Twelve years ago, James Cameron made the world’s most expensive movie, which turned out to be the world’s highest grossing movie (unless you adjust for inflation, of course). A vast majority of its colossal budget went to the painstaking detail of historical authenticity; custom carpets woven by the same companies that outfitted the real Titanic, handmade mahogany furniture built from 1911 blueprints, and costumes fit for the wives of turn-of-the-century rail barons.

Unfortunately, Cameron then populated these precisely replicated sets with 1990s characters speaking lines from his 1990s worldview. True stories of romance and heroism were ignored so that a fictional tale of forbidden love in a fabricated class war could be told. Needing more villains for his melodramatic conclusion, Cameron rewrote the historic words and actions of real White Star crew members seemingly at random, erasing or misrepresenting their legacies.

Despite all that, or perhaps because of it, Titanic went on become a global phenomenon, which teenage girls would buy tickets to see again and again. The tremendous scale of Cameron’s artistic vision overshadowed his flat characters and cheesy dialog to create an overwhelming spectacle. These same strengths and weaknesses are also apparent in Avatar, but with more of a videogame feel.

Fortunately, the futuristic storyline doesn’t tarnish any historic events, but it still has a kind of ham-handed revisionist feel to it. Apparently, in the year 2154, intergalactic space marines will still remind each other that they “aren’t in Kansas anymore.” More anachronistically, their caricatured commanders will quote George W. Bush in strategic briefings, refer to any conflict as being a war on terror, and attempt to “shock and awe” any insurgents they run across.

Yes, James Cameron has many political axes to grind in this very beautiful film, and no matter how awe-inspiring the scenery and action gets, there’s always an obtrusively highlighted moralistic footnote to distract the viewer. That said, the visuals are undeniably amazing. From the opening scenes on board spaceship to when the crippled marine named Jake first takes control of his genetically engineered avatar body, the sets and gadgets are incredible.

And once Jake actually leaves civilization for the glowing, fog-shrouded rainforest of Pandora, things get even more eye-popping. Six-legged monster jaguars prowl through bioluminescent foliage and scare up orange helicopter lizards, while blue-crested pterodactyls weave over and under floating mountains dotted with inexplicable waterfalls. Jake experiences all of this by Tarzaning around in the hyper-athletic body of a twelve-foot-tall blue alien, and as soon as he abandons his pasty-white paralyzed human husk for such physical perfection, it’s clear that he’s never going back.

A lot of people have pointed out that Avatar is the same storyline as Dances with Wolves (including the director), but it also borrows heavily from FernGully, Dinotopia, and Pocahontas. Not the actual true story of Pocahontas, of course, but Disney’s animated New Age eco-romance. This post-modern version of a gone-native John Smith and the wise warrior woman who guides him in primitive tribalism seems to be Cameron’s main source for Avatar.

In fact, the similarities are painfully obvious: Our expressionless hero tags along on an expedition that leaves him lost in the incredible jungle and found by the chief’s daughter. Taken back to camp, her father, played by Cherokee actor Wes Studi (Pocahontas’s uncle in the live-action Terrence Malick revision of the story), condemns him to death, and just as the peaceful and tolerant forest folk are about to gut him like a fish for being a slimy paleface, our extra-terrestrial Pocahontas steps in. . . .

Visit Outside-Hollywood to read more of this fascinating article on Christian filmmaking.