For the first time in over thirty years, the release of a new James Cameron film has been met with a decidedly mixed reception. While his three prior films—1997’s Titanic, 2009’s Avatar, and 2022’s Avatar: The Way of Water—each experienced their own respective backlashes and pushback in the years that followed, they were all greeted with overwhelmingly positive reviews upon release and were each nominated for Best Picture at the Academy Awards. In stark contrast, Cameron’s new film, Avatar: Fire and Ash, has been met with far less praise, with many prognosticators even predicting it will be Cameron’s first film since True Lies in 1994 to not receive a Best Picture nomination.

I tried to ignore all of this ahead of my screening last week, but it proved nearly impossible and raised a fascinating question in my mind: had I ever even considered the possibility that Avatar: Fire and Ash might be a disappointment before this moment? The answer was a definitive no. As someone who saw Avatar in a preview screening back in 2009 and genuinely enjoyed it, then flat-out loved The Way of Water in 2022, the idea that this third installment could be a letdown felt unfathomable. And yet, as I walked into the IMAX 3D theater the other night, it was a thought I couldn’t completely shake.

To my absurd delight, all of that concern turned out to be for nothing. It is genuinely beyond my comprehension what the mixed early reception was about, because Avatar: Fire and Ash is not only my favorite Avatar film to date, but also one of the most distinct, idiosyncratic, and absolutely batshit gonzo blockbusters of the past decade.

TOP 5 THINGS ABOUT “AVATAR: FIRE AND ASH”

5. Training Wheels Off

One of the biggest hurdles any new high-concept original film faces is getting audiences fully onboard with its story, world, and characters. That hurdle was especially daunting for the first Avatar, which had the unenviable task of convincing audiences whose last experience with James Cameron was Titanic to show up and care about giant blue, cat-eared aliens known as the Na’vi. Cameron handled this challenge with remarkable grace, grounding viewers through a surrogate protagonist in Jake Sully (played by Sam Worthington) and allowing audiences to experience this bold new world alongside him for the very first time.

For the second film, arriving more than a decade later, Cameron and company made the smart decision to take their time reintroducing viewers to Pandora. The Way of Water eases audiences back in, patiently rebuilding familiarity with the world and characters before fully ramping things up again.

With Avatar: Fire and Ash, however, Cameron rips the training wheels clean off the metaphorical bike, throwing audiences directly into the thick of the action from the opening moments. This third installment is, by far, the most inside-baseball the franchise has ever been, but crucially, it’s all in service of the story. The first film established the world, the second deepened the characters—Jake, Neytiri (played by Zoe Saldaña), and the entire Sully family—and Fire and Ash uses that foundation as a launching pad. The result is a film that confidently builds on what came before and rises to remarkable new heights.

4. The Existential Themes

For many filmmakers, aging brings with it a shift toward more reflective themes, with existentialism often moving to the center of their work. You can see clear modern examples of this in filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, and Ridley Scott, all of whom have delivered phenomenal late-career films that foreground ideas of time, humanity, and the finite nature of both. Interestingly, though, James Cameron had never truly seemed to engage with these ideas in his work. For so long, he was singularly focused on getting the Avatar saga off the ground, relentlessly pushing forward, that it felt as though there was little room for introspection or reflection.

Amazingly and unexpectedly, Avatar: Fire and Ash completely upends that assumption. Cameron essentially delivers a Disney-produced, multi-billion-dollar blockbuster centered on a family grappling with faith, loss, and the question of God in the aftermath of tragedy. Narratively, one of the film’s driving questions is whether Eywa still exists and, if so, why she allows terrible things to happen.

On a metatextual level, Cameron pushes this even further, using the sheer scale of the film to wrestle with enormous philosophical and thematic questions. Despite years of criticism aimed at the franchise’s sometimes on-the-nose messaging around conservation, Fire and Ash reframes those ideas into something far more nuanced. The result is a beautiful, poignant meditation on faith, humanity, and responsibility that feels remarkably prescient in today’s world.

