Editor’s Note: This article contains spoilers for Netflix’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”
Under Avatar Studios, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender” has blossomed into an ever-expanding franchise. Between “Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender” and “Avatar: Seven Havens,” the duo has several upcoming projects that aim to expand the lore and mythology of their 2005-2008 cartoon. Outside of Avatar Studios, however, Netflix released season two of their “Avatar: The Last Airbender” live-action adaptation on June 25. Developed by Albert Kim, this release reimagines season two of the original animated series, albeit with less depth.
At its core, this season follows the same narrative as the original cartoon. Avatar Aang (Gordon Cormier) — a boy capable of bending water, earth, fire and air — must master the four elements and cease the imperialist expansion of the Fire Nation.
In season one, Aang, Katara (Kiawentiio) and Sokka (Ian Ousley) thwart the Fire Nation’s attempt to invade the Northern Water Tribe, where Katara becomes Aang’s waterbending teacher. In this latest season, the trio must search the Earth Kingdom to find Aang an earthbending teacher before reaching the Earth King in the city of Ba Sing Se. All the while, the banished Prince Zuko (Dallas Liu) and his Uncle Iroh (Paul Sun-Hyung Lee) must live as Fire Nation fugitives, evading Zuko’s ruthless sister, Princess Azula (Elizabeth Yu).
Like many Netflix dramas, season two of Kim’s adaptation is plagued with “second-screen” dialogue — an issue that is equally present in season one. The dialogue narrates characters’ actions, developments and growth, avoiding subtextual writing and catering to inattentive viewers. This issue is worsened by the adaptation’s branding as a “mature and adult” take on “Avatar.” Given that the original cartoon, while aimed at children, always trusts its audience to understand the nuance and complexity behind its writing, this decision to oversimplify things for an older audience can’t help but read like an insult to the viewer’s intelligence.
Perhaps the most egregious example occurs when Toph Beifong (Miyako) — Aang’s newfound, blind earthbending teacher — invents metalbending in the season finale. In the original cartoon, Toph discovers this ability in the solitude of a metal cage, sensing the unrefined earth in it, ripping it open and freeing herself in a moment that quietly symbolizes her undying resilience in the face of adversity. In the adaptation, however, her estranged mother (Crystal Yu) is integrated into the scene, providing Toph an audience to which she can verbalize this actualization and plainly spell out her development.
Speaking of Toph, the adaptation does not do her animated counterpart justice. Despite being blind, animated Toph is powerful, headstrong and independent; when she runs away from her wealthy, overbearing family in the original cartoon, she doesn’t look back at them to reaffirm and validate this identity. Instead, her arc centers around her embracing the vulnerability of her friendships with Aang, Katara and Sokka. Although Toph still undergoes this arc in the live-action, it’s far subtler and overshadowed by her incessant attempts to reconcile with her mother, tying her self-acceptance to their relationship in a way that feels out of character.
With a mere seven episodes, it’s unsurprising that several episodes of the original cartoon are cut from season two of the adaptation. Among these episodes are “The Avatar State,” “The Swamp” and the majority of “The Guru.” Most unfortunately, the adaptation cuts “Appa’s Lost Days” — a heart-breaking episode that centers on Appa, Aang’s flying bison, and the abuse he faces after being kidnapped.
In the original cartoon, Appa is kidnapped halfway through season two. His disappearance not only drives the narrative but also the remainder of Aang’s emotional arc that season. When Aang loses Appa, his spiritual companion, he loses the last living connection to his Air Nomad culture — a culture that the Fire Nation exterminated 100 years ago, alongside the flying bison. Stricken with grief, Aang grows pessimistic and angry, forcing him to balance his desperation for finding Appa with his duty to stop the Fire Nation.
Given the importance of Appa’s kidnapping, it’s jarring that the adaptation doesn’t tackle it until its penultimate episode. For the majority of the season, Appa is simply hidden in a shed — a fact that, combined with the omission of “Appa’s Lost Days,” makes him feel less like his own character and more like an underdeveloped plot device. Without Aang’s prolonged desperation to find Appa, his arc feels hollow and unmemorable. Although the season finale addresses Aang’s feelings of grief, pessimism and anger after the kidnapping, they’re simply too rushed to feel emotional.
Strangely enough, Katara’s arc adapts an episode from season three of the original cartoon: “The Painted Lady.” When the cast arrives in Ba Sing Se, Katara dons the identity of the titular Painted Lady, a spirit that protects and heals the impoverished citizens of the city. This vigilantism is incredibly different from its animated counterpart, which takes place in a polluted Fire Nation river village. Although the adaptation maintains Katara’s unwavering compassion and sense of justice, it’s watered down, forgoing her environmentalism and the overarching message that religion and spirituality provide necessary hope and optimism, but change only occurs when people themselves take action.
Even worse, the adaptation has the Painted Lady team up with the Blue Spirit — an alias established by Zuko in season one of the animation and live action. Every time the two share the screen, the series draws shallow parallels between them, aiming to highlight Zuko’s latent empathy and sow the seeds of his redemption in season three. In reality, however, these connections are misplaced. While the Painted Lady’s motivations are completely altruistic, the Blue Spirit is inherently self-serving, only donning the mask when it benefits Zuko himself. Inadvertently, this shared screentime removes Katara’s agency and ties her development to Zuko’s, simultaneously complicating the selfish, dishonorable connotation of the original Blue Spirit.
For all the adaptation’s fumbles, there are a handful of silver linings. Most notably, this season spent less time filming in volume stages and more time shooting on location, including thick forests, grandiose mountains and gorgeous farmland. As for characters, Iroh is not easily absolved of his imperialist past like he is in the original cartoon; he is forced to take accountability and directly confront the damage he did. Meanwhile, the fight choreography — while still flawed — improved from what it was in season one, feeling a lot more fluid and fast-paced.
At the end of the day, the positives are few and far between, and they’re certainly not enough to save season two of Netflix’s “Avatar: The Last Airbender.” The season is a poor recreation of the cartoon, not because it takes creative liberties with the source material, but because the new ideas misunderstand the story. With season three already confirmed and filmed, all fans can do is hope that Netflix doesn’t butcher the cartoon’s final season.
Travis Foley is an Arts & Entertainment Assistant Editor. He can be reached at tdfoley@uci.edu
Edited by Corinna Chin.
