Wednesday, January 26, 2011
I'm Still Here!
Fear not, all four or five readers of this blog, for I have not abandoned it after only three entries. I simply didn't have time this past week to watch the shows I was writing about. However, I will be returning to the blogosphere tomorrow. Thanks for your patience!
Friday, January 14, 2011
Avatar: The Last Airbender, Episode 2: "The Avatar Returns"
Writers: Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko
Director: Dave Filoni
The path that a hero must take is not always a clear one—even if he has a large blue arrow on his head, pointing the way. In the second episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender, "The Avatar Returns," Aang, the century-frozen Avatar and last surviving member of the Air Nomads, discovers that sometimes, the path may zig when expected to zag.
The trouble begins when Aang inadvertently sets off a trap aboard an abandoned Fire Nation vessel, alerting Prince Zuko to his presence in the village of the Southern Water Tribe. The angry young prince, having spent two years tracking the Avatar to present him as a gift to his father, orders his crew to steer their ship to that village, where he demands that Aang—who'd been banished for endangering the tribe by triggering the alert—be surrendered to him. Aang returns despite how the tribe treated him, agreeing to turn himself over if Zuko will leave the villagers alone. But once aboard Zuko's ship, Aang uses his airbending skills to free himself and face Zuko in battle.
As is often the case in fiction, the friendship between Aang and Sokka—one of two siblings who, in the first episode, freed him from the ice in which he remained frozen for 100 years—does not develop immediately. In fact, their relationship takes a rather sour turn early in this second chapter, when Sokka urges his people to banish the child for triggering the Fire Nation's trap and endangering them all.
His sister, Katara, not yet the confident warrior and fierce ally she will become, accepts Aang's banishment with only a small amount of protest.
The villagers, Sokka in particular, recognize their mistreatment of Aang, however, when the youth puts his own life at stake to protect them, and then surrenders so that their lives may be spared. Stunned to discover that their new friend is the long-lost Avatar, Katara and Sokka vow to rescue him—though a canoe is little match for Zuko's massive sea vessel, and certainly unable to match pace with it.
That's where Appa comes in. It's a staple component of fantasy and science fiction for heroes to be accompanied by beasts and creatures somehow able to communicate with them. Harry Potter has his owl, Hedwig. Jake Sully, in James Cameron's version of Avatar, has the Toruk, a deadly flying predator only he can tame. And so forth. In Aang's case, his loyal companion is a humongous flying bison, which requires a special command to begin flying. Sokka, providing the episode's humor, dismisses the idea of a flying bison, and sits in the beast's saddle, bored to tears as he humors Katara by trying several commands, expecting none of them to have any effect whatsoever. When he hits upon the correct phrase—"yip, yip"—Appa takes to the skies. His grumpy, cynical nature momentarily forgotten, Sokka is openly amazed to find himself flying high above the lands of the Water Tribe. It's a genuinely charming moment.
The nature of airbending is further explored in this episode, as Aang, no longer concerned about endangering the villagers once safely out to sea, uses his skills to confound the Fire Nation guards leading him to his cell. The Bending Arts are, in many respects, what Jedi powers should be—varied, unpredictable and amazing to behold. Whether due to technical limitations, budgetary restraints or a simple lack of imagination, the benders' Star Wars analogs, the Jedi, tend to do the same tricks over and over again: swordplay, jumping, hurling objects and so forth. But when it comes to airbending and firebending (the two Bending Arts showcased so far), the stunts are more visually complex and varied, and are thus more effective. How interesting can yet another lightsaber battle really be compared to watching someone summon a massive, churning column of ocean water, or propel himself across a room with a furious explosion of wind? It's no wonder the film adaptation of The Last Airbender was focused more on spectacle than on characterization—the sight is impressive as hell.
Humor is a large component of this. Amusingly, Aang warns his guards that he can best them with his hands tied behind his back—which they are, and which he does, using a gust of wind to disperse his adversaries.
