The Legend of Korra S04E04 – Review

Of all the differences between Legend of Korra and Last Airbender, the most significant one that gets the most overlooked is probably the average age of the cast. We’re talking about characters who come in with more hang-ups and less optimism, who make fewer (but bigger) mistakes and consequently have fewer things to laugh about. Korra has learned to embrace these parts of itself, but the sunny, carefree adventures of Last Airbender will always be missed.

Jinora, Ikki, Meelo to a large extent represent the last vestige of those days (excepting Bolin’s infantile antics). Their occasional appearances have always been fun and enjoyable, but at odds with the older characters’ more businesslike attitudes. In Last Airbender, kids were the norm; they were protagonists and antagonists both and the adults served mostly as guides and obstacles. Here, Tenzin’s kids are too much at risk from the cruel likes of Amon or Zaheer, which is why only Jinora, the oldest, has had the privilege of fully participating in the story, a privilege Ikki and Meelo now share.

The concept of Tenzin’s kids searching for Korra on the back of a sky bison, accompanied by a winged lemur, poaches heavily from the Aang Gang, a fact Ikki overtly alludes to when she mentions how she and her siblings are the same ages as Aang when he traveled the world. There are slight differences in the dynamics, but the parallels are pretty clear: Meelo is the wisecracking cockiness of Sokka in the agile, round-faced body of Aang; Ikki posseses most of Aang’s sweetness; and Jinora is Katara with the levelheaded frustration perpetually on. Their dialogue can very well be recycled bits from the Last Airbender cutting floor:

“Jinora’s spirity powers are broken and she doesn’t know where Korra is,” Ikki informs Meelo.

“My powers are not broken,” says Jinora. “I just need more than two seconds—and some quiet.”

Meelo doesn’t miss a beat as he tells Jinora, “While you try to pull yourself together, Pokey and I are going to town and find out if anyone’s seen Korra.”

Interestingly, the spotlight mostly lands on Ikki, I suppose to make up for all the attention her siblings get. Unfortunately, her brief kidnapping by a couple of bored guards from Kuvira’s army doesn’t do much for her character and even less for the story, except to tell us that Zaofu is the last province remaining before the Kuvira steamroller. It’s a sweet but insignificant plot thread; it doesn’t make you more or less of an Ikki fan than before, whereas you can always stand a little more Meelo.*

But who are we kidding? In an episode that features Toph, no one stands much of a chance of stealing the spotlight. Even newbies can love her disgust for weakness (“Boy, you avatars sure need a lot of handholding.”), her less-than-nurturing instruction (“Close your eyes. Clear your mind. And don’t freak out like last time!”), and most of all, her absolute uselessness in the art of storytelling. On training Aang: “What’s there to tell? I threw some rocks at the Avatar, he got all whiny, and Sokka fell in a hole.” On the final battle with Fire Lord Ozai: “Oh, yeah. It was hot. I was on a blimp. And I think a giant turtle showed up. Wow—what a day.”**

Despite her eccentricities, Toph sees deeper and further than everyone else who’s tried to help Korra so far, and her insight is comprehensive to the point of taking any self-discovery away from her pupil. Her speech about letting go of past battles to focus on present ones is on the mark; her speculations on Korra’s past nemeses is a little iffy. Amon, Unalaq, and Zaheer didn’t really want equality, greater spirituality, or freedom, as she suggests; rather, these were vehicles for each of them to carry their desire for power, much like Kuvira hiding her tyranny behind a veil of populism.

– Minhquan Nguyen