3. Obscenely Human Performances

Inevitably, when people talk about the Avatar films, the conversation turns to visual effects. Cameron and his collaborators have spent literal decades reinventing the wheel in this area, resulting in gobsmackingly tactile digital creations and groundbreaking performance-capture techniques. But what risks getting lost in that discussion, despite Cameron’s best efforts to prevent it, is the genuine humanity at the core of the franchise. The performances in Avatar: Fire and Ash are nothing short of spectacular, with each of the series’ mainstays rising to new heights and delivering their best work to date.

Stephen Lang has never been better as the conflicted antagonist Quaritch, while newcomer Oona Chaplin’s manic charisma practically leaps off the screen as Varang. Sam Worthington and Zoe Saldaña, meanwhile, somehow continue to refine and deepen the volatile, palpable passion that defines the Sully family dynamic. Their chemistry feels more lived-in and emotionally charged than ever.

Throughout the film, there are numerous tightly focused, interpersonal scenes where the actors are given room to engage with genuinely meaty material, and they seize the opportunity every time. One standout moment centers on Jake and Neytiri feeling cornered and forced to make an excruciating decision involving a member of their extended family. The authenticity and emotional weight they bring to the scene cuts straight through the layers of technology, transforming it into something purely human and eliciting a deeply human response in return.

2. Jaw-Dropping Spectacle

James Cameron is a legend of action cinema. This is the filmmaker behind Aliens, Terminator 2, True Lies, and so much more; he understands action set pieces on a level few can match. One of the great pleasures of the Avatar films thus far has been watching Cameron operate within such a vast creative sandbox, where cutting-edge technology allows him to bring virtually anything he can imagine to life. That freedom has already produced several standout sequences across the first two films, but Avatar: Fire and Ash finds Cameron pushing himself even further, delivering some of the most astounding, gripping, and white-knuckle action of his entire career.

These sequences are so imaginative, multi-layered, and meticulously constructed that entire masterclasses could be built around them individually. The film is packed with moments like this, each one executed with remarkable clarity and precision. Cameron structures the action so it remains endlessly legible and fluid, while still hitting with overwhelming visceral impact.

Watching Fire and Ash feels like seeing a filmmaker repeatedly go all in, bet everything on black, win, and then immediately double down again. He sustains this audacious momentum across the film’s three-hour-plus runtime, creating a delirious, adrenaline-fueled high that’s genuinely staggering to experience in real time.

1. James Cameron’s Insane Vision

There are a million other things to say about this film, but I’ll leave you with this: for decades, James Cameron has been rightfully celebrated as the architect behind some of the greatest sequels in blockbuster history. With Aliens, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and Avatar: The Way of Water, he proved himself remarkably adept at expanding the scope of a story while simultaneously digging deeper into the emotional and psychological roots of its characters. Think of Ellen Ripley in Aliens, Sarah Connor in Terminator 2, or the Sully family in The Way of Water. Each of these films challenges its characters in unprecedented ways and, in doing so, uncovers greater truths about who they are.

Avatar: Fire and Ash sees Cameron and his collaborators taking this philosophy and pushing it even further, to almost staggering effect. This third installment is monumental by every metric: a larger ensemble, more locations, a denser narrative, and more ambitious large-scale action sequences than ever before.

And yet, despite all of that scale, the film is also the most intimately and emotionally grounded entry in the franchise. It is deeply rooted in the interpersonal lives, struggles, and inner conflicts of its characters. The relatively simple archetypes of the first film have given way to richly nuanced, complex, and fully realized individuals. What’s truly astonishing is how organic Cameron makes that evolution feel, as if this depth was always embedded in the story, simply waiting to be unlocked.

RGM GRADE

(A)

I suppose I can understand why some critics and audiences aren’t embracing Avatar: Fire and Ash as readily as its predecessors. It’s a stranger, funnier, bigger, more emotional, hornier, and altogether more bombastic film. If you’re not on board for the full spectrum of eccentricities and idiosyncrasies that come with that, Fire and Ash simply might not be for you.

But for the freaks like me who’ve spent 2025 celebrating the wins of big, ambitious, auteur-driven cinematic swings—films like Sinners, 28 Years Later, or One Battle After Another—Avatar: Fire and Ash feels like the ultimate victory in a year full of them. It’s the batshit-insane, deeply personal, and unmistakably singular vision of James Cameron unleashed in the most glorious and uninhibited way possible.

New Avatar is the best Avatar.