But the situation becomes dire when Aang is forced to again fight Zuko, causing him to fall into the icy waters below. It's at this point that the series reveals a fascinating aspect of Aang's powers: the Avatar State. In danger of dying, Aang unconsciously undergoes a metamorphosis of sorts. His eyes glow, and he innately begins waterbending—a skill inherited from prior Avatars, and one he normally does not exhibit. This enables him to thrust himself into the air on a column of sea water, and to create a spinning wall of liquid that sends Zuko and his guards flying. Appa and the Water Tribe siblings then arrive, and Aang makes his escape.
We learn something interesting as Katara and Aang discuss what happened aboard the ship. The child has no idea how he managed to waterbend, or why he no longer has the ability to do so after leaving the Avatar State, and says he never wanted to be the Avatar in the first place, but was cast in the role against his will. The reluctant hero is another staple of fiction, and the audience is left wanting to know more about Aang's rejection of his Avatar status. Why did he resist becoming the Avatar? Why was he forced to take on the role? And why do his other bending skills come and go if the Avatar is supposedly able to master all four elements?
My one fear with Avatar: The Last Airbender is that this series could quickly become redundant and formulaic if not handled properly, and it'll be interesting to see if the writers can avoid this trap. Zuko, after being thwarted in his efforts to bring Aang to his father, vows not to underestimate the boy again—a major cliché—and I can't help but hope this will not turn out to be a common trend.
It would be all too easy to have Aang and his friends continuously pursued and attacked by Zuko, only to repeatedly get away at the last minute, with Zuko shaking his fist in fury and yelling, "I'll get you some day, Avatar!" Anyone who has read the vast line of novels and comics based on Star Wars, or other big-name franchises, is well familiar with how that can damage the credibility of a mythos. Consider The Incredible Hulk's Mr. McGee, or The Fugitive's Lieutenant Gerard, or Star Wars' Asajj Ventress, or any of countless other protagonists who constantly fail to capture their prey—eventually, it makes them less of a threat in the eyes of viewers.
Drama and tension quickly fade when the audience has no doubt that the heroes will escape unscathed. The real question is this: Will Avatar walk the fine line between unpredictability and "good shall prevail in the end"?
TUNE IN TOMORROW:
Before continuing with The Last Airbender, I'll be taking a look back at season 1 of Quantum Leap. Oh, boy!
.
.
.
Director: Dave Filoni
The path that a hero must take is not always a clear one—even if he has a large blue arrow on his head, pointing the way. In the second episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender, "The Avatar Returns," Aang, the century-frozen Avatar and last surviving member of the Air Nomads, discovers that sometimes, the path may zig when expected to zag.
The trouble begins when Aang inadvertently sets off a trap aboard an abandoned Fire Nation vessel, alerting Prince Zuko to his presence in the village of the Southern Water Tribe. The angry young prince, having spent two years tracking the Avatar to present him as a gift to his father, orders his crew to steer their ship to that village, where he demands that Aang—who'd been banished for endangering the tribe by triggering the alert—be surrendered to him. Aang returns despite how the tribe treated him, agreeing to turn himself over if Zuko will leave the villagers alone. But once aboard Zuko's ship, Aang uses his airbending skills to free himself and face Zuko in battle.
As is often the case in fiction, the friendship between Aang and Sokka—one of two siblings who, in the first episode, freed him from the ice in which he remained frozen for 100 years—does not develop immediately. In fact, their relationship takes a rather sour turn early in this second chapter, when Sokka urges his people to banish the child for triggering the Fire Nation's trap and endangering them all.
His sister, Katara, not yet the confident warrior and fierce ally she will become, accepts Aang's banishment with only a small amount of protest.
The villagers, Sokka in particular, recognize their mistreatment of Aang, however, when the youth puts his own life at stake to protect them, and then surrenders so that their lives may be spared. Stunned to discover that their new friend is the long-lost Avatar, Katara and Sokka vow to rescue him—though a canoe is little match for Zuko's massive sea vessel, and certainly unable to match pace with it.
