Avatar

No amount of souped-up home entertainment television gear will ever equal the feeling of being theatrically immersed in the 3D world of James Cameron's Avatar. Yet one has to ask, is Cameron a day late and a dollar short? Yes he has once again supercharged cinema out of its franchise stupor, but only at the cost of creating another franchise. True that, Avatar must be seen in a theater preferably in 3D and preferably after that in IMAX 3D. However it's only a matter of scant years (2015) before technology places 3D wraparound television that a person can experience from any angle without wearing any visual devices.
Avatar works as cinema and also as stupendous sci-fi adventure. Additionally there's a heart healthy spiritual theme involving the synergy of the indigenous inhabitants of planet Pandora and their mother nature. The protags are 12-foot blue beings called Na'vi and the baddies are marines from Earth who have orders to remove the Na'vi, from an area wanted for its minerals, by any means necessary.
There's as much technology behind the film as on the screen. Cameron spent years developing a new kind of 3D camera and then years making the film. In fact the same 3D camera was used for Journey to the Center of the Earth and that came out two years ago. Cameron, of course, is the director of Titanic and the first two Terminator movies. It's a fair assessment that Avatar cost hundreds of millions and is the most expensive movie made to date, yet the money spent will be amortized over several projects. Talking about the money of Avatar makes little sense since that actually has little or nothing to do with the wow factor of Avatar.
By immersing the audiences in a spatial environment and not using the 3D effects for, say, a spear being hurled at the viewer, Avatar succeeds in creating the sense of a distant planet and alien beings. The combination of live action with a CGI rainforest is so seamless you don't register that most of the movie was created in a computer rather than on a set. Films like 300 are light years away from what Cameron has done with green screens and motion capture.
A marine who's lost the use of his legs gets a chance to walk again via an avatar, or in this case a laboratory alien that scientists can grow with a mixture of human DNA. This allows a human to occupy the alien on planet Pandora and thus move around without an oxygen mask or other life support. Meanwhile the human lies in a chamber like device in a dream state. We know the date is August 24, 2154 because that's the text at the bottom of the hero's videolog.
Avatar may not be the greatest film ever made, but it's a good enough film to become a huge hit and to enjoy more than once. Remember see this film in 3D. The more you think about Avatar the more it becomes apparent that there's nothing bad about it at all.

The Princess and the Frog

We live in a time where one can say that the animation for The Princess and the Frog hearkens back to the hand drawn style of animation from the 20th century. The Princess and the Frog re-imagines the fairy tale The Frog Prince only striped of its grim possibilities while still painted with a constant dark palette of bayou colors. (Check out Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre for a retro look at Frog Prince.)
In New Orleans during the early 20th century a humble black family makes do while an affluent white family lords over the Mardi Gras parade. Two young girls from each respective family are friends. We observe them briefly as kids, and then for most of the story as young adult women. During the Mardi Gras a prince visits New Orleans but he's tuned into a frog by a dastardly dude who hopes to gain occult power though his tomfoolery. The black characters are drawn in a manner that, with the exception of the voodoo characters, are more akin to the look of white people. But this is a Disney cartoon and everyone of importance becomes a frog after 15 minutes so the whole black/white issue is kind of moot. And because it's a Disney cartoon there is actually a spine to the universe it creates, as opposed to something like Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs.
Special attention is devoted to the jazz era in which this movie takes place. The characters move with the hipness swing jazz commands. When our distaff protag finds herself up the bayou without a paddle (so to speak) she finds guidance from an introverted crocodile who just happens to be the best trumpet player in the French Quarter. And there's a firefly who adds a touch of soul to the proceedings. This unlikely bunch heads deep into the swamps with the enthusiasm of a Mark Twain adventure. Not unlike a spicy gumbo, The Princess and the Frog resembles a complex recipe that blossoms like a grand souffle.
The animation never tries to overstay its welcome. The backgrounds are always changing from tenement homes to mansions to shady groves to spooky shacks and finally back to opulence. We're constantly challenged by darker evocations of the bayou, the dangers of the backwoods and strange night parades in the Quarter. Some of the silhouettes recall the style of Tim Burton's creatures from Nightmare Before Christmas. It's interesting that Burton has as much influence over today's animated output as Mickey Mouse.
The music and songs by Randy Newman, while perfunctory, never produce a hit or even a tune you leave humming. The Princess and the Frog offers solid family fare although very young children will be freaked out by the progressively dark exteriors.

Collapse

There's a documentary flying under the radar called Collapse. The film is available on demand from some cable providers and also playing in limited theatrical venues. Director Chris Smith has made some of the best docs of the last 15 years including Home Movie, The Yes Men, American Movie and the brilliant but rarely seen American Job (1996). Smith certainly ranks alongside other contemporary doc makers like Michael Moore or Errol Morris and is as idiosyncratic as they are while still maintaining a signature style.
Collapse takes place in a single room with a single man speaking to the camera. Smith aids the narration of Michael Ruppert with lots of appropriate vintage news clips and images. Unlike a similar one-man doc subject, Morris' Fog of War, Collapse isn't a man admitting past political adjectives and mistakes but rather Ruppert predicting a gloom and doom future to our economy and way of life.
Ruppert covers peak oil, transportation, electricity, food and how it's all tied in to our way of life. He explains derivatives in a manner so concise as to negate a similar explanation in Moore's Capitalism: A Love Story. Collapse is as Ruppert details a story of "infinite growth versus finite energy."
You'll want to watch Collapse twice or at least take notes once through because the information being hurled is so fascinatingly apocalyptic. While you will have heard some of what Ruppert spouts in other formats he delivers his message in a succinct manner with a bow on top.
Ruppert could be the Smoking Man from the X Files he's so full of mystery, at least that's the way Smith, who's only heard off camera, presents him. One of the strengths of Collapse is the way Smith allows Ruppert the emotional freedom to break down in the middle of his rant.