In a world where ecological loss and climate catastrophe are major concerns, cinema has a startling influence on how we perceive our role within the natural world. Indigenous d-ecocinema stands out as a crucial intervention in the face of environmental crisis, challenging Western dichotomies of humanity and nature and providing an alternative vision of interbeing based on resistance, regeneration, and reciprocity. Drawing on Salma Monani’s concept of Indigenous d-ecocinema and contrasting James Cameron’s Avatar with the Indigenous-led documentary Awake: A Dream from Standing Rock, we can observe how Indigenous cinema challenges these narratives, regaining agency and reaffirming relational ecological ethics, in addition to how mainstream media repackage colonial tropes behind a greenwashed facade. This essay makes the case that humans and nature are not distinct but rather are part of one interconnected system. Indigenous cultures have long maintained this idea, and ecocinema, which aims to decolonize our perceptions, is now echoing this viewpoint.
Salma Monani presents the idea of d-ecocinema in her chapter on Indigenous ecocinema. This framework highlights indigenous filmmakers and their ecological viewpoints in direct opposition to what she refers to as “whitestream ecomedia environments.” Indigenous peoples are both hyperrepresented and erased by these systems. In the case of Avatar, the blue-skinned Na’vi blatantly imitate indigenous customs and are ultimately rescued by a white, strong marine. According to Monani, this white saviorism is a recurring theme in environmental narratives in Hollywood. Avatar makes an effort to convey an ecological message, but it falls short in emphasizing the agency of Indigenous people. However, these cliches are rejected in Awake: A Dream from Standing Rock, which was co-directed by Indigenous filmmakers. It narrates the story of real water protectors who opposed the Dakota Access Pipeline as environmental justice agents rather than as victims or symbols.
On the surface, Avatar’s environmentalist philosophy and visual display appear to be in line with ecocinema’s objectives. An ecological worldview is suggested by the “Tree of Souls”, the interrelated environment of the Na’vi, and the lush moon of Pandora. However, in spite of its beautiful visuals, Avatar mimics the very system it criticizes. In the movie, nature is portrayed as the “other”, a faraway realm that must be subdued, rescued, or idealized. The Na’vi are said to live “in harmony” with nature, although this harmony is presented as magical, exotic, and ultimately precarious in the absence of human interference. The romanticization of the “ecological indian”, a character who is either tragically fated or nobly stuck in time, is exactly what Monani criticizes in Hollywood. Human exceptionalism is still present in this framing, but it now dresses in ecological clothing. The implication is that, aside from the enlightened few who decide to protect it, humans are terrible for the environment. This is a subliminal reaffirmation of power rather than oneness.
Awake, on the other hand, blurs this line between human and non-human by establishing its plot on actual entanglements. At Standing Rock, the water protectors talk as nature, not about “saving” it. The phrase “Mni Wiconi–Water is Life” isn’t a catchphrase. It is an ontology. Monani sees d-ecocinema “as a way to analytically read Indigenous cinema as decolonial while foregrounding ecological concerns” (Monani, 21). The opposition to the pipeline isn’t shown in Awake as a distinct conflict to save the environment. It’s about safeguarding kin-land, water, and those who rely on them. The Western tendency to depict nature as an inert backdrop is avoided in the film; rather, it depicts a world in which the water is alive, where ceremony is resistance, and where filming turns into a relational witnessing technique.
Many Indigenous knowledge systems are based on the concept of relationality, or having a reciprocal relationship with the land. According to Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass, Indigenous languages frequently describe the world using verb-based constructions, demonstrating how aliveness permeates what English refers to as static (Kimmerer, 2013). Water acts; it doesnt merely exist. This is also true with Awake’s camera. It participates rather than only watching. It travels through marches, rituals, and camps as a relative rather than an outsider. D-ecocinema is unique in part because it considers not just what is presented but also how and with whom it is exhibited.
Both films are forms of ecocinema, but only one functions as d-ecocinema in Monani’s sense. Their approaches to framing resistance differ significantly. Resistance is high-tech, explosive, and mostly symbolic in Avatar. Jake Sully triumphs in a CGI combat while riding a dragon. Resistance in Awake is collective and continuous. There are no dragons, just ceremony, celebration, music, and bodies in front of bulldozers. The resistance continues after the credits have rolled. This distinction is significant because according to Monani, d-ecocinema provides “ecological endurance” (Monani, 33) in the face of Western harm and “settler colonial impositions” (Monani, 23).
D-ecocinema creates room to oppose damaging narratives by redefining cinema as medicine rather than a mirror. According to Avatar, nature should be something to protect; Awake demonstrates to us how nature defends itself. Everything changes with this transition. It undermines the notion that environmentalism is about protecting something that is not beyond our control. We return to a reality that our bones already know: we breathe with the planet, not on top of it. It turns into a collective act of self-care. Indigenous d-ecocinema provides something different in a time when climate narratives frequently descend into hopelessness or delusion: connection, accountability, and hope. We start to dismantle the myths of separation and cultivate new ways of being by hearing the stories from Awake and studying frameworks like Monani’s. Ways that respect our common future, our common soil, and our common breath.