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If there are two things James Cameron loves, it’s science fiction and the ocean. One or both form the basis of almost everything he’s done throughout this career (be it as a filmmaker or his work as a National Geographic sea explorer), and despite their differences it’s easy to see what connects them — both focus on the exploration of the unknown, often with an unsettling mix of trepidation but also excitement at the wonders we may encounter. Such a philosophy is at the heart of all great science fiction, providing the perfect platform with which to examine the most pressing issues of the day through the vector of a commercially accessible narrative, and the environmental plight facing the ocean is a problem that is still woefully overlooked. There’s no disputing that Cameron cares passionately about our planet, so much so that he’s spent the past 13 years leading the charge on one of the most ambitious undertakings in cinematic history just to hammer home this point. However, before we return to the dizzying world of Pandora in Avatar: The Way of Water, it’s worth reflecting on the other sci-fi adventure in his filmography that largely takes place underwater and extols similar virtues about protecting the only home we’ve got — the often overlooked but severely underrated, The Abyss.
The film released in 1989, three years after he found widespread success with Aliens and two years before he would become a household name with Terminator 2: Judgment Day. Since it wouldn’t be unreasonable to declare those as the best films Cameron has ever made, it’s probably not surprising that The Abyss has had difficulties attracting the spotlight. It also didn’t help that it released in a truncated form following concerns about its box office viability, resulting in the removal of 28 crucial minutes that diminished the entire point of the film. It’s worth noting that Cameron still retained creative control during this process, meaning it’s unfair to compare the theatrical cut to studio-mandated hack jobs like what happened to Blade Runner and Once Upon A Time In America, and thankfully his original vision was restored with the 1993 Special Edition release (the only version worth discussing). Sadly The Abyss had already drifted off into the subterranean sections of his filmography by the time this happened, a fate that the absence of a proper Blu-ray or VOD release has compounded.
‘The Abyss’ Remains One of James Cameron’s Most Obscure Films
It’s a shame The Abyss is still relatively obscure despite the success of Cameron’s other films, because it’s the perfect encapsulation of everything that has made him such an enduring figure. His lifelong obsessions with science fiction and the ocean have never worked in such perfect harmony as they do here, and its overarching message that humanity should put aside petty squabbles and come together to protect the only planet we’re lucky enough to have is one that Cameron shouts from the rooftops whenever the opportunity comes his way. He makes little attempt to hide his influences — mostly Alien, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and countless H. G. Wells stories — but he doesn’t need to because every second feels unquestionably like a James Cameron film. In fact, The Abyss goes one step further to become the quintessential James Cameron film, building off the work of its predecessors to become the groundwork that the rest of his career is built off. It’s not the best film he’s ever made, but it’s arguably his most important.
The plot of The Abyss takes us to the not-too-distant future of 1994, a time when the Cold War never ended and the threat of conflict hangs over everyone’s heads. After a United States nuclear submarine the USS Montana sinks under mysterious circumstances, a SEAL team led by Hiram Coffey (Michael Biehn) is dispatched to find out what happened before relations with the Soviet Union deteriorate to a full-scale war. To achieve this goal, he commandeers a private underwater drilling platform called Deep Core designed by Lindsey Brigman (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio) and currently run by her estranged husband, Virgil “Bud” Brigman (Ed Harris), neither of whom are particularly thrilled about spending time together. However, the potential consequences for failing this mission cause them to put aside their relationship troubles to aid Coffey as best they can, but after Deep Core sustains critical damage during a storm that sees it trapped on the ocean floor, it becomes apparent that such things are easier said than done — especially when the cause of the Montana’s sinking is revealed to be of extraterrestrial origin.
The Special Effects Haven’t Aged a DAy
It’s been over 30 years since the crew of the Deep Blue plunged their way 2,000 feet below the shoreline in search of that missing submarine — 30 years that has turned The Abyss into a greatest hits album from which all the seeds of Cameron’s later work can be found: the blue-skinned aliens (or NTIs, non-terrestrial intelligence) with their colossal underwater civilization plays like a test run of Avatar, and the search through the crumbling remains of the Montana feels achingly similar to the opening moments of Titanic, and the central dilemma of keeping a marriage together in a high-intensity scenario reads like an early draft of True Lies. Then there’s the special effects, a truly jaw-dropping achievement that has barely aged a day. The Abyss was the first film to win an Academy Award for its CGI, and while these effects are brilliant (the shapeshifting Pseudopod being a particular standout, resembling a prototype version of the T-1000 from Terminator 2), it’s the practical side that holds up the strongest.
