This review may contain spoilers
This Script Butchers Storytelling
I have great respect for the actors. However, no amount of acting talent can salvage a script that is fundamentally, irredeemably broken. The sheer incompetence of the writing isn’t just frustrating — it’s a grave insult. An insult to the intelligence of the audience, an insult to the craft of storytelling, and an insult to the very actors tasked with breathing life into this train wreck of a narrative.
We are expected to believe that an emperor —portrayed as wise and discerning — is somehow utterly blind to the blatant and unchecked villainy of the grand princess and her daughter. Worse still, this same emperor, who profess to be a loving and responsible father, inexplicably forces his son into marrying the grand princess's evil daughter as his principal wife, despite knowing that his son is already happily married to and deeply in love with the female lead. What kind of wisdom is this? It’s not just illogical — it’s downright idiotic.
The grandmother, presented as a strong matriarch and supposedly seasoned by a lifetime of experience — is crumbles into a gullible fool, mindless puppet, easily manipulated by her second daughter-in-law as if she were a clueless, naïve pawn. Did the writer forget their own characterizations halfway through the script, or did they just assume the audience wouldn’t notice the blatant inconsistency? These character inconsistencies are not just frustrating and nonsensical; they are an outright mockery of storytelling.
And then there’s the second branch’s wife and her ever-loyal, ever-deranged maid — two characters so cartoonishly malicious they might as well twirl a mustache while cackling in the sewer. They spends almost the entire series concocting one vile scheme after another to bring down the first branch, driven by nothing more than jealousy. They goes to horrifying lengths, even resorting to poisoning the first branch’s wife and daughter, yet somehow, They faces no real consequences. Their wickedness isn’t just tolerated — it’s actively prolonged, stretched to the point of absurdity, as if the writer truly believes that nonsensical, repetition over-the-top villainy is a substitute for meaningful depth and tension.
It’s painfully obvious that the writer is more interested in manufacturing cheap, exaggerated drama simply to grab attention than crafting a coherent, compelling, and intelligent story. The blatant disregard for character depth and consistency is nothing short of lazy, as if they believe the audience is dumb and will blindly accept whatever nonsense is thrown at them. Did the writer truly believe the audience wouldn’t see through these silly gaping plot holes?
A drama with this much potential deserved a writer who actually respected their craft. Instead, we’re left with a hollow, incoherent wreck that disrespects its characters, its audience, and the very essence of storytelling. This is not just bad writing; it’s insulting. It reduces storytelling to a mindless spectacle, squandering the potential of its actors and the patience of its audience. To call it a failure would be too generous — this is a masterclass in how not to write.
We are expected to believe that an emperor —portrayed as wise and discerning — is somehow utterly blind to the blatant and unchecked villainy of the grand princess and her daughter. Worse still, this same emperor, who profess to be a loving and responsible father, inexplicably forces his son into marrying the grand princess's evil daughter as his principal wife, despite knowing that his son is already happily married to and deeply in love with the female lead. What kind of wisdom is this? It’s not just illogical — it’s downright idiotic.
The grandmother, presented as a strong matriarch and supposedly seasoned by a lifetime of experience — is crumbles into a gullible fool, mindless puppet, easily manipulated by her second daughter-in-law as if she were a clueless, naïve pawn. Did the writer forget their own characterizations halfway through the script, or did they just assume the audience wouldn’t notice the blatant inconsistency? These character inconsistencies are not just frustrating and nonsensical; they are an outright mockery of storytelling.
And then there’s the second branch’s wife and her ever-loyal, ever-deranged maid — two characters so cartoonishly malicious they might as well twirl a mustache while cackling in the sewer. They spends almost the entire series concocting one vile scheme after another to bring down the first branch, driven by nothing more than jealousy. They goes to horrifying lengths, even resorting to poisoning the first branch’s wife and daughter, yet somehow, They faces no real consequences. Their wickedness isn’t just tolerated — it’s actively prolonged, stretched to the point of absurdity, as if the writer truly believes that nonsensical, repetition over-the-top villainy is a substitute for meaningful depth and tension.
It’s painfully obvious that the writer is more interested in manufacturing cheap, exaggerated drama simply to grab attention than crafting a coherent, compelling, and intelligent story. The blatant disregard for character depth and consistency is nothing short of lazy, as if they believe the audience is dumb and will blindly accept whatever nonsense is thrown at them. Did the writer truly believe the audience wouldn’t see through these silly gaping plot holes?
A drama with this much potential deserved a writer who actually respected their craft. Instead, we’re left with a hollow, incoherent wreck that disrespects its characters, its audience, and the very essence of storytelling. This is not just bad writing; it’s insulting. It reduces storytelling to a mindless spectacle, squandering the potential of its actors and the patience of its audience. To call it a failure would be too generous — this is a masterclass in how not to write.
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