Legend of Korra Episode 3 Review (1 of 2)
Apr. 23rd, 2012 02:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ljwritesWoo-hoo! Episode 3 of LoK was a blast!!
After a short break in Episode 2, the Equalist plot (both in the story sense and in-world sense) picks up with a vengeance. I was blown away by the expert pace of the writing, the action sequences, everything. I still find Korra's voice acting to be occasionally flat, though that could be the sound quality talking. I CAN'T GET IT ON THE TV MACHINE, OKAY? OKAY!
Despite the teeter-on-the-edge-of-the-chair speed of the story, however, character development was not stinted on. Far from it; the characters and relationships were painted in fully and richly, stroke after stroke, over the sketch of their initial introductions. As I expected, the more I got to know Mako the better I liked him, and the more I see of him and Korra together the better and better I like the idea of Makorra.
It's fascinating that you can look through Mako and Bolin's present-day interactions to their history on the streets of Republic City. Mako, as the elder, had to think constantly on his feet, to get himself and his little brother out of one tight spot after another. He had to be serious and skeptical, because there must have been all too many people willing to take advantage of two desperate orphan boys.
Bolin is the more psychologically complex character, believe it or not--his feelings toward Mako must be seriously mixed. Of course he's grateful and a bit awed of his smart, resourceful big brother, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's also a darker side of guilt that he is a burden, and a bit of resentment that Mako is calling the shots with very little input from Bolin. Because the leave-it-all-to-me-and-stay-safely-home approach goes down so well with teenage boys, eh? Or girls, for that matter. (Oh hey, Korra!)
Against this background it's not surprising that Mako would work like hell rather than let his brother take risks. Protectiveness, sacrifice, and risk aversion come naturally to him as his brother's keeper under less than ideal circumstances. It's also not surprising that Bolin would constantly bolt those restrictions, trying to take the burden off Mako even if it means taking risks. Maybe especially if it involves taking risks, to assert his independence to the man who has been his primary caretaker.
At the same time there could be a co-dependence dynamic, with Mako needing to know he can get his brother out of his crises and Bolin needing to assure himself Mako has his back, the risk-taking behavior tacitly encouraged by their mutual need to assert the familiar pattern of their relationship. You know what they say: the family that stays together, goes crazy together.
I expect Bolin's issues to be explored at a slower pace, as they are a bit more complex and tie into the story's larger theme of growth and independence. In the meantime Mako's immediate appeal as a character comes to the foreground, and I like what I see. The too-cool-for-you fire-ice-guy introduction didn't do much for me, but once a layer was peeled back I was immediately drawn to the fiercely dedicated big brother whose sense of responsibility is so strong he would go looking for his practically grownup brother after a long day at work. (And if the visit has an ulterior motive even he may not be aware of, who can blame the boy?)
Mako's interaction with the street urchin who sold him information was another humanizing moment. While there was a definite hard edge to the transaction, I also got the feeling that it was a way for Mako, who probably was that no-nonsense street kid not too long ago, to help the boy and his companions out without giving charity. The guy knows their lives and knows the streets. While it's not an easy place, there are also rules and limits that he successfully navigated to adulthood. And it's all too easy to envision what a hero Mako and Bolin must be to these street urchins. But even heroes gotta pay the right price for info.
Mako's quick-thinking street sense and Korra's kick butt first, ask questions never approach make a compelling contrast that is paradoxical to the usual associations of their native elements, and become a formidable combination in the face of adversity. Despite their complementary differences they are both individuals of high passion and a strong sense of responsibility, and these commonalities draw them to each other even before they realize it.
Then there's the squee factor of their cluelessness about romance, with Mako probably too busy surviving to avail himself of the many interested looks he must have drawn, and Korra growing up isolated and guarded in sort of the pipe dream of every father with a teenage daughter. (Though as at least one father can attest,
having your daughter guarded around the clock by a dedicated cult doesn't always guarantee her... *cough*... virtue.
) With the writing so much more tighter and faster than ATLA, the romance subplot is also unfolding at a rapid clip without feeling rushed. I'll just sit back and enjoy smooth sailing on the Good Ship Makorra, secure in the knowledge that crack shippers are unlikely to bring the serious wank. (Amorrans unite! Uh, Kofong-mongers, too?)
Of course there are no good characters without good conflict, and the Fire Ferrets' adversaries are worthy indeed. The Equalists' arena is bigger than any sports area, and their aims reach far beyond the pro bending championship. More thoughts on them and their highly intriguing leader after I get some sleep.
