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Review: 'Life of Pi' at the Ahmanson: An enchanting journey on the high seas

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Review: 'Life of Pi' at the Ahmanson: An enchanting journey on the high seas

The natural world is aswirl in “Life of Pi,” a marvelously inventive stage adaptation of Yann Martel’s 2002 Booker Prize-winning novel. This pageant of puppetry includes a flutter of butterflies, a goat with a plaintive bleat, a menagerie of wild animals and, at one point, a school of glowing fish.

Rather than try to compete with the technological thrills of the 2012 film that earned director Ang Lee an Academy Award, this national tour of “Life of Pi” succeeds through magical simplicity. My senses were dazzled when I first saw the show on Broadway in 2023, but my heart was completely won over at the Ahmanson Theatre, where this production opened on Wednesday.

Taha Mandviwala, left, Anna Leigh Gortner, Shiloh Goodin and Toussaint Jeanlouis in the national tour of Life of Pi” at the Ahmanson.

(Evan Zimmerman)

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The story revolves around the survival at sea of a 17-year-old boy named Pi Patel (a mesmerizing Taha Mandviwala) after the Japanese cargo ship transporting his family sinks en route to Canada. The souls lost on board include Pi’s zookeeper father’s fantastical collection of animals. In a lifeboat with barely any supplies for 227 days, Pi somehow manages to escape the fate that leaves his parents, sister and most (but not all) of his bestial companions at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.

How did he pull off the miracle? That is the question posed at the start of Lolita Chakrabarti’s adaptation by two visitors to Pi’s hospital room: Mr. Okamoto (Alan Ariano) from the Japanese Ministry of Transport and Lulu Chen (Mi Kang), from the Canadian Embassy, both of whom have traveled to Mexico, where the boy was washed ashore.

Pi, whose mathematical name is derived from Piscine, the French word for swimming pool, is recovering from his near-death journey. Mr. Okamoto, charged with preparing an official report, is determined to find out the exact circumstances of the shipwreck. But Pi is only able to relate the fanciful version of events that allowed him to survive for so long at sea without food or drinkable water.

LIFE OF PI at the Ahmanson.

Taha Mandviwala,left, and Sorab Wadia and the national tour cast of “Life of Pi” at the Ahmanson.

(Evan Zimmerman)

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The staging transitions in dreamlike fashion from the hospital to Pondicherry, India, where Pi grew up in a happy, hectic ferment of adolescence. Chakrabarti turns Pi’s teasing older brother, Ravi, in the novel into an older sister named Rani (Sharayu Mahale), a math whiz, in the play. The institutional medical setting becomes the background for a tale that doesn’t finely distinguish between memory and imagination, one realm bleeding freely into the next.

Fortunately, the scenic design of Tim Hatley, who also did the costumes, isn’t bound by the traditional laws of physics. The perfectly adjudged video and animation design of Andrzej Goulding, the magnificent lighting of Tim Lutkin and Tim Deiling and the propulsive sound of Carolyn Downing puts time and space under the able command of director Max Webster.

Pi’s family is moving to escape an increasingly chaotic society. “This government shows us bad behavior has no consequences,” Pi’s father (Sorab Wadia) laments to his wife (Maya Rangulu at the reviewed performance), in a line that lands differently today than it did two years ago on Broadway.

Pragun Bhardwaj, left, Taha Mandviwala and the national tour cast of "Life of Pi" at the Ahmanson.

Pragun Bhardwaj, left, Taha Mandviwala and the national tour cast of “Life of Pi” at the Ahmanson.

(Evan Zimmerman)

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When the opportunity to relocate to Canada arrives, the choice is obvious but no less painful for being so. The animals, having no one else to care for them, will have to emigrate too, transforming the cargo vessel into a modern-day Noah’s Ark.

