By now, it should be clear that characteristics unique to ATLA (positive representation, an ageless target market and rewatchability, and its approach to partnering with overseas animation studios) were methods that influenced the show’s immense success. One may therefore allude that an adaptation of the original show might garner widespread acceptance as well. However, the actual outcome of such efforts turned out to receive quite the opposite response in terms of audience reception. To understand why this was the case, Parody’s article, “Franchising/Adaptation,” which defines adaptations and researches their role within the media landscape, will provide a basis of the methods, purposes, and motivation to create franchises to analyze and explain potential reasons for TLA’s unsuccessful reception. 

           In her article, Parody cites Lance Parkin in their emphasis on the importance of a franchise valuing “the set… of ‘core concepts’ (13) or ‘conditions’(18) [from the original work] that consumers recognize and accept,” such as “tenets of character behaviour… narrative rules or formulae… laws of worldbuilding, visual, verbal, or aural motifs; or less easily definable qualities of tone or style” (Parkin qtd. in Parody 215). To this, TLA poses itself as an example which disobeys the majority of these guidelines, and has become a widely rejected piece of the franchise as a result. One way TLA fails to adhere to core concepts of ATLA is through casting. As previously mentioned, a major reason why ATLA was so beloved as a show was due its pioneering of Asian and Indigenous representation; however, TLA’s whitewashing of the lead cast (including Katara, Sokka, and the Avatar himself) eradicates this crucial aspect of the show. Even on a narrative level, the film’s use of white lead actors while using IBPOC extras to portray their fellow tribe members is illogical, although Aditya further discusses this issue present in TLA. In their article “Decoding the Politics of Hollywood Whitewashing through M. Night Shyamalan’s the Last Airbender,” they address this issue as orientalism. Through this lens, they explain that TLA’s casting of Dev Patel – a British-Indian actor – as the Fire Nation antagonist against the three white leads who star as the protagonist group clearly portrays “‘white’ and ‘color’ as binary opposites, [and] also links [them] with the concepts of Good and Evil” (5). Aditya also notes how the whitewashing of the Avatar in TLA has created a white savior narrative; therefore, the film perpetuates racism where the original animation championed diversity, disregarding this core concept of its preceding work (7). 

           Furthermore, there are unfortunately a plethora of other core concepts from the original ATLA that are overwritten in the live-action adaptation. As previously mentioned, Parody cites “narrative rules or formulae” as a core concept, and for ATLA, a key aspect that ties to this notion are the established logics regarding the bending of elements. For example, in TLA, firebenders are only able to manipulate fire from an existing source, making Uncle Iroh’s creation of fire from his own energy in the spirit oasis scene a notable peak in the film’s narrative (The Last Airbender 1:20:30). However, fans of the original show will know that this ability is far from the shockingly impressive moment it aims to be in the film, as all firebenders in ATLA have the innate ability to create fire themselves, rendering their reliance on an existent source in the film to be inaccurate, and furthermore downplays the perceived strength of firebending. To comment on Parody’s mention of “aural motifs,” TLA also goes against such aspects in ATLA in the way they change various pronunciations in the film, including those of Aang, Iroh, and Sokka’s names, as well as terms specific to this narrative universe, including Agni Kai (the name of a traditional firebender duel) and the word Avatar itself (Parody 215).³ Finally, the “easily definable [quality] of tone or style” of humour from ATLA is almost entirely eradicated from the film. Notable approaches to comedic erasure in the film include the elimination of humor in the portrayal of Sokka, a character routinely used for comedic relief in the animation, as well as the general shift in genre from more adventure-leaning to action/drama-focused through the use of darker cinematography and a more serious approach of the narrative’s war-related/colonial themes. 

           Despite a partial explanation for TLA’s failure being that it fell short of adhering to narrative logics established within ATLA, there are various additional reasons, from a production perspective, as to why this may have occurred. One possible reason was the lack of collaboration with the original creators and Shyamalan; despite being credited as executive producers in TLA’s credits, the ATLA creators allegedly had little to no involvement with the film at all. Referring back to the Nerdist podcast, DiMartino and Nietzko explicitly state that they originally “did not want [the film] to be done at all” and that “if it was going to be done, [they] wanted to do it,” but that folks from the studios who held more prominent positions of power in production decision-making refused (“Nerdist Writers Panel”).⁴ The creators mentioned how they eventually came to terms with the fact that Shyamalan would be attached to the adaptation, and would provide help when requested. Despite this assistance being initially welcomed, “a big falling out” later on severed the desire for DiMatrino and Nietzko’s involvement in the feature film adaptation (“Nerdist Writers Panel” 1:03:25-48). Parody’s comment thus provides a suitable explanation for this phenomenon: “Where franchise production is diasporic and development un-coordinated, canonicity, continuity, and authority become problematic concepts…[resulting in] an ‘array’ of versions[…] rather than a master narrative and stable textual corpus” (Parody 215, Collins qtd. in Parody 215). The lack of faithfulness to the original canon was a major point of contention which resulted in its mass rejection from established fanbases – a failure which reflected poorly on production choices, as outlined in Parody’s framework. Moreover, the sole writing credit attributed to Shyamalan underscores the missed opportunity to involve the original creators in the production, which likely would have better preserved the narrative logics of the original text. 

           Additionally, the presumed financial motivations for franchise formation that may have led TLA’s approach to focus on profit accumulation over artistic motivations should be thoroughly considered as affecting the quality of this adaptation. Parody’s article also discusses the financial prospects of franchises, stating that this method in media industries is “an effective way of getting maximum use out of a fictional creation, and where the source text is successful and established enough, a useful strategy for ensuring a consumer base will follow a franchise as it moves across platforms” (211). Here, Parody emphasizes that franchises do not only allow for the growing of fictional worlds of storytelling but furthermore poses them as safer ventures business-wise. TLA grossed $319 million worldwide, which is over double its budget of $150 million (Box Office Mojo); unfortunately, it is unclear whether the film was able to make a profit or how much it would have been in comparison to its budget if they did. However, due to Parody’s previously mentioned comment on financial motivations – which is a sentiment she further presses in explicitly in stating that “‘franchising’ inscribes adaptive media as territories to be colonized in the name of profit and brand presence” – financial gain was likely a partial motivation for the film’s creation given the established success of ATLA (216). Since this motivator was not present for the show as it was an original work that was distributed without such a financial safetynet, this clear distinction between the presumed economic prospects of both works should be aptly accounted for.