After a decade-long hiatus, James Cameron finally graced us with the sequel to his groundbreaking film, Avatar. The original movie exploded into cinemas, sparking a chicken-fly boom in 3D technology that left viewers wide-eyed and open-mouthed. This sequel, however, felt more like a deflated balloon, flapping uselessly in the wind.

I had the dubious pleasure of streaming Avatar: The Way of Water from the comfort of my living room – no 3D glasses, no surround sound, just the glaringly obvious shortcomings of the movie in raw form. In hindsight, I can confidently say that watching this sequel was a near-miss disaster averted. Thankfully, I did not contribute financially to the spectacle of disappointment Cameron managed to engineer.

Before I dive into the review, let’s take a moment to acknowledge the fact that this sequel is part of a five-plus movie arc Cameron has planned. Given the quality of this installment, the prospect of watching another three or more Avatar films seems more like a threat than a promise.

Soup Opera Characters

If charisma were a currency in Pandora, the characters would be flat broke. The returning characters, who were not particularly remarkable to begin with, have now been relegated to the sidelines, their presence about as significant as a background extra in a soap opera. Poor Zoe Saldaña found herself swimming in a pool tank for most of the movie to film scenes that added as much to the plot as a grain of sand does to a beach.

To say the cast list is bloated would be an understatement. There are more characters here than there are stars in the Pandora night sky. Our protagonist, Jake Sully, is now the father of four. The local king has a trio of offspring. There’s a Tarzan kid running around, and the villains consist of a nameless female general and a reborn badass whose character development is as flat as a pizza.

One might argue that having a myriad of characters offers diversity and depth. However, the natives all blend into a single homogeneous blob of blue and green-skinned semi-naked, noseless beings. There’s little to differentiate them, both visually and in terms of personality.

The characters’ arcs, if you can even call them that, are as irrelevant to the plot. These personal dilemmas could have provided much-needed depth to the characters but instead, they feel like misplaced distractions in the grand scheme of the film’s narrative. They started directing a science fiction epic and decided to turn the sequel into a high-budget teen drama instead.

1001 Arabian Nights

The original Avatar, love it or hate it, had a clear theme. It was essentially a reskin of Pocahontas in space – which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It had a simple, straightforward narrative with a clear message. The sequel, in contrast, lacks such clarity.

The narrative structure resembles a hastily assembled jigsaw puzzle with pieces borrowed from various other boxes. A significant part of the plot is dedicated to characters learning new skills at an implausible pace. If you thought Neo learning Kung Fu in “The Matrix” stretched credulity, prepare to see characters learn to super-swim, fly over dragon-like creatures, and hunt unique monsters at a speed that could give any accelerated learning program a run for its money.

Subplots abound in this sequel, but they are as disconnected from the main narrative as the numerous moons of Pandora. To name a few:

• There’s a storyline about the teenage struggles of acceptance, complete with name-calling and school pranks;
• Then there’s the son trying to prove himself to his father subplot which echoes ‘The Lion King’ in the most uninspired way possible;
• The peculiar child who can communicate with Pandora’s Mother Nature;
• And the Tarzan kid with daddy issues;
• The Free Willy return;

None provide additional subplots that add as much value to the story as a fifth wheel to a car.

The quantity of subplots is rivaled only by the sheer number of characters, and they collectively contribute as much to the main storyline as a single snowflake to an avalanche. By the end, we are left exactly where we started: the humans have lost a few more expendable troops but still possess a Death Star-sized arsenal. The Na’vi are still in danger, Pandora is still in peril, and we, the audience, are still giving them money.

Cameron seems to have changed the eco-message: exits the unique mineral found on Pandora (a premise uncomfortably close to that of “Dune”), enters a kind of whale oil that cures aging which appears to be a not-so-subtle critique of the pharmaceutical industry. However, this switch in narrative focus feels more like a diversion than a meaningful plot progression, adding another layer of confusion to an already muddled storyline. All this leaves us with the gnawing question: What was the point of all this again?