An orangutan named Orange Juice, a hyena beyond the reach of human feeling and, crucially, a royal Bengal tiger with an imperious mien named Richard Parker have prominent roles in Pi’s recollection of his harrowing voyage after the shipwreck. These animals, the creation of inspired puppet designer Nick Barnes and Finn Caldwell, are fluidly deployed by a team of graceful puppeteers, who preserve the essential dignity of these creatures without effacing their ferocity.

The sight of Richard Parker, a growling behemoth of musculature and whiskers, is the most fearsome. Pi, who feels at one with the natural world, has to be taught to be afraid of a creature that could end his life with a single swipe of his claw. (The harsh lesson, administered by his father, reaffirms Lord Tennyson’s image of nature as “red in tooth and claw.”)

Taha Mandviwala and the national tour cast of "Life of Pi."

Taha Mandviwala and the national tour cast of “Life of Pi.”

(Evan Zimmerman)

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Although raised Hindu, Pi partakes of religious services from many sects. His mother is bemused to hear that her son attended mosque, temple and church on the same day. There’s a holy fool quality to the boy, who is the subject of teasing. But Pi is precociously enlightened, his innocence not a problem to be rectified but a quality to be reverenced.

In New York, Chakrabarti’s book struck me as clumsy in places, particularly in the first act. But I had no such misgiving at the Ahmanson, whether because of some slight editing or perhaps just a smoother handling of the setup moments.

Some might resist the work’s spiritual earnestness, but I’d say it’s an ideal time to consider more deeply our belief system. If “Life of Pi” has a moral to impart, it’s that what we choose to believe has as profound an effect on our experience of reality as what we rationally know to be true.

Puppeteers Anna Leigh Gortner, Shiloh Goodin and Toussaint Jeanlouis in the national tour of "Life of Pi" at the Ahmanson.

Puppeteers Anna Leigh Gortner, Shiloh Goodin and Toussaint Jeanlouis in the national tour of “Life of Pi” at the Ahmanson.

(Evan Zimmerman)

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The play, following the novel’s lead, is a parable of overcoming. Pi confronts tragedy but refuses to lose what gives his life meaning. He makes sacrifices that he never thought he’d have to make. A devout vegetarian, he is forced to capture and kill a swimming turtle, then share the meat and blood with Richard Parker, a carnivore without conscience.

“Life of Pi” doesn’t dwell on the deaths of Pi’s loved ones. A cloak of magical realism is thrown over aspects of the story that might prove too disturbing. But the inexorable facts of mortality are glimpsed in the way the animals are depicted onstage.

As hunger overtakes Pi and Richard Parker, the tiger’s skeleton starts to call attention to itself. The turtle is devoured before our eyes in a way that, while cheekily theatricalized, doesn’t leave any doubt that the price of this meal is murder.

The national tour cast of "Life of Pi" at the Ahmanson.

The national tour cast of “Life of Pi” at the Ahmanson.

(Evan Zimmerman)

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But the darkness of the tale helps us see the shimmering beauty of the universe that keeps Pi from succumbing to a watery grave. The stage transforms into a planetarium of wonder. Are the meerkats that appear near the end of the story real or a hallucination? What difference does it make when Pi sees them as clearly as he holds a conversation with Richard Parker?

When he finally offers Mr. Okamoto a starker account of what happened to him, a chronicle affirming his father’s long-held view that man is the most dangerous animal of all, the lesson of “Life of Pi” is thrown into stark relief: Truth is not necessarily the same thing as wisdom.

Mandviwala’s performance as Pi makes this adventure tale both exhilarating and emotionally profound. In circumnavigating distant seas, this majestic production recovers some lost treasure of childhood.

‘Life of Pi’

LOS ANGELES
Where: Ahmanson Theatre, 135 N. Grand Ave.