That's where Appa comes in. It's a staple component of fantasy and science fiction for heroes to be accompanied by beasts and creatures somehow able to communicate with them. Harry Potter has his owl, Hedwig. Jake Sully, in James Cameron's version of Avatar, has the Toruk, a deadly flying predator only he can tame. And so forth. In Aang's case, his loyal companion is a humongous flying bison, which requires a special command to begin flying. Sokka, providing the episode's humor, dismisses the idea of a flying bison, and sits in the beast's saddle, bored to tears as he humors Katara by trying several commands, expecting none of them to have any effect whatsoever. When he hits upon the correct phrase—"yip, yip"—Appa takes to the skies. His grumpy, cynical nature momentarily forgotten, Sokka is openly amazed to find himself flying high above the lands of the Water Tribe. It's a genuinely charming moment.
The nature of airbending is further explored in this episode, as Aang, no longer concerned about endangering the villagers once safely out to sea, uses his skills to confound the Fire Nation guards leading him to his cell. The Bending Arts are, in many respects, what Jedi powers should be—varied, unpredictable and amazing to behold. Whether due to technical limitations, budgetary restraints or a simple lack of imagination, the benders' Star Wars analogs, the Jedi, tend to do the same tricks over and over again: swordplay, jumping, hurling objects and so forth. But when it comes to airbending and firebending (the two Bending Arts showcased so far), the stunts are more visually complex and varied, and are thus more effective. How interesting can yet another lightsaber battle really be compared to watching someone summon a massive, churning column of ocean water, or propel himself across a room with a furious explosion of wind? It's no wonder the film adaptation of The Last Airbender was focused more on spectacle than on characterization—the sight is impressive as hell.
Humor is a large component of this. Amusingly, Aang warns his guards that he can best them with his hands tied behind his back—which they are, and which he does, using a gust of wind to disperse his adversaries.
But the situation becomes dire when Aang is forced to again fight Zuko, causing him to fall into the icy waters below. It's at this point that the series reveals a fascinating aspect of Aang's powers: the Avatar State. In danger of dying, Aang unconsciously undergoes a metamorphosis of sorts. His eyes glow, and he innately begins waterbending—a skill inherited from prior Avatars, and one he normally does not exhibit. This enables him to thrust himself into the air on a column of sea water, and to create a spinning wall of liquid that sends Zuko and his guards flying. Appa and the Water Tribe siblings then arrive, and Aang makes his escape.
We learn something interesting as Katara and Aang discuss what happened aboard the ship. The child has no idea how he managed to waterbend, or why he no longer has the ability to do so after leaving the Avatar State, and says he never wanted to be the Avatar in the first place, but was cast in the role against his will. The reluctant hero is another staple of fiction, and the audience is left wanting to know more about Aang's rejection of his Avatar status. Why did he resist becoming the Avatar? Why was he forced to take on the role? And why do his other bending skills come and go if the Avatar is supposedly able to master all four elements?
My one fear with Avatar: The Last Airbender is that this series could quickly become redundant and formulaic if not handled properly, and it'll be interesting to see if the writers can avoid this trap. Zuko, after being thwarted in his efforts to bring Aang to his father, vows not to underestimate the boy again—a major cliché—and I can't help but hope this will not turn out to be a common trend.
It would be all too easy to have Aang and his friends continuously pursued and attacked by Zuko, only to repeatedly get away at the last minute, with Zuko shaking his fist in fury and yelling, "I'll get you some day, Avatar!" Anyone who has read the vast line of novels and comics based on Star Wars, or other big-name franchises, is well familiar with how that can damage the credibility of a mythos. Consider The Incredible Hulk's Mr. McGee, or The Fugitive's Lieutenant Gerard, or Star Wars' Asajj Ventress, or any of countless other protagonists who constantly fail to capture their prey—eventually, it makes them less of a threat in the eyes of viewers.
Drama and tension quickly fade when the audience has no doubt that the heroes will escape unscathed. The real question is this: Will Avatar walk the fine line between unpredictability and "good shall prevail in the end"?
