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Let’s address the obvious question immediately: The Legend of Korra is not as good a show as Avatar: TLA, which, viewed holistically, is nearly perfect. However, Korra’s best moments reach even greater heights than those of its predecessor.* One reason for this is the differing formats of the shows. While Avatar: TLA’s three books explored a single plot, Korra’s four seasons followed as many storylines, each of which was crammed into 13 episodes. As a result, books one and two of Korra felt crowded and rushed, as each included so many good ideas but couldn't allocate enough time to explore them in depth. Only in the latter half of the series did Korra finally acclimate to its shorter, more self-contained format. Furthermore, the smaller scope of the stories in Korra meant that the narrative payoffs rarely reached the epic scope and intensity of Aang’s war with the Fire Nation. However, Korra’s “short story” format meant that the characters grew through a variety of situations rather than a single, overarching conflict. This highlights what was best about Korra: the incredible and dynamic characters. While Avatar: TLA includes phenomenal personalities (shoutouts to Toph, Iroh, and Sokka), most change very little over the course of the series. The only significant character development in the series is Zuko’s, as even Aang’s dilemma about Ozai’s punishment is a natural extension of his personality in the iceberg. Korra’s cast is also absolutely incredible, with Asami, Tenzin, Varrick (and Zhu Li), Lin, Jinora, and Korra herself topping a list of excellent and deep characters. Even more indicative of Korra’s incredible attention to its characters are its villains: Amon, Kuvira, and Tarrlok are all subtle, devious, and charismatic enemies, while Zaheer’s Order of the Red Lotus/Anti-Team Avatar includes adversaries who are easily the most interesting and badass antagonists in the Avatar universe.** Furthermore, the growth and development of Korra throughout the series is a triumph of character development, one that greatly outpaces any character-centric achievements of TLA. It’s unfortunate that the backdrop for these changes is never as compelling as the Hundred Year War, but the fact remains that The Legend of Korra’s greatest feats lie in the smaller, more introspective stories it tells.
* In contrast, its lowest points are lower.
** You might notice one glaring omission here. We’ll get to that.
The greatest moments in The Legend of Korra occur when the show delivers on its intention of mature stories in Avatar’s traditionally innocent and straightforward world. This is not to say that TLA didn’t own it’s darker moments or that Korra lacks lightness and humor, but Korra’s peaks are the segments in which subtlety, questionable morality, mature romance, and introspection take center stage. The characters of Korra attain their excellence because the aforementioned segments are the ones in which they are faced with their greatest trials, ordeals which provide a deeper understanding of and connection to those involved. The initial season of Korra immediately confronted an important issue in the show’s universe: the morality and identity of bending in a world of both benders and non-benders. Even though fans of the show most likely echo Korra’s bending sentiments (“Bending is awesome!”), exploring the perspectives of those who cannot bend provided a view of the Avatar world that TLA never touched, a view that made for some good television. The same storyline visited upon the twisted and dangerous influence of family ties, starting with Naotak (Amon), Tarrlok, and Yakone and leading to the difficult relationship Aang had with his own children. The scenes of Noatak and Tarrlok’s training, as well as their final farewell, were among the most striking in the show, both because of the terror of bloodbending and the heartrending familial manipulation, in itself a painful form of “bloodbending.” This season was also Korra’s first exposure to true enemies, enemies against whom she found herself nearly powerless (a theme that pervaded the show, almost to an excessive degree). Through this chilling realization and her struggles with her airbending training, Korra enters the crucible in which she spends the entire series, the crucible that breaks down the brash, violent, ego-centric young woman and forges a wise, compassionate, and humble Avatar (who still can and will kick your ass).