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When: 8 p.m. Tuesdays-Fridays, 2 and 8 p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays; ends June 1

Tickets: Start at $40.25

Contact: (213) 628-2772 or CenterTheatreGroup.org

Running time: 2 hours, 10 minutes (one intermission)

*. *. *

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COSTA MESA

Where: Segerstrom Hall, Segerstrom Center for the Arts, 600 Town Center Drive

When: 7:30 p.m. Tuesday-Fridays, 2 and 7:30 p.m. Saturdays, 1 and 6:30 p.m. Sundays, June 3-15

Tickets: Start at $44.07

Contact: (714) 556-2787 or SCFTA.org

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The Housemaid

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The Housemaid

Too good to be true? Yep, that’s just what Millie’s new job as a housemaid is—and everyone in the audience knows it. What they might not expect, though, is the amount of nudity, profanity and blood The Housemaid comes with. And this content can’t be scrubbed away.

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De Los Picks: 10 best albums by Latino artists in 2025

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De Los Picks: 10 best albums by Latino artists in 2025

Throughout 2025, De Los has championed the rise of the Latino artists from their respective musical silos and into the broader global pop stratosphere. The 2026 Super Bowl halftime show headliner Bad Bunny and Inland Empire corrido kings Fuerza Regida scaled new commercial and cultural heights this year, as emerging acts like Silvana Estrada, Ela Minus and Netón Vega took exciting new detours in their sounds.

De Los recently did a team huddle to determine our personal best releases of 2025 — this is no garden variety Latin genre list, but a highlight reel of our favorite works by artists from Latin America and the diaspora.

10. Cazzu, “Latinaje”
Reeling from a romantic disappointment of mythological proportions and the lackluster reception of her previous album, Argentine trap queen Cazzu fired back with a maximalist travelogue that draws from salsa and cumbia, Argentine folk and electro-pop. Cazzu hails from the province of Jujuy, miles away from the musical snobbery that plagues much of Buenos Aires, and her genuine investment in a pan-Latino idiom is contagious. A sumptuous corrido tumbado about a red dress that went viral (“Dolce”) and an Andean-flavored ode to her daughter (“Inti”) are the emotional cornerstones of an album that refuses to harbor resentment and instead chooses to embrace plurality. Her absence from the main categories in this year’s Latin Grammys was nothing short of criminal. —Ernesto Lechner

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9. Netón Vega, “Mi Vida Mi Muerte”
As one of música mexicana’s most in-demand songwriters, Netón Vega has crafted hits for every big crossover artist, from Xavi to Peso Pluma. Naturally, it’s about time that he delivered a full-length project of his own. Vega’s debut album, “Mi Vida Mi Muerte,” takes stock of the current sound of corridos tumbados and pushes it to its limits alongside the very collaborators that he helped top the charts. Vega’s chameleonic qualities as a songwriter allow him to bend the rules of what counts as “Mexican” music, and over 21 songs, he establishes that his vision includes Californian G-funk, blissed-out boom bap and even Caribbean reggaeton. Vega sounds equally as comfortable on the radio smash “Loco” as he does wailing over a bajo sexto, proving that the future of corridos, with him at the helm, can be more expansive than ever before. —Reanna Cruz

8. Juana Aguirre, “Anónimo”
If the music business thing doesn’t quite pan out for Juana Aguirre, Argentina’s newly anointed resident genius could find success as a film director — such is the palpable cinematic gravity of “Anónimo,” a stark masterpiece of digital mood conjuring. Aguirre builds her tracks slowly, armed with an unerring instinct for beauty and a ruthless, try-and-discard methodology. The results are childlike at times — parts of “La Noche” and “Lo_Divino” sound like nursery rhymes — while the nakedness of “Volvieron” brims with a solemn, ageless kind of grace. Her sonic spectrum is panoramic, from esoteric folktronica murmurs and camouflaged industrial noise to the cosmic stillness of “Un Nombre Propio” and the ritualistic piano of “Las Ramas.” Until “Anónimo,” the Argentine avant-garde had never sounded so intoxicatingly sensuous. —E.L.

