2
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This review may contain spoilers
When the feeling fades
Love’s Ambition begins with the promise of an interesting second-chance romance but quickly loses its footing in a sea of clichés. What could have been a layered story about identity and longing ends up trapped in the familiar rhythm of modern Chinese melodramas.
The first episodes are genuinely engaging: the romance between a powerful, calculating businessman and a woman desperate for love feels charged and unpredictable. Her lies, inventing a family, hiring actors to play her parents, hiding the truth from her husband, make her both flawed and fascinating. Her emotional wounds are understandable, even sympathetic. Yet as the story unfolds, the writing stretches her character beyond credibility; deceit turns theatrical, and the drama drifts away from the sincerity that once gave it heart.
When she finally realises that her life is built on sand and chooses to walk away, the drama briefly regains strength. Unfortunately, this redemption is short-lived. Around the twentieth episode, the tone shifts into forced comedy and unnecessary subplots, dragging out what could have ended while it still had something to show. By the final stretch, the show feels tired and repetitive, the sort of drama you half-watch while pressing the fast-forward button.
Zhao Lusi delivers a committed performance, elevating material that often lets her down. She captures both the desperation and quiet strength of her character with admirable precision. Her co-star is competent but lacks the magnetic presence the role requires, perhaps a matter of miscasting more than talent.
Despite flashes of emotional truth and solid production values, the drama ultimately falls short of its name. In the end, I wasn’t moved, a reminder that being watchable isn’t the same as being memorable.
The first episodes are genuinely engaging: the romance between a powerful, calculating businessman and a woman desperate for love feels charged and unpredictable. Her lies, inventing a family, hiring actors to play her parents, hiding the truth from her husband, make her both flawed and fascinating. Her emotional wounds are understandable, even sympathetic. Yet as the story unfolds, the writing stretches her character beyond credibility; deceit turns theatrical, and the drama drifts away from the sincerity that once gave it heart.
When she finally realises that her life is built on sand and chooses to walk away, the drama briefly regains strength. Unfortunately, this redemption is short-lived. Around the twentieth episode, the tone shifts into forced comedy and unnecessary subplots, dragging out what could have ended while it still had something to show. By the final stretch, the show feels tired and repetitive, the sort of drama you half-watch while pressing the fast-forward button.
Zhao Lusi delivers a committed performance, elevating material that often lets her down. She captures both the desperation and quiet strength of her character with admirable precision. Her co-star is competent but lacks the magnetic presence the role requires, perhaps a matter of miscasting more than talent.
Despite flashes of emotional truth and solid production values, the drama ultimately falls short of its name. In the end, I wasn’t moved, a reminder that being watchable isn’t the same as being memorable.
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