'Avatar: Fire and Ash' Review: James Cameron’s Grandeur Endures, Novelty Flickers

LOS ANGELES, CA — Pandora burns. Forests ignite, embers scatter across the night sky, and James Cameron’s “Avatar: Fire and Ash” unfolds as a sprawling epic of war and struggle — where fire rages with fury and ash drifts in tragedy.

Cameron — whose career spans the paradigm‑shifting digital effects of “Terminator 2” and the oceanic sweep of “Titanic” — has thrived on pushing cinema forward. That signature flair now finds its fullest expression in the “Avatar” series.

The original 2009 “Avatar” revolutionized performance capture and 3D immersion, while the sequel “The Way of Water” extended that innovation into aquatic realms. “Fire and Ash,” the third installment in the “Avatar” saga, dazzles in its own right — its blue-skinned Na’vi, phosphorescent forests as well as majestic air and sea creatures inhabit newly imagined volcanic biomes, all rendered as a high-frame-rate (HFR) 3D spectacle.

For all its brilliance, however, the film falters where it matters most — in story. It retraces familiar paths: environmental peril, family survival and cycles of conflict. Grand in scale yet diminished by a lack of true novelty.

The narrative picks up in the wake of tragedy: the Sully family is reeling from the death of their eldest son, Neteyam (Jamie Flatters). Jake (Sam Worthington) and Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) lead their clan through grief while facing yet another human incursion. This time, the threat is fire — industrial forces scorching Pandora’s forests, leaving ash behind. The Sully children grapple with identity and survival amid the chaos, their arcs flickering like sparks in the wind.

What begins as a tale of mourning spirals into another battle for Pandora’s soul, with Oona Chaplin’s Varang leading the Ash People in fiery opposition to the Sullys.

Anchoring the film are Worthington and Saldaña, who bring gravitas to grief. Worthington’s Jake is weary, scarred yet resolute; Saldaña’s Neytiri channels rage and sorrow with ferocity, her performance a storm of fire and tears. Their work grounds the spectacle in emotion, even when dialogue falters.

The ensemble adds texture around them. The younger cast — Britain Dalton, Trinity Bliss and Jack Champion — embody the Sully children with energy, though their individuality often blurs. Stephen Lang returns as Quaritch, still menacing in recombinant Na’vi form; Sigourney Weaver continues her ethereal turn as Kiri, whose bond with Pandora deepens; and Chaplin, fierce and enigmatic as Varang, lends the film a volatile edge. Together, they form a chorus of performances that sustain the emotional stakes, even as the script returns to familiar tropes.

Technically, “Fire and Ash” is a marvel, a symphony of spectacle built on light, sound and imagery.

Cameron’s direction remains authoritative and exacting. He marshals chaos with precision, orchestrating vast battles without losing sight of intimate gestures — a hand clutching ash, a glance between grieving parents. His eye for elemental juxtapositions, fire against bioluminescence and ash against water, lends the film its visual lyricism. Yet as co‑writer of the screenplay, his dependence on well‑worn arcs of invasion, resistance and sacrifice risks lapsing into convention, draining the spectacle of surprise.

Russell Carpenter’s cinematography drenches Pandora in flame and shadow, set against bioluminescent night shrouded in ash, while Simon Franglen’s score entwines Na’vi chants with percussive urgency. The 3D technology is the most impressive yet — waves and embers rendered with such tangibility that audiences instinctively recoil, as if the fire itself leaped from the screen.

Yet flaws persist. At 192 minutes, the battles and spectacle stretch beyond the story’s weight, seemingly stalling for time rather than driving the narrative forward. Predictable turns, dialogue that lands flat, and momentum that drags blunt the film’s emotional power. New ideas — grief, ecological devastation, Na’vi spirituality — are introduced but rarely explored with depth. The film is bolder and tighter than “The Way of Water,” but it no longer feels visually unprecedented.

In the end, Cameron delivers grandeur in flame and ash, but the embers of originality flicker faintly. “Avatar: Fire and Ash” blazes radiantly, yet the familiar narrative beats leave the spectacle smoldering instead of sparking anew.

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