7. Adrian Quesada, “Boleros Psicodélicos II”
At the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, multi-instrumentalist and producer Adrian Quesada enlisted some of the most enthralling vocalists in Latin music to record “Boleros Psicodélicos,” a love letter to Latin American psychedelic ballads from the ’60s and ’70s. The album, which featured original compositions alongside kaleidoscopic covers of the genre, was hailed as an instant classic after its 2022 release. Three years later, Quesada improved upon the winning formula by actually being in the same room as his collaborators — the first album was made in isolation. “There’s a little bit more life, energy to some of the songs,” Quesada told De Los of “Boleros Psicodélicos II.” That vibrancy is certainly felt in tracks like “Bravo” — Puerto Rican singer iLe’s voice is laced with plenty of venom to do justice to Luis Demetrio’s spiteful lyrics (“Te odio tanto / Que yo misma me espanto / De mi forma de odiar”) — and “Primos,” which has Quesada pair up with guitar vibemasters Hermanos Gutiérrez for the album’s only instrumental track. Here’s hoping that we get another installment of this brilliant series three years from now. —Fidel Martinez

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6. Nick León, “A Tropical Entropy”
Hailing from Fort Lauderdale, Fla., just a hop, skip and a jump north of Miami, the electronic mixmaster Nick León broke through a busy pop music landscape this year as a producer with a distinctly Floridian point of view. In his latest album, “A Tropical Entropy” — the title harks back to a phrase from Joan Didion’s 1987 book, “Miami” — León crafted his moody “beach noir” sound by blanketing his dynamic assemblages of dembow, dancehall and other Afro-Caribbean rhythms with a foamy, oceanic ambience that flows and hisses throughout the record. Featuring the vocal talents of Ela Minus (“Ghost Orchid”), Erika De Casier (“Bikini”) and Esty (“Millennium Freak” with Mediopicky), it’s an audible feast for club kids whose afters entail collapsing on the sand and watching dolphins traverse the horizon at sunrise. —Suzy Exposito

5. Not For Radio, “Melt”
Released in October, “Melt” is the frosty solo album by María Zardoya, lead singer of Grammy-nominated L.A. band the Marías, who wrote and recorded 10 of her most soul-baring songs yet during a haunted winter sabbatical in the Catskills. Imbued with brooding elements of chamber pop à la Beach House, Broadcast and the Carpenters, there is much enchantment to be found in the details of Zardoya’s electric drama; like how the warm fuzz of an organ meets frosty chimes on opening track “Puddles,” or in the restless, skittish pulse of “Swan.” Zardoya’s yearning for a love lost crescendoes, and is most devastating, in the piano ballad “Back to You”; but it seems as though even her darkest, most melancholic moments are touched by the fae. —S.E.

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4. Isabella Lovestory, “Vanity”
With 2022’s “Amor Hardcore,” Isabella Lovestory established herself as a neoperreo princess — the Ivy Queen for the Instagram era. The Honduran pop star’s follow-up album “Vanity” takes a different approach, trading sleazy sexcapades for campy vulnerability. As in her name, Lovestory is inherently a storyteller. Her lyrics are pulled from half-remembered dreams, speaking of herself in immersive, surreal contradiction. She’s a perfume bottle made of foam, or a strawberry made of metal. It’s a deceptively saccharine world, one that she sees as, in her words, a “poisonous lollipop.” And when the production falls somewhere between RedOne productions and Plan B deep cuts, that world becomes a post-cultural, hazy pop dystopia of both the past and a far-off, distant future. —R.C.

