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有关阿凡达的所有秘密
In 1977, a 22-year-old truck driver named James Cameronwent to see Star Warswith a pal. His friend enjoyed the movie; Cameronwalked out of thetheater ready to punch something. He was a collegedropout and spenthis days delivering school lunches in SouthernCalifornia’s OrangeCounty. But in his free time, he painted tiny modelsand wrote sciencefiction — stories set in galaxies far, far away. Nowhe was facing adeflating reality: He had been daydreaming about thekind of world thatLucas had just brought to life. Star Wars was thefilm he should have made.
It got him so angry he bought himself some cheap movie equipmentandstarted trying to figure out how Lucas had done it. He infuriatedhiswife by setting up blindingly bright lights in the living roomandrolling a camera along a track to practice dolly shots. He spentdaysscouring the USC library, reading everything he could aboutspecialeffects. He became, in his own words, “completely obsessed.”
He quickly realized that he was going to need some money, sohepersuaded a group of local dentists to invest $20,000 in what hebilledas his version of Star Wars. He and a friend wrote a scriptcalled Xenogenesisand used the money to shoot a 12-minute segment thatfeatured astop-motion fight scene between an alien robot and a womanoperating amassive exoskeleton. (The combatants were models thatCameron hadmeticulously assembled.)
The plan was to use the clip to get a studio to back afull-lengthfeature film. But after peddling it around Hollywood formonths,Cameron came up empty and temporarily shelved his ambition totrumpLucas.
The effort did yield something worthwhile: a job with B-movie kingRogerCorman. Hired to build miniature spaceships for the film Battle Beyondthe Stars,Cameron worked his way up to become one of Corman’s visualeffectsspecialists. In 1981, he made it to the director’s chair,overseeing aschlocky horror picture, Piranha II: The Spawning.
One night, after a Piranha editing session, Cameronwent to sleep with afever and dreamed that he saw a robot clawing itsway toward a coweringwoman. The image stuck. Within a year, Cameronused it as the basis fora script about a cyborg assassin sent back intime to kill the mother ofa future rebel leader.
This time, he wouldn’t need any dentists. The story was socompelling,he was able to persuade a small film financing company tolet him directthe picture. When it was released in 1984, The Terminator establishedArnold Schwarzenegger as a huge star, and James Cameron, onetime truckdriver, suddenly became a top-tier director.
Over the next 10 years, Cameron helmed a series of daring films,including Aliens, The Abyss, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, and TrueLies.Generating $1.1 billion in worldwide box office revenue, theygaveCameron the kind of clout he needed to revisit his dream of makinganinterstellar epic. So in 1995, he wrote an 82-page treatment aboutaparalyzed soldier’s virtual quest on a faraway planet afterEarthbecomes a bleak wasteland. The alien world, called Pandora,ispopulated by the Na’vi, fierce 10-foot-tall blue humanoids withcatlikefaces and reptilian tails. Pandora’s atmosphere is so toxic tohumansthat scientists grow genetically engineered versions of theNa’vi,so-called avatars that can be linked to a human’sconsciousness,allowing complete remote control of the creature’s body.Cameronthought that this project — titled Avatar— could be his next blockbuster. That is, the one after he finished alittle adventure-romance about a ship that hits an iceberg.
Titanic, of course, went on to become thehighest-grossing movie of alltime. It won 11 Oscars, including bestpicture and best director.Cameron could now make any film he wanted.So what did he do?
He disappeared.
Cameron would not release another Hollywood film for 12 years. Hemade afew underwater documentaries and did some producing, but he waslargelyout of the public eye. For most of that time, he rarelymentioned Avatarand said little about his directing plans.
But now, finally, he’s back. On December 18, Avatararrives in theaters.This time, Cameron, who turned 55 this year,didn’t need to build halfan ocean liner on the Mexican coast as he didwith Titanic, so why didit take one of the most powerfulmen in Hollywood so long to come outwith a single film? In part, theanswer is that it’s not easy toout-Lucas George Lucas. Cameron neededto invent a suite of moviemakingtechnologies, push theaters nationwideto retool, and imagine everydetail of an alien world. But there’s moreto it than that. To reallyunderstand why Avatar took so long to reach the screen, we need to lookback at the making of Titanic.
“People may not remember, but it was anabsolutelyvicious time,” Cameron tells me in the private movie theaterat hissprawling home in Malibu, California. He looks softer than he didatthe Oscars in 1998 — his hair is longer and grayer and hisfaceclean-shaven. But his famous impatience is still close to thesurface.Early in our conversation about what he’s been doing for thepastdecade, he informs me that I “don’t know f**k,” so I try to lethimexplain how things unfolded.
“When we were filming Titanic,” he says, “we were justtrying to figureout how much money we were going to lose.” Indeed, inthe mythicafterglow of box office success, it’s easy to forget that Titanicwasexpected to be a disaster. The project went more than $100 millionoverits initial $100 million budget, making it the most expensivemovie evermade. The main financier, 20th Century Fox, pressuredCameron to containthe overruns.
As a sign of his commitment, Cameron agreed to give up his entiredirecting fee and any profit participation in the movie. WhenTitanicmissed its July 4 release date, it appeared that the project wasin bigtrouble. Cameron kept a razor blade on his editing desk with anote: Use only if film sucks.“Ijust realized I made a $200 million chick flick where everyonedies.What the hell was I thinking?” he confided to a friend at thetime.“I’m going to have to rebuild my career from scratch.”
The Hollywood trade journal Variety called it“thebiggest roll of the dice in film history” and questioned whetherFoxwould come anywhere near breakeven. “Everybody waspredictingcatastrophic failure,” says Rae Sanchini, the formerpresident ofCameron’s production company.
And then, miraculously, this Titanic dodged the icebergand sailed intothe record books, grossing $1.8 billion worldwide. “Wewent from thelowest lows to the highest high,” Sanchini says. “It wasa disorientingexperience for all of us, but most of all for Jim. Hewas emotionallyand physically exhausted.”
Still, Sanchini expected the director to bounce back. Before Titanic,Cameron was excited about Avatar — it was, after all, the space epic hehad been dreaming about since 1977. But now he didn’t seem veryinterested.
Part of this ambivalence stemmed from a meeting at Digital Domain,thevisual effects company Cameron cofounded in 1993. He presentedhisconcept for Avatar and explained that the main characterswere10-foot-tall blue aliens with narrow waists and powerful legsandtorsos. They had to look utterly real, and the effect couldn’tbeachieved with prosthetics. The aliens would have tobecomputer-generated. But given the state of the art, his team toldhim,that was impossible. It would take too much time and money andanunthinkable amount of computing power.
“If we make this, we’re doomed,” one of the artists told him. “It can’t be done. The technology doesn’t exist.”
Cameron was actually relieved. He didn’t feel like dealing withactorsand agents and “all that Hollywood bullshit.” He needed abreak.Luckily, a huge windfall was headed his way. Fox executives knewit wasin their best interest to keep the self-anointed king of theworldhappy. They decided to overlook the fact that he had given uphisfinancial stake in Titanic and, in the wake of itshistoric Oscarrun, wrote him a check for tens of millions of dollars.(Reportedly,Cameron eventually earned more than $75 million from thefilm.) Hewouldn’t have to work another day in his life. |
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