Next: Why I want to be an Equalist when I grow up.
After a short break in Episode 2, the Equalist plot (both in the story sense and in-world sense) picks up with a vengeance. I was blown away by the expert pace of the writing, the action sequences, everything. I still find Korra's voice acting to be occasionally flat, though that could be the sound quality talking. I CAN'T GET IT ON THE TV MACHINE, OKAY? OKAY!
Despite the teeter-on-the-edge-of-the-chair speed of the story, however, character development was not stinted on. Far from it; the characters and relationships were painted in fully and richly, stroke after stroke, over the sketch of their initial introductions. As I expected, the more I got to know Mako the better I liked him, and the more I see of him and Korra together the better and better I like the idea of Makorra.
It's fascinating that you can look through Mako and Bolin's present-day interactions to their history on the streets of Republic City. Mako, as the elder, had to think constantly on his feet, to get himself and his little brother out of one tight spot after another. He had to be serious and skeptical, because there must have been all too many people willing to take advantage of two desperate orphan boys.
Bolin is the more psychologically complex character, believe it or not--his feelings toward Mako must be seriously mixed. Of course he's grateful and a bit awed of his smart, resourceful big brother, but I wouldn't be surprised if there's also a darker side of guilt that he is a burden, and a bit of resentment that Mako is calling the shots with very little input from Bolin. Because the leave-it-all-to-me-and-stay-safely-home approach goes down so well with teenage boys, eh? Or girls, for that matter. (Oh hey, Korra!)
Against this background it's not surprising that Mako would work like hell rather than let his brother take risks. Protectiveness, sacrifice, and risk aversion come naturally to him as his brother's keeper under less than ideal circumstances. It's also not surprising that Bolin would constantly bolt those restrictions, trying to take the burden off Mako even if it means taking risks. Maybe especially if it involves taking risks, to assert his independence to the man who has been his primary caretaker.
At the same time there could be a co-dependence dynamic, with Mako needing to know he can get his brother out of his crises and Bolin needing to assure himself Mako has his back, the risk-taking behavior tacitly encouraged by their mutual need to assert the familiar pattern of their relationship. You know what they say: the family that stays together, goes crazy together.
I expect Bolin's issues to be explored at a slower pace, as they are a bit more complex and tie into the story's larger theme of growth and independence. In the meantime Mako's immediate appeal as a character comes to the foreground, and I like what I see. The too-cool-for-you fire-ice-guy introduction didn't do much for me, but once a layer was peeled back I was immediately drawn to the fiercely dedicated big brother whose sense of responsibility is so strong he would go looking for his practically grownup brother after a long day at work. (And if the visit has an ulterior motive even he may not be aware of, who can blame the boy?)
Mako's interaction with the street urchin who sold him information was another humanizing moment. While there was a definite hard edge to the transaction, I also got the feeling that it was a way for Mako, who probably was that no-nonsense street kid not too long ago, to help the boy and his companions out without giving charity. The guy knows their lives and knows the streets. While it's not an easy place, there are also rules and limits that he successfully navigated to adulthood. And it's all too easy to envision what a hero Mako and Bolin must be to these street urchins. But even heroes gotta pay the right price for info.
Mako's quick-thinking street sense and Korra's kick butt first, ask questions never approach make a compelling contrast that is paradoxical to the usual associations of their native elements, and become a formidable combination in the face of adversity. Despite their complementary differences they are both individuals of high passion and a strong sense of responsibility, and these commonalities draw them to each other even before they realize it.
Then there's the squee factor of their cluelessness about romance, with Mako probably too busy surviving to avail himself of the many interested looks he must have drawn, and Korra growing up isolated and guarded in sort of the pipe dream of every father with a teenage daughter. (Though as at least one father can attest,
having your daughter guarded around the clock by a dedicated cult doesn't always guarantee her... *cough*... virtue.
) With the writing so much more tighter and faster than ATLA, the romance subplot is also unfolding at a rapid clip without feeling rushed. I'll just sit back and enjoy smooth sailing on the Good Ship Makorra, secure in the knowledge that crack shippers are unlikely to bring the serious wank. (Amorrans unite! Uh, Kofong-mongers, too?)
Of course there are no good characters without good conflict, and the Fire Ferrets' adversaries are worthy indeed. The Equalists' arena is bigger than any sports area, and their aims reach far beyond the pro bending championship. More thoughts on them and their highly intriguing leader after I get some sleep.
Next: Why I want to be an Equalist when I grow up.