3. Fuerza Regida “111XPantia”
In summer 2024, while promoting the band’s previous album, “Pero No Te Enamores,” Fuerza Regida frontman Jesús Ortiz Paz assured me that the San Bernardino quintet was not abandoning the sound that made it one of the biggest acts in the música mexicana space. Simply put, JOP was scratching a creative itch by flirting with Jersey club, drill and house music. True to his word, the charchetas and tololoche are now back and on full display in “111xPantia.” Yet the band’s 9th studio album is by no means a rehash of their past work; Fuerza Regida is as experimental as ever, whether by incorporating a banjo on “Peliculeando” (what’s next, a collab with Mumford & Sons?) or sampling Nino Rota’s iconic theme song on “GodFather” (given the focus on excess, the lyrics are more Tony Montana than Michael Corleone). This year, JOP & Co. set a new benchmark for the ever-evolving genre, all while becoming the biggest band in the world; Fuerza Regida was notably the only non-solo act to crack Spotify’s end-of-year top global artist list. —F.M.

2. Silvana Estrada, “Vendrán Suaves Lluvias”
Estrada’s second full-length album is a musical masterclass in maintaining serenity through loss. With her head held high, the Latin Grammy-winning Mexican singer-songwriter soldiered through an extended period of grief to write “Vendrán Suaves Lluvias,” including a harrowing heartbreak and the shocking murder of a friend. The bones of songs like “Como Un Pájaro” and “Un Rayo de Luz” are folk ballads, which she initially wrote using her trusty cuatro; but with the mighty backing of an orchestra, Estrada’s compositions swell with a symphonic grandeur that bolster the songbird’s more empowered and optimistic stance in the face of disappointment. “¿Cuál еra la idea de aventartе sin dejarte caer? Qué manera tan desoladora de querer,” she sings with an arid, jazzy inflection on “Dime” — a plea to a half-hearted lover who cowers at the force of her integrity. —S.E.

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1. Bad Bunny, “Debí Tirar Mas Fotós”
“Debí Tirar Mas Fotós” has managed to dominate conversation all year — from its No. 1 debut in January to this summer’s blockbuster residency and subsequent world tour. Much has been said already about Bad Bunny’s magnum opus; the album is a generation-spanning, full-throated celebration of boricua resilience, and simultaneously a pointed warning about the ongoing neocolonization of La Isla del Encanto. But perhaps, in the spirit of its title, its best function is as a series of timeless musical snapshots: There’s the sweeping voice of the jíbaro calling down from the mountains on “Lo Que Le Pasó A Hawaii.” Sweat from rum-soaked nights in Brickell and La Placita lingers on “Voy a LLevarte Pa PR” and “Eoo.” Hands fold together on “Weltita” as waves ebb and flow, and the warmth of a grandparent’s final forehead kiss lingers on “DTMF.” It’s a record that is designed to be intimately understood by Latinos, with Bad Bunny’s personal ethos of Puerto Rican independence managing to build a bridge between the island and those displaced from it. And with Benito’s Super Bowl victory lap right around the corner, “Debí Tirar Mas Fotós” is poised to dominate not just 2025, but the coming months as well, cementing him as — to paraphrase “Nuevayol” — el rey de pop, reggaetón y dembow.

Honorable mentions:

Reanna’s pick: Corridos Ketamina, “Corridos Ketamina”
There’s one night at the start of every Los Angeles autumn when you can begin to feel the chill of loneliness in the air. When I heard “V-Neno,” the opening track on Corridos Ketamina’s self-titled debut EP, I was taken back to the first time I felt it: walking around at 3 AM alone and moody as hell. The 14-minute EP is like if Lil Peep and Lil Tracy went down to Sinaloa for the weekend. Triple-tracked vocals drenched in reverb drift over sluggish guitar loops, all struggling to claw out of the K-hole. Yes, technically Corridos Ketamina are making narcocorridos (what you see is what you get: in an interview with the Fader, they put it simply, “Let’s make the first corrido about doing K”), but there’s something still warm and inviting at the core of these seven songs. Maybe it’s the familiar blend of emo, rap, shoegaze and corridos — or it’s the fact that this is a record that could only come out of Los Angeles, born out of late nights on empty freeways and in seedy apartments. —R.C.

