China

It Came From the Sinosphere: Laughing In the Wind (Part 2)

August 27, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

What Sense of Vision!

I have come to really appreciate the films of Li Han-hsiang. He once studied to be a painter, and it really shows in the way that his films are full of beautifully framed. He also happens to be one of the most influential Chinese-language movie directors ever.

This drama gives me the same sense of wonderfully arranged images (the people who made this drama most likely studied the work of Li Han-hsiang during their film studies).

I mentioned the gorgeous scenery in the previous post, but there is much more to making a visually beautiful TV drama than selecting locations well. Aside from the natural scenery, this drama has a dazzling abundance of striking imagery.

Take, for example, this picture of Lin Pingzhi:

I really like the way the windows (with its square pattern) frames Lin Pingzhi, and I like the way Lin Pingzhi’s body contrasts with the shadow of his right arm.

And here’s a shot of Yue Buqun and Ning Zhongze (though it’s hard to tell it’s them):

I think we can agree that it’s not the setting itself that is impressive, but the composition of the stone structure, the sun, the mountains, and the figures which stands out. There’s also the effect of the light and prevalence of grey (which really fits the mood of this particular scene).

And look at these two women in the cave:

It’s a nice cave, but what really makes this image work is the thin, diagonal slit through which we can see the characters. Diagonal lines are generally more eye-catching than horizontal or vertical lines.

I could keep on pulling more and more examples if I wanted, because this TV drama simply has so much fantastically composed images. I just need to pick a random spot in a random episode in order to find more noteworthy images in a short time.

There’s also the attention paid to the characters’ appearances. For example, Yu Canghai and his Qingcheng sect have rather imaginative costumes…

… with the final touch being that, when he’s in a serious fight, he pulls various colorful masks out from his hyperspace arsenal.

And then there are the visual metaphors. For example, as Ren Yingying and Linghu Chong’s romantic feelings grown into a committed relationship, a group of ducklings grow into ducks. And, considering that this is wuxia, and that to be real wuxia, a story has to present someone weeping over an injured/dying loved one (or at the very least subvert this trope), I find it appropriate that we see the mature ducks as Ren Yingying weeps over a bashed-up Linghu Chong for the first time.

This TV drama truly is a feast for the eyes.

… And There’s the Ending

This is such a good drama … and then, at the end, it drops the ball.

Obviously, I cannot describe the problems with the ending in detail without spoilers. But I think I can make some general, spoiler-free observations.

The best comparison I can make (which would be familiar to MangaBookshelf readers) is the first Neon Genesis Evangelion anime. The last two episodes are infamous for disappointing viewers. Of course, that wasn’t the ending which was originally planned, but Gainax went over-budget, so they needed and ending which could be produced cheaply.

In spite of the last two episodes, I still think that Neon Genesis Evangelion is one of the greatest anime ever made (I pretend that the original anime ends at episode 24). Likewise, I think that, in spite of the last few episodes, Laughing in the Wind is one of the best Chinese-language dramas I’ve ever seen.

Furthermore, the last few episodes are still as visually fantastic as the entire drama.

The fact that the ending of Laughing In the Wind diverges from the original novel is not the problem. However, if you change the ending of a good story, you need to change things throughout the story in order to maintain consistency. The Ang Lee version of Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon was good about making the necessary changes throughout the story so that, when it does have an ending different from the original novel, it feels natural to the audience. Yet the the ending of the original novel would have felt more natural in Laughing In the Wind than the ending which the drama actually has. To me, that indicates that a) they had probably originally intended to have an ending closer to the one in the original novel and b) the choice to change the ending was probably not made for artistic reasons.

So why change the ending? I can speculate…

– Budget. I don’t think the original ending would have been any more expensive to produce, but maybe I’m wrong about that, and this show went over-budget just like Neon Genesis Evangelion (I can easily believe that it went over-budget at least).
– Other Production Reasons. Maybe they were originally promised 45 episodes, and then an executive somewhere told them that it can only be 40 episodes long.
– Audience Reaction. Maybe they thought audiences wouldn’t like the original ending so much. In that case, they are wrong – I have never seen/read any complaints about the ending of the original novel, whereas I have encountered quite a few complaints about the way that Laughing in the Wind ends.
– Political. It’s well known that many people interpret this story as a political allegory, so maybe some censor wanted to change the ending to de-politicize it. But I think this would have been a silly move. The original, uncensored novel is currently widely available in China, so changing the ending to make it more politically palatable seems pointless.

I think ‘Budget’ and ‘Other Production Reasons’ are the most likely speculations.

Personally, I pretend that Laughing in the Wind ends the same way as the novel.

Availability in English

I’ve already mentioned that it’s available, in its entirety, on Dramafever. It’s also available on Region 1 DVDs with English subtitles, which you can find for sale on the internet very quickly using ordinary search techniques.

Conclusion

This drama feels like it was put together by an exquisite artisan. The casting of the actors is excellent, the scenery is spectacular, the script (barring the last few episodes) is superb, the costumes are imaginative, etc.

Yet it manages to pull off this artistry without ever feeling pretentious. It does not show off its artistic excellence to the audience. Instead, it invites the audience to entire a space which has been curated for virtuosity. It doesn’t need to tell the audience that it’s good, it simply just is good.

I think it is this attention to detail, in addition to the strength of the story itself, which makes this drama such a delight to watch. Highly recommended.

And Then There’s State of Divinity

State of Divinity 1996 is yet another TV adaptation of the same novel. In fact, this novel has been adapted for television a whopping six times (including the 2013 adaptation, starry Joe Chen from Fated to Love You, not to mention two sets of movie adaptations (and this is before we talk about the manhua and video game adaptations).

