I initially wanted to post this back when Netflix’s Avatar had first come out and was still, well, relevant, but as usual, time got away from me, and here I am, very late to the party. Regardless, I have COMPLETED THE THING, which at this point in my life, is a huge accomplishment to say the least. This post is also quite long. Sorry.

To the surprise of no one, I didn’t overly enjoy this live action rendition of one of my favourite shows of all time. So, aside from being a joyless, jaded, Hater™, what were my issues with this version of Avatar? Why can’t I just enjoy things? Well, for the sake of condensing some of my thoughts (this post is already pretty lengthy) I’m mostly focusing on the writing changes made to the characters – I decided not to get into the pacing issues, the weird inclusion of scenes from future seasons that felt shoehorned in, and some of the wooden acting from the cast. Those are secondary complaints, and I didn’t feel that they negatively impacted the show as much as the quality of the writing did.

It’s impossible to watch the show and not compare the writing to the original cartoon; though the original wasn’t perfect, I think it does a phenomenal job at portraying the development of the main cast – because it’s really the characters that drive the narrative, making it more compelling, and nuanced. I felt that Netflix’s version stripped away a lot of what made the characters interesting, along with the flaws (genuine or perceived) that gave them room to grow. It seemed to me that the writers made these changes without understanding the consequences of taking away what they did – which is what I’m going to get into here. Creating their own version of this story isn’t a problem in and of itself, and I don’t think the live action needed to be a carbon copy of the original. However, it was odd to me that the showrunners claimed to want to create a darker, more mature Avatar – and yet, the writing feels like a dumbed down, paint by numbers story compared to the original. I’m not really interested in trying to evaluate how “good” of a show this is, as that’s entirely subjective. I’m moreso interested in focusing on some aspects of the characters and story beats that were changed, and what sort of impact that has on the shape and tone of the narrative. I will be “nitpicking” so if that’s going to be a bother, feel free to keep it moving.

Bending the story

A seemingly small change from animation to live action is the way in which the characters bending abilities are portrayed – in Netflix’s Avatar, Aang is referred to as a prodigy – a master Airbender, someone who barely had to work to cultivate his powers; in fact, it’s stated that most of his training centered around him learning to keep his incredible airbending under control. This doesn’t seem to cause any issues between him and his fellow Airbenders either – Aang never mentions having trouble with friends, nor are we ever shown any friction between the trainee monks. While Aang is technically an airbending master in the cartoon, he’s never held up on the same pedestal, and his being the Avatar causes some unwelcome tension between him, and his fellow students. The writers seem to have gone in a similar direction with Zuko – though I don’t believe he’s ever referred to as a prodigy, or a master Firebender, there was a shift in one particular scene that changed the way the audience would view his bending. In the cartoon, when we first see Zuko firebending, he spars with a pair of soldiers on the deck of his ship, while Uncle Iroh observes. Eventually, Iroh interrupts to chastise him: “No! Power in firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles.” He finishes by telling Zuko to “get it right this time.” Zuko then demands that Iroh teach him the advanced set of drills, as he’ll need “more than the basics” to defeat an Avatar with (potentially) a century of training. Iroh initially refuses, stating that Zuko has yet to master the basics, then eventually caves. Now, the live action Avatar has almost this exact same set up, however, when Zuko finishes his bending sequence, Iroh instead says, “Your firebending is as sharp as ever.” There’s no indication that Zuko is still a beginner, or that he’s struggling with understanding the fundamental “philosophy” of firebending.

Then we have Katara – while she struggles initially to figure out the basics of waterbending (in staying true to the animated version), as the show progresses, she seems to learn quite quickly. Because of the 8 episode season, I understand the condensed version of her waterbending journey, however, when she finally reaches the North, it feels like the show forgets that Katara is still supposed to be a novice. Her showdown with Master Pakku is pretty watered down in the Netflix rendition – it lacks the conflict, and the blatant sexism that originally spurred Katara to challenge him. Pakku never accepts her as a student – instead, he suddenly decides to let her command a group of Waterbenders during the siege. In the final episode, after the Fire Nation has been defeated, he refers to her as a master Waterbender. He implies that she will be a great teacher to Aang (who, by the way, hasn’t attempted to waterbend a single time in the entire season). In the cartoon, the characters eventually put aside their differences (even becoming friends), and Pakku agrees to teach both Katara and Aang. When the second season picks up, it makes sense that Katara, having spent time studying under a master, would be an accomplished Waterbender – a master herself.