Ernesto’s pick: Amor Elefante, “Amigas”
I dare you not to smile when you listen to “Hipnótico,” the synth-pop fantasia that kicks off “Amigas,” a welcome return to action for Buenos Aires quartet Amor Elefante. The band moves in the fertile periphery where sunshine pop meets dream rock, channeling the Police on the reggae vibe of “Universal Hit” and diving into Cocteau Twins ether on “La Vuelta.” If anything, “Amigas” illustrates the band’s bloom as composers of potential singles: drummer Rocío Fernández goes funky on the folk-driven “La Vuelta,” while keyboardist Inés Copertino flexes her disco diva status on the outro line to “Foto de una Coreografía.” In lead singer Rocío Bernardiner, Amor boasts one of South America’s most radiant voices. —E.L.

Suzy’s pick: Ela Minus, “Día”
Born in Bogotá, Colombia, and now based in Brooklyn, electronic artist-producer Gabriela Jimeno, or Ela Minus, first bonded with beats as a tween drummer in a hardcore band. That rugged punk rock intensity would later unify the vast, synth-laden sprawl that is her second album, “Día”: a chronicle of her displacement during the COVID-19 pandemic and subsequent ego death. She lets her listeners in with the vulnerable yet galvanizing dance track “I Want to Be Better,” which she has described as her “only love song” — but icily calls for the world’s end on the Latin Grammy-nominated club cut “QQQQ,” and rejects the parasocial worship of pop stars in “Idols,” chanting: “Chasing after phantoms / Bowing down to someone else’s idols.” Indeed — how embarrassing! —S.E.

Fidel’s pick: Cuco, “Ridin’”
Hawthorne’s own Cuco (real name Omar Banos) tapped into the soundtrack of Southern California’s lowrider culture — soul and R&B — to make “Ridin’” one of the best neo-Chicano soul albums in recent years. Tracks like “My 45” and “ICNBYH” (“I Could Never Break Your Heart”) are perfect accompaniments for slow drives down Whittier Boulevard. “Para Ti,” the only Spanish song on the LP, sounds like it could come out of one of your abuelo’s bolero albums. —F.M.

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Movie Review – Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)

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Movie Review – Avatar: Fire and Ash (2025)

Avatar: Fire and Ash, 2025.

Directed by James Cameron.
Starring Sam Worthington, Zoe Saldaña, Sigourney Weaver, Stephen Lang, Oona Chaplin, Kate Winslet, Cliff Curtis, Joel David Moore, CCH Pounder, Edie Falco, Brendan Cowell, Jemaine Clement, Giovanni Ribisi, David Thewlis, Britain Dalton, Jack Champion, Trinity Jo-Li Bliss, Jamie Flatters, Bailey Bass, Filip Geljo, Duane Evans Jr., Matt Gerald, Dileep Rao, Daniel Lough, Kevin Dorman, Keston John, Alicia Vela-Bailey, and Johnny Alexander.

SYNOPSIS:

Jake and Neytiri’s family grapples with grief after Neteyam’s death, encountering a new, aggressive Na’vi tribe, the Ash People, who are led by the fiery Varang, as the conflict on Pandora escalates and a new moral focus emerges.

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At one point during one of the seemingly endless circular encounters in Avatar: Fire and Ash, (especially if director James Cameron sticks to his plans of making five films in this franchise) former soldier turned blue family man (or family Na’vi?) and protector Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) tells his still-in-pursuit-commander-nemesis-transferred-to-a-Na’vi-body Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang) that the world of Pandora runs deeper than he or anyone imagines, and to open his eyes. It’s part of a plot point in which Jake encourages the villainous Quaritch to change his ways.

More fascinatingly, it comes across as a plea of trust from James Cameron (once again writing the screenplay alongside Rick Jaffa and Amanda Silver) that there is still much untapped lore and stories to tell in this world. If this repetitive The Way of Water retread is anything to go by, more isn’t justified. Even taken as a spectacle, the unmatched and undeniably stunning visuals (not to mention the most expressive motion capture ever put to screen, movie or video game), that aspect is less impactful, being only two years removed from the last installment rather than a decade, which is not to be confused with less impressive. Fortunately for the film and its gargantuan 3+ hour running time, James Cameron still has enough razzle-dazzle to scoot by here on unparalleled marvel alone, even if the narrative and character expansions are bare-bones.

