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

ATLA Book Two: Earth

Chapter Seven: Zuko Alone

 

In Which Zuko fixes a roof, Ty Lee does a cartwheel, and Lee does a Crocodile Dundee impression.

Having just produced its best episode so far in the form of “The Blind Bandit”, “The Last Airbender” proceeds to go one better with “Zuko Alone”.

One of the most prominent ways I have looked at Zuko’s character arc throughout this project has been through discussing the way his story is framed within the narrative structure. A crucial part of his character arc throughout Book One was the way he was framed by the narrative to steadily position him on a redemption arc in spite of the fact he is clearly an antagonist throughout that Book. That framing goes through a subtle change as he shifts to the role of anti-hero in Book Two: his redemption arc is clearly laid out at this point, and he is a character the audience sympathise with and root for by now, but he is still struggling to find the right path, and in this struggle, has been stripped of all his connections to the main plot since “The Waterbending Master” until “The Blind Bandit”, where he drifted out of the main story altogether. Now, for one episode only, he stars as the protagonist in what is functionally his own show, completely separate to the main narrative: he poses as a nameless the sword fighting refugee travelling the Earth Kingdom, alone and on the run from the Fire Nation.

With that said, the start of the episode shows Zuko still floating around the edges main plot, but only in a very loose way. He glimpses parts of the show that we don’t know will be key to the story yet, such as his brief sighting of Ying and Tahn, the couple expecting a child who will appear in “The Serpent’s Pass”. That Zuko can only see, and not interact with, fringe characters from the show’s future plot, speaks to the fact that he has distanced himself completely from the main story, but also highlights the season’s theme of the interconnectedness of all things. Even at his furthest from the plot, Zuko’s decision not to steal from Ying and Tahn impacts on Aang’s story. The young couple will give Aang hope again, but only because Zuko’s battered but still surviving sense of right and wrong stops him from stealing from them.

Zuko is also connected to the main plot through his flashbacks, first seen through his brief vision of Ursa (the first time she is seen in the show). The flashbacks remind us of his links to the Fire Nation’s royal family, but while he is connected to the past of the main narrative through his memories, nothing physical or tangible. And connection to the main story in the present is currently impossible: Zuko is out of sync with the narrative of The Last Airbender.

Moving on to the main content of the episode, it is worth commenting on the transitions between the present day scenes and the flashbacks, as they really get at the heart of what “Zuko Alone” is doing, and how it is structured as an episode of television. Some transitions, particularly from past to present, come through hard cut, but most the time the scenes next to one another are linked by image, dialogue, or theme. Gansu’s statement that “A man’s past is his business” is followed by Zuko contemplating his own past in his first flashback. The ensuing present day sequence leads into the next, brief flashback by theme, with Lee’s family learning about his brother’s capture being followed by a flashback of Zuko learning about Lu Ten’s death. Zuko’s past enables him to empathise with another family from the other side of the war: Lee and Zuko come from nations that are in an ongoing conflict with one another, are from vastly different backgrounds in terms of privilege and wealth, and where Lee’s family is caring and supportive, Zuko’s is fractured and abusive. However, both boys have lost loved peers to the hundred year war. The losses of Sensu and Lu Ten also lead to parallels and contrasts between the actions of Gansu and Iroh. Gansu heads to the front to find his son, just as Iroh goes on a self-imposed exile after Lu Ten’s death: both men leave their families for an indefinite time due the results of their sons fighting on the front lines. However, where Gansu’s search for Sensu is his way of not giving up hope, and clinging to the possiblility his son is still alive Iroh’s response to Lu Ten’s death is his way desperately searching for meaning in life, and of reevaluating his position in the war. The next transition comes through image, from Zuko giving Lee the knife to a flashback of Zuko practising with the knife, and being taunted by Azula.

After the plot to assassinate Azulon develops in the next flashback, we get the “Azula always lies” dialogue transition, which marks the start of the past scenes linking into the present narrative just as the present narrative has been leading into the flashbacks for the majority of the episode. We then transition from Zuko’s fight with Gow to Ursa’s flight from home by image, with the shot of Zuko briefly being knocked unconscious in the fight directly followed by him waking up in the flashback. The transition out of the flashback of Ursa’s farewell comes via dialogue, theme and image: Ursa tells Zuko to remember his identity in the past scene, which is followed by Zuko awaking in a fiery blaze and revealing himself as a Firebender, before declaring his name and title. As the episode develops, these transitions increasingly highlight the way Zuko’s mentality is one that is deeply informed and shaped by the family he was raised in, both through the love and Kindness of Ursa and Iroh, the abuse of Ozai, and his sense of inferiority to Azula.