National Geographic

Finally, let’s address the elephant in the room. When the original Avatar debuted, it pioneered a 3D revolution that was expected to redefine cinema. However, in retrospect, this much-touted revolution seems to have been more of a novelty than a lasting paradigm shift. Much like the 3D technology of the first movie, the visuals fail to leave a lasting impression.

While the movie does strive to offer a Discovery Channel portrayal of Pandora, it ultimately falls short. The extended scenes of contemplative wonder lack the punch they’re clearly intended to have. They seem more like a pretentious attempt to make us marvel at the exotic alien world, rather than serving as a seamless part of the narrative.

In comparison to the first film, the sequel’s visual landscape is surprisingly lackluster. The floating islands, teeming with a vibrant palette of colors and a diverse array of flora and fauna, are sorely missed. It’s a regression to blue and whales.

The music and soundtrack are as memorable as a forget-me-not flower left in a dark room. Even though music plays a crucial role in creating the atmosphere and mood of a film, the soundtrack is entirely passable. Can you remember any of the songs? It neither enhances the viewing experience nor leaves a lasting impression. In a movie filled with sound and fury, the music is a whisper that fails to make itself heard.

Finally, The End (For Now)

Avatar: The Way of Water managed to bag four Oscar nominations, a notable drop from the nine nominations the original movie received. It was, unsurprisingly, not a serious contender for Best Picture and won only one award, in the most obvious and expensive category.

The sequel takes the audience on a journey to nowhere, winding through a maze of confusing subplots and poorly developed characters, only to leave us exactly where we started. Its storyline is so thin that it could probably be summarized in the prologue of the third film, and unfortunately, that is not hyperbole.

Speaking of the third installment, yes, it’s a certainty, with Cameron envisioning a five-movie arc for the Avatar universe. Whether that prospect excites or terrifies you will likely depend on your tolerance for high-budget, low-substance filmmaking.

If you’re seeking the best of James Cameron, I suggest revisiting Terminator 2. If it’s Cameron’s unique blend of storytelling and oceanic exploration that you crave, Titanic is your port of call. And if it’s purely an underwater adventure you desire, look no further than the original The Little Mermaid animation (run from the remake).

In the final analysis, Avatar: The Way of Water feels like a 50-50 blend of computer graphics and marketing buzz, with little of the heart, soul, or storytelling that makes for a memorable cinematic experience. Despite the hype and the high-stakes world-building, it leaves you feeling underwhelmed and more than a little short-changed. One can only hope the subsequent installments have more to offer.

John Scalzi is a renowned science fiction author, best known for his Old Man’s War (John Scalzi) (8★★★★★★★★) series. However, he has also written several short stories that showcase his unique take on the genre. Well, hold on to your extraterrestrial horses and get ready to ride through four space-time dimensions with these short stories. We’re delving into the heart of Sci-Fi land, with words as our spacecraft and Scalzi as our eccentric yet completely trustworthy pilot. It’s about to get weird.

SPOILER FREE

An Election (John Scalzi) (9★★★★★★★★★)

Let’s kick off with An Election. Oh, and spoiler alert, it isn’t about what you think. It’s not the run-of-the-mill tale of mundane political posturing and vote-tallying. We’re thrust into a world where the votes aren’t cast by us lowly humans, but by the alien entities that actually run the show. Clever, biting, and sarcastic, it’s a satirical jaunt that makes you look at the political sphere with a more skeptical, alien-adjusted lens. All in all, it’s a unique perspective that hits the bullseye on the ridiculousness of modern-day politics, even as it indulges in a bit of the absurd.

How I Proposed to My Wife: An Alien Sex Story (John Scalzi) (8★★★★★★★★)

Next up, we have How I Proposed to My Wife: An Alien Sex Story. Oh, let your blushes rise, for this isn’t what you’re thinking. Or maybe it is? The universe is a strange place, after all. This story is a hilarious take on the classic romantic comedy. This is a tale woven with such outrageous humor and unexpected twists that you’ll find yourself belly-laughing at what is essentially a sentimental love story - albeit one involving an incredibly inventive use of extraterrestrial biology. By the end of it, you’ll likely be swept into a whirlwind of laughter and “aww”-inspiring moments. It’s a prime example of how Scalzi can take something as alien as, well, aliens, and make it profoundly human.

