I am ever so sorry for having taken last night off. I spent the previous week trying to squeeze in a screening of Avatar, since I was apparently the only person left who hadn’t seen it. Unfortunately, after putting the kids to bed and doing my nightly best to keep you people up to date on the silliness in my head, there just wasn’t time. It doesn’t help that the movie runs just under three hours long, which means that if I wasn’t ready to plop down in the recliner by 10 o’clock there was little chance of seeing whole thing. I don’t know about you, but I’m not a huge fan of watching a movie piecemeal for the first time. As it is, I can barely remember where I left off when I wake up in the morning, so trying to pick up even a simple plot (if I can recall where I was), does not tend to work so well.
So, yes, I watched Avatar last night, and decided that it is actually pretty good. Indeed, it’s a damned good movie, but I’m SO not convinced that it’s worth all the craziness surrounding it. I mean, seriously, there are really people out there actually depressed that Pandora is just a movie planet and they can’t live there?
I read someplace that there are support groups for these people. Support groups!! I’ve half a mind to find the Avatar toll-free hotline and call with complaints of feeling constantly sad and listless, you know, to see if they’d give me a doctor’s note. I’d love to call in at the office with ‘Pandora Depression’. I suspect that when the laughter subsided, they’d tell me to quit whining and get my lazy behind to work.
The thing I really don’t get is, why Avatar; why Pandora? Sure, it’s a nice movie and all, and who wouldn’t want to be all tall, skinny, half-naked, and shimmery blue? But are these people so miserable in their real lives that they’d trade in their jobs, families, homes, and pets to be chased by huge animals with razor-sharp teeth and claws and sleep in trees? I’m pretty sure that the whole pre-industrial tribal lifestyle is available right here, for free, even, on planet Earth. Africa has plenty of natural predators and places where clothing would be highly optional. There are almost certainly aboriginal tribes in New Zealand and Australia where you can totally rock the “gone native” vibe. And South America is chock full of rainforest in which to do some tree sleeping. Heck, if you’re lucky, you might even be run off by industrial deforestation. How much closer to the movie do you need to get?
Maybe it’s not having all the the glowy stuff that makes people sad.
Either way, I’m thinking maybe I should start up some kind of travel service where hapless fools pay me lots of cash for an airline ticket to the Congo, a loincloth, and reservation in pod 16 on Jungle Tree 172. I’ll call it Pandora Therapy and bill insurance companies for the treatment. See, the new health care system really can work for everyone!