i think about their relationship so often.
the chiastic parallels between kanna risking her life to travel to the other side of the world during a war, only for katara to make the same perilous yet inverse journey north two generations later. how the shot with kanna looking on with tears in her eyes as hama is taken by the fire nation, the ship's hull closing as she looks out at her decimated tribe, her best friend with tears in her eyes, is a beat for beat exact callback to katara looking on at aang, the only difference being that aang attempts to smile hopefully for katara before his face, too, ultimately clouds over with despair. the fact that kanna is constantly nagging katara to do her chores, to stop messing around, to follow the rules, to stay put, to listen to her brother. she knows katara, knows her intimately, because she once was her. that brave, daring, hopeful, adventurous girl who wanted nothing more than to escape the confines of her of her monotonous existence, who wanted to travel and find freedom and hope elsewhere.
but katara is now her responsibility, and she knows all too well that a girl like that can be trouble, can be a danger to herself and others. especially if she's a waterbender. kanna saw her people massacred, her best friend taken by the fire nation, her daughter killed sacrificing herself for katara, the girl who carries the hope of her entire people on her shoulders. and she loves katara, she loves her so much, sees so much of herself in her, but it is also her job to rein her in, to keep her indoors, doing domestic busywork like sewing and laundry so she doesn't try to run off, try to run all the way to the other side of the world, so her antics, through her bending mishaps or otherwise, don't cause her to accidentally alert the fire nation and have their entire fragile existence come crumbling down after she and sokka have done so much to maintain it, to protect katara, even when katara feels like she is being smothered and overdisciplined and robbed of a childhood.
katara wants the opportunity to train with a master. of course she does. she considers her waterbending the most important part of her identity, the part of her that brought hope to her tribe and killed her mother in equal measure. she's the only person left who holds the key to their cultural artform, this crucial piece of their heritage. and of course kanna would love it if katara could hone her craft, but her first priority is always keeping katara alive, and if that means she can't become a bending master, then so be it.
raising a teenager is hard, really hard. they don't like being told that ordering them around and telling them to stay in the borders you've drawn for them is "for their own good." the only reason kanna doesn't have the same problem with sokka is because he doesn't actually consider himself a teenager (although he very much is), and he not only follows her rules but enforces them. they are on the same page; safety is the priority, katara is the priority. but katara hates how restrictive their rules are, hates how sullen and strict and serious they are. how hopeless they are, how resigned they are to leading lives of misery in the fraught safety they've created for themselves. she wants to see the world, to have fun, to have friends, to help others instead of being the one constantly being protected and sheltered.
of course, kanna and sokka are not hopeless and depressed and numb by nature; they have been hollowed out into shells of themselves by the war, by the promises they've made to keep katara safe. sokka grows so much by traveling the world, absorbs so much new knowledge so quickly, makes new friends and lovers, gains new perspectives, reaches his full, incredible potential by being dragged out of the comfort zone he clings to in the pilot. and kanna has already undergone her bildungsroman, lifetimes ago. she knows what it is like, what it means to experience the adventure katara desires. but she never told her. she never once mentioned to katara that the south pole is not all she knows, that she too once longed to leave the place that was stifling her, suppressing her freedom. she is afraid to tempt katara, to be anything other than the strict authority from which she once left everything she ever knew behind to escape.
until the avatar returns. until the legend she used to tell katara before their world became too hopeless, of the old days when the avatar kept balance and the world was not at war, is made real again. when katara, who found aang, who believed in him from the beginning, brings the avatar back, through her desperation and her rage and her indomitable hope for a life that can be bigger and better than kanna and sokka's dour little pocket of resignation and grief.
kanna has always believed in katara, has always known that there would come a time when katara was to bring back hope to their tribe. so now, trusting sokka, katara's sworn protector, to stay by her side and do right by her, she ushers them on their journey. katara, her little waterbender, hero of the southern water tribe, and spitting image of kanna.
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What "The Hidden Fortress" (1958) tells us about the Jedi's status in the Prequels.
In 1999, George Lucas had this to say on BBC Omnibus: A Long Time Ago: The Story of "Star Wars" and then The Phantom Menace's director's commentary.
“I greatly admired Kurosawa, especially the film Hidden Fortress, which told a story from the point of view of two serfs, two slaves...
... peasants who tag along with this famous general and a princess-- y'know, royalty. And the whole story is told from their point of view. And I like that idea.
I like the idea of telling a story from the lowest person's point of view, uh, in the food chain, and that's how the story got to be told by Artoo and Threepio.”
