From the South Pole Iceberg to the Republic City Portal: A Critical Study of the Avatar Franchise: Part Twenty

ATLA Book Two: Earth

Chapter Two: The Cave of Two Lovers

 
In which Sokka gets very annoyed by some hippies, Iroh eats some more roast duck, and Aang wears a flower crown.

“The Cave of Two Lovers” is arguably the most brazenly comic episode of The Last Airbender to date. It contains one of the series most iconic jokes in the form of the “Secret Tunnel” song, and has a number of lovely punchlines dotted throughout, such as Iroh poisoning himself with the berries, or Sokka repeatedly slapping his face when he is frustrated with the hippies. In spite of this openly comic nature, it is an episode with some dark undertones, and is important to the series, deepening our understanding of the world and its characters.

The comic side of the serial is particularly evident in the way Sokka interacts with the hippies, interactions that play against the way comic relief characters such as Sokka are played. The hippies work as a comic foil to Sokka, who plays the role of the frustrated straight man responding with exasperation to the ridiculous actions of the hippies, while he tries to find a logical way out of the cave, repeatedly being hindered by them. Once again, Sokka is at his funniest when played as an ordinary guy expressing his frustration at the fantastical nature of the world around him: his humour is just as rooted in being the straight man reacting to the wacky hijinks of other characters as it is in his own wacky hijinks.

Once again, the episode gives us a Zuko B plot that runs alongside the Gaang’s main plot. On this occasion, there is no clear thematic link to the Gaang’s plotline, a fact that speaks to the occasionally thematically disjointed nature of episodes that follow multiple plot threads that don’t obviously interact. In this episode, the plot is ultimately about establishing how Zuko and Iroh will operate in their new role as faux Earth Kingdom refugees. Iroh is trying to guide Zuko to approach his lower standing with dignity, while Zuko struggles to cope with how far down he’s been brought, claiming he “wasn’t meant to be a fugitive”. While it isn’t clearly linked to the Gaang’s plot, it provides a good counterpoint in tone: with the exception of the joke about the berries, this a considerably darker storyline than the light hearted A plot, with the final scene from this plot being a particularly brilliantly cruel and shameful moment, as Zuko and Iroh stealing from a low standing family who kindly took them in and helped them at their most desperate. 

Also important to Zuko’s plot in this episode are his scenes with Song. For the first time, Zuko has to interact with the human level of the war his nation has been waging, as Song tells him about the affect the war has had on her family through her captured father, and on her through the scars of her own. This connection to the personal affect the war has on ordinary civilians is only possible because of Zuko’s new status as a survivor refugee in hiding: ordinary people from the Earth Kingdom wouldn’t trust him with their stories if they knew he was the banished prince of the Fire Nation, as we will see later on in this book. Also notable is the moment she tries to touch his scar, and Zuko pulls away as with his goodbye scene with Iroh in the Book One finale, he is uncomfortable with people openly showing him kindness and affection. It is a particularly significant moment because this is a story about romance, and it could read as a moment that briefly teases a romantic connection between the two characters, before shutting down any potential of that being a storyline that this episode does. However, there is an argument to be made that Zuko being played as a potentially romantic character starts here. Zuko the romantic character is explored more in his storyline with Mai and his vignette in “The Tales of Ba Sing Se”, but this is the first time we see him truly bonding with anyone his own age, a fact that makes the final kick in his and Iroh’s plot for this episode all the more cruel.

In a story about love, the episode is unsurprisingly heavy on Kataang development. The episode starts with Katara teaching Aang: her role as his waterbending master is firmly established, but we also see how she teaches him, with gentle encouragement and constructive criticism. and It is an approach Aang works well with, a useful counterpoint to both his struggles with Toph’s methods later on, and Paku, whose stricter approach to teaching waterbending seems to have worked less well for Aang. Just as Zuko rejects Song’s gentle gesture of affection, these two struggle to broach the issue of their growing feelings towards one another. Particularly telling is the scene where Katara suggests they try kissing, and Aang clearly likes the idea, but both contrive to talk their way out of it. There are some particularly lovely animation touches throughout that scene, such as the brief flash of disappointment on Aang’s face when Katara starts to say it was a ridiculous idea, before his expression turns to one of forced and ill-advised nonchalance. It is particularly significant that Katara is the one to ask Aang if they should kiss, providing a step forward from her developing feelings in “The Fortuneteller”: she first acknowledges her potential romantic interest in Aang in that episode, if only internally, and here she decides to explore that interest. And it’s quite clear by the end of this episode that the two have feelings for one another, even if they aren’t quite sure what to do with this fact.

