Slower than a snail in a snowstorm
Another series that felt like it dragged in places–the pacing was off, the characterizations were inconsistent, and it sometimes zigged when it should have zagged. Hard to tell what the problem was exactly. I blame the script because it seemed that the actors tried their best, at times, to breathe life into this walking corpse.
In the first half of the drama, we’re introduced to the two leads. Although an amnesiac, Miantang, the wife, is the perfect woman: beautiful, graceful, competent, always smiling and tactful, and unfailingly supportive of her miscreant of a husband. In other words she’s robotic and uninteresting. (Chinese movie makers–why do you keep giving us female leads like this?)
She’s also intelligent enough to figure out, eventually, that she’s being manipulated by her sorry excuse for a mate, who gaslights her whenever she tries to get a straight answer about their relationship.
But she’s such a perfect spouse, he begins to fall in love with her in spite of himself (of course he does). And this happens just as she starts to get her memories back. This would have been a great opportunity for the writers to show her shock, surprise and anger when she discovers that she’s been deceived–but no. As often happens in this series, this dramatic opportunity was squandered with a shrug. Instead, we just observe her coldness beginning to emerge–as she quietly plots her revenge.
This woman is not content to just pay him back in kind. She’s hellbent on murdering him.
I have to confess that her sudden switcheroo seemed a tad excessive. This same husband had been (at times) considerate and kind, had never laid a finger on her–and had even saved her life.
At this point, we discover–with no foreshadowing or preparation whatsoever–that this woman is NOT the helpless victim that she pretends to be. She’s one tough cookie, with a rough and tumble past. (I’d give you more details but the spoiler police will come knocking if I do.)
This is so out of character compared to how she’d been presented up to that point that I felt disrespected as a viewer.
As for the ML, his character is equally schizophrenic. As a prince, he can be dignified and responsible when he needs to be. But when he tries to be flirtatious--or when he drinks too much--he often behaves like a sappy, doltish adolescent. The actor does his best to hold this mishmash of personas together, but the dialog and set up isn’t skillfully conceived or even coherent–leaving him with not much to work with.
Last, but not least, is He Zhen, played by actress Liu Lingzi. This woman is required to be almost expressionless throughout the series. She has a monotone affect–she never smiles, she never laughs. And as a result, it’s hard for viewers to see why the Marquis of Zhennan likes her. I can’t understand why the writers couldn’t have given her a little more vitality.
There are some beautiful parts of this drama – for example, when the Empress uses the metaphor of the caged bird to explain her feelings to her husband. That was a very nice touch.
In the first half of the drama, we’re introduced to the two leads. Although an amnesiac, Miantang, the wife, is the perfect woman: beautiful, graceful, competent, always smiling and tactful, and unfailingly supportive of her miscreant of a husband. In other words she’s robotic and uninteresting. (Chinese movie makers–why do you keep giving us female leads like this?)
She’s also intelligent enough to figure out, eventually, that she’s being manipulated by her sorry excuse for a mate, who gaslights her whenever she tries to get a straight answer about their relationship.
But she’s such a perfect spouse, he begins to fall in love with her in spite of himself (of course he does). And this happens just as she starts to get her memories back. This would have been a great opportunity for the writers to show her shock, surprise and anger when she discovers that she’s been deceived–but no. As often happens in this series, this dramatic opportunity was squandered with a shrug. Instead, we just observe her coldness beginning to emerge–as she quietly plots her revenge.
This woman is not content to just pay him back in kind. She’s hellbent on murdering him.
I have to confess that her sudden switcheroo seemed a tad excessive. This same husband had been (at times) considerate and kind, had never laid a finger on her–and had even saved her life.
At this point, we discover–with no foreshadowing or preparation whatsoever–that this woman is NOT the helpless victim that she pretends to be. She’s one tough cookie, with a rough and tumble past. (I’d give you more details but the spoiler police will come knocking if I do.)
This is so out of character compared to how she’d been presented up to that point that I felt disrespected as a viewer.
As for the ML, his character is equally schizophrenic. As a prince, he can be dignified and responsible when he needs to be. But when he tries to be flirtatious--or when he drinks too much--he often behaves like a sappy, doltish adolescent. The actor does his best to hold this mishmash of personas together, but the dialog and set up isn’t skillfully conceived or even coherent–leaving him with not much to work with.
Last, but not least, is He Zhen, played by actress Liu Lingzi. This woman is required to be almost expressionless throughout the series. She has a monotone affect–she never smiles, she never laughs. And as a result, it’s hard for viewers to see why the Marquis of Zhennan likes her. I can’t understand why the writers couldn’t have given her a little more vitality.
There are some beautiful parts of this drama – for example, when the Empress uses the metaphor of the caged bird to explain her feelings to her husband. That was a very nice touch.
Was this review helpful to you?