TUNE IN TOMORROW:
Before continuing with The Last Airbender, I'll be taking a look back at season 1 of Quantum Leap. Oh, boy!
.
.
.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Warming Up to Avatar: The Last Airbender
Episode 1: "The Boy in the Iceberg"
Writers: Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko
Director: Dave Filoni
It would be difficult, with a son soon turning nine, not to be aware of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Joshua has been re-watching the entire series repeatedly for the past couple of years, and has often asked me to watch it with him. Being a nice dad, I kept finding ways to avoid having to do so without hurting his feelings.
Not being a fan of anime, I was initially put off by the styling of Avatar (I've been told the show isn't technically anime since it wasn't produced in Japan, but still, if it walks like a Japanese-animated duck and talks like a Japanese-animated duck, it's a Japanese-animated duck). As such, I tended to ignore the show whenever it aired while I was in the room, even though so many people—fans, critics, kids, teens, adults, friends, strangers—seemed to be raving about it.
But a funny thing happened.
Flash back for a moment to the early 1980s, when I was still in high school. One of my sisters used to watch General Hospital every day, and I'd mock her for it. Because I knew that my mocking annoyed her, I began watching the series as well, so that I could keep making fun of it. But it wasn't long before I started actually paying attention to its convoluted and ridiculous plots, and when she eventually stopped watching the show, I stayed with it for a good year or two before finally realizing, "Hey, what the heck am I doing? I'm watching a stupid soap opera, for crying out loud!"
Avatar: The Last Airbender isn't General Hospital, in that it's neither a soap opera nor stupid, but history seems to have repeated itself. Despite my best efforts to ignore Avatar, I began finding myself paying attention whenever it was on, and although I missed more than I actually saw, I began to wonder if I'd been hasty in my prejudgment of the series.
Last year, I took Josh to see M. Night Shyamalan's film adaptation, entitled The Last Airbender (so as not to confuse the masses who'd already seen James Cameron's Avatar). I had my doubts that I'd enjoy it, and given the largely negative reviews it was receiving, I wasn't sure Joshua would, either. But I think the reviewers may have been a tad too harsh in their trashing of the film. Yes, The Last Airbender was a clunky film, marred by plot holes and subpar acting, and yes, it was odd to hear the main character's name mispronounced—but visually, it's a feast for the eyes. Airbending and firebending are COOL to watch. More importantly, I could tell, with what limited characterization the film offered, that if handled properly, the story might actually be worth knowing more about. In other words, the film's greatest strength is that its weaknesses made me more open to seeking out its animated source.
Josh's disappointment in the movie—he liked it, naturally, being a child of eight, but like so many others, he considered the TV series far superior—cemented it for me: It was time to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. So, I did what any self-respecting TV-on-DVD junkie who enjoys watching television shows with his children would do: I bought Josh the entire series for Christmas.
Last night, we sat down to watch the first episode of the series (not the unaired pilot, which I'll watch and review after finishing the aired episodes, since it differs greatly from the final product). And you know what? Josh was right. The critics were right. The raving masses were right.
Although, at first glance, the show seems... well... cartoony (a rather absurd thing to say about an animated series, I realize), and although the dialog and occasional sight gags may seem aimed at children, it turns out that there is a good deal more to The Last Airbender than meets the eye. This show, I'm surprised to discover, is funny. Very funny, in fact. It's fast-paced and exciting. And, at times, it's sad. Most notably, it's an ongoing story with an epic scope—an atypical concept for children's cartoons on Nickelodeon, to be sure.
Avatar, for all its silliness, is the stuff of which legends are made. It's Star Wars. It's Harry Potter. It's The Lord of the Rings. In a version of the world similar but not the same as our own (presumably in some distant past, given the relative lack of technology), humanity is made up of four nations, each representing a different element: the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads. Within each nation, certain individuals have the ability to manipulate the corresponding elements—a practice known as bending. Benders are kind of like Jedi or wizards, but with powers specific to the individual elements of their particular nation (by weird coincidence, George Lucas' original name for the Jedi Knights was the "Jedi Bendu").