The sense of inferiority is in evidence through the details of the flashback plot, in particular the early glimpses of the Fire Nation Gang as children, which set out the way the four fire nation teenagers will interact throughout the first half of book three. Azula’s manipulative tendencies are already in evidence through the way she uses her mother’s wish to see her bond with Zuko to tease him and Mai, a scene that also sets up Mai and Zuko’s relationship in Book Three. Another telling moment comes when Azula pushes Ty Lee over when seeing her friend’s superior cartwheels: we see the insecurity that makes Azula such a fascinating character, but we also see the unhealthy and cruel way she has learned to respond to that insecurity. These scenes really set up the tragedy of Azula’s character: although we see the cruel side of her nature taking shape, she is not yet resorting to the manipulation through fear that defines the way she uses Mai and Ty Lee in the present. This hints heavily at what is made more explicit later on: that she was shaped into the undeniably cruel and villainous person she is now through her response to the cruel and unforgiving upbringing she lived through as a child.

The nature of Zuko and Azula’s childhood is also seen in the competition between the two siblings, which is most evident in their firebending displays before Azulon. Azula’s precision and natural flair contrast with Zuko’s struggle to improve and grasp basic form, a sequence that highlights the envy and bitterness in the quest to please and placate an abusive father that drives the relationship between the two siblings.

Also significant is Iroh’s appearance in the flashback, which shows us the less than perfect person he was before the war, as he talks casually about burning Ba Sing Se to the ground. While this appearance draws attention to a more morally grey side of his character than is usually seen, it is worth noting that the episode suggests, in Michael Dante Dimartino’s paraphrased words that the ruthless general was more of a part he played, albeit one he played very well, and without truly questioning the war his nation was waging. Even at this point in his life, Azula calls him “his royal tea loving kookiness”, he has respect for Earth Kingdom culture, and sends Zuko an encouraging message and gift in the form of the Knife. The Iroh we know in the show’s present is very much there before his spiritual change, just hidden beneath the exterior role he has to play as the heir apparent to the Fire Nation throne. However, we also see another less savoury aspect of his character in the arguable double standard in the way he treats Azula compared to Zuko, patronisingly sending her a doll, which she is understandably less than impressed with. It could be argued that this represents his attempt to give Azula, who is still less than ten, a normal childhood, but this is the first instance of a pattern of behaviour that hints at a more ambivalent attitude towards Azula than the one he has for Zuko. Finally, we get hints of the way he drifted away and slowly defected from the fire nation after his son’s death, and the way this was perceived by his family at the time, with it mostly, with the exception of Zuko and Ursa, being viewing viewed as an opportunity that Ozai took advantage of, taking the chance to seize the throne.

Most of all, the flashbacks are about Ursa. The initial scenes establish her bond with Zuko, highlighting the way she was a positive influence on him as a child that helped him maintain his goodness in spite of the abusive situation he is being raised in. The scene with the protective Mother Turtle duck provides some clear foreshadowing for the ultimate point of the flashback: the reveal of the circumstances behind Zuko’s loss of his mother. The final flashbacks demonstrate how her disappearance worsened the situation with his father, as by vanishing to protect, Ursa leaves Zuko without his one source of comfort and protection in an abusive home.

The present day plot shows the way Zuko has been shaped by this past, where he is at this point in the narrative, and where he has to go moving forward. In a way, the plot is Zuko’s solo version of the “Gaang visits a village” plot. He arrives at an Earth Kingdom village, bonds with members of that village, and does what he can to solve the village’s problem.

The problem in the village comes in the form of the Earth Kingdom soldiers who are not really fighting the fire nation, but are in fact just cruel bullies ruling the village with fear. Zuko has them pegged perfectly:

“It doesn't matter who I am. But I know who you are. You're not soldiers; you're bullies. Freeloaders, abusing your power. Mostly over women and kids. You don't want Lee in your army – you're sick cowards messing with a family who's already lost one son to the war.”

