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At the behest of several readers who appear to believe they know my taste better than I know it, and also in an attempt to figure out just what the hell M. Night Shyamalan was thinking with his The Last Airbender, I watched the entire first season of Nickelodeon’s pseudo-anime series Avatar: The Last Airbender.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode unless you don’t care to have it spoiled for you.
Oh, America. Keep your little girls away from *Ramona and Beezus.* For your little girls might get ideas into their heads. You know, dangerous ideas about using their imaginations. And about not giving in to bullies or the pressure to be predictable and conventional. And about the value and fun of being their own funky, original selves.
Lo and behold and WTF, here’s adorkable Jay Baruchel getting molested by dancing mops as the literal replication of a 70-year-old cartoon forces its way into a movie where it clashes tonally, interrupts the plot, and just plain makes no sense.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode unless you don’t care to have it spoiled for you.
Better than *Toy Story 3.* Really.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode unless you don’t care to have it spoiled for you.
Shyamalan wanted to leave us shaking our heads and marveling at a terribleness that was not merely terrible, but a terribleness that leaves you astonished at just how very, very terrible it is.
It seemed like a good thing not to get one’s hopes up too much, because how long can Pixar’s streak of genius and spirit and wonder last? But this is a finale that brings the overarching story to its satisfying conclusion.
Made of spoilers. Don’t read until you’ve seen the episode unless you don’t care to have it spoiled for you.
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