The Dragon Prince [Seasons 1-5] (2018-2023)
The Dragon Prince is the first show in a long time to capture my imagination the way stories did when I was a kid. The sweeping fantasy of the show is held up with its deep and textured world-building, diligent return to themes, and human-feeling characters. From the magic system to the political intrigue, to the interpersonal drama, The Dragon Prince executes traditional fantasy tropes with power and freshness.
The show follows the young princes of Katolis, one of five human kingdoms, journeying to the magic lands of Xadia with their elven companion to end millennia of war and hostility between all things magic and all things human. Callum (Jack DeSena), the oldest of the half-brothers, is dorkily charming, intelligent, and inept at all things athletic. He is not in line for the throne and has no wish to be, though he fears having no place in the future of the kingdom’s infrastructure. He has overwhelming love and affection for his little brother Ezran (Sasha Rojen), the precocious and stubbornly kind-hearted heir to the throne and a friend to all living things. Ezran and Callum are easily one of the healthiest brother-brother relationships I’ve seen in animation, each offering the other faithful encouragement and emotional vulnerability. By contrast, their Moonshadow elf friend Rayla is emotionally constipated and relentlessly self-critical: a result of her upbringing in a martial culture with little space made for feelings of doubt, imperfections, or even familial love. She has a rough-edged sort of kindness: her strong sense of duty to use her skills in the service of others and for a greater cause never falter, even in the face of monumental self-sacrifice.
Showrunner Aaron Ehasz has become popular among the more
subversive sects of the Avatar: The Last Airbender fandom, with many
claiming that the best of A:TLA’s characterization and drama came from Ehasz
rather than Michael Dante Dimartino and Bryan Konietzko. The
Dragon Prince seems to substantiate this claim, though we don’t know enough
about co-writer Justin Richmond to discount his work. As a writer of
animated pieces, I am very excited about the rising representation of
writer-run animated shows; the best stories that animation has to offer will
always take the work of writers and artists working together.
A
particular quirk of the magic system that I was thrilled to see was the
extrapolated logic that the arcane can be learned: not just inherited. It’s
always been a pet-peeve of mine when the wisest scholars of magic in fantasy
worlds explain that magic powers symbolize numinous, ethereal knowledge about profound truths… but it’s passed down in chromosomes.
While magic in The Dragon Prince comes quicker to ‘superior’
species, such as elves, magic is treated as more of a language one can learn
than a super power. Some elves don’t have any intellectual curiosity about
magic, as some native English speakers seem to have an elementary
understanding of the language, but a human who pursues magic must work and
study hard to gain it. To be a human is to be underestimated, even denigrated,
and achieve greatness anyway with effort and determination.
This element of the world also subtly ties in to one of the main
sources of tension underlying the aggression: humans are not inferior to elves
and dragons, but they are made to feel as though they are through the base
assumptions of magic-users. The profound fear and anger of humanity, the
overarching antagonistic force throughout the first half of the show, is
understandable and possibly justifiable. These humans are swayed, tempted, and
threatened by the same forces that we are, but they are trapped in a world
where they are at the mercy of far more powerful beings.
I find
the complexity of The Dragon Prince’s antagonists to be its greatest asset.
They drive the central themes of the story forward with clear-eyed
determination. At all times, they represent the twisted yet reasonable
thinking that the danger of a higher power can be overcome with violence, even
while knowing this violence will inevitably lead to an even more severe
blowback.
I mentioned in my review of
Vinland Saga
that real pacifism is not an easy thing to sell in stories. But when the
storytellers commit, pacifism can be exciting and badass. It’s engaging and
often more emotionally resonant than action scenes, and there is an inherent
tension to watching a beloved character leave themselves vulnerable to stay
true to their principles. The Dragon Prince has no dearth of action scenes,
but notably fewer than you’d expect from a story about violence. More
importantly, the lack of violence does not feel lazy or unearned. While I’ve
never seen a show earn its pacifism quite as thoroughly as Vinland Saga, The
Dragon Prince puts its story where its themes are, and closes down avenues of
plot when appropriate for characterization.
