The Spiritual Appeal of Pandora (Film review - Avatar)

James Cameron's 2009 blockbuster movie "Avatar" has been criticised by the political and religious right for being anti-capitalist, anti-militarist, "neo-pagan‟ and "pantheist". Though less hostile, the Vatican newspaper Osservatore Romano were critical of its latter aspect, seeing the film as endorsing pantheism – the worship of nature. Are they right? More importantly, why does "Avatar" appeal to so many people? What can Christians learn from it?

As presented, Pandora – the fictional moon on which the story is set – is undoubtedly a living creature with its various plant, animal and semi-human species coexisting in harmony and balance. Cameron apparently nods to the Gaia Hypothesis – that our earth is a living creature, but (unlike Pandora before the humans arrive) unbalanced by the greed and destructiveness of one of its constituents, us. Whereas Gaia is a god, for Cameron Pandora has indeed godlike qualities. She is an intimate god, not a distant being "out there" who is often accessible only if we go through official channels of religious organisations.

Given there are probably few viewers of Avatar who are signed up pantheists, why does this film appeal so strongly? Are we all secret pantheists? I don't think so. Many of us, particularly those who believe in both evolution and God, are what might be called panentheists: God is in everything (humans, animals, plants, the whole universe) and at the same time everything is in God, who is (against pantheism) infinitely more than just the material universe.

As the most advanced species on this planet we humans have the duty to preserve, protect and nurture the other species. This is our task from God. Hence the moral importance so many religious people – including Pope Benedict, the Dalai Lama and Orthodox Patriarch Bartholomew – place on ecology.

Avatar taps into a current fear among many people today – that the earth is being slowly destroyed through pollution and misuse, frequently by uncontrolled business interests often backed up by politicians and military force. Note: the villains in the movie are big business and military types who, having wasted the earth, have moved on like locusts to exploit another planet. There are clear echoes of globalisation at its worst here.

Many, too, feel disconnected in their own lives – the modern rat-race has undermined senses of family and community. People long for a simpler life, a life based more solidly on relationships and relatedness; many long to escape the city's clutter and noise and reconnect with nature. The appeal of Pandora – and of Avatar – lies in this sense of connectedness.

In the resistance of Pandora to human exploitation, we see our wishes to resist the mess in which we have landed. The fact that marginal humans – disabled persons, women, persons of colour (in a white-dominated set up), even dare we say it a smoker! – identify with this vision and join in a revolt against "their own" perhaps echoes our own sense of frustration at seeming unimportant and powerless and our secret desire to change things.

The spirituality of Pandora appeals, I have suggested, because of its immediacy. We as the Church need to see this not so much as a threat as a challenge: how to make our faith an expression of unconditional connectedness – between God, each other and creation.