My dad and I have this concept we like to call the “Otherverse.” It’s where horrendous sequels and unfaithful adaptations go to die.
I fear “Avatar: Seven Havens” has absolutely made it to the Otherverse.
“Avatar: Seven Havens” is the third series in the “Avatar the Last Airbender” (ATLA) world.
The original writers, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, are serving as co-creators and producers, yet the only similarity I can see so far is the fact that people can move around rocks and stuff.
The first three episodes dropped onto Paramount+ Oct. 9, leading to mixed feelings from fans.
My feelings are not mixed. They are very negative.
You see, in order to get to the Otherverse, you have to commit one of what I call the three deadly sins of film sequels.
“Avatar: Seven Havens” managed to commit them all in just three episodes.
Number One: You cannot forget who your audience is.
The original audience that grew up watching and loving the original Avatar series were kids. Needless to say, 18 years later, we’re not kids anymore.
We’ve just barely reached the point at which some of the original audience members are old enough to have kids, but even then it may be a couple of years before the new parents begin to show their kids the show.
So why then are we treating the audience of the new series like the 12-year-olds they used to be?
I’m not saying the series needs to be super adult in content with dark gritty themes. What I am saying is that at my grown age, I’m not busting a gut laughing at a 9-year-old gossiping with a rock. Sorry.
Avatar has previously worked best when it was growing up with us. We watched Aang when he was 12 and we were 12. Then later we watched Korra when she was 16 and we were 16.
In our 20s, we don’t need help learning how to grow up and overcome childhood insecurities.
We need help learning how to navigate life as adults.
Give me a show about an adult Avatar who has to let go of relationships or dreams in pursuit of his responsibilities.
An Avatar that has to walk the line between expectations and convictions.
That is the show that the ATLA audience wants.
Number Two: You cannot forget who you are.
From the moment I saw the trailer, this show didn’t look like Avatar at all. The world that writers have spent nearly two decades developing is gone. It is literally, canonically, ancient history.
What was once gorgeous lands imbued with varying rich cultures and histories is now a desert wasteland built upon the concept of hating that which fans love: the avatar.
Why, you might ask?
Because some earth-shattering cataclysmic incident occurred, erasing everything that every character we’ve ever loved worked relentlessly for. Oh, and it all happened off-screen.
Few things make me madder at sequels than when the main plot point depends upon saying “eh, never mind” to everything that has previously been set up.
It feels disrespectful not just to the audience, but to the world itself.
If you have to erase everything save for two or three details in order to tell the story you want to tell, then just make it its own separate show.
The last episode ends showing some ominous masked figures. The masks look much more like something from the original series.
I don’t know who they are, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m rooting for those guys.
Number Three: You cannot forget how to write well.
“I’m watching a Wattpad fan fiction,” I said to my roommate as I glared at the screen.
That’s fully what it felt like. Three whole episodes in and I still haven’t started caring about any of the characters. They’ve been put through peril, learned about themselves, fought with one another, and yet somehow, I don’t care at all.
My main problem is that it feels like a never-ending cycle of whining. One moment a character expresses their insecurities. Then, they do something semi-brave after receiving a small pep talk and suddenly they’re fine. This process repeats with different characters until we find our way back to the start of the cycle.
Last time I checked, rule one of writing any form of fiction is “show, don’t tell.”
In those three episodes I can’t remember how many times I heard trigger phrases such as “I’m not good enough,” “I’m nothing,” “I’m not ready” or “Family is the most important thing.”
I find myself wishing I could reach into the screen, grab them by the shoulders and shout, “Of course you’re not ready! You found out about this problem three minutes ago! But what are you gonna do about it? Sit there and cry!?”
We see this problem in sequels all the time.
Fans love big emotional climaxes, when characters ultimately cave in to confessing their struggles to their fellow companions. It’s cathartic. But it’s only cathartic because we’ve been watching that character harbor those feelings and try to handle it on their own for so long.
Sequels tend to try and reach those cathartic moments far too quickly because they think the buildup of the previous films or shows is enough. Nine times out of ten, it’s not.
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Ultimately, these three great sins are my own personal rules and I can admit I might be incredibly biased when comparing the two series. But if they’re put out by the same people, in the same world, they should be of the same caliber.
I hope I’m wrong and that a large portion of the ATLA fan base is loving this new look.
There is a part of me that is holding out hope that DiMartino and Konietzko know what they’re doing. I know they’re capable of it. We’ve seen it before.
For now, however, I think I’m going to keep “Avatar: Seven Havens” tucked neatly away in the Otherverse where it won’t make me want to throw my shoe at the TV.
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