That final sentence arguably hints that Zuko suspects the fate of Sensu is not a happy one: perhaps as the Fire Lord’s son he knows what will happens to his nation’s prisoners, so he does not share the hope Gansu has for his son. Zuko’s condemnation of the military’s abuse of the women and children in the village contrasts tellingly with his refusal to steal from the pregnant Ying at the start of the episode: at his most desperate, Zuko refuses to harm the kinds of people the soldiers abuse to make their already comfortable situation even easier. It’s a contrast that opens up the theme of military abuse of power, highlighting the way that corruption, brutality and entitlement almost inevitably manifest themselves in certain parts of military structures. Even the Earth Kingdom army, which is supposedly on the good side of the hundred year war, constructs a military culture that enables the abuse of its most marginalised citizens. Once again, shades of grey are added to the hundred year war. The Fire Nation military is an oppressive regime threatening the freedom of the world, but the behaviour of the Earth kingdom soldiers shows that oppressive behaviour can appear in any military structure, even the supposedly “good” ones.

The other half of the present day plot comes through Zuko bonding with Lee and his family. It is a plot revolves around three particularly noteworthy moments. The first comes Sela gets Zuko to eat with them by asking him to do work quickly understanding the type of person Zuko is: he won’t accept help, as his pride probably means he sees it as unearned charity, arguably feeling that simple kindness is something he doesn’t deserve. Asking him to do something for them in the form of fixing their roof, even though he’s unsurprisingly terrible at it, is therefore a perfect way to help him without undermining his sense of self-worth. The second key moment comes through Zuko bonding with Lee over the broadswords. Zuko’s sword fighting is a form of fighting that isn’t linked, as his firebending is, to his rage and hurt, so he can use it to teach and share a friendship with Lee, which leads to the third key moment: Zuko giving Lee his knife. It is a moment that Zuko is capable of small acts of kindness, and can give something that is of sentimental value to himself, but it also sets up the tragedy of the resolution, as Lee’s rejection of the gift becomes a symbol of the way the world has rejected Zuko.

The flashbacks and the two halves of the present day plot come to their thematic conclusion in Zuko’s fight with the soldiers, a plot which sees his reclamation of his name go horribly wrong. The moment Zuko attempts to reclaim his place in the main plot, he goes from being a hero cheered on against the soldiers by the watching crowd to being a source of fear and suspicion. He fights against the earthbenders with just his broadswords and is a hero, but doesn’t have enough power, narratively or literally, to defeat Gow. Using and revealing his status as a Firebender, and then announcing his title as crown prince of the Fire nation gives him the strength and narrative firepower to overcome Gow, but in doing so, he immediately goes from being a hero in the eyes of the crowd to a villain. It is a moment that highlights the central tension for his character throughout Book Two: at this point in the show, Zuko can be a hero, but only when completely separated from the main plot. A crucial part of his redemption arc will require him to find a better connection to the narrative, and change the meaning of his name and title. 

End of Part Twenty Five.

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

ATLA Book Two: Earth

Chapter Six: The Blind Bandit

 

In Which Sokka goes shopping for a nice bag, the Hippo eats a rock, and Aang is a terrible dinner guest.

In my post on “The Storm”, we talked about how that episode was easily the best of the show so far, and how it represented a vast step forward in the show’s quality. “The Blind Bandit” is, for my money, the first episode to top “The Storm”, and represents a similar leap forward. While “The Storm” showed that The Last Airbender, which at that point was already very good, was capable of being great, “The Blind Bandit” marks the point where the show starts being consistently great. Seriously, the run of four episodes starting here was what convinced me this project was something I had to try and do. From now on, most episodes are at or around this level of quality. This leap forward in quality can, of course, be attributed in no small part to the addition of Toph to the main cast. It can be tricky for successful shows (and make no mistake, Avatar was a successful show at this point) to introduce a new member to their ensemble: there’s always a risk of ruining the winning dynamic of the current cast. But Toph works because she doesn’t feel shoehorned in, but instead actively adds to the group’s dynamic: she fills a hole that the audience doesn’t realise existed until she arrives.

But discussion of what Toph adds to the Gaang’s dynamic can wait for another post. For now, it’s worth talking about the way the show introduces her, and as with “The Storm”, the best way to discuss the episode seems to be breaking down its story in detail, key scene by key scene.