Even during her fight with Zuko in the North, while she’s trying to stop him from reaching the Oasis, Zuko notices her prowess and says “You’ve found a master, haven’t you?” She traps him in a block of ice and replies, “Yes. You’re looking at her.” It’s supposed to come across as this triumphant/aha! moment, but for me, it fell completely flat, and felt almost laughable. Katara has studied a handful of basic forms from a waterbending scroll, is entirely self taught (having no one to learn from or observe in the South), and has somehow become a master Waterbender by the end of an 8 episode season, all on her own? This feels so unearned, and is another example of Katara being presented as some kind of ultra-talented prodigy, rather than simply a regular bender who works hard on her craft. It’s the same way they’ve presented Aang, and to an extent, Zuko – rather than coming across as benders who still have a lot to learn about their respective disciplines, they’re all apparently brilliant and have mastered everything in remarkable fashion.

This is, I feel, a pretty important divergence from the cartoon. While it may seem like a relatively small or insignificant change, this does a huge disservice to the characters, because it’s indicative of what will be a larger change to their overall arcs. One of the best elements of the original Avatar, for me anyway, was seeing these characters grow – seeing just how far they’ve come when you compare the person they were in Episode One, to the show’s finale. Part of this journey of growth is the way that they learn to improve their bending – the way that they learn from one another, and more critically, the way they’re able to incorporate the philosophies behind each bending style into their lives (which the Netflix show barely touches on). Not to mention, these characters risk succumbing to the same pitfalls as characters like Rey from the modern Star Wars – when these characters are made to be perfect, they lose every shred of their relatability. How do we see ourselves in someone who is good at everything, who never fails, who is never challenged? In this iteration of Avatar, all of our main characters are already phenomenal benders – their opportunity to grow as benders, and consequently, as people, is taken away from them. When these characters are already amazing, where do they go from there? Their ability to mature is sacrificed to make them exceptional – and for what? What does this add to their characterization, compared to what it takes away?

Character shifts

Aang

Netflix’s Avatar toned down Aang’s goofy, carefree nature quite a bit (especially as he is in the first season of the animated show), which seemed to be a choice to reinforce the darker nature the show was aiming for. While I didn’t have a problem with this, I did question some of the changes they made to his arc – one of the most significant being the events that lead to Aang becoming trapped in the iceberg. In the original cartoon, Aang makes a calculated choice to leave the Southern Air Temple – he’s running away, and he has no intentions to return. He’s overwhelmed, and struggling to come to terms with his new identity as the Avatar (and all that entails). His friends and peers are treating him differently (as mentioned earlier, the live action does not include this), and the expectations of him are suddenly astronomical. He’s about to be taken away from his mentor, father figure, and best friend. So, he runs away. It’s as he’s running away that he gets caught in the storm with Appa, and creates the iceberg in order to survive. In contrast, the Netflix version attempts to capture these same emotions – the fear, anxiety, and despair that Aang feels about being the Avatar – but instead of packing his stuff and running away, Aang simply feels like he needs to “clear his head.” He takes a trip on Appa, gets caught in the storm, and ends up in the iceberg.

This deliberate shift in Aang’s story is one of the changes the show made that I personally felt was a big misstep. One of the central “conflicts” of Book One is Aang’s guilt – he ran away, and ultimately, the world was left without the Avatar when the Fire Nation launched its invasion. There are several characters who openly resent his presence, and call him on this failure. For example, the fisherman in episode 12, “The Storm,” berates Aang for “turning his back on the world.” As the audience, we sympathize with Aang – he’s just a child who’s been asked to shoulder a massive burden. He feels a huge amount of guilt for what’s happened in his absence (in addition to the survivors guilt he feels upon discovering he is the last Airbender), and he wants to redeem himself. Not only does this add an element of humanization to Aang – he’s not perfect, but he’s prepared to atone for what he perceives to be his failing – but it adds to his arc of growth and redemption. It’s one of the few, more serious aspects to Aang’s character in the earlier seasons of the show, and it serves as a major driving force (and occasionally, a source of anxiety, and pressure) for him as a person.