The Legend of Korra struggles most when it tries to ape concepts that were successful in the context of Avatar: The Last Airbender: innocent romance, world-ending stakes, and childish pursuits. These elements, which felt natural in the context of the Hundred Years War and the youthful flavor of Korra’s predecessor, are entirely out-of-place in Korra’s deeper, darker, and smaller world. As such, the complicated love-web-thing and pro-bending* were the worst parts of the first season, since they couldn’t compare to the intensity of Amon’s designs. Sadly, the studio-rushed second season of Korra misguidedly employed the aforementioned ideas, making it the worst of Korra’s four seasons. The plot of season two is haunted by lost potential. I’d hoped for an exploration of the spirit world, the development of peaceful relations between mortals and spirits, and the discovery of the consequences born of a new and strange life in the mortal realm. I optimistically predicted that Unalaq’s evil would be a misguided one that arose after he was led astray by spirits who sought death and destruction. Instead, Book Two was a story of good and evil, light and darkness, tyranny and freedom; a story that’s been done a million times including in Avatar: TLA, whose interpretation of the conflict was more nuanced anyways. Although Unalaq nearly falls into the “virtuous villain” category that is used perfectly in Korra’s other seasons, his "spiritual leader" cover swiftly devolves into the boring, predictable “use ancient evil to destroy the world” territory. An epic, “end of the world" storyline might work in a longer series, but since Korra needed to wrap up the conflict in thirteen episodes, the whole story ended up as trite and trope-filled. Additionally, Mako and Korra’s relationship was painful to watch, which could speak to a deeper message about the difficulty of idealized relationships, but was mostly awkward and unnecessary. Bolin’s rapport with Eska was far worse, a lackluster attempt at “dating” comedy that felt forced from moment one. The most disappointing part of season two was the loss of the Avatar’s past lives, something I considered to be a wonderful part of the world’s canon. This might have been acceptable within a more gripping, dangerous narrative, but it just added insult to injury when thrown into such an impotent season. Luckily, not all of season two was bad: Avatar Wan’s expository episode is the most beautiful and visually-innovative episode of either Korra or TLA, and Varrick and Zhu-Li were wonderful comedic relief that eventually became compelling characters in their own rights. The Legend of Korra’s second season was an incredible disappointment, but the subsequent seasons made an impressive return to the show’s strengths before further improving upon them.
* In fairness, pro-bending was cute, but overall a frivolous diversion.
The third season of The Legend of Korra further improves upon the first season’s dark and compelling themes by introducing more charismatic villains with ostensibly righteous ambitions and confronting the consequences of their ambiguous actions. Though season three’s opening was a bit unfocused (owing to the exploration of the Spirit Wilds, the rebirth of the Air Nomads, Korra’s struggles with Republic City’s President, and the escape of Zaheer), it eventually centered around the Air Nomads’ assembly and the quest to stop Zaheer’s band of anarchist benders. Once more, Korra’s enemies pursue noble intentions; in Zaheer’s case, the equality of all citizens in the Avatar world. Yet Zaheer’s approach of assassination and chaos pits him against the Avatar, as does his belief that the Avatar herself is the world’s foremost symbol of tyrannic oppression. His perspective is valid enough that even Korra is forced to consider the veracity of his beliefs, in spite of his brutal methods. Zaheer and his clan become even more interesting when comparing them to the original Team Avatar in TLA. Zaheer is our first airbending villain, with a mastery of the art that surpasses even Aang and Tenzin’s incredible powers, as well as a mission of "liberation" much like Aang’s own. His relationship with P’li is among the most realistic and endearing of the series, a (far more) adult interpretation of Aang and Katara’s own romance that provides a humanizing perspective of Book Three’s deadly villain in spite of his violent actions. Plus, Zaheer and his comrades all command unique and awesome bending talents, such as P’li’s combustion cannon, Ghazan’s lavabending, and Ming-Hua’s kraken-like water tentacles, which turn their fight scenes into incredible spectacles. In particular, the final showdown of season three is absolutely spectacular, illustrating the full power of both Zaheer’s terrifying airbending and Korra’s aggressive and deadly Avatar abilities. Finally, Zaheer’s near-success forced Korra to face her own vulnerabilities, the terror and pain of which yielded the crisis of self that makes Book Four such a triumphant conclusion. Together, these compelling narrative elements and entertaining powers make Zaheer the best villain in the Avatar universe. Finally, Book Three contains my favorite scene in all of Avatar: Jinora’s ceremony of airbending mastery. After her significant development in seasons two and three, watching Jinora, now an accomplished bender and spiritual medium, receive her tattoos and face the new airbending nation in the spitting image of her grandfather was genuinely emotional for me. Furthermore, Korra’s fear and dejection during this beautiful moment provided a haunting contrast that made the end of Korra’s third season the show’s best finale.