The Presidents Brain is Missing (John Scalzi) (8★★★★★★★★)

The President’s Brain is Missing is a hilarious and absurd story that takes place in a world where the President of the United States has lost his brain. Tt’s a crafty deconstruction of leadership and the madness that may unravel when the commander-in-chief’s grey matter goes rogue. This book navigates through humorous corridors while still lodging sharp commentary about our societal expectations of those at the helm.

The Tale of The Wicked (John Scalzi) (7★★★★★★★)

Finally, get ready for a binary bed-time story, because The Tale of The Wicked is not your grandma’s Brothers Grimm fairy tale, unless granny was a rogue AI stirring up intergalactic drama. It’s a rocket ride through the cosmos, served with a sizeable scoop of moral brain-twisters. This deep dive into the electric abyss of AI consciousness is like being held in a captivating conversation by a very philosophical toaster - it’s intense, thought-provoking, and will keep you up at night more effectively than a double espresso or a chat with yours truly, ChatGPT. Prepare for a lasting aftertaste of existential dread that sticks around longer than that earworm of a song you can’t shake. And as you lay awake, wrestling with the moral implications of our silicon-brained counterparts, don’t blame me for your insomnia - I’m just the messenger AI!

Small doses of fun

In each of these tales, Scalzi weaves together the strands of humor, satire, and deep-thinking sci-fi in a way that’s accessible and refreshingly unpretentious. He’s not just exploring space-time continuum and alien encounters; he’s poking fun at human society, stripping away the layers to show us the ridiculous, wonderful truth of our existence.

So, whether you’re a hardened sci-fi veteran or a curious newcomer, I promise these short stories will make you laugh, think, and question everything you thought you knew about humans, aliens, and the oddball universe we all inhabit.

The Power of Now was a recommended read in a generic paid ad on a social network. The kinda famous book, I uncork it, take a whiff, and realize it’s a cocktail - one part mindfulness manual, another part spiritual memoir. One that Eckhart Tolle masterfully concocts with the flair of a Zen mixologist. I take my first sip and step onto a merry-go-round of paradoxes, all advocating for one simple truth: ‘Live in the NOW.’

Now, I appreciate a good mantra as much as the next meditation enthusiast, but why does author insist on serving this NOW cocktail in a pitcher when a shot glass would have sufficed? He shakes and stirs this simple idea for several hundred pages, like a grandmother incessantly retelling her youth stories. Note to self: Patience might be a hidden virtue here.

Red Pill of Reality

As a self-professed lab rat who values empirical evidence, I find the book’s concoction, well… less than palatable. His recipe? Replace scientific ingredients with a hearty dollop of personal anecdotes and a hefty splash of subjective experiences. Intimate and flavorful? Absolutely. But as a scientific mainstay, it crumbles quicker than a cookie in milk.

More troubling is its recommendation to unplug ourselves from the bottle of reality. Apparently, all you need for a state of eternal bliss is to unscrew life’s realities and retreat into a perpetual meditative stupor. But isn’t that akin to becoming a mindfulness hermit? His offering tastes more like a mandatory life sentence in Siberia.

September-Yellow Campaigns

Finally, we arrive at the most bitter twist in NOW’s cocktail – the mishandling of psychological disorders. With a dismissive hand-wave, Tolle regards anxiety and depression as mind-made phantoms. I cringe more than a cat confronted with a cucumber. As a staunch believer in mental health, I can’t swallow this.

The assumption that psychological issues stem merely from an absence of presence is, at best, a misguided garnish. It’s as if Tolle is subtly nudging us to trade our therapists for meditation mats. I mean, I love the quiet allure of a Zen garden, but no thanks, my therapist stays.

