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‘Hamnet’ seemed ‘completely lost.’ How four days saved the year’s most emotional film

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‘Hamnet’ seemed ‘completely lost.’ How four days saved the year’s most emotional film

There were only four days left of shooting on “Hamnet” when Chloé Zhao realized she didn’t have an ending. The filmmaker had led the cast through a week filming the pivotal climactic sequence inside the Globe Theatre, where William Shakespeare (Paul Mescal) is staging his opus “Hamlet,” but something was missing. The script had Shakespeare’s wife, Agnes (Jessie Buckley), and her brother Bartholomew (Joe Alwyn) witnessing the demise of Hamlet (Noah Jupe), a denouement that should have evoked a sense of release. But even though the moment was meant to tie Shakespeare’s masterpiece to the still-fresh death of Will and Agnes’ 11-year-old son, Hamnet (Jacobi Jupe), neither Zhao nor Buckley could feel the necessary catharsis.

“Jessie and I avoided each other for the rest of the day because we both knew we had no film,” Zhao says. “We both went home feeling completely lost.”

“We were searching for this ending,” Buckley adds. “It was a daunting idea to try and pull together all the threads of the story we’d woven prior to this moment. I felt incredibly lost and a bit untethered.”

Zhao admits that she rarely preplans the endings of her films because she doesn’t tell stories linearly. She imagines the journey of her characters unfurling in a spiral, with the story extending downward into the darkness before rising back up.

“I’ve had to wait on every single film,” she says. “But this time I was going through the ending of a relationship, so I was terrified of losing love. I was holding on to it with dear life.”

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Actors Jessie Buckley and Joe Alwyn with director Chloé Zhao on the set of “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska)

The morning after they filmed the scripted ending, Buckley sent Zhao Max Richter’s “This Bitter Earth,” a reimagining of his song “On the Nature of Daylight” with lyrics. The filmmaker played it in the car on her way to the set.

“I could feel the tears and the heart opening, and then I started reaching my hand out towards the window,” Zhao remembers. “I was trying to touch the rain outside of the car. I looked at my hand and I realized that I needed to become one with something bigger than me so I would no longer be afraid of losing my love. Because love doesn’t die, it transforms. When we’re one with everything around us, it’s the illusion of separation that makes us so afraid of impermanence.”

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The true culmination of “Hamnet” occurred to Zhao as she reached for the rain. If Agnes reached her hand toward the dying Hamlet, he could then rest and she could let go of her grief over losing Hamnet. And if the audience joined her, the sensation of release would be even greater.

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“The thing I didn’t expect, the surprise of it, was the absolute communal surrender,” Buckley says. “The way the fourth wall was broken between the play and the audience, the need to reach out and touch the core of the play. Agnes’ compass has always been touch.”

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Although the specifics didn’t come to life until those final days, Zhao always planned the production so the Globe scenes would be done last. Production designer Fiona Crombie re-created the historic open-air theater on the backlot at England’s Elstree Studios using real timber brought in from France. The set version, which took 14 weeks to build, is smaller than the original Globe to create a sense of intimacy.

Plans for the building of the Globe Theatre set from director Chloé Zhao’s HAMNET

Plans for the building of the Globe Theatre set in “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska)

“This is my version,” Crombie says. “Our footprint is a bit smaller overall, but the essential architecture of the tiers and the roofline and the shape and everything is accurate. By virtue of having real beams that are scarred and aged, it feels more realistic. We wanted the whole thing to feel completely authentic. You want to smell these sets and feel these textures off the screen.”

“I told Fiona I wanted it to feel like the inside of a tree,” Zhao says. “So, spiritually, it’s correct for this story. And the play is accurate. We didn’t change any lines.”

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Historically, there would not have been a backdrop onstage. But for the thematic purposes of “Hamnet,” a backdrop was essential. “There was a whole conversation about not just the aesthetic but the importance of that motif,” Crombie says. “It’s also a wall that separates Will from Agnes.”

“Hamnet’s” Globe was constructed to have a working backstage so Mescal, Jupe and the players could move in and out of the wings. There were real prop tables and makeup stations, as well as a nod to other Shakespeare plays. “We had a horse from ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ that was loaned from the real Globe,” Crombie says. “There were loads of details everywhere that honored theater.”

The actors learned significant portions of “Hamlet.” Mescal led the cast of players in rehearsals before filming. “We would rehearse later in the evenings as an ongoing part of the process,” Mescal says. “Once the camera came in, it was Chloé’s baby, but we rehearsed consistently throughout the production. It was so cool. I have a lot of sympathy for directors. What I loved about it wasn’t necessarily the act of directing. It was more so the part of the process in helping me to act. It felt weird to direct them as Paul, but I could direct them as Will.”

4238_D040_01118_R Paul Mescal stars as William Shakespeare in director Chloé Zhao’s HAMNET.

Paul Mescal backstage at the Globe in “Hamnet.”

(Agata Grzybowska / Focus Features)

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Mescal and the players acted out 30 to 40 minutes of “Hamlet” while filming. The actor describes the feeling of being on the Globe stage as “sacred,” both because of the physical space and because of the emotional quality of the scenes.

“It felt very charged,” he says. “Up until that point we knew we had made something very special, but we were also acutely aware that this is where you had to land the plane. And that came with its own pressure. There’s something very special about playing Shakespeare and hearing Shakespeare’s words spoken in that place. The film is talking about the collision of art and humanity, and there are no greater words to communicate that feeling than the words in ‘Hamlet.’”

Zhao enlisted 300 extras to be the theater’s crowd. Each day, Zhao and Kim Gillingham, a dream coach who worked on the film, led the cast and extras in a daily meditation or dream exercise. It was unlike anything many of the actors had previously experienced.

“Everyone dropped into this very deep place of connection to themselves and to what was happening in front of them on the stage,” Alwyn says. “It was this amazing collective feeling of catharsis and connection to something bigger than ourselves.”

Jessie Buckley, left, and Paul Mescal.

(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)

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“The performances from some of the supporting artists are extraordinary,” Mescal adds. “And that was intentional in terms of how Chloé constructed that feeling and by having Kim there.”

After Will notices Agnes in the audience, he goes backstage and finally breaks down, experiencing a long-awaited release of grief. Mescal prepared for the scene by listening to Bon Iver’s “Speyside.” Fittingly, it was the last thing he filmed.

“The play becomes something different because it’s being witnessed by Agnes,” Mescal says. “It comes alive for the audience because of this weird alchemy. Something feels different in the air. That moment felt like such relief, like he could just let go.”

“Hamnet” ends with Agnes reaching for Hamlet. In doing so, she gives herself permission to let her son go. It was a moment that had to be discovered rather than constructed.

“The scene became a holding of collective grief in a communal space where we were allowed to let it out,” Buckley says. “It was like a tsunami. I’ll never forget it.”

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In Mescal’s mind, the film’s ending is really its beginning. He imagines the relationship between Will and Agnes will go on, continuing the spiral.

“I have no idea how a relationship survives the death of a child, but I do think there is a miraculous hope and they can see each other again in that moment,” Mescal says. “They’ve abandoned each other in certain moments, but now she understands where he went. And I think they will return to each other.”

The Envelope digital cover featuring Jessie Buckley and Paul Mescal

(Evelyn Freja / For The Times)

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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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