K-Drama 
This review may contain spoilers
The narrative takes pleasure in revealing its stakes bit by bit; the pieces of the puzzle fall into place through the details, nothing is highlighted; conversations suggest that we know more than we let on. Everyone plays their part, and the heroine is a virtuoso amongst the orchestra’s soloists. (What on earth am I saying ?) She often takes us by surprise with her actions and the things she dares to say, and yet the story carries on, the music carries on ; let’s just carry on as if nothing had happened. I really like this approach, with its confidence and mastery. Perspectives shift ; we revisit a scene and gain a better understanding of the danger the heroine faces, a pawn in the service of the family she has just joined.
As is the tradition with C-dramas, if it doesn’t grab you after five episodes, you should give up on it. In this case, I binge-watched the first eight as if my life depended on it.
The heroine stumbles upon a rather suspicious ally (Tan Rui/Xu Kai) who comes to bring down her family for corruption, and their enemy-to-lover romance is at first utterly delightful, then becomes thoroughly ambiguous. The two pursue their goals whilst skilfully concealing their true intentions; they use each other, yet they fall more and more in love, against all odds.
This is no smooth-sailing revenge; the price is a heavy one, and our duo are not without their flaws. Take the scene with the beatings in episode 4, for example. Or that loveless marriage in episode 23, inevitable, yet ending in tragedy. The violence amongst the women at the head of the Xie family plays out amidst terror and false displays of affection. The arrival of the head of the family does not change this dynamic but complicates it. This patriarch treads carefully, remaining silent at crucial moments, motionless as a statue. A very strange character. And the final revelation about him and the heroine’s mother is quite surprising, even though it was all right there in front of our eyes. When he loses his mind, alone in his vast estate, it’s surreal. I absolutely love these last two episodes, which dissect power and its temporal dimensions.
All these intrigues meet with a most cruel outcome. A patriarchal system that is inevitably destructive, and one supported by the women who benefit from it... until they, in turn, are sacrificed. A tale of filial piety. Some wish to abolish noble families and ‘clear away’ the powerful clans, we are told, but those concerned have no intention of giving an inch. All these stories of birth, family and inheritance are entirely fabricated. The grandmother, the true head of the Xie family, is very pleased with the harm she has caused others to secure her fine and respectable position. She shows no regret. Her tears are for having had to do what she had to do, and she would do it again if she had to. “But I pity you because you are the one who has been trapped in this house for the longest.”
Strangely enough, I watched Eight Hundred just before Spring of the Blade. Xu Kai pulls off quite a balancing act. Two ambiguous characters, each in their own way. One is all restraint, the other tempestuous. A fine actor, that’s for sure.
Zhou Ye is true to form in a role that’s cunning and authoritative, in a way. Her character commands respect through her dignity and her shrewd little tricks, which she uses to force the hidden truth into the open. She was already brilliant in Legend of the Female General, which was very different.
I hope to see these two together again. They’re a great match.
The colours are always stunning. Lots of pastels, washed-out pinks, jade shades and mauve, what impeccable taste ! There are some magnificent landscapes of hills and mountains at the start, but most of it takes place indoors. Sets built entirely for this shoot, at a time when slobbery, ugly AI-dramas abound. (The all-out AI shift that some C-dramas and films are taking really puts me off)
In the first few episodes, one track on the soundtrack draws a bit too heavily on Ravel’s Pavane, it really bothered me. After that, it doesn’t come back.
As is the tradition with C-dramas, if it doesn’t grab you after five episodes, you should give up on it. In this case, I binge-watched the first eight as if my life depended on it.
The heroine stumbles upon a rather suspicious ally (Tan Rui/Xu Kai) who comes to bring down her family for corruption, and their enemy-to-lover romance is at first utterly delightful, then becomes thoroughly ambiguous. The two pursue their goals whilst skilfully concealing their true intentions; they use each other, yet they fall more and more in love, against all odds.
This is no smooth-sailing revenge; the price is a heavy one, and our duo are not without their flaws. Take the scene with the beatings in episode 4, for example. Or that loveless marriage in episode 23, inevitable, yet ending in tragedy. The violence amongst the women at the head of the Xie family plays out amidst terror and false displays of affection. The arrival of the head of the family does not change this dynamic but complicates it. This patriarch treads carefully, remaining silent at crucial moments, motionless as a statue. A very strange character. And the final revelation about him and the heroine’s mother is quite surprising, even though it was all right there in front of our eyes. When he loses his mind, alone in his vast estate, it’s surreal. I absolutely love these last two episodes, which dissect power and its temporal dimensions.
All these intrigues meet with a most cruel outcome. A patriarchal system that is inevitably destructive, and one supported by the women who benefit from it... until they, in turn, are sacrificed. A tale of filial piety. Some wish to abolish noble families and ‘clear away’ the powerful clans, we are told, but those concerned have no intention of giving an inch. All these stories of birth, family and inheritance are entirely fabricated. The grandmother, the true head of the Xie family, is very pleased with the harm she has caused others to secure her fine and respectable position. She shows no regret. Her tears are for having had to do what she had to do, and she would do it again if she had to. “But I pity you because you are the one who has been trapped in this house for the longest.”
Strangely enough, I watched Eight Hundred just before Spring of the Blade. Xu Kai pulls off quite a balancing act. Two ambiguous characters, each in their own way. One is all restraint, the other tempestuous. A fine actor, that’s for sure.
Zhou Ye is true to form in a role that’s cunning and authoritative, in a way. Her character commands respect through her dignity and her shrewd little tricks, which she uses to force the hidden truth into the open. She was already brilliant in Legend of the Female General, which was very different.
I hope to see these two together again. They’re a great match.
The colours are always stunning. Lots of pastels, washed-out pinks, jade shades and mauve, what impeccable taste ! There are some magnificent landscapes of hills and mountains at the start, but most of it takes place indoors. Sets built entirely for this shoot, at a time when slobbery, ugly AI-dramas abound. (The all-out AI shift that some C-dramas and films are taking really puts me off)
In the first few episodes, one track on the soundtrack draws a bit too heavily on Ravel’s Pavane, it really bothered me. After that, it doesn’t come back.
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