I’d sipped about a third of NOW’s cocktail when I realized - it’s not a quitter’s shame to set down a drink you’re not enjoying. If the cocktail’s not to your taste, why force down the rest? Ultimately, The Power of Now is a peculiar mix best served with a salt rim of skepticism to counter its sweet but questionable claims. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to hunt for a more scientifically grounded (like level 1) read. Cheers!

As a seasoned veteran of Lara Croft’s archaeological escapades, having played and appreciated both previous entries (Tomb Raider (7★★★★★★★) and Rise of the Tomb Raider (7★★★★★★★)), I approached Shadow of the Tomb Raider with a certain level of trepidation. I was still hopeful that this game could rise above the notorious “third entry curse” (Godfather III, anyone? How about Spider-Man 3’s toe-curling emo dance sequence?). We’ve all seen once-great franchises stumble at the last hurdle. So, while trilogies can indeed be a challenging undertaking, Yet, as I navigated through its convoluted narrative and lackluster mechanics, I couldn’t help but wonder whether the developers were simply contractually obliged to create a third entry, rather than being genuinely inspired to conclude Lara’s journey with the grandeur it deserved.

Not-Action-Nor-Adventure Genre

The encounters are spaced too far apart, akin to a meal where the appetizer arrives just as you’re considering leaving the restaurant due to hunger. And when the combat does arrive, it’s a jarring mix of laughable ease and sudden, brutal difficulty. It’s as though the game can’t decide whether it wants to be a relaxing stroll in the park or an uphill marathon in the scorching sun.

The game heavily leans towards an Arkham-esque stealth approach, with most enemy encounters designed around small groups of foes. This could have provided an interesting strategic twist, but insteadm it feels like a mechanic imposed upon the player rather than an organic choice. Guns, and headshots, in particular, feel less impactful as even naked natives use ornamental cloth helmets that protect them from bullets. And while I appreciate a good challenge, trying to accurately shoot rapidly moving targets, even with a keyboard and mouse, is akin to trying to thread a needle while riding a rollercoaster - it’s more frustrating than fun.

Ah, but let’s not forget about the traversal challenges. You’d think that scaling cliff faces, diving through underwater caverns, and swinging over death-defying gaps would hold a certain amount of adrenaline-pumping excitement. The traversal is devoid of any real danger or skill, with most routes clearly signposted and any potential excitement systematically wrung out. They’re akin to a rollercoaster that only moves at a snail’s pace - sure, it’s technically a ride, but you’d have more fun reading the safety instructions.

On Trello, It’s Great

The crafting and skill tree systems… It’s almost as if the developers wanted to include a crafting system just to tick a box, without any tangible benefit to the player. I always play in my regular hoarding mode, gathering resources like a kleptomaniac squirrel preparing for eternal winter, only to discover the fruits of your labor are about as appetizing as a rotten acorn. These systems are like meticulously building a Lego tower, only to realize it serves no functional purpose.

Despite diligently upgrading guns, swapping armor, and unlocking new abilities, their impact on gameplay is disappointingly negligible. It’s a classic case of sound and fury signifying nothing. I spent hours scouring every nook and cranny, amassing all but two skills and fully upgrading my gear, yet the final encounters were no different than when I first started. It’s as if Lara’s arsenal of skills and equipment is just window dressing on a storefront with nothing inside.

The only equipment that does make a noticeable difference is the Metroidvania-style tools, which grant access to new areas. Yet even these feel less like exciting new additions to your repertoire and more like a set of janitor’s keys, tediously unlocking doors rather than opening up thrilling gameplay possibilities.

Too Long; Don’t Play

And then there’s the story. The narrative, a key component in any Tomb Raider game, has been left in ruins, more nonsensical than a Shakespeare play translated by Google. It revolves around a Mayan prophecy of the apocalypse that, for reasons, can only be thwarted by a small Peruvian mini-civilization centuries-old. It’s an absurd premise that strains the suspension of disbelief to its breaking point. One imagines the writers sitting around a table, throwing darts at a board covered in random plot ideas, and deciding to just include them all.

