A sexy ashen female villain, a trippy seduction scene, a Justin Bieber–lookalike (Jack Champion) running through Pandora, animal cruelty, and biblical inspirations make up James Cameron’s third installment of Avatar. Maybe it’s brain fog from two bouts of Covid-19 and perimenopause, but I honestly cannot remember if I’ve seen the 2022 second part — though I feel like I probably did.

So, without any refresher of the past installments, I went in blind to this epic film (three hours and 17 minutes). When Disney Philippines invited me to see it in 4DX, I jumped at the chance. These types of films need to be seen in the most technologically enhanced format possible for pure escapism. Aside from 3D, your chair moves during flying scenes, gun battles, and combat, complete with wind and mist as the Tulkun (sentient, highly intelligent whale-like beings) splash through the ocean.

Watching Avatar 3: Fire and Ash in 4DX for three and a half hours should have been exhausting. Instead, it was oddly engaging — and even relaxing. This is very much an amusement-ride experience, the kind Martin Scorsese famously distinguishes from what he calls “cinema,” and James Cameron seems to lean into that identity rather than resist it, as the film’s primary selling point is unmistakable: visuals first, story second.

The plot itself is basic and familiar, built from well-worn tropes and driven largely by the need to keep the action moving. The Ash Tribe is introduced as an aggressive group, beautifully colored in ash, red, and black. This angry, murderous mob is led by Varang (Oona Chaplin), whom my movie buddies nicknamed “hot ash” — a female with a Dilophosaurus-like head — who mates with Miles Quaritch (Stephen Lang). They become a power couple in Pandora, possibly the most unintentionally hilarious bit in the film.

It’s not clear to me what the Ash Tribe’s objectives are, at least emotionally or philosophically. They just kill. The story jumps rapidly from one set piece to another, as if momentum matters more than contemplation.

There is also no single point of view. The film constantly shifts — from Jake Sully (Sam Worthington) and his family, to the Ash people, to other tribes, to human forces. Everyone gets a moment, and Pandora is shown through many eyes. The lack of a singular POV can be mildly frustrating, but you eventually accept that the world itself, rather than any one character, is the true subject.

Characters make extreme decisions very quickly as well, without much thought about consequences. They decide to kill, jump off cliffs, cut ties, or run away — and you’re left thinking, where did that come from?

What makes Fire and Ash interesting, however, isn’t the narrative but its underlying ideas. Running parallel to the fast-paced action and breathtaking skies and forests is a strong current of spirituality and politics. Faith, colonization, war, and family are clear themes.

But faith is the biggest theme, presented through a clear contrast: The Ash Tribe is portrayed as atheist, while the Na’vi — especially Neytiri (Zoe Saldaña) — are deeply religious, even fanatical in their devotion to Eywa (Pandora’s mother-god). Certain scenes echo biblical imagery, including Abraham and Isaac. Strong female characters also abound — they are the rescuers in this movie, always the heroes of the day, and it is empowering.

Technically, the film oscillates between extremes. At times, the imagery looks hyper-CGI; at others, it resembles a nature documentary. The inconsistency is noticeable but immersive. There are moments when Pandora feels almost real, recalling the faux-documentary texture of “District 9,” making the world feel observed rather than constructed.

Ultimately, Fire and Ash feels like connective tissue in a much larger saga—filler, but entertaining. It’s messy and sometimes heavy-handed, but still emotionally engaging even when the plotting feels lazy. When a young Na’vi child hides alone behind a rock as war rages in the sky, on land, and at sea, it’s hard not to think of the poor children in Gaza.

The runtime is long, yet it doesn’t feel long, perhaps because the film rarely slows down enough for boredom to settle in. You root for Jake Sully and his family, laugh at the excesses, marvel at the world-building, and occasionally feel genuine emotion.

Cameron still knows how to tap into something primal: spectacle, faith, fear, wonder. And as an excuse to return to Pandora, it works. Since this is part of a five-film epic stretching far into the future, I even caught myself wondering if I’d still be alive to see how it all ends. For now, Fire and Ash delivers what it promises: a big, messy, fun ride that prioritizes feels over reflection — but somehow makes that feel enough.

3 out of 5 stars

Now showing in cinemas