In episode 1, "The Boy in the Iceberg," two Southern Water Tribe teens, siblings Katara and Sokka, discover the long-lost Avatar—the planet's spirit incarnate in human form, whose duty it is to master all four elemental disciplines in order to maintain balance among the four nations (in other words, he's Anakin Skywalker, Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins, all rolled up into one, with a bit of Swamp Thing thrown in for good measure)—frozen inside an iceberg. Every generation, only one Avatar is born, and this one has been missing for 100 years.
A century prior, the boy had encased himself within an orb of ice to prevent himself from drowning after falling into freezing antarctic waters, and had remained thus preserved until the siblings' discovery of his frozen form. The Avatar is a young child named Aang, and though he is playful and immature, it is clear there's more to him than meets the eye. The two youths—whose garb appears to be based on Inuit culture—bring Aang back to their simple Eskimo-like village, where all are amazed to discover that he is an airbender. The wind-manipulating, flight-capable airbenders are thought to have been rendered extinct during a genocidal war waged by the Fire Nation, so the sudden and inexplicable appearance of a child displaying their abilities is awesome (not in the modern-day "Woah, that's totally awesome" sense, mind you, so much as the word's actual meaning—the Water Tribe is filled with awe upon seeing Aang effortlessly flying through the air and summoning wind—though I suppose both meanings would apply).
Katara, a waterbender with fledling skills, is fascinated by Aang's abilities. A wide-eyed optimist, she believes he can return hope and peace to the war-ravaged nations, despite his age. (Plus, there seems to be the spark of romance budding between them, even though she's a few years older than he is... think Anakin and Padmé, only more believable and better acted.) Sokka, unlike his sister, possesses no supernatural abilities, and seems a bit defensive about this fact, and perhaps even jealous of her skills. An immature teenager, prone to whining and pouting, Sokka nonetheless is clearly a good soul, and it's obvious, even in this first episode, that he will become a great ally to Aang as the series progresses, and a hero in his own right.
This inaugural episode also introduces two other important characters: Prince Zuko, a facially scarred Fire Nation prince hell-bent on proving the Avatar still lives, and on delivering him as a prize to his father, and Zuko's uncle, Iroh, a portly, sleepy-voiced old warrior—not your typical Fire Nation type (think Sith, or Death Eaters, if you prefer)—whose easygoing and hedonistic manner contrasts that of his hotheaded, emotionally charged nephew. The two have traveled the seas in a massive vessel, searching for the Avatar, and one gets the feeling that Iroh is less than thrilled by the assignment, and that he'd rather be peacefully drinking tea and enjoying a nice meal than tracking down the Avatar—but as Zuko's kin and protector, he seems determined to keep the angry teen from unduly harming himself, or others.
With a cartoon episode running only 20 minutes or so in length, there's only so much storyline that can be crammed into each chapter. And yet, Avatar: The Last Airbender's first outing is a strong one, hinting at a much larger universe yet to unfold. There's a great deal of humor, particularly with regard to Aang's desire to experience the joy of childhood play despite the much heavier fate awaiting him, as well as Sokka's clumsy mishaps and awkward attempts to assert his competence in the company of two individuals possessing powers he could never hope to wield (and with a dose of sibling rivalry complicating the issue).
But beneath that underlying humor is a looming darkness that could—and, if the film is at all accurate to the series, will—eventually engulf and consume the characters. Aang's youthful naïvete will give way to pain and suffering as he grows older, and his hero's journey, accompanied by Sokka and Katara—his own personal Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—looks to be a fascinating one. Sokka's teenage immaturity will fade as he develops a strength of character to match his youthful bravery. Katara's earnest drive will lead her to help her people and improve her waterbending skills. And Zuko's furious quest to find the Avatar and earn his father's respect will see him question the nature of good, evil, right, wrong and the roles he and his family play within those constructs.
Count me in, Josh. You were right all along.
TUNE IN TOMORROW:
Avatar: The Last Airbender, episode 2—"The Avatar Returns"
.