Also crucial to this episode’s portrayal of love is the Oma and Shu legend, which provides a backstory for Omashu, and gives us an exploration of the origins of bending that are a key part of the show’s mythos. These origins will be revisited in later episodes such as “The Firebending Masters” and Legend of Korra’s “Beginnings”, an episode that does not, for what it’s worth, actually contradict the mythos established in this episode, just expands on it. An interesting note is that the legend is technically a tale that invokes the fridging trope, but in a story that flips the usual genders of that kind of story so that the man dies tragically for the woman’s development. Arguably the use of this trope just alters a negative story type that isn’t worth telling regardless of the genders portrayed, but it could be read as a part of the way this season alters the way women work in the hero’s journey story type The Last Airbender is telling. The two lovers also have loose parallels to Katara and Aang: Oma and Shu’s love is one that competes with conflict between two tribes at war, while Katara and Aang’s love story is born out of war and loss. More than anything, though, the legend is an instruction for Katara and Aang: they have to understand what the legend means for them personally in order to get out of the cave. Coming to this understanding leads to another example of the contrast between their idealism and Sokka’s practicality in the “We let love lead the way”/ “Really? We let ferocious beasts lead our way” exchange: both Sokka’s logic and Katara and Aang’s ability to love help save the Gaang.

The focus on Omashu’s history brings into focus the fact that the opening three episodes for book two are, in fact, a mini arc about the Gaang getting to Omashu So that Bumi can train Aang. This speaks to the larger narrative of the start of the season: the way Book Two is being defined in contrast to Book one. Book one is ultimately just one major arc: Aang taking Katara to the North pole, with this arc serving as the framing device to a season that is made up of more standalone stories than any other season in the franchise. By contrast, Book Two is deeply serialised, being made up of a series of interweaving arcs of various lengths; Aang searching for an Earthbending teacher; the Gaang losing and searching for Appa; trying to get in contact with the Earth King to recruit the Earth Kingdom army to fight on the day of Black sun; the Ba Sing Se conspiracy, and Aang unlocking the Avatar State. These arcs flow into one another, run alongside each other, and on occasions, intersect throughout the season. It is a season structure that is a marked departure from its predecessor.

“The Cave of Two Lovers” is an episode that is, at its heart, about three different couples: the non-romance of Zuko and Song, the tragic lovers Oma and Shu, and Katara and Aang, as they tentatively drift towards one another. It is particularly important that this episode is so significant to the development of Katara and Aang’s romance, as the episode’s major thematic statement describes their romance rather well. After all, it is a romance based on two children from the cultures most damaged by a terrible war finding one another through caring and healing: true love really does shine brightest in the dark.

End of Part Twenty.

Doctor Who Series Nine Reviews: 9.06

"The Woman Who Lived", by Catherine Treganna

This is an episode that is set up to play to the best strengths of the BBC and Doctor Who. The BBC has always been great at recreating a period setting. Duly, we have a beautifully produced seventeenth-century setting. Doctor Who is frequently at its best in dialogue heavy moral debates staged between two talented actors, with just a hint of the fantastical and strange. We get Peter Capaldi and Masie Williams using on the nature of immortality and the complexities of friendship. The episode is even written by a writer whose sensibilities are tailored precisely to the themes of this story: Catherine Treganna, who the two best (and genuinely superb) episodes of early Tochwood, “Out of Time”, and the Hugo-nominated “Captain Jack Harkness”. Wearing my tastes on my sleeve, this is the kind of episode I generally love. And I loved this episode.

There are a couple of niggles I had, particularly on first watch-through, as the ending of the episode felt a little lacking in polish: Ashildr/ Me’s realisation that she does care and betrayal at the hands of Leandro didn’t completely convince, and it felt like the B-plot and A-plot. But on rewatch, I found most of my problems with the ending lessened greatly: if nothing else, Peter Capaldi’s joyous response of “Isn’t it terrible?” to Ashildr/ Me’s realisation that she cares for the villagers sells the heck out of that scene. And while the hasty killing off of Leandro is the embodiment of “Rushed Doctor Who ending”, there is a hilarity to the sheer arbitrariness with which he is dispatched.

