Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender (2026) Review

I first heard of Avatar: The Last Airbender the way many people my age did: on a Nickelodeon commercial. But this was before streaming, so it would be more than a decade before I could piece those random reruns into a coherent narrative. When I finally did, I found a story that lost none of its power. Here was a children’s show tackling genocide, belonging, war, and sexism with a level of nuance that many modern adult shows struggle to match. After several ill-fated attempts to continue the franchise on the big screen, I was excited to see it finally receive a proper follow-up, even if it was eventually pulled from theaters and shoved onto Paramount+. Updating its tone to reflect the now aged cast (and audience), this latest installment follows Aang mourning the loss of his people and their way of life, until he discovers how a mysterious staff can help him bring back the Air Nomads. But the path to that miracle is a long one, and along the way Aang learns that honoring the past doesn’t mean living in it, that accepting loss, embracing change, and forgiving yourself are the hardest parts of growing up.

            The script is a mixed bag. Some character arcs are genuinely fascinating: how Aang ultimately learns that bringing a people back isn’t worth betraying the very values they lived by, how Tagah’s rage was forged by witnessing the slaughter of his fellow Air Nomads during the rise of the Earth Kingdom. He’s an effective foil for Aang since his anger comes from the same place; but many of the secondary characters become either emotional shorthand or, even worse, vehicles for nostalgia. More than a few nods at the audience feel forced, ultimately undercutting the emotional resonance onscreen. The same can be said for the expository dialogue, even if it’s clearly trying to world build while maintaining the very tight 99-minute runtime. That said, we still get some beautiful character insights through conversations, like when Tagah recites a proverb about how “Air Nomads are formed from the mist. We walk the world for a moment in time, then we return to the eternal wind.” The line becomes the film’s central philosophy. All things must pass, but that impermanence is what gives life its meaning. It’s not uncommon for films with visuals this ambitious to come up a little short in the dialogue department, but here the visual storytelling often communicates what the script can’t.

            This is the best this world has ever looked. The ancient ruins and spirit world, even the textures of clouds are all exceptional demonstrations of what animation can do. It makes you wonder why anyone ever tried translating this universe into live-action. The environments feel genuinely lived-in thanks to the attention to detail, from moss clinging to the bones of ancient turtle deities to the subtle folds of a weathered cloak. Color is used beautifully to establish a sense of mood, whether tranquil or tense, and director Lauren Montgomery’s willingness to let scenes breathe heightens those emotions, giving us time to build a genuine connection with the characters. The score is one of my favorites this year, and from the whooshing wind to the crackle of flames, the sound design gives every corner of the world a tactile, tangible quality. With such a fully realized setting and such a richly developed mythos, it’s one of those films you can completely lose yourself in and, when it’s over, wish lasted just a little longer. A big part of that comes down to the performances.

            For years I’ve said that Dave Bautista is one of the most underrated actors working right now, and I stand by that. His ability to give Tagah a quiet vulnerability that sometimes breaks through his trauma-fueled rage is remarkable. He’s a real standout here, delivering even the simplest lines with a fragile humanity. Eric Nam is also a very solid Aang, fully committing to the role and bringing a youthful naivete that serves the story and character well.

            It’s not a groundbreaking premise, and the script is undeniably uneven, but between the breathtaking visuals and its two lead performances, this could very well be my pick for Best Animated Feature. Beneath the blockbuster action sequences and exhilarating fight choreography is a story about two people reckoning with survivor’s guilt, resisting the pull of a corrupting power, and learning that holding too tightly to the past can keep us from embracing the present. It understands that a people’s legacy isn’t preserved by recreating what was lost, but by carrying their values forward. Avatar Aang: The Last Airbender is streaming on Paramount+, and it’s one of the most emotionally engaging films of the year.