.
.
Writers: Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko
Director: Dave Filoni
It would be difficult, with a son soon turning nine, not to be aware of Avatar: The Last Airbender. Joshua has been re-watching the entire series repeatedly for the past couple of years, and has often asked me to watch it with him. Being a nice dad, I kept finding ways to avoid having to do so without hurting his feelings.
Not being a fan of anime, I was initially put off by the styling of Avatar (I've been told the show isn't technically anime since it wasn't produced in Japan, but still, if it walks like a Japanese-animated duck and talks like a Japanese-animated duck, it's a Japanese-animated duck). As such, I tended to ignore the show whenever it aired while I was in the room, even though so many people—fans, critics, kids, teens, adults, friends, strangers—seemed to be raving about it.
But a funny thing happened.
Flash back for a moment to the early 1980s, when I was still in high school. One of my sisters used to watch General Hospital every day, and I'd mock her for it. Because I knew that my mocking annoyed her, I began watching the series as well, so that I could keep making fun of it. But it wasn't long before I started actually paying attention to its convoluted and ridiculous plots, and when she eventually stopped watching the show, I stayed with it for a good year or two before finally realizing, "Hey, what the heck am I doing? I'm watching a stupid soap opera, for crying out loud!"
Avatar: The Last Airbender isn't General Hospital, in that it's neither a soap opera nor stupid, but history seems to have repeated itself. Despite my best efforts to ignore Avatar, I began finding myself paying attention whenever it was on, and although I missed more than I actually saw, I began to wonder if I'd been hasty in my prejudgment of the series.
Last year, I took Josh to see M. Night Shyamalan's film adaptation, entitled The Last Airbender (so as not to confuse the masses who'd already seen James Cameron's Avatar). I had my doubts that I'd enjoy it, and given the largely negative reviews it was receiving, I wasn't sure Joshua would, either. But I think the reviewers may have been a tad too harsh in their trashing of the film. Yes, The Last Airbender was a clunky film, marred by plot holes and subpar acting, and yes, it was odd to hear the main character's name mispronounced—but visually, it's a feast for the eyes. Airbending and firebending are COOL to watch. More importantly, I could tell, with what limited characterization the film offered, that if handled properly, the story might actually be worth knowing more about. In other words, the film's greatest strength is that its weaknesses made me more open to seeking out its animated source.
Josh's disappointment in the movie—he liked it, naturally, being a child of eight, but like so many others, he considered the TV series far superior—cemented it for me: It was time to watch Avatar: The Last Airbender. So, I did what any self-respecting TV-on-DVD junkie who enjoys watching television shows with his children would do: I bought Josh the entire series for Christmas.
Last night, we sat down to watch the first episode of the series (not the unaired pilot, which I'll watch and review after finishing the aired episodes, since it differs greatly from the final product). And you know what? Josh was right. The critics were right. The raving masses were right.
Although, at first glance, the show seems... well... cartoony (a rather absurd thing to say about an animated series, I realize), and although the dialog and occasional sight gags may seem aimed at children, it turns out that there is a good deal more to The Last Airbender than meets the eye. This show, I'm surprised to discover, is funny. Very funny, in fact. It's fast-paced and exciting. And, at times, it's sad. Most notably, it's an ongoing story with an epic scope—an atypical concept for children's cartoons on Nickelodeon, to be sure.
Avatar, for all its silliness, is the stuff of which legends are made. It's Star Wars. It's Harry Potter. It's The Lord of the Rings. In a version of the world similar but not the same as our own (presumably in some distant past, given the relative lack of technology), humanity is made up of four nations, each representing a different element: the Water Tribe, the Earth Kingdom, the Fire Nation and the Air Nomads. Within each nation, certain individuals have the ability to manipulate the corresponding elements—a practice known as bending. Benders are kind of like Jedi or wizards, but with powers specific to the individual elements of their particular nation (by weird coincidence, George Lucas' original name for the Jedi Knights was the "Jedi Bendu").
