Zuko’s stealing habits: Additional observation
I have already talked about Zuko’s stealing habits in second Book and came to the conclusion that, narrative and visually speaking, he stole food and money primarily for Iroh’s sake. Even stealing the ostrich horse from the kind Earth family that fed Zuko and Iroh seen at the beginning of the season (something I did not include in the previous part) was done for pragmatic reasons rather than out of spite or for fun. As in, the ostrich horse gave them additional advantage to avoid or run away from pursuit. Iroh was not happy about Zuko’s choice but he ultimately accepted it and never again scorned his nephew for taking that animal - the later episode showed the ostrich horse was vital for their escape from Rough Rhinos.
Interestingly, Zuko wasn’t that much prone to stealing and/or appropriating someone’s property in the previous season either. Especially not for a petty reason. The three examples (or as close to stealing it could be) that comes to my mind happened in:
Avatar Return, when Zuko took Aang’s staff that the young airbender used in fight against him and then offered willingly as a token of his surrender in exchange for leaving Katara and Sokka’s people in peace.
On his ship, the Banished Prince said:
This staff will make an excellent gift for my father.
What A) shows he didn’t think of keeping the last airbender’s weapon for himself and B) is a similar gesture done by Iroh, who sent little Zuko a knife of an Earth Kingdom's General that surrendered to him during the siege of Ba Sing Sai.
The Waterbender Scroll, during confrontation between captured Katara and Zuko:
Zuko: Tell me where he is and I won't hurt you or your brother.
Katara: Go jump in the river!
Zuko: Try to understand. I need to capture him to restore something I've lost, my honor. Perhaps in exchange I can restore something you've lost.
Katara: My mother's necklace! How did you get that?
Zuko: I didn't steal it, if that's what you're wondering. Tell me where he is.
And yes, Zuko did not steal the necklace, as Katara lost it when she helped imprisoned earthbenders to free themselves and Zuko found it in ruins of the workcamp. But he was willing to use it as a bargain chip and later, to track Aang with the help of June. From this episode he knew the necklace meant a great deal to Katara but for him it was a tool to fulfill his mission.
The Blue Spirit, we can assume Zuko, as the Blue Spirit, was infiltrating Fire Natin’s stronghold to steal information about Avatar and/or Zhao’s plans, as said knowledge was denied to the banished prince. And mind you, the first time we saw Blue Spirit at the fortress was long before Zhao’s people managed to capture Aang.
During the first season, Zuko may not have a strong moral opposition to destroying other people’s villages or pursuing Aang from one end of the world to another, or keeping Katara’s necklace but in general he does not steal unless it is necessary. He does not even take trophies from defeated enemies and/or attacked villages (Water Tribe and Kyoshi Island were left immediately once Aang either surrender or escape) with the exception of Aang’s staff that Zuko wished to give his father, no doubt to earn his respect. Which is something fitting the theme of the second Book.
But the most ironic thing about Zuko’s stealing habits? Iroh’s reaction. Our dear uncle Iroh was not happy that his nephew has no problem stealing - and is stealing to either provide them food and comfort to the level Iroh was used to (book II) or to fulfill his mission of capturing Avatar (book I). I mean, that is a reaction we should expect from a responsible adult and the fatherly figure, right? However in "Bato of the Water Tribe", Iroh himself was shown stealing perfumes while everyone was busy fighting
just because it smelled nice and there was no one to stop him. And from “Waterbender Scroll” episode we know Iroh had money to buy himself nice things on whim.
But nope, stealing from people that he helped Zuko and June to attack is all right yet he will be upset that his nephew is desperately trying to please his father by capturing Avatar by any means AND Iroh, by providing him food and comfort the older man was used to.
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My Personal Ranking For the Oscar Nominated Animated Short Films of 2023
I got to watch these shorts in a local theater yesterday, and it was quite a spectacular time.
Note: I am not ranking these based on the quality of the film, but based on how much I personally liked the film. There is definitely a difference. I have come to terms with the fact that I sometimes don’t personally like media that is Objectively Good, and sometimes get unfortunately invested in things that are questionable quality.
