Oh my korra
We’ve all been extremely vocal for quite some time about the way Asami, Mako, Bolin, and others have been handled throughout the seasons. However, one character who has been consistently handled nearly flawlessly has been Korra herself. Below I’ll map out and describe the processes involved in molding her, but here are three words (in order) to summarize it: event, choice, consequences.
“The narrator cannot escape the consequences of the story he is telling.” – Anton Chekov
"With The Legend of Korra capping off its latest season last week, I think it’s safe to say that Book Three was, in my opinion, the show’s best season yet, delivering consistently great stories and developing its characters over the course of an expansive adventure. Book Three was also the best season for Korra, and featured some of her most Avatar-like moments: counseling others, making group decisions, and considering consequences before acting on impulse. At this point, I think the young Avatar has truly earned her ‘legendary’ title."-
Max Nicholson, IGN writer
See his entire review of Book Three, which he awarded a 9.2 out of 10.
No, but like, look at how different her style is from Lin’s.
Even when she’s doing acrobatics and leaping over explosions and flying rocks, Lin is rigid and controlled. She moves like a martial artist.
Suyin moves like the dancer she is. She’s fluid, she doesn’t dig in too hard, she flows from dodge to attack to dodge.
Lin is powerful and rigid, Su is graceful and loose. Their styles fit their personalities.
Yet another example of how I fucking love the way bending relates to the character using it in this series.
THE UNCERTAINTY OF CHANGE: A CLOSER LOOK AT THE ‘LEGEND OF KORRA’ BOOK 3 FINALE
By Juliet Kahn
I re-watched “Sozin’s Comet” last night, in the wake of The Legend of Korra’s third season finale. It was still wonderful, still grand and gorgeous and heavy with emotion. But it felt different this time. It felt…funnier.
And really, it is. Avatar: The Last Airbender‘s four-episode finale starts with a beach party. Sokka cracks jokes as he scrambles across a crumbling airship. The last spoken line is a blind joke. It is clear to me, in a way that it wasn’t when I first watched it, that these characters are young teens. Young teens dealing with genocidal dictatorships, Orwellian city-states and the general mayhem of war, absolutely, but their age lends the whole affair a constant, underlying levity. The adults that exist are kept at arm’s length from the action—present, but unmistakably marked as “grown-ups,” and thus distant. Youth, and all its connotations of hope and humor, are the engine of the show.
Legend of Korra, in contrast, is downright grim. The central team all falls between 17 and 20 years old, and 50-somethings like Lin and Tenzin are as present in the story as they are. Their relationships feel less timid, less blushy. Characters like Mako have solid careers and murky pasts involving gang membership. Azula was a terrifying and tragic villain, but baddies like Zaheer (and Amon, and Unalaq) wield philosophical weight alongside their grinning evil.