This article recently appeared in the Peachland View

Last weekend I finally did what millions of other movie goers have done: I put some funky plastic 3D glasses over my already existing spectacles and sat down to watch the movie Avatar.  Although James Cameron’s blockbuster was finally overtaken this past weekend by another movie, it has been at the top of the box office for almost two months.  Just last week it surpassed Cameron’s other massive movie, Titanic, in ticket revenue.  I thought it would be beneficial to find out what all the hype was about.  Call it pastoral research.

Although I won’t take the time to tell you what the movie is about (you’ll just have to see it for yourself), I will say that it uses a lot of digital technology in order to create the landscape of another planet, a beautiful place called Pandora.  A lot of technology was also used to form the people of Pandora: really tall, really blue members of an indigenous tribe.

The movie was unreal.  Quite literally.  Almost everything presented on the screen is not real. 

That’s not to say that it doesn’t look remarkably real.  While watching, I soon forgot that everything I saw doesn’t exist outside of the movie.  The inhabitants of Pandora are as life-like as the human actors, and they can even act!  I wouldn’t be surprised if one or two of them were up for the first virtual actor Oscar some day.  These are creatures you can feel for, you can cheer for.  You can immerse yourself into their world.  Sure, all movies are portraying something that isn’t real.  That’s what actors do –they pretend to be something they are not.  But Avatar manages to virtually replace the actors themselves.  Who needs someone to pretend to be something when you can have something pretend to pretend to do something?

Sound fuzzy?  Try turning that logic towards the world we live in today.  The technology of Avatar only reflects where society has been going for awhile now, that is, replacing reality with virtual reality.  Collectively, we are glued to screens.  We communicate far more now through smart phones and e-mails and texts than through face-to-face encounters.  Our friendships are honed on-line through social networks like Facebook, or Twitter, or MySpace.  Our work, our schedules, our entertainment, the way we connect with the world, is all “out there” somewhere.  We know this because we see it all on screens.  Our lives, complete with shut-down and start-up capability.  

The rapid acceptance of communication technology is nothing short of remarkable.  It is at once helpful, amusing, and consuming.  I have been at a dinner meeting with a group of peers that was all but silent except for the tap tap tapping of thumbs against keyboards on Blackberries.  So involved in this virtual world.  So absent from our physical location.

I have nothing against all this living in a pseudo-society, creating pretend spaces in order to organize our lives, but I often wonder about its affects.  What does all this wonderful technology do to real living, the kind of flesh and bones, families and neighbours, mountains and trees and lakes kind of reality in which we actually exist?

One day, when we see a sunset, will we be disappointed because it doesn’t come with a soundtrack?  One day will we give up developing friendship face-to-face because it is so much easier and exciting to do on-line?  Will we become ambivalent to major human catastrophes like the tsunami in Asia and the earthquake in Haiti because it seems like we’ve seen it all before, but more stunningly in CGI?  Will we acknowledge the small acts of kindness done by unassuming locals, or will we prefer our heroes digital, doing the impossible in an entertaining and satisfying way?

A friend of mine was teaching her child about communion in church. She explained to her boy that communion was a way of remembering Jesus’ death on a cross.  The son looked at her and said matter-of-factly, “I know.  I was there.”  What he meant was that he was at an Easter pageant once, and saw an actor who was playing Jesus “die” on a cross.  For him, reality and pretence was all one big happy family.

These are the charming insights of a child.  But it is disconcerting when our societal norms begin to blur reality with virtual reality.  We cannot afford a way of living that embraces the creation of virtual humans --avatars-- who, although sophisticated, are nonetheless absent of the soul.