With that out of the way, let’s delve in.
1. The Boy, the Mole, the Fox, and the Horse
I, too, am surprised that this was my favorite of the short films. Dare I say, I feel a bit basic. Perhaps I’ll hang up a Live, Laugh, Love sign next.
I’m especially surprised, because I actually have more critiques regarding it than I do with other short films that I liked less. Specifically, the dialogue could sound like platitudes, which is a pet peeve of mine with any media.
But it’s absolutely beautiful. It’s among the most beautiful animation I’ve ever seen, and seeing it on the big screen was nothing short of an emotional experience.
The animation and designs made me love each character, and made the dialogue -- which, in a less beautiful film, might have been enough to put me off liking it -- feel heartfelt. I can’t praise the creative team behind this film enough for the manner in which they brought these characters to life. The voice performances are also commendable.
Perhaps most importantly, it put me in touch with my inner child. Wizard of Oz, Jungle Book, James and the Giant Peach, Spirited Away, Kubo -- there is a timeless impulse among children, it would seem, to be befriended and loved by benevolent talking animals or fantastical creatures.
It is perhaps because of my inner child that I love this film so much. My childhood self might have been oblivious to the beautifully simplistic depth of Ice Merchants, the blink-and-you-miss-it beats that make The Flying Sailor so meaningful, bewildered by My Year of Dicks, and existentially terrified by An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake, but my desire for a big white talking horsey is timeless and powerful.
Where to watch it: Apple TV+
2. My Year of Dicks
This one is just. So unspeakably funny. And, despite the fact that I’m a raging Sapphic who’s never been interested in the dicks available to me, I found it intensely relatable.
This may be a controversial statement, but I find that mainstream Hollywood’s attempts to nail down the Female Gaze are often more obnoxious than the Male Gaze itself. Partially because it often revolves around what male executives think The Modern Woman(TM) finds appealing, rather than an actual understanding of the female experience. The Male Gaze, at the very least, feels somewhat organic and based in the personal experience of the filmmakers.
This -- this felt like the Female Gaze. A truly organic trip through the psychology, impulses, and emotions of a fifteen-year-old girl. It treated its female protagonist not as unknowable, but as relatable, with the five unpleasant male characters she was approaching as Other -- each in five wildly entertaining ways. And it was glorious.
The way the main character dramatized her experiences -- making full use of the animated world in which she lived -- was something I could relate to viscerally. I’m reluctant to mention anything else about the plot, as I truly encourage everyone to just experience it firsthand. It’s heartfelt, exquisitely ‘90s, and a beautiful animated tribute to teenhood and questionable decisions.
Where to watch it: Vimeo, Hulu
3. Ice Merchants
Such a beautiful and emotional experience. I would say that this film demonstrates that less is more, but really, it demonstrates that the illusion of less is more. In reality, this film is teaming with detail, from the beautifully textured ice and misty landscape below, to the subtle indications of the characters’ recently experienced loss.
I was so entranced by the visual beauty and surrealist elements of this film, it took me a while to grasp its actual storyline: subtle clues, presented by a yellow mug, indicate the loss of the ice merchant’s wife and the mother of his son, and the cold world in which they live comes to represent their grief.
Without giving much away, the film ends with a view of a spring landscape, representing the eventual thaw of this grief as father and son begin to heal.
Where to watch: YouTube
4. The Flying Sailor
This beautiful and strange animation is based off of a true story, in which a sailor was flung 2 kilometers (1.2 miles) by the Halifax explosion in 1917, and lived to tell about it.
This film is essentially the sailor’s life flashing before his eyes as he soars, naked, over the exploding landscape. We get to know his character through the blink-and-you-miss-it moments that we witness of his life.
My favorite moment of the film was when he lights a cigarette at the same instant a ship in the harbor (unbeknownst to him, full of dynamite) catches fire. His -- and our -- quiet shock as we realize what we’re looking at is haunting. He even steps on the match, as if in a subconscious effort to put out the blaze, just as the contents of the ship explodes and nearly ends his life.
