He can part water, command fire and wind, and move mountains. He’s not a super-Christian—he’s Avatar Aang, master of the 4 elements and protagonist of the Netflix’s live-action version of Avatar: The Last Airbender (ATLA), which began streaming Thursday.
Watching a live-action remake of a beloved animation is fraught with trepidation. In a poor adaptation, humor is either awkwardly forced or axed completely; costumes and casting selections can tackle a cosplay veneer; and condensed, mashed, or added storylines suggest a fan-inspired medley placed on by a highschool drama club. The recent ATLA, while a marked improvement from the 2010 travesty, sadly slips into these foibles as a rule.
I hate to render that verdict, because I wanted so badly to like this show. And that longing is an element of a greater desire to see imagined worlds within the “real world”—to be, as C.S. Lewis famously wrote, “united with the wonder we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to wash in it, to turn out to be a part of it,” to “get in.” Merely a rendering of gorgeous stories, the mythologies with which “we’ve peopled air and earth and water with gods and goddesses and nymphs and elves”—or, on this case, benders and Avatars—isn’t enough.
As Lewis recognized, at its heart, this longing is rooted in Scripture (Rev. 22:1–5). And it’s why, even with repeated disappointments (I’m you, Dragonball Z, Beauty and the Beast, and Ginny Weasley), I’ll still watch live-action adaptations each time.
I first followed the story of Aang and his friends nearly twenty years ago, when Avatar first aired as an animated series on Nickelodeon. At the time, I had never seen anything prefer it: a fantasy world clearly made in America but shaped by Asian (and Native) cultures, mirroring my very own experiences as a Korean American. The first-rate writing tackled complex themes with hilarity and depth, and characters like Zuko became a few of my all-time favorites.
When all three seasons released on Netflix in 2020, ATLA experienced something of a revival, claiming the title of the most-viewed show on the streaming platform. Critical acclaim deemed it close “in spirit and complexity to The Lord of the Rings trilogy,” “each a comfort watch and a way of catharsis.” Rotten Tomatoes rated it one hundred pc fresh. I knew ATLA had made it as a cultural fixture once I got here across a big, climbable replica of Appa the sky bison at a shopping center in New Jersey.
This new edition largely follows season 1 of the unique. In a world where some people can “bend,” or telekinetically control, either water, earth, fire, or air, 12-year-old airbender Aang (Gordon Cormier) is the Avatar, the just one who can bend all 4 elements and who’s subsequently accountable for keeping the peace between the 4 other groups (or “nations”) of benders. But just when he is required most, because the famous intro scene recounts, Aang vanishes, preserved in ice.
A century later, he resurfaces to a world dominated by the Fire Nation, who’ve completely worn out the Air Nation and are at war with the Earth and Water Nations. Along with waterbender Katara (Kiawentiio Tarbell) and her brother, Sokka (Ian Ousley), Aang embarks on a journey to stop the Fire Nation and its ruler, Fire Lord Ozai (Daniel Dae Kim), and to revive harmony.
This retelling is marred by hit-or-miss CGI, a number of questionable casting selections, amateur acting moments, and a few poor writing. Yet despite these shortcomings, it gets some things right. Aiming for an older audience, the episodes lean into difficult concepts which can be handled more obliquely within the animated version. The production team’s careful attention to cultural accuracy—from large-scale renderings just like the Southern Air Temple and the town of Omashu to the smallest details of tea sets, funeral scenes, and on-screen signage—is commendable. And the episode with Koh (George Takei) within the spirit realm succeeded in being truly frightening, a minimum of for my kids.
Those successful elements bring to life a contemporary myth that, like all compelling stories, resonates with reality. Of course, Lewis’s reflection on our love of such myths comes with a caveat: As Christians, we must engage culture with discernment, even once we’re watching “protected” shows made with kids in mind.
Because of its Asian influences, ATLA is something of a Buddhist fantasy, which is clear in story elements from reincarnations and enlightenment of the Avatar to the air temple monks and an overall theme of balance within the universe. But, just as Lewis wrote of Western, pagan-inspired mythologies, Eastern stories can fund thoughtful Christian reflection or appreciation.
In Avatar, an obvious point of reflection is Aang’s possession of powers over the weather that appear in Scripture as miraculous demonstrations of God’s presence or authority. We’re told that once we follow Jesus, a spring of living water will well up from our souls (John 4:14). With faith as small as a mustard seed, we will tell a mountain to maneuver (Matt. 17:20). God’s Spirit stirs through us like wind and breath, unloosing our tongues and bringing dead bones to life, nevertheless metaphorically (Acts 2:2, Ezek. 37:9). We are little children of a God who’s the all-consuming fire—and to know him is to have a hearth shut up in our bones (Heb. 12:29, Jer. 20:9).
When we read Scripture passages like these, it isn’t enough for us to understand them at a literary or mental level, and even to see them alive in our imaginations. We are made to live the fact that Scripture speaks of, to experience life in Christ for ourselves. Faith, in the long run, at all times seeks the live-action version.
It’s fitting that this latest adaptation of ATLA was released during Lent. Like that of the Avatar’s 4 nations, our time is marked by division, war, and power-hungry rulers. It’s here within the darkness of the Lenten season, each literally and figuratively, that we will most anticipate Holy Week—Maundy Thursday and that first Communion—wherein this Lewisian desire to “get in” is most beautifully embodied.
At that Last Supper, Jesus says yes to our longing. He invites his disciples to not only watch him from the sidelines but to turn out to be one with him—to take, eat, and drink of his very self, to know him because the promised Savior, to be united with him completely in his life, death, and resurrection (Matt. 26:26–28, John 17:23). Here I’m, he says: the actual pillar of fireside and cloud, the breath of life, the cornerstone, the fountain of life. Follow me.
That invitation still stands. Jesus, the true master of the weather—each earthly and sacramental—fulfills the biblical prophecies and narratives and embodies them once and for all, enfolding us into his story: the last word reality. Thank God it’s unimaginably higher than the brand new Avatar.
Sara Kyoungah White is a duplicate editor at Christianity Today.