And ultimately, the good stuff in this episode is brilliant, and for the most part it has the common sense to play to its strengths. Capaldi and Williams play beautifully off each other, with Williams really showcasing her range in a role that is very distinct from last week. It helps that they are such distinct performers, separated by decades of acting tradition: but while both are very different actors, each is able to hold their own.

It helps that the material they are given is so strong: both characters have distinct worldviews informed by their differing experiences of immortality, and so they debate, with neither being fully wrong or fully right. This aids the episode’s critique of the Doctor: he is never critiqued for saving Ashildr/ Me, only for not engaging with her, for running away and leaving her to cope with the loneliness of her existence without help or guidance. And so the episode ends in a wonderfully satisyfying place: the Doctor is glad that he saved Ashildr/ Me, that he let her tidal wave loose on history, and she decides to help the people he rescues and leaves behind, so that the Doctor’s leftovers can truly be saved. They end their meeting not as enemies, but something infinitely more complex: friends.

Speaking of complex friendships (something of a running theme this season, after “The Magician’s Apprentice/ The Witch’s Familiar”), we also get that lovely final scene between the Doctor and Clara, a scene that opens with another (genuinely lovely reappearance of the guitar, which has been a lovely integration of Capaldi’s personality into his performance as the Doctor). While it mostly explores the implications of Ashildr/ Me’s immortality, the episode is also exploring the nature of the Doctor’s friendship with Clara through her absence, with Ashildr/ Me noting that she is the Doctor’s weak spot, and the Doctor’s casual references to Clara highlighting the respect and love he’s grown to have for her, and no longer struggles to express. And the warmth between the Doctor and Clara that is written all over the final scene is lovely to watch, building the foreboding for the later parts of the season in the most effective way possible, by showing us what it is about this Doctor/ Companion dynamic that we’re going to miss.

A beautiful second half of the best two part story from the season so far.

Episode Rankings

The Girl Who Died

The Woman Who Lived

The Witch’s Familiar

The Magician’s Apprentice

Under the Lake

Before the Flood

Story Rankings

The Girl Who Died/ The Woman Who Lived

The Magician’s Apprentice/ The Witch’s Familiar

Under the Lake/ Before the Flood

From the South Pole Iceberg to the Republic City Portal: A Critical Study of the Avatar Franchise: Part Nineteen

ATLA Book Two: Earth

Chapter One: The Avatar State

 

In Which Pakku pats Sokka on the shoulder, Katara gets some water that won’t be at all important later, and a guy throws some mud on Aang.

First episodes are tricky. First episodes of a new season of television are tricky in a wholly different way to first episodes of a show, as they take on the task of reintroducing a show’s tropes, instead of just introducing them, whilst simultaneously redefining the show by expanding on, and altering its approach from, previous seasons. Book two of The Last Airbender deals with this difficulty by spreading the set up for Book two over the first five episodes of the season, which slowly shed the weight of book one’s tropes, and establish the key themes for the season.

The most marked change for book two comes through the reframing of the Fire Nation antagonists as a result of Azula’s introduction proper after her character was teased in the last shot of the first season. Azula is clearly set to take over the role previously held by Zuko and Zhao, being the main face of the Fire Nation antagonists for the season. While she is assigned to capture Zuko, and not the Avatar, it is unsurprising that chasing down the Gaang will also become part of her mission. Her methods will differ markedly to Zuko and Zhao’s, but in this episode, she is surrounded by the trappings of the Book One villains, travelling around with a Fire Navy crew around her, a marked difference from the small, elite team she forms in two episodes’ time. For this episode, the boat on which she is placed allows us to see how she operates differently from the villains of Book One, but in familiar trappings.

And in the trappings of Admiral Zhao, she shows a marked improvement on her predecessor. Firstly, her presence represents a move to a more female driven show, with Azula marking the beginning of the growing list of regular recurring female characters with crucial roles in the show, a welcome push towards greater diversity. The “almost isn’t good enough” scene also marks her out as a far more interesting villain than Zhao, with far more depth and nuance. The scene demonstrates the perfectionism that leads to her greatest victory at Ba Sing Se, while also contributing to her ultimate downfall: a single trait contains more potential than the rest of Zhao’s characterisation put together. She is also a greater threat than Zhao is after his first episode: where Zuko beats Zhao in their first onscreen encounter, he cannot land a hit on Azula, and she leaves Zuko and Iroh desperately running for their lives. Finally, the conversation with the captain about the tides marks Azula out as a villain capable of being menacing and ridiculously entertaining at the same time. In this episode, she is a welcome addition to the series, and improves the show dramatically.