Welcome to an exciting year-long project here at The Nerdy. 1985 was an exciting year for films giving us a lot of films that would go on to be beloved favorites and cult classics. It was also the start to a major shift in cultural and societal norms, and some of those still reverberate to this day.

We’re going to pick and choose which movies we hit, but right now the list stands at nearly four dozen.

Yes, we’re insane, but 1985 was that great of a year for film.

The articles will come out – in most cases – on the same day the films hit theaters in 1985 so that it is their true 40th anniversary. All films are also watched again for the purposes of these reviews and are not being done from memory. In some cases, it truly will be the first time we’ve seen them.

This time around, it’s Dec. 20, 1985, and we’re off to see A Chorus Line, The Color Purple, Enemy Mine, and Out of Africa.

A Chrous Line

For a film about dancers, it’s amazing how lifeless it feels.

Set during the auditions for the chorus line of a new musical, the story follows the lives and dreams of the assembled men and women that cover multiple age brackets and backgrounds.

At the time, A Chorus Line was the most successful Broadway show ever. The film was meant to do for movie musicals what it had done for the stage, and while it did turn a minor profit, the film just completely falls flat.

No one in this film is believable in their roles. There is no hunger, no fire in their eyes. It’s just cold and dead. This film feels exactly what it is, a bunch of actors reciting lines, and not once did I feel pulled into their stories.

A massive let down on just about every level.

The Color Purple

Going from the rote performances of A Chorus Line to the transcendent turns of The Color Purple was downright near whiplash.

The film follows Celie (Desreta Jackson as young Celie, Whoopi Goldberg as adult Celie) across multiple decades of her life that see her go from a sexually abused child to a woman who eventually finds her own way in the South of the early 20th Century.

Let me just get this out of the way from the jump: Every single actor in this film delivers an unbelievable performance. Goldberg and Oprah Winfrey in particular shine here, but no one was slacking to be sure.

That being said, I do not feel Steven Spielberg was the right choice to direct here. His instincts are always to lean toward the sentimental moments, and this is a harsh story to its core. It is constantly interrupted by swelling music, hopeful shots, and more of his worst instincts.

Spielberg is a master director without question, but that doesn’t mean his style can be plugged into every style of story, and it doesn’t feel like it worked here.

It’s still a worthwhile film, but you have to wonder how much greater it could have been with someone else directing it.

Enemy Mine

Some times a film just proves how valuable a good editor is.

Set in 2092, Humans are at war with the reptilian Dracs. Willis E. Davidge (Dennis Quad) crash lands on a planet with a Drac named Jeriba “Jerry” Shigan (Louis Gossett Jr.) after a dogfight, and the two have to rely on one another for survival.

I’ve enjoyed this movie since I first watched as a video rental back in the 80s. Gossett is so hidden in the makeup it’s unfathomable to think you know the actor in the costume. And Quaid turns in a really strong performance as well leaving you with a truly enjoyable sci-fi romp.

But… the editing. Late in the film when Davidge is rescued, he is accused by higher ranking officers of being in league with the Drac, and this is capped off by everyone hearing him speak the Drac language. The implication is clear they think he is a traitor.

In the very next scene he is clean shaven, healed, and walking in his uniform on his way to steal a starfighter to fulfill a promise he made to Jerry.

So, either a scene was cut of him clearing his name, or maybe we should have never had the scene implying he was a traitor? It was a jarring jump in logic, and shows just how important editing can be to a film.

Out of Africa

I have never been more bored while watching something so pretty.

Danish aristocrat Karen Dinesen (Meryl Streep) moves to Africa to marry her friend, Baron Bror Blixen (Klaus Maria Brandauer) and set up a farm. While there, she meets Denys Finch Hatton (Robert Redford) and becomes enamored with him, eventually leaving her husband for him.

The film is semi-autobiographical, just proving that not every biography, no matter how exotic, needs to be turned into a film. Between Streeps horrific attempt an accent, and far too many details about everyone’s life, the only thing I enjoyed was the scenery, and even that was a stretch at times.

Quite glad to never have to revisit this film.

1985 Movie Reviews will return on Dec. 27, 2025, with Murphy’s Romance, Revolution, and The Trip to Bountiful.