Maturity and Avatar: Why Netflix Failed the Last Airbender

In the weeks before the new live-action Avatar series aired on Netflix, the showrunners released a series of statements regarding their vision for the show. They stressed that this new version was going to be more grounded and mature than the animated classic, more of a remix than a remake. That it would, quote, “Appeal to ‘Game of Thrones’ fans,” whatever that means.

At the same time, they also mentioned they would cut back on elements they believed wouldn’t have been acceptable on television today or otherwise would not fit this new idea for the show. Aspects such as Sokka’s sexist beliefs towards the beginning of the series, Katara’s motherly nature, or Aang’s pension for wandering off and having goofy adventures. In short, the Netflix live-action version was going to be a very different take on the classic show that so many of us grew up with.

Now, said Netflix show is out. The series has seen great success, receiving more than 21.2 million views within four days of its release. Despite this, fan reception to the series has ranged from mixed to negative reviews. It’s not half so bad as the 2010 film, but people are still disappointed.

To be clear, this article is not a review of the Netflix show. Rather, I want to have a look at that original statement from the showrunners regarding the series’ maturity. I aim to figure out how the new show went wrong in this regard where the original animated series succeeded.

Luckily, you don’t need to watch very far to understand. We need only look at the series’ main character: Aang.

In the original series, Aang makes a rather dramatic entrance. When Katara shatters the ice encasing him, he rises in the Avatar State, looming and ominous, his eyes and tattoos glowing with power. Then the light fades and he slides into her arms. When he stirs, he only has one question for her: does she want to go penguin sledding?

This is a perfect character introduction. It wordlessly gives us everything we need to know about Aang as a character. He’s the Avatar, the most powerful and important person in the world. At the same time, he’s just a kid, and he just wants to be a kid. His responsibilities as the Avatar frighten him, so he neglects them, choosing instead to go off on fun adventures around the world.

It also establishes compelling mysteries for the audience to mull over in their minds. How did this goofy kid end up in the ice? Why was he down there? Why does he seem so uncomfortable whenever the topic of the Avatar comes up? It’s a great way to hook viewers in and get them interested in seeing what comes next.

Fast forwarding a bit: in episode three, ‘The Southern Air Temple,’ Aang is excited to return home, oblivious to the fate of the other air nomads. We get a flashback of Aang’s days with his mentor, Gyatso, having fun together. In the present, he shows Katara and Sokka the sights, plays some games, and chases their soon-to-be friend Momo around. It’s all sweet, simple, and fun.

Until he finds Gyatso’s body. Long, long dead. Surrounded by dozens of fallen Fire Nation soldiers.

Devastated, Aang flies into an Avatar State powered frenzy. Katara and Sokka embrace him, helping calm him down and comfort him in his grief. Together with Appa and Momo, he leaves the Southern Air Temple saddened, but ready to face the trials ahead.

Finally, let’s look at the end of book one. When the Fire Nation navy arrives to attack the Northern Water Tribe, Aang is the first into the fight. After a long, draining struggle, he manages to sink one ship. But his victory is short-lived; flying up, he finds hundreds of ships just like it preparing to strike. He’s overwhelmed, exhausted, and terrified. Everyone in the tribe is counting on him, but he’s not the legendary Avatar they think he is; he’s just a kid in over his head.

It’s an incredible arc for an equally incredible character. Aang’s is a story of a child learning to uphold his duty, a duty so large and terrifying that his natural response is to run away and hide behind his childhood. Yet he always finds his courage and always finds a way to save the day in his own, usually goofy, sometimes godly, way. His immaturity is, ironically, one of the more mature and powerful aspects of the story.

Now, let’s have a look at how Netflix’s version goes about things.

In this version’s first episode, we first meet Aang at the Southern Air Temple before the Fire Nation attacks. He’s playing around like a kid, but his mentors tell him that he should take his training and natural talents more seriously. Then he’s told he’s the Avatar, he leaves to clear his head, gets frozen, and we get an extensive action sequence showcasing the brutal massacre of the air nomads.

Later, Katara and Sokka break him out of the ice. Only here, he doesn’t wake up and ask Katara to go sledding with him. He doesn’t wake up at all. Katara and Sokka gotta drag his sleeping body into their boat and take him to the village. When he finally wakes up, Aang is all on his own, left to wander the village. Then he sits all the villagers down and exposits his entire backstory, and tell him via exposition that he’s the last airbender. All the character building and mystique his introduction had in the original is dead and buried, and we’re not even done with the first episode.

This also sours the events of ‘The Southern Air Temple,’ which also takes place in the first episode. Aang and his friends don’t explore the temple or play games or have any fun whatsoever. Finding Gyatso’s body has little impact, since we already saw the air nomads being wiped out. He’s just laying on the ground like just another corpse. Aang’s flashbacks don’t show him having fun with his mentor, naturally establishing their bond, but instead shows Gyatso telling him how close the two are via expository dialogue. Aang gets mad and goes into the Avatar State, then Sokka and Katara calm him down. Aang exposits about what he must do as the Avatar, then the first episode ends.

All the subtlety and nuance, the mystery, the emotion, the quiet reflection and contemplation, everything that made Aang such a beloved and iconic character have all been stripped away or dumbed down. It’s all surface level, like you’re watching a watered-down version of the character. By setting out to make Aang and the story more mature, the showrunners accidentally managed to do the exact opposite.

I don’t want to say this was done because of corporate idiocy or because of an apathetic director. You can clearly see that the people behind the Netflix version are passionate for the Avatar IP, both in interviews and in the show itself. I honestly believe that they were trying to do the original series justice.

But the road to hell is paved upon good intentions. Earnest as they are, the showrunners very clearly missed the point. I’m all for doing new things. But maturity isn’t new to Avatar; the original series had it in spades! If you couldn’t see that, then maybe you should watch it one more time and try again.

It’s ironic. The animated show treated its audience of children like adults. Now, the live-action show is treating its audience of adults like children.

, ,

Leave a comment