Contrast this with the live action version of Aang – it’s not his fault that he got caught in a storm, and sealed away for 100 years. That wasn’t his intention; just bad luck. So when we, as the audience, see a character get angry with Aang, or criticize him for disappearing when the world needed him, we feel bad for him. He’s being attacked for something that was out of his control. Instead of sympathizing with his guilt, we feel pity for him – he’s just a child who failed the world through no fault of his own. For me, this particular revision seems like a poor choice. It changes the way that Aang’s personal redemption is framed, and frankly, erases a ton of nuance from his personality. Is Aang a “better person” in the Netflix version because he was simply unlucky? Is his character somehow improved because he’s shielded from the guilt of disappearing for the bulk of the war? I struggle to see why they chose to go this route with the writing, when it simplifies his character in the worst kind of way.

Sokka

Sokka’s character was also stripped down to a more bare bones version – but in doing so, they removed something very critical to his growth. See, in the original cartoon, Sokka is extremely sexist (in the beginning of the show, at least). Given the context of his upbringing in the Southern Water Tribe, it’s not entirely hard to believe, as many of the women perform more traditional roles, while the men are expected to be hunters and warriors. For Sokka, it seems being a woman, and being a competent warrior are mutually exclusive. Sokka also tends to fall into the very common misogynistic trap of believing that feminine traits and roles are inherently inferior. However, as the show progresses (especially in Book One) Sokka meets a variety of amazing women that challenge his worldview – Suki, in particular. Suki is the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, tasked with protecting her home of Kyoshi Island, and wildly enough, also a woman. Sokka initially believes he’s a better fighter than Suki, simply because he’s a man; after being put in his place quite quickly, Sokka asks to be her student, to which she agrees. He dons the makeup and traditional dress of a Kyoshi Warrior with pride. It’s an important moment in the show, because Sokka realizes his beliefs are wrong, and is humble enough to put himself at the mercy of someone he learns to look up to. The romance between the two takes a backseat to Sokka maturing as a character, which is a theme that continues throughout the cartoon.

This was completely scrubbed from the Netflix version, which seems to have a weird need to make all the characters without flaw. Instead, Suki has an unfounded crush on Sokka (because he’s cute, I guess?) and their romance becomes the focal point of all of their interactions. Which, not only robs Sokka of the moment where his belief system is challenged, but also cheapens Suki’s character to the point where she doesn’t have a purpose beyond “one episode romantic interest.” Instead of being portrayed as a warrior, a leader, and a teacher, she comes across as very two-dimensional. I can only guess that in an attempt to ditch the misogyny from the forefront of the show, and how it’s expressed through Sokka (which, in my opinion, wasn’t an issue because it’s addressed in a very pointed way) they removed this aspect of his character entirely. I found it quite funny that Sokka’s actor, Ian Ousley, stated in an interview that Sokka does, in fact, have some semblance of that ‘attitude’ in the live action: “Obviously we took out that [sexist] element, but he still has that attitude. Not a sexist attitude, but it’s morphed into more of – in Sokka and Katara’s relationship – ‘I’m the leader and you’re the follower’ situation.” The reason this is funny to me is that this is simply misogyny under a different mask – and its one that the show never stops to look at in a meaningful way. So, is this really “better?” I’m not convinced. They really leaned into Sokka’s funny/comedic nature, and spent a grand total of one episode focusing on his intelligence, and his interest in engineering; I really missed seeing that aspect of Sokka – the man with a plan, the member of the group that everyone relies on to come up with a strategy for any situation. He honestly feels dense compared to his cartoon counterpart, and that was especially disappointing.

Katara

The way Katara is handled in the live action is probably the most personal gripe I have with the show. As a quick aside: when I first watched the animated show as a kid, Katara was one of the characters I cared about the least – I didn’t dislike her, I just didn’t care about her one way or the other. Upon re-watching the show in more recent years, Katara quickly became my favourite character. She single-handedly keeps the group from falling apart on multiple occasions, shows unconditional love and support to each and every one of her friends, and is a fantastic warrior and teacher. Genuinely, these kids would not have succeeded without her. Shoutouts to Appa, but it’s really Katara that carries the entire gang on her back. And this is the Katara I love – she’s empathetic, occasionally bossy, headstrong, and incredibly committed to her ideals. She takes on a “motherly” role within the group (which is acknowledged in the show) and displays a lot of stereotypically feminine personality traits. But here’s the thing: that’s not bad. I think Avatar took a lot of steps to lean into Katara’s femininity, and I appreciated that; I feel like these traits, and because of their association with female characters, tend to be viewed through a negative lens. These characters are interpreted as annoying, emotional, and overbearing. And this is exactly how I feel like the Netflix writers see Katara.