“[The Phantom Menace] is told primarily from the Jedi's point of view, but the story that's being told is essentially the story of Queen Amidala and her plight of having her planet blockaded. As in, say, Episode IV, where the story is told through the eyes of the droids, in this one, it's told through the eyes of the Jedi.”
“But [from the moment we get to Coruscant, Anakin and Jar Jar] are standing on the sidelines. It's a little bit a riff on the very first film where the story is told through the point of view of the droids, who were sort of the lowliest characters.”
“And in [Phantom Menace], I'm doing it through - primarily - the two Jedi, but then the secondary characters are also carrying a lot of the weight when the Jedi aren't around.”
George Lucas draws a comparison between lowly characters like Hidden Fortress' peasants Matashichi and Tahei, the droids in A New Hope, as well as the Jedi in The Phantom Menace.
What do they all have in common? They are all the lowest-ranking characters in their respective films. Repeat: the movie frames the Jedi as almost at the bottom of the food chain.
Because of course they are. Functionally, they're just diplomats. They hold no political power whatsoever and barely have any authority .
What little authority the Jedi do have in TPM comes from the Queen's young age, which allows them to ease into a more advisory position, and Qui-Gon's rebellious streak. And even he's explicit about the fact that his mandate has limitations.
The only characters "below" them in status are Jar Jar, an exiled Gungan, and Anakin, who just yesterday was still a slave kid, Artoo the literal object and that's it!
Also the other Prequel films are consistent with this portrayal. Who do we see lower in status than the Jedi? Dexxter Jettster and the clones. Everyone else is pretty much above them.
Yes, the Jedi are part of the system, but they're not as high-ranking as you'd think. Yes, they have Force Powers, but that means squat when put against political power. So, like, to expect the Jedi to...
influence the decisions of the Senate,
wage a war against the Outer Rim to end slavery,
or blatantly refuse an order to join the war effort,
... is incredibly unreasonable.
They're not meant to be seen as "the elite, peering down upon the people from their ivory tower".
They're the servants! Servants of the Republic.
And they're seeing their higher-ups destroy what they should all stand for, but are unable to stop them.
Later on, with The Clone Wars, we are introduced to civilian characters and from their point of view, the Jedi are ultra powerful and are highly placed and "should do more but don't".
It makes sense that these characters would see the Jedi as 'the elite'. But they don't have the full picture.
We, as the audience, do.
So we know that the reality is more along the lines of the Jedi "should do more but can't".
After all, we are made privy many instances of the Jedi speaking up and trying to change politicians' minds, only to be dismissed and overruled at every turn.
↑ these aren't even all the times we see it happen, btw, there's more examples...
So at some point, if you - as an audience member - see all this and are still saying "the Jedi should've done more!" I really need to know... what more could they have done?
Take control of the Senate?
That'll result in a dictatorship, there's a reason they waited as much as they did before trying to take down Palpatine.
Power corrupts and they're wise enough to know it.
Don't join the Republic in the first place?
George Lucas never frames the Jedi's involvement with the Republic as a bad thing. In the foreword to Shatterpoint (2004), he says their being part of the Republic led to 1,000 years of prosperity.
Where's the issue, then? Well, it's a two-man job and the Jedi's bosses, the Senate, grew corrupt and stopped doing their part. They stopped carrying their end of the couch.
But “no Jedi in the Republic from the get-go” means the Sith will rise to power even faster. Fun!
Stay neutral in the war?
The Separatists were killing civilians and testing weapons on neutral systems, or enslaving them.
The choice put before the Jedi was "do what we tell you and fight, or let people die".
But also, out-of-universe... do you really think Palpatine, genius politician, master of spin, can't re-frame the Jedi staying neutral in a negative light?
When they joined the war, he unleashed propaganda that either directly (on the Separatist side) or indirectly (on the Republic side) framed them as "warmongers who corrupted their values". If they don't join, they're "apathetic cowards who care more about their own values than the lives of the people they're supposed to protect".
So either way, Order 66 comes around, wipes them out and the Republic goes "good riddance".
So what else could they do?
The answer is "not much".
Because the whole point of the narrative is that Palpatine checkmated them by taking the fight to a field the Jedi had no experience in or right to meddle with: politics.
So if you look at these characters who are nowhere near the top of the food chain, and say "well, why didn't they fix things?" I'm sorry to say you're missing the point of the narrative.
Or maybe you do get the point of the narrative and just aren't trying to be fair...
... in which case, at least be consistent and also argue:
"Why didn't Threepio & Artoo do more to save the Rebel crew of the Tantive IV from the stormtrooopers?!"
"Why didn't Matashichi & Tahei do more to save the Akizuki clan?!"
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