The Anatomy of a purely commercial BIG production
The beginning was truly fantastic, I must admit. Humor, originality, and a clear chemistry between the actors. The heroine is energetic, kind, and genuinely acts very well. She is beautiful and has that kind of gaze that immediately captivates attention. As for Ling He, he is absolutely breathtakingly handsome. The editing is dynamic, the cinematography is beautiful, and even the supporting cast seems carefully chosen for their charm. Attractive faces everywhere — men and women alike. What better way to dream?
From the start, one can sense a production that has been carefully crafted, designed to attract a large audience and generate impressive numbers from the very first episodes.
I am almost certain that I belong to the minority here. It seems that most viewers are simply enjoying this visual spectacle — and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
However, while respecting everyone’s tastes and expectations, I wanted to share my personal feelings about projects like this one. Because what I see here almost resembles the anatomy of a purely commercial production, whose main goal is to consolidate an already active fanbase and give the audience exactly what it wants.
And I realize that I sometimes struggle with works that are created primarily within this logic.
At the moment I am on episode 12, and I fully intend to continue watching the series. It is not a bad production — not at all. But almost every minute I can sense the scent of commercial calculation, and that makes it difficult for me to fully believe in what is happening on screen.
Let me explain.
I appreciate Ling He for his screen presence and, of course, for his beauty. He is among the actors I enjoy watching, although with certain reservations. I feel that in several of his recent projects he tends to reproduce what works best with his female audience. And in a way, why try to reinvent things when you already have an enormous fanbase ready to follow every new project?
He seems capable of carrying a series almost entirely with those naïvely romantic looks that have become part of his image. Yet this is precisely where, for me, it sometimes becomes difficult to fully believe in the emotion. Perhaps because I sense a form of repetition, as if the actor relies more on his visual aura and charm than on a deeper emotional transformation.
After the first episodes, the series also begins to revolve increasingly around his character. The other characters constantly repeat how handsome he is, how remarkable he is, how talented he is.
This reveals an interesting narrative device: the story validates the audience’s fantasy. In other words, what the viewers already admire about the actor is continuously confirmed within the narrative itself by the characters. The script becomes, in a way, a mirror reflecting the expectations of the audience.
And we know that repetition is one of the most effective ways to influence the collective unconscious: repeating certain “truths” again and again until they appear natural.
In that sense, the series also functions as a showcase for the image of its main actor. Gradually, one may even feel that certain elements of the story exist mainly to serve that purpose.
The romance itself sometimes becomes very accentuated: slow-motion gazes, passionate kisses, emotions heightened by the staging. At times it can feel exaggerated or lacking spontaneity. Yet the formula is repeated again and again — because this is exactly what the majority of the audience seems to desire.
As for the supporting characters, there are also moments of exaggeration in the acting. The second male lead nevertheless has a certain charisma. It almost feels like a test for him: can he carry a full series? Placing him in a very popular production allows him to be discovered by a wide audience while remaining in a safe environment thanks to the presence of the main lead.
The music also contributes to this emotional construction. Almost every gesture and intention seems accompanied by its own musical cue, as if the viewer is gently guided toward the expected emotion. The music is omnipresent and becomes aggressive.
On the other hand, I must say that I find the female casting particularly successful.
I am writing all this after watching twelve episodes, and I should mention that I had not expressed any criticism before this point. Despite my reservations, I intend to watch the series until the end. Perhaps I am wrong, and perhaps the final episodes will change my opinion.
Or perhaps I will remain with this persistent impression: that behind this very beautiful spectacle, the emotions still feel a little too constructed to become truly authentic for me.
From the start, one can sense a production that has been carefully crafted, designed to attract a large audience and generate impressive numbers from the very first episodes.
I am almost certain that I belong to the minority here. It seems that most viewers are simply enjoying this visual spectacle — and I sincerely hope you enjoy it.
However, while respecting everyone’s tastes and expectations, I wanted to share my personal feelings about projects like this one. Because what I see here almost resembles the anatomy of a purely commercial production, whose main goal is to consolidate an already active fanbase and give the audience exactly what it wants.
And I realize that I sometimes struggle with works that are created primarily within this logic.
At the moment I am on episode 12, and I fully intend to continue watching the series. It is not a bad production — not at all. But almost every minute I can sense the scent of commercial calculation, and that makes it difficult for me to fully believe in what is happening on screen.
Let me explain.
I appreciate Ling He for his screen presence and, of course, for his beauty. He is among the actors I enjoy watching, although with certain reservations. I feel that in several of his recent projects he tends to reproduce what works best with his female audience. And in a way, why try to reinvent things when you already have an enormous fanbase ready to follow every new project?
He seems capable of carrying a series almost entirely with those naïvely romantic looks that have become part of his image. Yet this is precisely where, for me, it sometimes becomes difficult to fully believe in the emotion. Perhaps because I sense a form of repetition, as if the actor relies more on his visual aura and charm than on a deeper emotional transformation.
After the first episodes, the series also begins to revolve increasingly around his character. The other characters constantly repeat how handsome he is, how remarkable he is, how talented he is.
This reveals an interesting narrative device: the story validates the audience’s fantasy. In other words, what the viewers already admire about the actor is continuously confirmed within the narrative itself by the characters. The script becomes, in a way, a mirror reflecting the expectations of the audience.
And we know that repetition is one of the most effective ways to influence the collective unconscious: repeating certain “truths” again and again until they appear natural.
In that sense, the series also functions as a showcase for the image of its main actor. Gradually, one may even feel that certain elements of the story exist mainly to serve that purpose.
The romance itself sometimes becomes very accentuated: slow-motion gazes, passionate kisses, emotions heightened by the staging. At times it can feel exaggerated or lacking spontaneity. Yet the formula is repeated again and again — because this is exactly what the majority of the audience seems to desire.
As for the supporting characters, there are also moments of exaggeration in the acting. The second male lead nevertheless has a certain charisma. It almost feels like a test for him: can he carry a full series? Placing him in a very popular production allows him to be discovered by a wide audience while remaining in a safe environment thanks to the presence of the main lead.
The music also contributes to this emotional construction. Almost every gesture and intention seems accompanied by its own musical cue, as if the viewer is gently guided toward the expected emotion. The music is omnipresent and becomes aggressive.
On the other hand, I must say that I find the female casting particularly successful.
I am writing all this after watching twelve episodes, and I should mention that I had not expressed any criticism before this point. Despite my reservations, I intend to watch the series until the end. Perhaps I am wrong, and perhaps the final episodes will change my opinion.
Or perhaps I will remain with this persistent impression: that behind this very beautiful spectacle, the emotions still feel a little too constructed to become truly authentic for me.
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