I was there, February 21st, 2005. You can look it up, but it was a Friday night and I watched a one-hour series opener of Avatar: The Last Airbender in real-time.
Three years later — July 19, 2008 — the finale aired and I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. It’s the only show that I can say this about: I watched it live, the whole way through (rewatching episodes week after week as I waited for Friday night, waiting and waiting for months in-between seasons, consuming fanfiction and fan theories with enthused obsession). And if you talk to me long enough that I bring Avatar up I’ll never let you forget it. There was something about being there, at the start of it all, not knowing how it was going to turn out . . .
Netflix released Avatar back onto their platform this May and it had incredible success throughout the summer, drawing in old and new fans to the series. And an amazing boom of content and discussion has taken place across our modern platforms. Memes and character analysis and such true love for a series that for those of us who’ve been in it for fifteen years have always known, but suddenly it’s like the world can see it for what it is: a story that has stood the test of time as one of the best.
After all, will you ever see a redemption story as powerful as Prince Zuko’s? (Not unless you watch She-Ra you won’t, that’s the first time I’ve seen it done as well in over a decade).
And has there been a character as badass as Toph? No. There has not. There will never be.
And when Aang lays out his grief before him at the Eastern Air Temple, the mass genocide of his people heavy on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old boy . . . will you find a moment that cuts you deeper?
(You will, a few episodes earlier, when Uncle Iroh visits his son’s grave on a hill in Ba Sing Se. “If only I could have helped you . . .”)
Avatar is a series that knew what it wanted from the beginning. It was a planned, tightly-woven, three-season arc that fucking executed.
One New Yorker article, “The Stunning Second Life of ‘Avatar: The Last Airbender” from this summer, said:
“[“Avatar”] never mistakes darkness for depth of meaning. It’s often funny, and sometimes silly, tempering weighty material with humor befitting its twelve-year-old hero. In 2020, that balance allows it to function as both a comfort watch and a means of catharsis. “Avatar” engages directly with the perils of encroaching authoritarianism, and the inaction, inadequacy, and abuses of the bureaucrats and military leaders tasked with fighting it. It also offers a universe in which such crises feel surmountable.”
The lessons of Avatar hit differently now then on my first watch (and many rewatches since). There’s a powerful scene where Prince Zuko confronts his father (the antagonist of the who, Firelord Ozai) and says:
“Growing up we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow the war was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing lie that was. The people of the world are terrified by the Fire Nation. They don’t see our greatness. They hate us. And we deserve it!”
And then one day this year I wake up to realize that we are the Fire Nation. America. Or more specifically white America. The greatest country on earth, we were taught. Racism is over, we were taught. Assimilation — the great melting pot, we were taught. On and on and more and more. What amazing lies these were.
Another article this summer calls out in the title: “‘Avatar: The Last Airbender’ remains one of the purest portrayals of fighting fascism on modern TV.” The article goes on to say:
“The sobering difference between watching “Avatar” in its time versus seeing it now is that life in America looks and feels a lot like life in the Fire Nation as Aang, Katara, Sokka, Toph, and eventually Zuko experience it. It is a place addicted to its increasingly hollow sense of greatness and even superiority, steered by a leader more concerned with his own glory than caring for his people.
Still, the lessons about reckoning, forgiveness, reconciliation and rebuilding following a time period of destruction, exploitation, and chaos, are an apt allegory for the present . . . [Avatar] stands as a stalwart example of allegory’s power to inform and inspire instead of merely offering escape.”
My mom asked me what she would learn from watching Avatar again. I may have deluded her as a middle schooler by talking about the fandom relationships more than the plot of the show, so she understandably didn’t get the point when she did watch the series a decade ago (Zutara forever, but it’s about so much more than that).
So this post is an attempt at an answer. But it’s really just a start. The courage to stay true to your beliefs. The courage to desert your beliefs when you learn better. The weight of friendships forged, and families born, and families torn apart by war and grief. The hope, the struggle for justice, the power we have to pave our own destiny, and not to mention the fantastic action and humor.
Okay here’s another Vox article from this summer (I’m trying to up my social proof here): Avatar: the Last Airbender is one of the greatest TV shows ever made. Now it’s on Netflix.
On future installments, I will cover:
- Why Azula is scary watching as a middle schooler and heartbreaking watching as an adult
- Zuko and Katara were the correct ship or at the very least Mai was wrong for him and I’ll fight you on this
- Sokka is brilliant and you need to stop undervaluing his importance as so much more than comedic relief
- Western Air Temple is the best episode in TV history and in this essay I will . . .
AND WE HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED ABOUT THE LEGEND OF KORRA.
With Love,
Natalie