The dominant antagonist of the first three seasons is
Viren,
the High Mage under King Harrow, whose assassination at the
hands of Moonshadow elves kickstarts the plot. Viren’s stated goal is to
conquer and suppress the magical land of Xadia in order to keep his family
safe. Yet, he makes it clear up front that he would willingly sacrifice family
to retain ownership of the dragon egg, his ace in the hole against the threat
of Xadia. In his most private and unguarded moments, his allegiance to family
seems steadfast, and his desperate need for power is revealed to be unified
with his love of his family; fear is the main motivator behind the drive to
power. Our antagonist isn’t a cackling villain spitting fire and smiling at
the success of dastardly plans. He’s a shivering coward, whose tenuous grip on
security occupies every waking moment of his life.
Viren is an
addictive presence on screen: he is a walking contradiction, and his true
goals are as much a mystery to him as they are to us. He’s a straight-laced
bureaucrat who managed to raise two deeply unserious children, who inherit his confused moral code and abstract goals. But they love him, and their
(mostly) free-spirited natures suggest a healthy childhood being raised by a
caring and warm parent. Nowadays, it’s difficult to even imagine what a
loving, parental Viren would look like: the way he speaks to and treats other
young people in the show indicates a complete lack of empathy for those whom
human adults are usually hard-wired to protect.
The relationship between Viren and his children drive the main
action behind season 4 and beyond, called
The Dragon Prince: The Mystery of Aaravos. His daughter
Claudia, a brilliant, eccentric mage and the inheritor of Viren’s
skills and motivations, is contrasted with his son Soren, whose simple
himbo personality allows him to bombastically meet danger head on. Soren’s
emotional openness, courage, and immaturity innoculate him to the violence
fear inspires in his sister and father.
While Claudia and Soren
have questionable chemistry in their many scenes together (the fluidity you
would expect in a tight-knit sibling bond isn’t quite there at times) their
love for each other comes through in the dramatic moments centering them.
However, Soren and Viren are yet to have the cathartic moments of honesty we
would expect at this point in the story, and there have now been numerous
chances for such a confrontation. Similarly, Claudia’s relationship to her
father needed more groundwork before “Mystery of Aaravos.” Her compulsive
attachment to family pulls her much closer to her father than her brother:
this doesn’t quite square with the fact that she knows the lengths to which
her father would go for his goals (specifically, how this affects Soren) and
Claudia’s trauma is far more tied to her relationship with Soren than her
father. Overall, her commitment to Soren is far more grounded in the text we
have seen so far in comparison to her commitment to Viren. I’m hoping season 6
opens up avenues for reflecting on Viren’s relationships with each of his
children, whether he is there in person or not.
There is one more apprehension I have going into the next two and
final seasons of the show, and it’s a whopper. In the fourth season, we learn
that, according to the dragon queen, Aaravos orchestrated every crisis that
has ever occurred. I’m sorry?
The humanity of evil – the tragic
fear and despair that drives the most loving among us to slip into monsters –
is retconned as a magical bishonen seducing powerful people to the dark
side? I don’t exaggerate: it is stated explicitly that Aaravos whispered in the
ear of everyone responsible for all bad things ever.
I hope I am
interpreting this reveal uncharitably and the show will find some way to
backtrack the severity of this claim in seasons 6 and 7. The real magic of The
Dragon Prince is its lack of a Big Bad. Evil cannot be killed in a single
battle: it must be fought every day when we are confronted by that which we
fear or desire.
So far, season 5 has used the evil of Aaravos to challenge our
main cast. Will Ezran choose to kill him if Callum can offer him the right
tools? Will Viren continue outrunning danger at the expense of connecting with
his family? These are good uses of this new information, creating conflicts
for our heroes and villains. But unless humans, elves, dragons, and other
complex beings are held fully responsible for the turmoil their world has
faced, all the hard work done to drag the powerful thematic statement to the
front of the story will be made diluted and toothless. If “history is a book
we write ourselves” (arc words throughout the series), we cannot take agency
over the present without owning up to our mistakes in the past.
Overall,
The Dragon Prince is visually gorgeous, exciting, and powerful. Barring a few
missteps following the season 3 finale, the show has managed to demonstrate a
clear understanding of its characters, world, and themes. I’m overwhelmingly
optimistic about season 6, which is set to air sometime this year.
★★★★★