We begin with Aang continuing to search for his Earthbending teacher. It is worth noting here that “The Blind Bandit” plays a crucial structural role in Aang’s hero’s journey, being the episode where he finds his second peer to teach him, with Toph replacing Bumi just as Katara replaced Paku. In his search to learn Earthbending, he takes a free Earthbending lesson, only for that lesson to be unsuccessful. It demonstrates the difficulty Aang experiences with the element, as we get a first witness of his fear at facing Earthbending head on. We also see how hard it is for Aang to find a good enough teacher: Yu seems to have a reasonable understanding of Earthbending, but he is ultimately a character driven by greed, more concerned with bribing pupils to pay extra than with actually teaching his element. So the Gaang decide to go to the Earth rumble, finding the arena through Katara’s fantastic “Oh, a girl has her ways” moment, which is a delightful subversion of the “Girl gets what she wants through her feminine wiles” trope. But the early fights further demonstrates the issue in Aang’s search: that even the best, most powerful Earthbenders aren’t masters of the element, and don’t seek to understand it by waiting and listening as Bumi said they would have to, instead relying on raw power and brute force.

But then we see a more refined, complex form of Earthbending in Toph’s fight with the boulder. The scene serves as the introduction to her character, and demonstrates why she is the ideal candidate to become Aang’s Earthbending teacher. The shots of the Boulder moving in slow motion as Toph figures out his every move indicate that she is in a different league to the other Earth Rumble fighters: she is thinking and operating at a different speed when she fights. The sequence is also a successful introduction because, for all I talked about what she brings to the group dynamic, she really works from the get go because she’s a great character. We see just how much fun she can be, with her incredibly cool and unusual fighting style allowing for some breath-taking animation in the form of the seismic sense shots, and her delightful one liners show that she she can entertain as a character as well as a fighter. The sequence focuses on the superficial thrill of her as an immediately appealing, entertaining, and likeable character, quickly establishing her as a character the audience want to see more of.

Aang immediately recognises her as the ideal teacher for him, so he takes up the challenge of fighting her so that he can speak to her. But this plan goes wrong, as we see the limitations of Toph’s abilities through her struggles to sense Aang’s movement: Toph is not impossibly capable, and is still realistically restricted by her blindness. As a result, Aang’s attempt to approach her fails, as he accidentally beats her and takes her title while attempting to avoid conflict and strike up a conversation. In doing so, Aang inadvertently takes the one good thing she had carved out for herself through her own agency and talents, so naturally Toph wants nothing to do with him, or his request that that she teach him how she bends.

So the Gaang search for Toph, and learn some fascinating details about Toph through a delightful return to Katara’s intimidation of the two asshole Earthbending students. We discover, through a throwaway comment from one of the students, that the Beifongs are keeping Toph a secret from the world. No one knows she exists: The Blind Bandit is the only identity she can have around anyone outside of the Beifong estate. And when the Gaang sneak into the garden of the estate, they find that Toph is still angry at Aang for beating her, as she feels cheated out of the one thing that allowed her to truly express herself, so she chases them off by acting out her parents’ image of her as a fragile and helpless victim.

The scene where the Gaang have dinner with the Beifongs is another example of the Avatar franchise’s gift for dinner scenes. It’s a lovely scene where each character has a different agenda and understanding of the situation, and the conflicts between these agendas are made clear by the subtext of the conversation. Toph’s parents see their daughter as fragile and helpless, and want to protect her. Aang knows she isn’t helpless, but doesn’t understand her family situation, so fails to encourage her to become his teacher. And Toph knows how her parents would react if they found out about her earthbending title, so she wants to keep them in the dark. The scene displays the tension between Toph’s identity as a Beifong and her identity as The Blind Bandit: we see her performing the role of the Beifong’s privileged but fragile daughter, which is very much a role, not who she is at all.

Yet for all she is playing a role that isn’t really her true self around her parents, it is worth pointing out that The Blind Bandit is just as much of a role that Toph plays, even if it’s one she’s happier playing. Her true self lies somewhere between the two identities, and the task of the episode is to find a place where she can openly be both people. We see her true self for the first time in the garden scene, where she talks with Aang about her disability, and how she sees with Earthbending:

“Even though I was born blind, I've never had a problem seeing. I see with earthbending. It's kind of like seeing with my feet. I feel the vibrations in the Earth, and I can see where everything is. You, that tree … even those ants.”

