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O'Grady Film

@ogradyfilm

Born cinephile, wannabe cineaste. Join me as I dissect the art of storytelling in films, comics, TV shows, and video games. May contain spoilers.
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In “Out of the Past,” the ninth episode of Nickelodeon’s The Legend of Korra, supporting character/love interest Mako single-mindedly dedicates himself to rescuing Korra from the clutches of big bad Amon. He personally witnessed Amon’s terrible power back in Episode 3 (“The Revelation”);…

It probably has to do with the lack of emotion showing guilt or remorse in Mako’s face for the actions he’s undertaking that are hurting two women who are already sympathetic/empathetic to us and the fact that he’s quick to get upset at other people when they expose his own wrongdoing. With Tahno we can see Amon has broken him and he has earned a level in kindness. There is the promise of redemption for him but with Mako we can’t be so sure because he just seems to be oblivious to his mistakes or doesn’t give a flying fudge about how he is hurting people. If we could actually see him wrestle with what he’s doing the way Zuko did, we could make more of a connection with him. And yes, his wrongful actions do lack the corresponding punishment for them which leads us to become frustrated and fear they will not be punished at all. It makes us disgusted and yes, that is how real life is sometimes but in such scenarios, we regard that person who gets away with hurting others as a jerk and rightly so. We don’t excuse them for the behavior. We rage at the heavens for not making them suffer some sort of consequence for their actions. 

This oversimplifies the situation. This isn't a Last Airbender conflict that can be resolved by the end of the episode with heartfelt talk and a group hug. We're dealing with powerful, volatile emotions. We can't reduce them down to right/wrong. 

Tahno "earns" nothing from his brush with Amon. Perhaps his experience has humbled him. Good. He has a long way to go before he's redeemed himself. 

When you say Mako "gets upset" when confronted with his wrongdoing, I assume you refer to the kitchen conversation in Episode 10 (since Asami never makes her concerns known to him in "Out of the Past"). But let's look at the scene from Mako's perspective. He's just walked out of a super-secret, double classified meeting with Tenzin, in which it was determined that Republic City faces imminent attack by Amon and the Equalists. He has a lot on his mind; his immediate concerns are bigger than his relationship with Asami, and he says as much. 

Later, as they rush to rescue Tenzin from the Chi Blockers, Asami informs Mako that she doesn't feel like sitting next to him right now, and maybe he'd like to spend some time with his real girlfriend in the back seat. As the city burns around her

Is her anger "wrong?" No. He hid something from her. That doesn't make her right: she makes it clear she's more interested in blaming him than working it out, and conspicuously never talks to Korra to get her side of the story. 

Asami is not perfect. 

Mako is not perfect.

Korra is not perfect.

Bolin is perfect, and that's why he never gets to do anything.

(That was a joke.)

And that's okay, because I understand that I am not perfect. I am capable of making these same mistakes. I have made these same mistakes. 

Empathy. 

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Cinemagic: Adventure Time - "What Was Missing"

For this week’s “Cinemagic,” I’m bending my own rules a bit. Instead of examining a film, I’m going to talk about a cartoon. No, not a feature-length animated movie; this is “What Was Missing,” an eleven-minute episode of Cartoon Network’s Adventure Time, otherwise known as The Greatest All-Ages Television Series of All Time.

I decided to spotlight “What Was Missing” for a couple of reasons. First, the Season Three finale just aired, and I wanted to celebrate. More importantly, the episode’s musical theme makes it a logical follow-up to the previous installment of “Cinemagic.” Like Fish Story, “What Was Missing” demonstrates how a song can bring people closer together—though Rebecca Sugar, Adam Muto, et al. approach this idea from a slightly different angle.

The premise is rather straightforward: a mischievous Door Lord steals a possession from each major cast member (Finn, Jake, Princess Bubblegum, Marceline the Vampire Queen, and Beemo) before ducking into a magically-sealed room. Scrawled above the threshold is a challenge: “This door shall yield to no command save for a song from a genuine band.”

So there’s the conflict: if they want to reclaim their stuff, they’ll have to compose a song rockin’ enough to shatter the enchanted barrier. Marceline makes the first attempt—and here, the story’s true brilliance begins to emerge. As she sings about “burying [Bubblegum] in the ground” and “drinking the red from [her] pretty pink face,” she acknowledges the unspoken tension between the princess and herself, and inadvertently reveals some heavy emotional baggage:

I’m sorry that I exist / I forget what landed me on your blacklist, / But I shouldn’t have to be the one that makes up with you, so / Why do I want to?

The door responds to Marceline’s passionate lyrics, but she quickly backpedals, causing the locks to clamp firmly shut.

Repression and miscommunication become the driving forces behind the conflict. Marceline butts heads with Bubblegum over some perceived transgression. Finn is embarrassed to admit that the Door Lord stole his prized lock (or wad, I suppose) of Bubblegum’s hair. Even Jake’s goofy “band jerk” subplot ties into this theme.

When bottled-up bitterness and resentment push the band to the breaking point, Finn admits that, despite the circumstances, he treasures this time they’ve spent together. As his sincerity weakens the magical seal, the solution dawns on him: “That’s what was missing: the truth!”

He proceeds to pour all of his pent-up emotions—including his feelings for Bubblegum—into “My Best Friends in the World,” a “song that feels so real it makes [the] magic door break.” It also dissolves the barriers of dishonesty that have impeded the adventurers all along. The music empowers Finn to express himself, convinces Jake to stop pretending to be something he’s not, and even (indirectly) inspires Marceline and Bubblegum to reconcile (sort of). The power of art strengthens the bonds of friendship. This, they realize, was the Door Lord’s objective all along.

Of course, they still beat the crap out of the jerk for taking their junk. Thank God; that pinch of self-awareness is what makes Adventure Time so special. 

[Thank God for the Adventure Time Wiki, too.]

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