A large chunk of the film was shot in a freshwater tank roughly the size of eleven Olympic swimming pools, with actors shooting at depths of eleven meters for up to an hour at a time. Such conditions did not make for the easiest of shoots (Harris and Mastrantonio hated Cameron by the time filming was done and have all but refused to discuss the film since), but it gives the film an authenticity that allows the viewer to become fully immersed in its story despite its fantastical nature. When Bud has to swim from one emergency hatch to another with nothing but the air in his lungs and the fire in his heart to keep him going, you never doubt for a moment that he’s actually on the ocean floor, and the result is one of the most nerve-wracking scenes Cameron has ever directed. He would return to this method of underwater shooting with Avatar: The Way of Water, and while advancements in technology allowed for a far smoother experience than what Harris and company had to endure, the logic behind his thought process is the same as ever.
James Cameron’s Films Have a Profoundly Human Element
But contrary to popular belief, a James Cameron film is not just an excuse to showcase the latest in cutting-edge technology with little regard for the people milling about the pretty landscapes. If anything, they’re quite the opposite. James Cameron’s films are profoundly human, always utilizing their technological achievements to benefit his characters and the messages they are supposed to convey, with The Abyss demonstrating this wonderfully. The nihilistic world we’re introduced to where the lives of billions rest on the actions of just a few gives way to a glorious vision of hope and optimism that a 1989 audience would have been enraptured by, told with a level of unapologetic sentimentality that would make Steven Spielberg jealous.
Early on the crew of the Deep Core gather around the TV to watch news reports about how terrible the world is, and hours later these same reports become the motivation for everyone to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and get on with making a world that’s worth living in. The central cast is key to this, and his unflinching love for all of them turns even the comedy relief side character into a lovable hero worthy of a Jules Verne novel. In addition, while the will-they-won’t-they romance between Bud and Lindsey borders on eye-rolling (spoiler alert, they do), Harris and Mastrantonio have such fantastic chemistry that it’s impossible not to get drawn in, with Cameron proving once again that a solid execution of a tired cliché can enthrall even the most jaded of viewers.
But their romance is not just shelf filler; it’s the central conceit on which the entire final act is based around. After venturing into the dark pits of the ocean to disarm a nuclear bomb, Bud discovers that the NTIs have come not as enemies, but as friends to remind us of that shared humanity we’ve spent most of our existence destroying. Having grown tired of the United States and the Soviet Union’s ego-waving, the NTIs bring mankind to the brink of extinction via thousand-foot-high tsunamis, only to reduce them to droplets at the last possible second. Why did they do this? Because of a text Bud had previously sent to Lindsey saying how much he loved her. It might sound cheesy (and is) for such a hokey plot point to be the lifeline that saves the world, but Cameron throws himself into it so passionately that it strangely ends up working. “They’ve left us alone, but it bothers them to see us hurting each other,” says Bud, the least subtle line in a sequence that is anything but, but Cameron doesn’t have time for such niceties. He’s got a point to make and that’s all that matters, and as a call for humanity to grow up and put meaningless conflicts behind us, it’s hard to think of something more impactful.
James Cameron loves science fiction. He also loves the ocean. But most of all, he loves people. He loves this rich and diverse world we’re lucky enough to be a part of, and he hates everything we’re doing to destroy it. It’s no wonder that every Cameron film ends with a happy ending, often with a message about building a brighter future that will allow our children to inherit a planet more jubilant and aspiring than the one we did. It’s this belief that has once again brought Cameron out of his scientific laboratory to unleash Avatar: The Way of Water onto the popcorn-munching world, a $350 million plea for us to do the thing he already spent $43 million telling us about in The Abyss. “Of course, it’s just a suggestion,” as the NTIs told us then, a line that feels like it could have been spoken by Cameron himself. Whether we’ll listen remains to be seen, but his unwavering determination to repeat this point is worthy of commendation. The tools change, but the methods don’t, and even if the worlds of Avatar and The Abyss look as different as could be, underneath the glossy exterior is the same foundation Cameron never stopped working off. If you’re interested in learning what makes him tick, there’s no better place to look.
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