The live action version of Katara has… not much of a discernible personality at all. I already had my suspicions about how her character would be changed when, before the show even aired, Albert Kim (showrunner) was quoted as saying: “there are certain roles I think that Katara did in the cartoon that we didn’t necessarily also do here.” This was apparently due to some “gender issues that didn’t quite translate from the cartoon.” I won’t ever claim that the original Avatar was perfect, but in my opinion, they did a fabulous job at presenting nuanced and varied female leads – look at the contrast between characters like Ty Lee, and Toph. I don’t really know what “gender issues” the Netflix writers were trying to solve here, but they’ve certainly simplified Katara’s character, and I don’t even know what to make of her anymore. She’s quiet, kind, and naïve. Every time she has an argument with Sokka, she’s in the wrong – she’s portrayed as childish and bratty. This seems odd for her character, given that she was forced to grow up fast, and take care of both her brother, and her grandmother from such a young age. And because Sokka’s sexism (among other traits) was entirely removed from the show, we don’t even get to see Katara fighting to be seen as an equal, and rallying against the blatant misogyny that’s often thrown her way. Her fight with Pakku is particularly disappointing, as it’s no longer framed quite the same way – especially with Aang “talking her down” and being unsupportive. I don’t even know what else to say about her character, as she’s just so bland. Her growth throughout the season feels largely unearned, and quite hollow because, like all the other characters we’ve talked about here, she doesn’t really have anywhere to go. She no longer feels like the glue that keeps everyone together and focused. Aside from her astounding progress as a Waterbender, she doesn’t accomplish anything personally. It feels like such a let down.

Zuko

Zuko is an interesting case for me, because I think he’s arguably handled the best in the live action – but personally, he was the biggest let down of all. He’s still a compelling villain, with a fascinating origin story, and easily the most interesting character of the first season. I actually enjoyed some of the additions the live action Avatar incorporated into his history. Having said that, I did take issue with a more sweeping change the Netflix writers made – and I think it stems from a weird trend in pop culture writing that I’ve noticed recently, where we need to make the villain not-actually-that-bad-of-a-guy. Let me explain: the original cartoon does a fabulous job of humanizing Zuko throughout the series. Not making him a good person, or even likable necessarily, but giving us glimpses of Zuko that show us he’s not wholly evil. A lot of these moments were either axed from the live action, or don’t translate the same way because of how the “new” Zuko is characterized. My personal favourite moments from the cartoon (that I’ll use as examples) are Zuko’s two separate duels: one against Ozai, and one against Commander Zhao, as well as his pursuit of Iroh after he’s taken by Earthbenders. There are a couple of smaller moments that also showcase the different approaches each version of the show took, but I’ll focus on these ones for now.

Zuko’s duel against his father is tough to watch, especially with the cartoon’s twist – he doesn’t initially know that it’s his father he’s expected to fight. Not only is he a child being asked to fight an adult (let alone a parent), but he’s being punished for something that, by all accounts, was him trying to do the right thing. It’s genuinely so heart wrenching when Zuko refuses to fight, and asks for forgiveness instead. We see more reason and compassion from a teenager than we do from Fire Lord Ozai. Despite Zuko’s pacifism, Ozai attacks and burns him anyway – “You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.” I’ve never forgotten that line. In the Netflix version, not only does Zuko fight back, he actually gets the best of Ozai – he readies up to burn his father, but hesitates, giving Ozai the opportunity to knock him down. And while I see this scene as an excuse to showcase some cool firebending and martial arts, it comes with a cost. it’s so much less of a gut-punch than the cartoon. The duel makes Ozai look weirdly incompetent (he literally almost got dunked on by a 13-year old) and changes how we view Zuko. We get the line: “Compassion is a sign of weakness” from Ozai as he tearily burns the living shit out of his child. Okay? While Zuko remains sympathetic in both scenarios, the cartoon was extremely impactful. The live action feels tropey (especially with that tired, Villainy 101 dialogue) and honestly dull in comparison.

