Avatar 2: An Ode to Awe

Yesterday was a great day. Early in the morning, I sent off a closer-to-final draft of my political satire meta-analysis paper to collaborators (more on that another time), then celebrated with chocolate chip French toast, covered in bananas and peanut butter. I know I told myself that my new academic celebration meal would be empanadas and bubble tea, but I really needed something more fatty before winter hibernation. Afterward, I went to a local theater to see Avatar 2: The Way of Water, a movie I had been eager to see for years now. I didn't remember much about the plot of the first movie (since it was released in 2009—and I was just 13 years old!), but I did remember how magical the setting of Pandora was when I was first immersed in it.

It's one of those things: you may not remember what was said in a speech, but you remember how the speech made you feel. In the second movie, Pandora (where the movies are set) didn't get a makeover, per se, but it did see several more layers of depth than in the first movie. Plot aside, the world-building aspect of the franchise is entirely fascinating, and swept me from my seat (which I guess is why Disney World capitalized on it). The soundtrack, led by late composer James Horner's franchise successor, Simon Franglen, was as mystifying as in the first movie, and the production on the whole was extremely visually stunning. I, the only person in the entire theater, moved closer to the screen a few minutes in so that it spanned my entire field of vision. Just excellent.

I'm no movie critic, but I do have a critical eye toward what makes media captivating. In this case, I was intrigued by the ability of Avatar 2 to evoke a sense of awe, which I'd remembered the first movie to do. Is it wrong to have a favorite emotion? I think awe is mine... So, what is it?

Awe is the emotion experienced when we perceive vastness: Outer Space, the Niagara Falls, a whale breaching the open ocean, and so on. Importantly, when we experience such events for the first time, our perspective of the world naturally adapts. Imagine finally realizing the span of the ocean after living next to a small lake; or the depth of the Grand Canyon when you've only ever known flat Buffalo, NY. Some research suggests that awe, which is often accompanied by the physiological response of goosebumps, can be experienced from social stimuli. So, in addition to experiencing awe upon the sight and vastness of natural beauty, we may also experience awe upon the acknowledgment of a noteworthy person's life achievements. I'm skeptical of the strength of socially-induced awe (vs. naturally-induced awe), but the research on awe is lacking nevertheless.

Awe is a "self-transcendent" emotion, meaning that, when experienced, awe helps us orient ourselves toward the outside (like feeling small when stargazing or when hearing the roar of Niagara Falls). In other words, experiencing awe is inherently perspective-shifting. I think this is why I like awe so much. Although the goosebumps may not last more than 10 seconds, the experience of awe may shift our mental states for the indeterminate future (which maybe future research can determine). Do you remember a moment in life you experienced awe?

I do. I experienced awe during a night in the Thar Desert (India) under a sky full of stars; when getting swept into the Game of Thrones books; when watching a herd of giraffes run together in Tanzania; when - yes - visiting Disney World when I was 5 years old (and again when I was 10... I wanted to design roller coasters before I wanted to become a scholar); and whenever immersed in movies, like Avatar 2, that occupy the ears with ethereal music and the eyes with breathtaking visuals. When James Cameron said to see Avatar 2 "on the biggest screen you can find," you should do it. If for nothing else, for the chance to be struck with awe.