Avatar, one of the most successful franchises in film history, has returned for its third instalment, Fire and Ash.

While this has always been a deeply moral and political project for its director, James Cameron, the latest film arrives amid ongoing war and occupation – and feels more urgent than ever.

Avatar has always worn its message on its sleeve, even if critics have rarely focused on its ethical intentions. Since the first film was released in 2009, it has been Cameron’s sustained attempt to grapple with colonial violence, environmental destruction and the moral compromises societies learn to live with – driven by a belief that cinema, at scale, can still push humanity towards a more enlightened path.

The spectacle, technology and ambition have always been in service of that message, not a substitute for it.

What becomes clear while watching Fire and Ash is how narrow the distance has become between Pandora and the world it reflects.

Released against the backdrop of Gaza, the West Bank, Ukraine and other sites of ongoing conflict and colonial occupation, the film’s questions now land in real time. Debates its characters undertake – particularly around whether violence can ever be justified in the face of oppression – feel impossible to ignore. Find my review here.

Avatar director James Cameron had a crisis of conscience that caused him to reshoot the third film's final act. AFP
Avatar director James Cameron had a crisis of conscience that caused him to reshoot the third film's final act. AFP

Perhaps that is why Cameron has become even more conscious of the ripple effects of his narrative choices.

When I spoke with him in Paris earlier this month, he described a crisis of conscience that emerged late in the process, when he realised the final act he had written and filmed was morally wrong.

In its original form, Jake Sully would unite Pandora’s clans and arm them with automatic weapons, culminating in a familiar, gun-heavy confrontation. Watching it back, Cameron recognised the historical echo.

“At a certain point it just hit me – this maps to colonial history,” he said. “Arming the tribes and pitting them against each other is actually the wrong thing. That was part of the North American genocide of indigenous people. I can’t have Jake doing the same thing.”

To reach the ending he now believes in, Cameron stripped material out, called the actors back, and rebuilt the film around a different set of values. Find more here.

Avatar: Fire and Ash features heated moral debate about whether violence is ever justified against oppression. Photo: 20th Century Studios
Avatar: Fire and Ash features heated moral debate about whether violence is ever justified against oppression. Photo: 20th Century Studios

While the characters arrive at difficult conclusions about their circumstances, the weight of those choices and the necessity of debate is never softened – particularly when it comes to violence, resistance and responsibility.

As Trinity Bliss, who plays Tuk, told me: “I know a lot of young adults are going to resonate with that debate, especially in the times we're living in the world, where I feel like every young adult I know is going through that moment in their families.”

Sixteen years into the saga, Cameron, now 71, is also acutely aware that this could end up being his final Avatar film. Two further instalments are planned, with scripts completed and large sections already shot, but nothing is guaranteed. Each chapter takes years to complete, and must justify itself at an extraordinary scale.

That reality shaped the changes he made to Fire and Ash's final act. “I was holding out for movie four,” Cameron told me. “And at a certain point I thought I might never get to movie four. So let me tell the right story now.”

Sam Worthington say he's at peace if James Cameron decides to end the Avatar franchise. EPA
Sam Worthington say he's at peace if James Cameron decides to end the Avatar franchise. EPA

That awareness is shared by the cast. Stephen Lang (who plays Colonel Miles Quaritch) notes that Avatar now has a life beyond any one person – even its creator – and that how long the story continues is, in part, up to audiences. For Sam Worthington, who has played Jake Sully since the beginning, whatever comes next matters less than the years already spent telling it.

“If we get to keep going on the journey with him, that’s exciting,” Worthington says. “If we don’t, and he goes and does what he wants to do to create, that’s cool, too.” Find more here.

If Fire and Ash does mark an ending, it already stands as one of the most remarkable achievements in modern cinema – even if many critics have yet to fully reckon with its ambition or intent.

Few contemporary films have managed to resonate so broadly, or argue so insistently, about the world we share and the choices we continue to make.


Damascus by Gorillaz places Syrian singer Omar Souleyman’s voice at the centre of the composition. Reuters
Damascus by Gorillaz places Syrian singer Omar Souleyman’s voice at the centre of the composition. Reuters

Some artists feel “global” because their music travels easily. Others become global almost by accident – because what they do is so functional, so physically persuasive, that it survives translation.

Omar Souleyman belongs to the second category. He is not a Syrian singer who “crossed over” into international fame. He is a wedding singer who amplified the core mechanics of dabke – Levantine line-dance music – and, in the process, became one of Syria’s most recognisable musical exports.

From local weddings and community events in Syria’s north-east to appearances at Glastonbury in 2011, the Nobel Peace Prize concert in 2013 and Balenciaga’s after-party during Paris Fashion Week in 2022, his journey has been singular and phenomenal.

That is why the new Gorillaz single Damascus, released last week and credited to Damon Albarn alongside Souleyman and Yasiin Bey, lands as more than a headline-grabbing collaboration. It is a track that places Souleyman’s voice – its urgency and repetition – at the centre of the composition.

Souleyman spoke exclusively to The National about the collaboration and his musical journey. Find more here.

The Voice of Hind Rajab is being shown in select UAE cinemas. Photo: Mime Films & Tanit Films
The Voice of Hind Rajab is being shown in select UAE cinemas. Photo: Mime Films & Tanit Films

Garbled by a failing connection and faint with terror, the voice of Hind Rajab filled the sold-out theatre at Cinema Akil in Dubai on Wednesday evening.

The crowd listened in silence as the five-year-old girl pleaded with workers at the Palestinian Red Crescent Society to come and save her. Hind had been trapped for hours in a car in northern Gaza that had been fired upon by Israeli soldiers. Her four cousins, aunt and uncle had all been killed. Hiding in between their bodies, she pleaded into the phone for help.

Many in the theatre had heard Hind's voice before. Audio recordings of her conversations with the PRCS had been shared on social media in early 2024, spurring international outrage.

However, for most of the audience, Wednesday’s screening – marking the UAE premiere of The Voice of Hind Rajabwas the first in-depth understanding of what really happened to the young child.

“It sends a strong message about why we need to stand up, loudly, against injustice,” said one audience member after the screening.

Find more here, and find Palestinian journalist Hala Nasar's powerful column on her experience watching the film here.

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