In yet another change made for the worse, Zuko’s initial battle against Zhao is cut entirely from the live action. In the original Avatar, Zuko challenges Zhao to an Agni Kai, which ends in Zhao’s defeat – this fight scene establishes a couple of super important character traits for Zuko. Firstly, the bout reinforces Zuko’s lack of firebending mastery (which we’ve already talked about the live action ignoring) – Iroh encourages him from the sidelines to remember his “basics” by breaking Zhao’s roots; Zuko is able to break Zhao’s stance, and send him backpedaling, which leads to his victory. This serves to reaffirm Zuko’s “underdog” status, and gives the audience a reason to cheer for him. Yet another moment where the audience grows to respect Zuko is when he refuses to burn Zhao after winning – Zhao even taunts him, and calls him a coward, and Zuko simply warns him to stay out of his way. When Zuko turns his back, Zhao attacks him like the weasel he is, and Iroh intervenes. “So this is how the great Commander Zhao acts in defeat?” he says. “Disgraceful. Even in exile, my nephew is more honourable than you.” This leads to a touching, and funny moment between Zuko and Iroh – we get a glimpse into a deeper side of their relationship, that goes beyond Iroh’s stern mentor role, and Zuko’s constant irritation with his uncle’s antics. More importantly, we get some insight into who Zuko is as a person – while the show still positions him as a villain, he’s not sadistic or evil, and he actually has some kind of moral core.

In contrast, the live action leans heavily on Zuko’s relationship with Iroh, and the flashbacks we get into Zuko’s past to humanize him – I don’t think this works out quite the same way (at least, not for me personally). It gives me the impression that Zuko is a really good person, maybe just a little misguided. Instead of begrudgingly appreciating some of his lighter moments, the audience is just constantly made to feel bad for Zuko. And because his relationship with Iroh feels much closer right off the bat in the Netflix version, there are several scenes that lack the same impact, and as a result, don’t do anything for Zuko’s characterization. When Iroh is essentially kidnapped by Earthbenders, it doesn’t surprise me when Zuko chooses to forgo pursuing Aang to instead rescue his uncle. I mean, why wouldn’t he? In the original cartoon, however, I felt genuinely surprised when Zuko chose Iroh over Aang – because their relationship hasn’t been fleshed out as much, it’s another big humanizing moment for Zuko. His relentless, single-minded goal to pursue the Avatar actually takes a backseat when his uncle is in trouble – again, this gives us a brief look at the better side of Zuko. This doesn’t translate the same way in the live action. Because Zuko and Iroh are besties, it makes sense for him to go after the Earthbenders, and this little side quest does absolutely nothing for the greater plot, or either of these characters.

While these changes might seem fairly minimal at this point, I think they lead to a larger problem for future Zuko – the show is so focused on showcasing Zuko’s “positive” aspects and garnering sympathy for the position that he’s in, that I feel they’ve already fumbled his redemption arc. In the original Avatar, part of why Zuko’s redemption is one of the highlights of the entire series, is because it’s twofold: a personal redemption, and redemption for his actions. I mean, this is a character who literally became physically ill after doing something nice for someone. In the Netflix version, I don’t really see anything significant at this point that Zuko needs to redeem himself for. Dropping his Agni Kai against Zhao was understandable, as they made a major change to the Commander’s character – he was transformed from a reckless, aggressive villain, to a more sly, calculating version. But this also resulted in a big change for Zuko; their showdown in the North only showcases Zuko’s anger and impulsiveness, as it sets up Azula to be a major future antagonist. Compared to the cartoon, where Zuko’s final confrontation with Zhao ends with Zuko trying to save the dying Admiral, by offering his hand. Once again, we lose a humanizing moment where Zuko shows compassion to an enemy. The emphasis on Zuko’s relationship with Iroh, while heartwarming in a lot of ways, makes his future “betrayal” in Ba Sing Se (when he chooses to side with Azula and return to the Fire Nation) much less believable – even nonsensical. Why would he choose his treacherous sister over his beloved uncle? I’m struggling to see how Zuko gets there from this point.

