The consensus is in: James Cameron's Avatar is the greatest movie ever made, according to the fans. According to critics, it doesn't have much in the way of plot, characters, ideas or originality, but it's so dazzling that it's one of the best movies of the year! As one of the few who was underwhelmed by this new movie, I would like to know why Cameron was given such a low bar for excellence. It seems to me that to qualify as one of the greatest films of all time, or even one of the best movies of the year, some of the mandatory requirements ought to include strong plot, characters, ideas and/or originality, and not just visual effects alone.

In this business, spectacular visuals usually don't make up for a tired plot, half-baked characters and an obvious message. Just take a look back at Shane Acker's 9, which suffered from exactly the same problem: great design, little else. It earned a paltry $31 million (about the same as its budget) and scored a mediocre 57% on Rotten Tomatoes. Then look at Aristomenis Tsirbas' Battle for Terra, which came out last May and featured almost exactly the same plot as Avatar. It scored only 47% on Rotten Tomatoes and less than $2 million (though it was made for a much smaller budget and received a much smaller release). Both 9 and Battle for Terra showcased similar clunky storytelling and a similar obvious, heavy-handed attempt at sending messages. And no one even nibbled. Likewise, someone pointed out recently that the plot of Avatar is even closer to the 1992 animated film Ferngully: The Last Rainforest, which -- let's face it -- didn't exactly set the world on fire either. (Some have defended Cameron's "old" story based on the fact that he wrote it 15 years ago, but Ferngully came out 17 years ago.)

This leads me to hypothesize that it's not the story or the characters -- or even the pro-Rainforest message -- in Avatar that are really captivating people. It's the imagery, and specifically the computer-generated imagery, rather than the live-action images of Sam Worthington or Sigourney Weaver. (Every ad and web posting on the film features the aliens' blue faces rather than any of the human actors.) Now, it's possible to make an argument for a film as spectacle and nothing else, kind of like those early IMAX films of roller coasters or experimental films by Kenneth Anger or Maya Deren. But the problem with this argument is that Cameron does include a plot in his film, and he clearly thinks his movie tells a story and sends a message. Somehow viewers are taking in the imagery and convincing themselves that the rest of the film is just as impressive.

Avatar does have in its favor two key things: cost and length. Because it's monumentally expensive and very long, it qualifies as an "epic," and epics have always impressed moviegoers -- all the way back to The Birth of a Nation -- regardless of content. Two other epics that have come up in the many comparisons to Avatar are Kevin Costner's Dances With Wolves (1990) and Edward Zwick's The Last Samurai (2003). Neither of those films were particularly great either, and they both fall apart under careful analysis, but moviegoers -- and even the Academy -- were dazzled. There was something about the careful exploration of another culture by a white man that made them feel somehow more sophisticated and guilt-free; the other white men in all three movies are pure, one-dimensional evil, so it's much easier to side with the gentle, spiritual "other." It makes us feel more harmony with the universe, I suppose, less materialistic and more emotionally alive.

Oddly enough, though all three filmmakers probably deluded themselves that they were doing something noble and special, all three films were created with the greatest calculation. No one would have bought any tickets if the heroes were not white men, or if the supporting characters had any nuance. If any of the natives had shown some hint of humanity, or greed or jealousy, or if any of the white characters had been the slightest bit good, the formula would not have worked. They all had to be "types" for easy categorizing. This is especially true given that Cameron had a luxurious 2 hours and 42 minutes to flesh out these characters and still failed to do so. (B The Godfather is almost the same length, and the depth and resonance of those characters just do not compare.)

Moreover, the mere fact of releasing the movie in December rather than June adds to its "importance." Remember that two similar breakthroughs in visual effects, Terminator 2 (1991) and Jurassic Park (1993), were released in the summertime, and neither one was considered anything more than terrific popcorn entertainment.

Despite all this, Avatar has become a genuine phenomenon, the likes of which we have only seen a few times in our lifetimes. Star Wars was another one, and it conjures up some of the closest comparisons to Avatar yet. In some quarters, a brave few critics even accused Star Wars of having no characters and being all about the visual effects, but those naysayers were trounced in the overwhelming enthusiasm for the film (which, incidentally, initially became popular based on the word-of-mouth of people who had actually seen the film; the hype came later). But before we go calling Avatar the next Star Wars, I'd like to point out a few key differences. In Star Wars, George Lucas used his special effects -- with a few exceptions, notably the final battle sequence -- as background. The spaceships and robots were not spectacular. They were battered and used, like a teenager had built them out of spare parts in his garage. The aliens in the cantina passed by in the background. The camera is not impressed at all by them; it follows the characters. Cameron's camera, on the other hand, is constantly impressed by all his imagery. There is not one creature or plant that doesn't figure directly into the plot. It practically dares you not to be impressed, but it also nullifies the pleasure of discovering anything for ourselves.

Then there is the key image of Star Wars: after learning that he will not be allowed to go to the Academy again this year, Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) wanders up to the top of a rise on a sand dune and gazes out sadly at his planet's setting suns, accompanied by John Williams' mournful, longing theme music. His eyes show it all. He's a kid and he's dreaming of being somewhere else, somewhere better, somewhere where something exciting will happen to him. No kid in the world could have seen that image and not identified completely and totally with that character. As for the rest of the film, it was nothing less than a dream come true.

Avatar has nothing like that. Who do we identify with? Jake Sully? Nope. When we meet him, he's already cocky and skilled and has already had his share of adventure. He's toughened up and closed off. We have very little idea as to who he really is. He doesn't seem to be too sad about his dead twin brother, nor does he seem much affected by having lost the use of his legs. He makes dim wisecracks half the time and uses faux poetic narration the other half. I did like Sigourney Weaver's Dr. Grace Augustine; she has the movie's most truthful moment when she emerges from her avatar chamber and demands a cigarette. She reminded me a little of her Ripley character from Cameron's Aliens (1986), a film I liked far better for its humbler and more affecting themes of motherhood/childhood.

Another sci-fi phenomenon from our time was The Matrix (1999), but I'll just hasten to add that The Matrix was actually based on a genuine sci-fi idea, and not just an old story re-located to a new planet.

Finally, let's consider Terry Gilliam's new The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (currently in limited release), which has everything that's missing in Avatar. It has a unique, personal feel, a fascinating story, and some really dazzling visual effects sequences. In Gilliam's film, those sequences represent imagination -- images conjured up from places unknown -- rather than just new versions of aliens, trees and flowers. But Gilliam's film is accused of being "unfinished" and "slapdash" because one of his actors happened to die in the middle of it. If I'm going to forgive a movie its faults, I will lean toward a work of personality, humanity and ingenuity, rather than a coldly calculated work of visual effects. I'd rather see human thumbprints than chilly perfection any day. Why can't a genuine artist like Gilliam get a golden ticket like Cameron did?

I still don't know the answer to all this. My only guess is that the sheer numbers behind Avatar, all the money and all the people who are going to see it, make for kind of a mob mentality, a mass hysteria. People seem concerned about whether Cameron's monstrous budget "is there on the screen" and little else. (It seems to be, is the consensus, and that's good enough.) This giant mob body -- including critics and members of the Academy, who will most certainly cast votes for Avatar and Cameron as Best Picture and Best Director -- doesn't want anything personal or original or different. It wants another cheeseburger that tastes exactly like the last one. If only we could stop to ask ourselves, truthfully, whether that cheeseburger is actually any good.