Chaos + logic = net

I learned to ignore M. Night Shyamalan's various antics a long time ago; I adopted a "live and let live" attitude like one would assign to a insane dictator in a third world country. Occasionally one might hear about how the crazy dictator killed half his populace in boiling cow dung and be like "Oh man, that sounds horrible. Glad that wasn't me!" But then one morning you awake to find the crazy dictator from another country has taken a giant reeking shit on your couch. Avatar: The Last Airbender is that giant reeking shit. And really, the only recourse one has when something like this happens is jump on your webzone and post a scathing blog post about it. So here goes!

I do not understand why Hollywood always does this. They take a popular story that is known for its personable characters and colorful backstory and basically remove all the parts that made it good. (Well, I sort of understand. Does the phrase 'lowest common denominator' mean anything to you?) I realize part of this is due to writers having to take an eight-hundred page book or 23-episode TV show and shrink it it into a movie that people can watch without their bladders exploding. That said, some of the biggest grossing movies in human history have been extremely long. Does Titanic ring a bell? The Last Airbender movie had a lot of ground to cover for its first movie and really could have used an extra hour to do it in. Extra time to actually introduce the characters and let them grow. Time to let the audience understand who the characters are and what they represent instead of watching fancily dressed automatons moving at a breakneck speed through the plot with no real reason for the audience to give a shit.

So, now that you have the required time to tell most of the story as it has already been told, DON'T FUCK WITH IT. Think about it- assuming you're making a movie based on a really popular story (such as this), you were just handed a manuscript approved by the biggest focus group you're ever going to have- nearly your entire fan base! You want to make money? All you have to do is retell the goddamn story- the hard part is already done! No need to worry about if people are going to like such-and-such a character (they already do!), or if they can identify themselves with the hero (they already have!). Just film the damn movie as is and rake in the big bucks.

Instead of filming a sure-fire hit with an already large fan base, M. Night Shyamalan's idea was to totally butcher the film and alienate the fan base. Lets change the story so it makes less sense! ("The fire nation doesn't want to live under the rule of the spirits. That's why they're so afraid of the Avatar." WHY? What does that have to do with anything!?) After that, lets take all the personality from the original characters and replace it with crap actors who can't even pronounce their own names right and seem to be reading from a teleprompter. ("The fire nation is here. With their machines.") I could sit here and rant all day about all the stupid shit in this movie, but why bother? My only hope for writing all this is that some movie executive responsible for this atrocity happens upon my rant and while reading it, an anvil falls on his head which causes him to forget everything about making movies and assumes what he's currently reading is the holy bible of his profession.

So, all that being said, fuck you M. Night Shyamalan. Fuck the people at Nickelodeon that hired you, fuck the people who were supposed to quality control this shit, and fuck the actors that obviously never watched a single episode. Fuck the 'Best Key Grip Boy' for not suddenly screaming "This movie is shit!" and running out of the building. My apologies to the key grip boy if that actually happened.

In closing, if you've never watched Avatar: The Last Airbender, do not see this movie. Go watch the cartoon. If you have seen the cartoon, forget this movie ever existed and re-watch the cartoon again instead.

Twenty-five solid minutes of previews.

Super Dad: zzz
Super Dad: Oops, looks like I feel asleep while holding a picture of my hot, underage daughter who now lives with my ex-wife and her super-rich new dad. I do not find this creepy. Oh well, time to go buy some super expensive karaoke machine from some guy with a towel on his head and a gross beard so I can give it to her as a birthday present today. I have already memorized the manual in preparation for this.
Towel Beard: Here is your stupid karaoke machine. I hope for the sake of your ego that your daughter's new rich dad doesn't totally upstage you by getting her something like a horse.
Super Dad: I will now use my Super Dad powers to wrap this karaoke box with the best wrapping job in the history of man. This basically just involves me fiercely staring at the wrapping paper and forcing it to bend to my will.