That’s also what makes it disappointing that this third entry, while introducing a new group dubbed the Ash People led by the strikingly conceptualized Varang (Oona Chaplin) – no one creates scenery-chewing, magnetic, and badass-looking villains quite like James Cameron – and their plight with feeling left behind, rebelling against Pandora religion, Avatar: Fire and Ash is stuck in a cycle of Jake endangering his family (and, by extension, everyone around them) with Quaritch hunting him down for vengeance but this time more fixated on his human son living among them, Spider (Jack Champion) who undergoes a physical transformation that makes him a valuable experiment and, for better or worse, the most important living being in this world. Even the corrupt and greedy marine biologists are back hunting the same godlike sea creatures, leading to what essentially feels like a restaging, if slightly different, riff on the climactic action beat that culminated in last time around.

Worse, whereas The Way of Water had a tighter, more graceful flow from storytelling to spectacle, with sequences extended and drawn out in rapturously entertaining ways, the pacing here is clunkier and frustrating, as every time these characters collide and fight, the story resets and doesn’t necessarily progress. For as much exciting action as there is here, the film also frustratingly starts and stops too much. The last thing I ever expected to type about Avatar: Fire and Ash is that, for all the entrancing technical wizardry on display, fantastical world immersion, and imaginative character designs (complete with occasional macho and corny dialogue that fits, namely since the presentation is in a high frame rate consistently playing like the world’s most expensive gaming cut scene), is often dull.

Yes, everything here, from a special-effects standpoint, is painstakingly crafted, with compelling characters that James Cameron clearly loves (something that shows and allows us to take the story seriously). Staggeringly epic action sequences are worth singling out as in a tier of its own (it’s also a modern movie free from the generally garish and washed-out look of others in this generation), but it’s all in service of a film that is not aware of its strengths, but instead committed to not going anywhere. There are a couple of important details here that one could tell someone before they watch the inevitable Avatar 4, and they will be caught up without needing to watch this. If Avatar: The Way of Water was filler (something I wholeheartedly disagree with), then Avatar: Fire and Ash is nothing. And that’s something that hurts to say.

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Without spoiling too much, the single best scene in the entire film has nothing to do with epic-scale warring, but a smoldering courting from Quaritch for Varang and her army of Ash People to join forces with his group. In a film that’s over three hours, it would also have been welcome to focus more on the Ash People, their past, and their current inner workings alongside their perception of Pandora. It’s not a shock that James Cameron can invest viewers into a villain without doing so, but the alternative of watching Jake grapple with militarizing the Na’vi and insisting everyone learn how to use “sky people” firearms while coming to terms with whether or not he can actually protect his family isn’t as engaging; the latter half comes across as déjà vu.

The presence of Spider amplifies the target on everyone’s backs, with Jake convinced the boy needs to return to his world. His significant other Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña), with rage building inside her stemming from the family losing a child in the climax of the previous film, encourages a more aggressive approach and is ready to kill Spider if him being a part of the family threatens their remaining children (with one of them once again a 14-year-old motion captured by Sigourney Weaver, which is not as effective a voice performance this time as there are scenes of loud agony and pain where she sounds her age). The children also get to continue their plot arcs, with similarly slim narrative progression.

Not without glimpses of movie-magic charm and emotional moments would one dare say James Cameron is losing his touch. However, Avatar: Fire and Ash is all the proof anyone needs to question whether five of these are required, as it’s beginning to look more and more as if the world and characters aren’t as rich as the filmmaker believes they are. It’s another action-packed technical marvel with sincere, endearing characters, but the cycling nature of those elements is starting to wear thin and yield diminishing returns.

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

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