In episode 1, "The Boy in the Iceberg," two Southern Water Tribe teens, siblings Katara and Sokka, discover the long-lost Avatar—the planet's spirit incarnate in human form, whose duty it is to master all four elemental disciplines in order to maintain balance among the four nations (in other words, he's Anakin Skywalker, Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins, all rolled up into one, with a bit of Swamp Thing thrown in for good measure)—frozen inside an iceberg. Every generation, only one Avatar is born, and this one has been missing for 100 years.
A century prior, the boy had encased himself within an orb of ice to prevent himself from drowning after falling into freezing antarctic waters, and had remained thus preserved until the siblings' discovery of his frozen form. The Avatar is a young child named Aang, and though he is playful and immature, it is clear there's more to him than meets the eye. The two youths—whose garb appears to be based on Inuit culture—bring Aang back to their simple Eskimo-like village, where all are amazed to discover that he is an airbender. The wind-manipulating, flight-capable airbenders are thought to have been rendered extinct during a genocidal war waged by the Fire Nation, so the sudden and inexplicable appearance of a child displaying their abilities is awesome (not in the modern-day "Woah, that's totally awesome" sense, mind you, so much as the word's actual meaning—the Water Tribe is filled with awe upon seeing Aang effortlessly flying through the air and summoning wind—though I suppose both meanings would apply).
Katara, a waterbender with fledling skills, is fascinated by Aang's abilities. A wide-eyed optimist, she believes he can return hope and peace to the war-ravaged nations, despite his age. (Plus, there seems to be the spark of romance budding between them, even though she's a few years older than he is... think Anakin and Padmé, only more believable and better acted.) Sokka, unlike his sister, possesses no supernatural abilities, and seems a bit defensive about this fact, and perhaps even jealous of her skills. An immature teenager, prone to whining and pouting, Sokka nonetheless is clearly a good soul, and it's obvious, even in this first episode, that he will become a great ally to Aang as the series progresses, and a hero in his own right.
This inaugural episode also introduces two other important characters: Prince Zuko, a facially scarred Fire Nation prince hell-bent on proving the Avatar still lives, and on delivering him as a prize to his father, and Zuko's uncle, Iroh, a portly, sleepy-voiced old warrior—not your typical Fire Nation type (think Sith, or Death Eaters, if you prefer)—whose easygoing and hedonistic manner contrasts that of his hotheaded, emotionally charged nephew. The two have traveled the seas in a massive vessel, searching for the Avatar, and one gets the feeling that Iroh is less than thrilled by the assignment, and that he'd rather be peacefully drinking tea and enjoying a nice meal than tracking down the Avatar—but as Zuko's kin and protector, he seems determined to keep the angry teen from unduly harming himself, or others.
With a cartoon episode running only 20 minutes or so in length, there's only so much storyline that can be crammed into each chapter. And yet, Avatar: The Last Airbender's first outing is a strong one, hinting at a much larger universe yet to unfold. There's a great deal of humor, particularly with regard to Aang's desire to experience the joy of childhood play despite the much heavier fate awaiting him, as well as Sokka's clumsy mishaps and awkward attempts to assert his competence in the company of two individuals possessing powers he could never hope to wield (and with a dose of sibling rivalry complicating the issue).
But beneath that underlying humor is a looming darkness that could—and, if the film is at all accurate to the series, will—eventually engulf and consume the characters. Aang's youthful naïvete will give way to pain and suffering as he grows older, and his hero's journey, accompanied by Sokka and Katara—his own personal Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—looks to be a fascinating one. Sokka's teenage immaturity will fade as he develops a strength of character to match his youthful bravery. Katara's earnest drive will lead her to help her people and improve her waterbending skills. And Zuko's furious quest to find the Avatar and earn his father's respect will see him question the nature of good, evil, right, wrong and the roles he and his family play within those constructs.
Count me in, Josh. You were right all along.
TUNE IN TOMORROW:
Avatar: The Last Airbender, episode 2—"The Avatar Returns"
.
.
.
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