Azula’s conflict with Zuko is also markedly different to Zuko’s conflict with Zhao. Azula is chasing is chasing down Zuko from the start of the season, with only a brief pretence otherwise. The animation in the scene where Azula tricks Zuko into hoping Ozai will accept him back is a particularly lovely touch. We only see the scarred half of Zuko’s face as he asks if father really regrets banishing him, and she affirms his hopes: the animation subtly confirms the fact that Azula is blatantly lying to Zuko by leaving a reminder of Ozai’s abuse at the front of the frame. By contrast, Zhao and Zuko have slowly bubbling tension that leads to the two openly fighting each other at the end of Book One. This changes Zuko’s role in the show: because Azula is a threat to him from the start of the season, Zuko spends most of the run largely separated from the Fire Nation, and the ability to be a villain.

Throughout the season, Zuko is kept in a separate plotline through the Gaang A plot/ Zuko B plot structure that becomes the most commonplace episode type over the course of the Book. This moves Zuko and Iroh away from the role of the Gaang’s pursuers and into the “Survivor refugee” roles that they take on over the course of Book Two, a moment symbolised by their cutting of the tails from their hair. This change in status allows Zuko and Iroh to take on the role of anti-heroes as opposed to antagonists. They are no longer actively hostile to Aang, Sokka and Katara, as the two groups don’t come into contact with each other for most of this season until the finale, save for a brief encounter in “The Chase”.

This episode structure, as observed before, allows the show to parallel the journeys of Aang and Zuko. As in “The Storm”, there some fascinating parallels between Katara’s support of Aang, and Iroh’s guardianship of Zuko. Just as Aang strives to use the Avatar State as his quickest viable way to defeat Ozai, Zuko desperately clings to the hope that Ozai has finally, and improbably, accepted him on the anniversary of his banishment. Both Katara and Iroh look after Aang and Zuko, trying to warn them away from apparently sudden fixes to their problems, instead stressing the importance of the longer, harder road to complete their journeys.

There are telling similarities in Katara and Iroh’s caring methods. Iroh first seeks to placate Zuko’s anger, taking him to a spa as a place of rest and calm. He then tries to reason with his nephew, trying to downplay Zuko’s hopes when he thinks Azula is telling the truth, before desperately reminding Zuko that he cares about him when Zuko claims that Ozai still loves him. Similarly, Katara starts the episode by listening to Aang recount his nightmare, patiently letting him talk about his fears without pushing him to talk. Then, after Aang agrees to help the general, she tries to point out the importance of beating Ozai the right way, before eventually telling Aang it upsets her to see him in the turmoil caused by the Avatar State. Both Iroh and Katara start by listening to Aang and Zuko, then try to appeal to their rationality, then remind them that they are loved and cared for: both Katara and Iroh have practically the same plot over the course of the episode.

The presence of Book One is also felt in the Main plot, and the exploration of the Avatar State, which deals with the consequences of the Book One finale. Particularly telling is Aang’s dream at the beginning of the episode: there is a commitment to understanding Aang’s internal reaction to the power he wields but does not yet understand. The dream shows Aang what he looks like from the perspective of the fire nation soldiers he attacks, with the exception of the Southern Air Temple, where he didn’t attack anyone, but we do see the scene from Katara’s point of view, understanding the fear he inspires. There is also a further linking of Katara to the Avatar State, as Aang prompted into uncontrolled Avatar State by apparent loss of Katara. This link, will of course be crucial to the finale of Book Two: more of the second season’s plot is established as an answer to elements of Book One’s storyline.

These threads are wrapped up in Aang’s conversation with Roku, which explains why the great power Aang discovers cannot be used as a quick fix to defeat the Fire Lord. This is a pattern that will repeat again, at greater length, in the series with the eclipse plotline: alternative ways to end the war are repeatedly shown and dismissed to stress the importance of Aang following the hero’s journey set out for him. The option of using the Avatar state prematurely is dismissed as Roku teaches Aang about the vulnerability of the Avatar State. The episode is bookended by two dream sequences where Aang learns about the nature of the Avatar State, and learns of its perils: if he is to fulfil his destiny, Aang has to learn the discipline that comes with mastering all four elements, and complete his hero’s journey as has been set out from the beginning of the series.

End of Part Nineteen.