Netflix has been on thin ice for a few days now. The streaming service has released Avatar: The Last Airbender, its adaptation of the animated epic of the same name, which many consider to be the best animated series of all time. The gigantic fan base promises gigantic streaming numbers, but also wants their beloved childhood memories to be treated with respect. I count myself among them. And unfortunately the Netflix avatar itself goes against the grain for me: Aang is annoying.
Avatar Aang is an annoying know-it-all on Netflix
To be clear: Lead actor Gordon Cormier’s acting is not the problem. The casting of the series is brilliant and ensures it retains the charm of the original. The problem is, that Aang’s know-it-all attitude doesn’t fit his role in the Netflix adaptation.
Check out the trailer for Avatar here:
Avatar: The Last Airbender – S01 Final Trailer (German)
Aang is cheerful and kind-hearted and open-minded, but He is also a little cheeky explainer. This applies to the template as well as to the adaptation. Whenever the role of the Avatar or the importance of the Southern Air Temple needs to be explained, Aang literally puts on his professorial glasses and lectures. In the Netflix series, I’m particularly bothered by the scenes in which Aang advises Katara (Kiawentiio) on waterbending.
Because when Aang puts on his professorial glasses in the Netflix series, he is not a sophisticated avatar and elite airbender, but a cheeky child. When he explains to Katara the connection between the psyche and the techniques of the bender, I don’t feel like he’s doling out wisdom. But rather that he needs attention and chatting to the nearest person without being asked.
The Netflix Aang lacks the humor of the original
One reason for this is simply the jump to live action films. In the original cartoon, Aang is also a know-it-all, but the trait becomes tempered by humor that only works when animated. When Katara lectures him or Aang behaves clumsily, these are snapshots, short skits. A serious scene can follow immediately afterwards without irritating the audience.
Netflix
Gordon Cormier as Aang on Netflix
Live film, on the other hand, suggests reality. And in this reality, constant mood changes seem confusing. When Aang is the explanatory bear in the Netflix series, the tone remains serious and his cheeky manner is not interrupted with irony. She’s no longer a good-natured quirk, but a somewhat unpleasant part of his character.
Aang is bombarded with harsh blows of fate on Netflix
There is a second problem for the avatar character in the Netflix series. Strict specifications regarding budget, time and storyline make the adaptation a streamlining of the story is necessary. This means that the main character is confronted with blows of fate and hard truths at much shorter intervals.
Aang has barely digested his 100 years of hibernation, he struggles with the massacre of the airbenders. Kyoshi (Yvonne Chapman) pushes him to become a badass warrior. Bumi (Utkarsh Ambudkar) bombards his old friend with accusations. There’s hardly any time for slapstick. The avatar of the Netflix series is a much more serious character. And that’s a problem.
Nickelodeon
Aang in the Avatar animated series
Cormier’s tragic hero the cheeky sophistry is much less taken away. The original’s airier dramaturgy allows Aang to be naive. But the staccato of traumatic experiences in the adaptation strips the character of anything childish. Their curiosity, impulsiveness and ignorance annoy rather than move.
Aang’s monologue takes me out of my fantasy adventure
Streamlining the story also leads to too much exposure, which often enough lands on Cormier’s shoulders. He brings the viewer up to date as quickly and inevitably as strikingly as possible, for example when it comes to the past of the earthbending city of Omashu.
More on the subject:
For those familiar with the template, such moments are superfluous anyway. But I suspect that they don’t seem particularly organic to the rest of the audience either. The dramaturgy stands still for the bombardment of information via monologue. Suddenly I’m no longer following a fantastic adventure, but instead am the recipient of a calculated sequence of details. The mood suffers as a result.
In the end, the Netflix Aang no longer seems like it was made from a single piece. In the original, he is a happy child who pushes himself upwards under an immense burden. The adaptation gives it a solemn depth, against which his childlike wisdom acts like dramaturgical gap fillers.
Nevertheless, I think the live-action film adaptation was, on the whole, successful. The contrasts in Cormier’s character can be worked with. Especially if Netflix gives the starting signal for a second season. And the thin ice has become a little thicker thanks to the trust of the fans.