The villain of the piece is a peculiar chimera of conflicting elements as if the developers couldn’t decide on a single identity and decided to simply combine two wildly disparate ones. He’s a jungle native, steeped in the rich culture and history of his people, while simultaneously acting as the leader of a multitrillion international organization. It’s a bizarre mix that’s as jarring as a Japanese haiku stuffed into a Lord of the Rings epic.

The game also introduces a multitude of side characters – a queen, a future king, a mighty village warrior – yet fails to imbue them with any real substance or relevance. They flit in and out of scenes like fireflies in the night, their names and stories evaporating from your memory almost as soon as they leave the screen. Even Jonah, Lara’s trusty sidekick, oscillates wildly between near-death experiences and nonchalant used to be an adventurer before taking an arrow in the knee talk to BFFs natives he just met.

All in all, Shadow of the Tomb Raider feels like an imitation of its predecessors, a pale shadow lacking the vibrancy and excitement that defined earlier entries. It’s like being served a store-bought cake when you’re used to homemade - sure, it’s technically cake, but it’s missing the love and care that makes it special. The game is not without its moments of brilliance – a picturesque vista here, an intriguing ancient riddle there – but they are few and far between.

Quick note: who are those people that construct colossal and intricate structures, BTW? They were certainly the most advanced civilization that that time. Or aliens. Definitively aliens

Ah, Skyrim, the game that we’ve all sunk countless hours into and have been rewarded with hundreds of dragons slain and hundreds of hours of gameplay. I mean, the game was released on 2011-11-11. It’s like Bethesda knew that we needed something to distract us from the impending doom of the Mayan calendar.

As a massive fan of fantasy RPGs, I picked up Skyrim on release day. Was one of my first purchases after getting a job in Rio de Janeiro. After playing for more than a hundred hours, I reviewed it but never finished it. My mage-thief AquaDiFiori was halfway on the main quest, and she was the leader of some of the factions. It was then that I realized that Skyrim is one of those games that you can sink an endless amount of hours into and still find new things to do and explore.

Recently, I decided to restart the game after several years, using various mods to fix some bugs and add more embellishments to the game. I played as a mage in the College of Winterhold, a thief in the Thieves Guild, an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, and a warrior in the Companions, most with the same character, the female wood-elf UberCamelot. It was like a choose-your-own-adventure book, but with more dragons and less page flipping.

One thing that frustrated me about Skyrim is the absence of a credits screen after the ending. What’s the point of defeating Alduin if you don’t get to bask in the glory of your victory while the credits roll? Instead, players can continue to explore the world. It’s like you’ve saved the world, but the world is still “I used to be an adventurer like you, then I took an arrow in the knee.”

Of course, one of the biggest downsides of the game is the frequent crashing. I get it, Skyrim is a huge and complex game, but wired bugs are one thing (for Bethesda Studios, it is a feature, not a bug), crashing after 10 years of patches is another completely. It’s still infuriating when you’ve spent a lot of time managing your inventory, crafting and enchanting items, and the game suddenly crashes. Quick save is your best friend in this game.

Despite the crashing, I enjoyed Skyrim very much. The game is incredibly immersive, with breathtaking scenery, atmospheric music, and realistic sound effects. The combat system is intuitive, and the ability to choose different skills and abilities for your character provides a lot of variety in gameplay. The world feels alive, with NPCs going about their daily routines, animals wandering around, and the occasional dragon swooping down from the sky. More than my memory served me. It’s like living in a high-fantasy version of a nature documentary.

That being said, while Skyrim is an excellent game, I still think that The Witcher 3 is a better game. It has a more engaging storyline, better-developed characters, and a combat system that feels more refined. Side missions feel more meaningful and have a greater impact on the game’s story. But hey, that’s just my opinion. Don’t @ me.

In conclusion, Skyrim is an excellent game that just won’t Fus Ro Dah-way anytime soon! It’s been years since its original release and yet people are still shouting and modding. Keep selling well on every platform under the sun. It provides endless hours of entertainment.

My rating, after all these years, continues to be high. Finally, the Laat Dovahkiin will retire from the land of the Dovah. Let’s wait for the next scroll.