Super Dad: I am now at a birthday party so huge that they had to split it into two separate parties; one for kids and other fun people and one for washed-up dads.
Super Bitch: Oh hay Super Dad, I hate you but thanks for coming to your kid's birthday party. You can put your gift over in this pile so I can hopefully throw it away or something equally evil.
Daughter: *SQUEEEEE*
Daughter launches from a catapult or something and lands on Super Dad but he is too bad ass to fall over.
Super Dad: Here is your crappy gift. I spent a lot of money on this so please don't throw it on the ground when your new rich dad brings out your horse.
Horse: Haha, pwned.
Daughter: **SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE**
Karaoke Machine: I'll just sit here forgotten if that's fine with you guys. OK? Cool.

Super Dad: Now I am at a concert guarding some stupid hanna-montana wannabie with all my ex-military friends.
Fans: RAAARRRRRRRR
Super Dad: Oh noes, lets run to the car.
Guy with a knife: I'ma gonna stab yooouuuuuuu.
Super Dad: Haha, I will knock you out with my patented Vulcan-Nerve Punch that I will use throughout the whole movie. I can easily knock out any bad guy with this technique.
Guy with a knife: Oh that is total bullshi- *hurk*
Singer: Hey, I was totally rude to you before but now that you've saved my life let me know if I can ever repay you, by say teaching your daughter how to sing thus finally allowing you to show up her rich new dad.
Super Dad: She totally wants me.

A bunch of stupid shit happens.

Super Dad: Goddamn kid o'mine. She was supposed to call me as soon as she got to Paris. She better not have gotten kidnapped by Albanians again. I better call her myself.
Daughter: Oh good timing Dad, some Albanians just broke into our apartment and are kidnapping us. Here, I'll put him on the phone.
Albanian: **Makes heavy-breathing sexy noises into the phone**
Super Dad: I'm going to fly right over there and kill everybody in Paris right fucking now.
Albanian: OK.

Super Dad flies to Paris. Nobody has died yet.

Super Dad: I guess I'll go to the apartment they were staying and do some CSI shit. Like these strands of hair I just found stuck in a busted mirror... this is the kind of stuff those CSI peoples would put into a bag. I guess I better do the same and then never look at it again because it's way more fun to beat up pimps instead. Also I am psychic now I guess and have the power to see what the audience saw 20 minutes ago in this room but with lots of photoshop blur filters.
Super Dad: Welp, time for somebody to die... I think I'll go to the airport and kill the first Albanian I see.

He does.

Super Dad: That felt good. Oh man, how could I forget to visit my old french friend Mr. Obviously Crooked Cop?
Crooked Cop: Because I am such a good friend, here is a plane ticket out of Paris. Please take it so the movie can end.
Super Dad: Ha Ha, no. I haven't beat up any pimps yet. Besides, I still have to shoot your wife for no reason later.
Crooked Cop: Oh damn he outsmarted us with his elaborate use of cell phones and walkie-talkies. Isn't that like, the oldest trick in the book? How the hell did we even fall for that?
Super Dad: Haha, nubs. OK, time to go beat up some pimps at a construction yard.

A bunch of construction workers and/or pimps die to Vulcan Nerve Punches and/or bulldozers.

Super Dad: That was fun. Now it's time to pretend I'm a cop (wtf) and talk my way into Albanian central.
Albanians: Oh man is it time to pay our Crooked Cop extortion fee again?
Super Dad: Yup. Oh hay, you were the dude on the phone. You just sit there so I can Vulcan Nerve Punch all your friends and body guards and hook you up to a light bulb later.
Albanian: Ouch, I forgot Europe used 220 volts. *Dies*
Super Dad: Sweet, I told him I would kill him and I did. Goddamn I'm awesome- oh yeah rescue the daughter.

A whole bunch of shit happens

Super Dad: Now I can fun as fast as a suped-up Audi Placement. But I can't outrun a slow cruise ship for some reason so I'm going to steal this car and race it to the bridge. Oh man, I bet that ship is going to have so many people to kill on it.
Jabba the Hutt: Blaarrrrggggurrrrp. Hoes, come!
Mini-Boss: Hey, you guys go get the hoes for Jabba; I need to go have a shaky-cam fight scene with the protagonist.
Super Dad: Man, I can't believe I've killed all these dudes and not a single one has managed to shoot me ye-OUCH I just got shot in the arm. That is obviously the mini-boss. I may have to Vulcan Nerve Punch him two, maybe three times.
Mini-Boss: *hurk*
Jubba the Hutt: mumumu- *hurk*
Daughter: Oh sweet, I am saved.