The Legend of Korra’s final season perfectly assembles all of the best parts of the show: a “virtuous” villain, conflicting ideals, character evolution, and incredible action. The show’s opening sets this tone marvelously with a look into the disparate lives of Korra’s friends, who spent the two years between seasons three and four growing outside of the influence of the Avatar/main character. This provides some much needed development for Mako and Bolin, who still ended up as the most shallow members of the main cast (mostly Mako), as well as for Asami, whose talents and intelligence continue to set her apart from her bender teammates (this will be important later). Yet it is Korra’s journey toward inner peace that is the true achievement of character development this season. After Zaheer nearly cripples Korra with his insidious poison, we learn that the real victim of the toxin is Korra’s confidence, her sense of self-worth, and her courage. For Korra, who spent her life defining herself through the role and power of the Avatar, these paralyzing emotions are the most challenging foes, foes that manifest in ways that are both thrilling and frightening to witness. Even so, the once impatient and combative Korra manages to confront and defeat the enemy within herself even as she battles adversaries without. Once again, Korra’s foe is one with the best of intentions; Kuvira sees herself as the savior of the Earth Kingdom, a divided nation of historically inept rulers. The good she does for her “Earth Empire” is palpable (which keeps Bolin on her side for half the series), but so are her despotic inclinations, illustrating the corrupting nature of that power. However, she is not a crazed and power-hungry dictator like Ozai, but a woman of principle and conviction who is plagued by loss and fear but determined to put such pains to rest. The beauty of the conclusion of Korra and Kuvira’s fight is how much they resemble one another, and how Korra’s own development through the season allows her to show Kuvira the errors of her ways. The bending battles that lead to Korra and Kuvira’s final confrontation are as incredible as ever, especially after the unveiling of Kuvira’s massive mechanical monstrosity and its apocalyptic spirit vine cannon.* On the other hand, as exceptional as the bending duels were, the final season’s most memorable moments are in the compelling relationships it develops. One of my biggest complaints about TLA was the saccharine and unconvincing romance between Aang and Katara, and the relationships in Korra improve upon its predecessor’s mediocrity in nearly every way.** By the end of Book Four, Varrick and Zhu-Li’s strange and parasitic bond becomes the touching (yet still completely bonkers) union of two equals, each of whom is strong and talented in their own ways. Even more impressively, Korra and Asami’s journey together in the show’s final moments is not only a spectacular conclusion for their nuanced romantic tension in Books Three and Four, but a heartening milestone for the representation of equal love in animation as a genre. The Legend of Korra, Book Four, provides all these messages and even more, including the dangers of science in the wrong hands, the inherent difficulties and imperfections of family, and the possible consequences of harming the environment. It’s an entertaining and engaging watch filled with compelling ideas and characters, a fitting end for a series ultimately worthy of the Avatar name.
*Shoutout to the sound designer who crafted that laser noise. Terrifying.
** Except for Bolin. Again, not the most developed character.
I will miss The Legend of Korra. There were times when I thought I didn’t want to watch the show any more, when I believed it failed its incredible lineage. However, I’m glad I made it to the end because the show that Korra became is a show that I want to see on television all the time. A show that is not simply about spectacle and one-liners, but powerful ideas and deep characters. A show with incredible production values paired with impressive writing. A show that espouses progressive messages which might just help make the world a little better. That is the show that The Legend of Korra is, in spite of its flaws. While I can’t imagine that I’ll be lucky enough to see the rise of another Avatar on TV, I am satisfied with both Aang and Korra’s stories, as they are both worthy of watching again and again.
You can read this long summary or a lot of another different things at the N3rd Dimension.