There’s a quiet beauty to the scene with simple yet beautiful animation taking us through the way Toph’s perception of the world as she describes each object that she sees. Each shot slowly pans out to take in the whole garden, before zooming in on the ants, emphasizing the way her earthbending “sight” is both far reaching and takes in the tiniest of details through the juxtaposition of images. It  is a moment that truly emphasizes the importance of the representation Toph provides. There is a popular Tumblr post that tells the story of a little girl who used Toph’s story as a source of strength for herself and her father as she was turning blind, and it really is proof that characters like her appearing in media, particularly for children, matters: her place in Avatar actively makes our world a better place. This is in no small part because her blindness is sensitively handled in this episode and throughout the series. It is acknowledged, and the real difficulties it causes for her are shown, but she is still capable of being powerful, uniquely so due to the way she utilises her disability, and most importantly, it is not everything about her character, not the sole thing that defines her. She is Blind. She is funny. She is tomboy who rejects the role of rich girl, but is still remarkably good at playing the part. Most of all, she is the greatest earthbender in the world.

Then, after a brief sequence of kidnap and ransom that necessitates Aang’s rescue, we get the next key scene in Toph’s fight with the Earthbenders. It is the most spectacular set piece in an episode filled with spectacular sequences, and is a moment satisfyingly rooted in the character threads of the episode. Toph prompted into helping save Aang when her father belittles her one time too many, in the arena where she has repeatedly proven her worth, and unleashes a fearsome display of bending that takes out all the contest’s most powerful opponents single-handedly, leaving even her master astonished at her prowess.

The fight is a sequence filled with fantastic animation details and fighting styles, really showing off the range of things that can be done with Earthbending. Toph’s approach to the fight is ingenious: she knows her opponents won’t be able to deal with losing their vision, whereas her fighting style is made to compensate for her lack of sight, so she kicks up a dust cloud, instantly giving herself an advantage, even though she is outnumbered six to one. There are multiple ingenious moments of Earthbending, such as the rotating disc she uses to take out three of the Earthbenders at once, and the shield she uses to protect herself and then attack and throw Xin Fu off balance, so that she can once again use her seismic sensing to take him out. It is a very methodical, tactical, fighting style that is distinct from and far outstrips the other Earthbenders, and more than meets Bumi’s “wait and listen” requirements. But arguably the best, and definitely most telling, moment is the lovely touch of her little grin when taking out the Hippo and Xin Fu: she loves fighting, and she loves the chance she gets to show the other Earthbenders just how much better than them she is. And so, in the only scene where she fights in her Beifong clothes, she reveals her true self to her parents.

But seeing his daughter’s true self is too much for Toph’s father, who rationalises what he has just seen to a ridiculous extent to try and justify further over protecting and infantilising her. It is a heartbreaking moment for Toph, who has just bared her soul to him by showing him who she is and what her abilities mean to her. It is this moment where it becomes clear that Toph’s story, at least for now, is about breaking free of the restriction her parents placed on her.

Katara and Aang’s exchange of “Don't worry, we'll find you a teacher. There are plenty of amazing earthbenders out there.”/ “Not like her” reflects not just Aang’s feelings at losing Toph, but also those of the audience. Toph’s over protective parents will be the key to her unlocking her metalbending in the long run, but for the short term of this episode, their actions are used to show how empty the series would be without Toph, and how we genuinely want her to be a part of the show. The episode has been structured to showcase Toph as a character, and so before recruiting her as a regular, it takes an important moment to dwell on the empty space that would be left if she didn’t join the show.

So it is particularly joyous when we see she has gone against her father’s wishes, and run away to join the Gaang. And she’s obviously lying when she says she’s talked him round: Sokka and Katara’s shared glance before Sokka promptly suggests they leave quickly suggest the Gaang know she’s lying too. It’s interesting that Toph’s lie is left at that: not a cause of conflict within the group, but Toph’s own choice for her story that the others quietly accept. Her addition to the Gaang is better for the show, and better for Toph: her father tells Yu and Xin Fu to take Toph home, but the shot of her smiling that closes out the episode shows that she has found a better place to be. The Gaang live with no fixed location to tie them down, an environment in which Toph doesn’t need to disguise herself as The Blind Bandit: she can be the greatest earthbender ever, and still be known as Toph Beifong.

End of Part Twenty Four.