It would be easy for me to imagine that, right there, laying in the river, looking up at a volcano of steam rising into the moonlit sky, with the adrenaline of a fire shooting bullets at him and his wife mixing with the acid in his blood, young impressionable, pre-frontal-cortex not yet formed Jim Cameron saw images that struck him so profoundly that they manifested almost 50 years later in Avatar: Fire and Ash. But that is the kind of wild speculation a “serious film critic” should probably avoid.