Expositional dialogue

As a final point, my single biggest complaint about the general writing of Netflix’s Avatar is the ridiculous expositional dialogue. If you’ve ever watched any of those shitty Hallmark Christmas movies, you’ll be very familiar with this practice. In plain terms, it’s when the writers are too lazy to “show” something, and would rather just “tell” the audience in the most boring and obnoxious way possible, often with information that is already glaringly obvious to anyone with more than a single brain cell. The live action Avatar is absolutely horrid for this type of dialogue – and it’s frustrating because it makes me, as the audience, feel stupid, and like the writers need to hold my hand through the narrative because I couldn’t understand it otherwise. Like… please. The show uses this type of dialogue way too frequently to convey character emotions, explain interactions that didn’t require any further explanation, and summarize discussions that the audience quite literally just heard. One specific example stands out in my mind – it happens during the 6th episode, where we see into Zuko’s past, and find out why he was banished from the Fire Nation; Iroh describes what happened to Lieutenant Jee on the deck of Zuko’s warship, as we get into a flashback. During a war meeting, Zuko disagrees with a General’s choice to send a particular group of new soldiers, the 41st Division, to be sacrificed on the front lines in order to create a diversion from the real point of their attack. On top of feeling disrespected, Ozai seems enraged by Zuko’s compassion towards the soldiers. This leads to Zuko’s Agni Kai against his father, and results in the scar on his face. While Zuko is recovering, Ozai informs him of his banishment, and lets him know that he won’t be alone – the 41st Division that he staunchly defended will be his crew and share in his exile. As the flashback ends, and we return to Iroh and the Lieutenant aboard Zuko’s ship, we see the shock on Jee’s face as he exclaims, “But wait… We’re the 41st Division!”

(and cue the face palm heard ’round the world)

MY BROTHER IN CHRIST, WE KNOW. We just saw the flashback ten seconds ago. This line genuinely made me laugh, it’s just so awful. Sure, I suppose Zuko could have gone through 18 crews, and the show wants to establish that this is, in fact, the very same crew he started with. But there’s really no reason to do this, as we see Zuko’s interactions with the crew up until this point in the show, and it’s clear they’ve been together for quite some time. And the follow up scene, of the crew showing newfound respect for Zuko, accomplishes the same thing. This is just a single example of this habit the show falls into, of having this awkward, corny dialogue that’s meant to explain extremely obvious information that the audience already knows. It seems an odd choice to me, because the showrunners insisted they wanted to take Avatar in a more mature, Game-of-Thrones-esque direction. Why then does the show insist on treating me like a child? I guarantee the vast majority of audience members can make these simple connections without having the characters explain what we just watched. They might as well have just paused, Dora the Explorer style, to make sure I was following along okay. This ham-fisted exposition pulled me out of the story often enough to bother me, and I’d love to see the writers improve with this moving forward.

Conclusion

While I didn’t hate every single aspect of Netflix’s live action Avatar (huge praise, I know) it was yet another iteration of a live action that made me question its necessity. As with most live action retellings I see, I can’t quite figure out who the intended audience is, nor do I understand the majority of the writing changes that they felt needed to be made. I’m glad that people enjoyed this version of Avatar, and that people who missed out on the cartoon were able to experience the story in a new form, however, I can’t say that I’m a fan of it myself. Making all of the main benders we’re introduced to prodigies was just the first example of the show making a change that, not only feels unnecessary, but robs the characters of their ability to grow. Part of following these characters on their journey to master their respective bending is seeing them grow as people – the philosophies they incorporate into their personal lives, and how they come to teach and learn from each other, is so crucial to their stories. And not only did the first season skate over these learning curves, they chose to eliminate entire aspects of certain characters that they deemed problematic – Aang is now faultless for disappearing for 100 years, Sokka never has his misogyny or ego challenged, and Katara is a completely blank slate. They’re impossible to relate to anymore. Where do these characters even go from here, and why am I rooting for them? Why do I care?

While the consequences of making these changes might not be apparent right away, I do think the show will struggle (especially if it continues through to the cartoon’s conclusion) to keep the characters from feeling two-dimensional moving forward. Though they seem to have attempted to create more nuance for certain villains, like Ozai and Azula (which I don’t think was necessary), they did it at the expense of the show’s heroes. While Netflix did make some positive additions to the backstory of certain characters, I felt this was overshadowed by terrible dialogue, and questionable narrative choices. The exposition dumps alone were enough to sour my opinion of the show. I finished the season feeling entirely underwhelmed. Normally I wouldn’t continue to watch something like this, as it’s not adding anything of value to the original for me personally, nor does it feel strong as a standalone story. But for the sake of fueling my ranting here on the blog, I’ll probably watch the second season. Ultimately, the Netflix version feels like its sacrificed a ton of substance in favour of entertainment – whether that’s a flashy fight scene, a one-episode romance, or a hollow triumph for a certain character. The writing is going to have to undergo an Avatar State-like transformation in order for me to find anything to love in future seasons of this remake.