

You've probably heard that some couples have celebrity "freebie" lists, as popularized by Friends episode 3.05, "The One With Frank Jr" (Ross: "Ah, the heart of every healthy relationship: Honesty, respect, and sex with celebrities"). Now, I am now about to suggest we draw-up such a list of contemporary celebrities, but I believe I've come up with an equitable compromise.

I propose that, should time-travel become possible, I will permit you to sleep with Pierce Brosnan from 1984 (or season 3 of Remington Steele, by which time he'd moved beyond the helmet hair of season 2), if you will allow me to sleep with Stevie Nicks from 1977. Now let me be clear. This offer is available on a time-travel basis only. Under no circumstances will you be allowed to sleep with 2009 Pierce Brosnan, as I certainly have no desire to sleep with 2009 Stevie Nicks. I think we should also agree that this is a one-time deal. No drawn-out time-travel affairs allowed. Those would surely strain the fabric of our marriage and the space-time continuum. However, the offer has no expiration date. Should time-travel become possible at any point in the future, we may embark on this quantum fantasy together.

Normally I would never advocate for adding adulterous adventures to our relationship, but you kinda gotta figure, if science produces a stable method of time-travel in our lifetimes, this is sort of meant to be. Please think over this proposal and get back to me with any alternative suggestions you may have. I would also be willing to allow you to sub Tom Selleck from anytime 1980-1988, should you see fit to do so.

Thank you for your kind consideration.

Much love,

Your Husband