Where to watch it: YouTube
5. An Ostrich Told Me The World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It
Just because I rank this film last doesn’t mean it isn’t good. It’s incredibly good, and an inventive way to portray a character’s existential crisis through a stop-motion medium.
Ultimately, this is a story about a man realizing how meaningless his life has become while working at an unfulfilling office job. But that makes the film sound way more mundane than it actually is. The way in which this existential crisis is portrayed is through the main character realizing that he and his fellow workers are all stop-motion puppets, after he is visited by the titular ostrich.
And I do like it a great deal, but the reason for it subjectively ranking below the other films is the simple fact that the other films left me with a more positive emotional feeling. This one...is kind of terrifying.
I wonder if the director was inspired by the 1965 stop motion The Hand, in which a gloved human hand is used as a source of horror in the world of a stop motion puppet. In a similar manner, human hands look uncanny in this film when contrasted with the main character and his puppet world.
Anyway, go watch it and have an existential crisis of your own. I recommend it.
Where to watch it: Vimeo
Have you seen the animated shorts? Let me know your personal ranking!
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PEEEEEASE!!! Some Song and zuko shenanigans!!! I just love how you write them <3<3<3
The ostrich-horse comes back weeks after she was stolen. She raises one big foot and scratches at her harness, which clearly hasn’t been tightened properly, because the saddle finishes slipping sideways and dumps the thief himself into the dirt outside her stable. Song is just coming off from a shift at the clinic, so her first thought isn’t That bastard, it’s Dehydration, probable sunstroke, has he had a single meal since he left us, that bastard.
His eyes are closed. His breathing is shallow. She nudges him with a foot, then pats him down. Two swords and a knife get hidden in the shed at the bottom of a grain bin. She draws up two buckets of cool water from the well. One of them goes in the ostrich-horse’s trough. The good girl coos, and drinks greedily. The other one goes over the thief’s head.
He sits up, sputtering.
“Hello, Junior,” she says, and drops the bucket on him, too.
“What? Where? …Song?”
He doesn’t have the grace to look sheepish. But she’ll take the flash of fear in his eyes, the way his shoulders twitch under the lacking weight of his swords, the way his hands convulse around the bucket. It feels good. Probably not in a way she should like, but it’s not like she’s planning to do whatever it is he’s afraid of.
(He was afraid the last time he was here, too. But not of her.)
“The well’s in back,” she says. “Get a drink. Don’t make yourself puke. And don’t steal my bucket.”
She’s moved on to brushing the ostrich-horse’s feathers when he comes back. The ostrich-horse has moved on to pecking grain. Li is holding the bucket, and wobbling a little. His skin is still sun-flushed.
“Sit down,” she orders, pointing to the porch, with its shady overhang.
“What…?”
“Sit.”
She finishes rubbing down the ostrich-horse’s feathers. Checks her feet for scuffs and stones, and her legs for strains. Then she walks past a sitting, wide-eyed Li, goes into the house, and comes back with a basket of carrot-potatoes and a scrub brush.
“Clean these,” she orders. “You know where the water is.”
And he’s already got a bucket to do the washing in. He’s been clutching it since she handed it to him. She’s getting a little sick, of that cornered pygmy puma look of his.
“You got a meal and an ostrich-horse rental from us, last time,” she says. “This time, it’s payment up front. With interest.”
“I don’t have any money.”
“Work for it,” Song says.
Li has no idea how to clean a tuber. He’s very diligently overdoing it when her mother comes home.
“Hmm,” she says quietly, stopping next to Song. “Do I need to get someone?”
Li’s shoulders stiffen, because he’s got better hearing than either of them thought, and because he has to know that ostrich-horse theft isn’t treated lightly. Their town isn’t big enough to warrant guardsmen, but a few neighbors and a rope would get things done.
“He’s starving,” Song says, after moving this conversation farther away.
“Hmm,” says her mother.
“Our ostrich-horse isn’t.”
They both stare across the yard. At a refugee with golden eyes, who doesn’t know how to even start preparing his own meal. But whatever money he had, however he’d gotten it, he’d let their bird—his bird—eat first.
They don’t let him sleep in the stable, for obvious reasons. He doesn’t run off in the night, for less obvious ones.
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