Welp, since there still isn't much of a theatrical film industry at the moment, let's talk about a kids cartoon show that ended more than a decade ago.
Because why not?
Avatar: The Last Airbender isn't just "a good show," it's one of the best pieces of animated storytelling and a banner example of long-running serialized narrative in any medium. It's on the short list of quality family entertainment of the past 20 years, and there's no shortage of well-written material covering why it's so beautifully effective and gloriously entertaining.
So we're not gonna spend much time rehashing that. It's not like we need to, given that the moment the show hit Netflix earlier this summer, it shot to the top trending spot in spite of being - again - not terribly new. There's a cyclical appeal to not only the incredibly well-developed young cast of characters, but also the the thematic bent of the story. The narrative thrust concerns the imperialist expansion of the fascist Fire Nation who's one hundred year conquest of the other elemental nations can only be stopped by the Avatar - an elemental master who can "bend" all the elements to their will.
And the current Avatar is a 12-year-old boy.
Young people inheriting a previous generation's war is not exactly a theme unique to this show (see also: Netflix's She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), but it's rare to see it so deeply explored, especially in family-focused programming. The entire main cast of Avatar are adolescents, including the primary antagonists, and the majority of the series is spent watching these children grow in the shadow of a conflict that is almost too vast to comprehend. Along their journeys, they encounter plenty of adults, but nearly all of them - including would-be allies from friendly nations - are more likely to be hindrance than help. With the exception of the members of the secretive White Lotus society, the "adults in the room" either have their own agendas that could end in disaster, or else are directly opposed to the heroes accomplishing their mission (master all the elements, defeat the Fire Lord, end the way) in spite of its clearly and universally beneficial aim.
Avatar manages a huge amount of levity and humor for a story so preoccupied with what is essentially an entire generation of child soldiers (an angle it plays with during Season 1 in "The Kyoshi Warriors" and commits to with startling frankness in episodes like "Jet" and "Laogai"), but it never minces words in asserting that everyone's mom and dad done fucked up. This goes so far as to give each member of the core young cast a direct analogue among the adults who has decidedly not been up to the task of sorting this mess out, and the best they can do is to pass on their wisdom and/or skill to those that haven't yet been quite so beaten down by all *gestures broadly in 2020* this.
(Look, there's no way to avoid the These Uncertain Times factor, so let's just rip off the band-aid.)
The United States is at the point where the army is actively recruiting for duty in the cluster-cuss in the Middle East newly-minted adults who weren't even alive for the events of September 11, 2001, and I don't think I need to point out the "America is the Fire Nation" memes that have popped up recently to drive the point home. . . but I'm going to anyway. There's a reason a show about found family and friendship, of holding fast to ideals of peace and coexistence, of kids having to become old before their time, and of sour old men clawing at the ashes for power instead of trying to fix the world their fathers broke hits hard. A generation tasked with cleaning up the mess of its forbears is a classic for a reason, but it's not just because the work is bitter - it's also inherently hopeful.
Even if you can save the world, that doesn't mean you've completely fixed it (Avatar understands this so well that it's entire sequel series, The Legend of Korra, is explicitly about this), but that doesn't mean it's not absolutely worth saving. And just because you've passed the point in the story where you can take the sort of action you thought you were always meant to doesn't mean that you shouldn't absolutely brace the next generation so they can reach higher. Just because we aren't the ones who will conquer this particular mountain doesn't mean we can't build the road to the top. And dammit, we have to, because it's not like there's much of a safety net if we just let them fall.
The kids are not alright. But they could save us, if only we get the hell out of their way.
And the current Avatar is a 12-year-old boy.
Young people inheriting a previous generation's war is not exactly a theme unique to this show (see also: Netflix's She-Ra and the Princesses of Power), but it's rare to see it so deeply explored, especially in family-focused programming. The entire main cast of Avatar are adolescents, including the primary antagonists, and the majority of the series is spent watching these children grow in the shadow of a conflict that is almost too vast to comprehend. Along their journeys, they encounter plenty of adults, but nearly all of them - including would-be allies from friendly nations - are more likely to be hindrance than help. With the exception of the members of the secretive White Lotus society, the "adults in the room" either have their own agendas that could end in disaster, or else are directly opposed to the heroes accomplishing their mission (master all the elements, defeat the Fire Lord, end the way) in spite of its clearly and universally beneficial aim.
Avatar manages a huge amount of levity and humor for a story so preoccupied with what is essentially an entire generation of child soldiers (an angle it plays with during Season 1 in "The Kyoshi Warriors" and commits to with startling frankness in episodes like "Jet" and "Laogai"), but it never minces words in asserting that everyone's mom and dad done fucked up. This goes so far as to give each member of the core young cast a direct analogue among the adults who has decidedly not been up to the task of sorting this mess out, and the best they can do is to pass on their wisdom and/or skill to those that haven't yet been quite so beaten down by all *gestures broadly in 2020* this.
(Look, there's no way to avoid the These Uncertain Times factor, so let's just rip off the band-aid.)
The United States is at the point where the army is actively recruiting for duty in the cluster-cuss in the Middle East newly-minted adults who weren't even alive for the events of September 11, 2001, and I don't think I need to point out the "America is the Fire Nation" memes that have popped up recently to drive the point home. . . but I'm going to anyway. There's a reason a show about found family and friendship, of holding fast to ideals of peace and coexistence, of kids having to become old before their time, and of sour old men clawing at the ashes for power instead of trying to fix the world their fathers broke hits hard. A generation tasked with cleaning up the mess of its forbears is a classic for a reason, but it's not just because the work is bitter - it's also inherently hopeful.
Even if you can save the world, that doesn't mean you've completely fixed it (Avatar understands this so well that it's entire sequel series, The Legend of Korra, is explicitly about this), but that doesn't mean it's not absolutely worth saving. And just because you've passed the point in the story where you can take the sort of action you thought you were always meant to doesn't mean that you shouldn't absolutely brace the next generation so they can reach higher. Just because we aren't the ones who will conquer this particular mountain doesn't mean we can't build the road to the top. And dammit, we have to, because it's not like there's much of a safety net if we just let them fall.
The kids are not alright. But they could save us, if only we get the hell out of their way.
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