However, people generally hold up Laughing in the Wind and State of Divinity as being the best adaptations of the novel. Though I’m not familiar with every adaptation, I agree, these are the two best. But how do these two compare with each other? You’ll find out, because next time my subject will be State of Divinity 1996.

And I’m going to lock up the lesser of these two TV adaptations in this cage.

Sara K. just happened to be away from Taiwan proper when a typhoon came along. This is why she was at Fuao harbor an hour and a half before they started selling tickets for the Taima ferry – and the line was already long (lots of flights had been cancelled). She did get a ferry ticket – and while the Taima ferries are usually quite smooth and comfortable, this last ride through an approaching typhoon was the most stomach-churching boat ride Sara K. has ever been on. And the ride lasted nine hours (to be fair, the first 4-5 hours were okay – the ferry wasn’t so close to the typhoon at first). She remained dizzy for over an hour after she reached land (she kept on wondering why the ground was shifting under her).

It Came from the Sinosphere: The Nine Provinces

March 19, 2013 by Sara K. Leave a Comment

The Story

In ancient China, Asule is the son of the leader of a powerful northern tribe. As a child, he was sent to another tribe for rearing, then his father’s tribe came along a few years later and wiped out the tribe. Asule regarded a number of the people from that tribe as family, so to say that he is distressed is an understatement.

Asule has been designated as the heir of the tribe, even though he has older brothers, and his body is frail and weak. He’s afraid that his brothers will kill him one day, and he’s frustrated that, with his weak body, he can’t protect the people he loves.

He eventually learns that he has inherited the “green-copper blood.” If he rouses it, it grants him great physical strength, but at the cost of his ability to reason. His grandfather wants to rouse the “green-copper blood” in him to carry on the family legacy, whereas Asule’s father wants Asule to live a nice, happy life. It turns out that Asule’s father had imprisoned his grandfather because his grandfather had killed his own daughter, Asule’s aunt (it’s hinted that his grandfather killed his aunt because of the “green-copper blood”).

Though there’s a lot more about Asule’s family, but I think it’s enough to say that becoming merely dysfunctional would be an improvement.

Eventually, Asule is sent to Donglu, where he takes the name “Lü Guichen.” In Donglu, he makes two good friends, Jieye and Yuran, and interesting things are happening in Donglu…

Background

This is a novel by Jiangnan, one of China’s most popular active wuxia writers, published in traditional Chinese characters by Kadokawa.

Wait a minute … isn’t Kadokawa a Japanese publisher? Why are they publishing an wuxia novel from mainland China in Taiwan and Hong Kong?

I would like to know the answer to that. I’m sure they hope to make a profit, but I’d like to know more a bit more about their reasoning. Most of what Kadokawa publishes in Taiwan are Japanese manga and novels translated into Chinese—for example, they publish the Taiwanese edition of A Bride’s Story. Recently, I learned that they have branched into publishing original Taiwanese light novels, but as far as I know, this is the only wuxia novel as well as the only novel from China that they have published (if you know of others, please comment).

Actually, maybe I shouldn’t call this a wuxia novel. Though this novel tends to get labeled as ‘wuxia’ by bookstores, marketers, etc., and Jiangnan is considered a “wuxia” writer, Jiangnan himself says that this novel is a “betrayal”—not fantasy, not historical, not romance, and not wuxia (emphasis mine).

Jiangnan is from Anhui province, and earned a Ph.D. at Washington University. He started reading a lot about ancient Chinese history, in particular, he wanted to understand the motivations of various historical figures. It was he was trying to get into the heads of ancient Chinese strongmen that he got the inspiration which eventually led this this novel.

Speaking of history…

The History (or My Ignorance and Confusion)

As I’ve said before, I actually do not know that much about Chinese history, and that is especially true of ancient Chinese history. “The Nine Provinces” is a reference to China in the Xia and Shang dynasties. However, I couldn’t find any information about most of the geographical locations mentioned in the novel. Does that mean they are fictional, or am I so ignorant that I am looking at the wrong references? Also, I couldn’t find any information about the emperor mentioned, which makes me thing he almost certainly is fictional.

My guess is that Asule’s homeland is not in “China” since, well, “Asule” is not exactly a Chinese name. I reckon that “Donglu” is China since, after moving to Donglu, Asule takes the name “Lü Guichen,” which does sound like a Chinese name, and more significantly, he felt a need to take a “Chinese” name.

In case you don’t know, in Chinese-speaking societies, everybody who is somebody is expected to have a Chinese name, regardless of ethnicity. In Taiwan, there are some legal/business things which are impossible to carry out without a Chinese name. Though I do not have a formal Chinese name, I get asked fairly often what it is, and I eventually made one up for myself. In Chinese-speaking culture, people are supposed to change their name to fit whatever cultural context they are operating in, which includes ethnic Chinese operating outside of Chinese-speaking culture. That’s why many ethnic Chinese have “English” names like “Betty,” “Harold,” “Robin,” and so forth—to them, that is the way that different cultures should interact. That, more than the name “Lü Guichen” itself, makes “Donglu” feel like China to me.

In short, I think that Jiangnan is making up his own alternate ancient Chinese history, but I am so ignorant of Chinese history that I don’t know how much is based on actual history, and how much is based on his imagination. Maybe writing a historical novel based on his own re-imagined history is what he means when he says that this novel is a “betrayal.”

My Own Reaction

The first time I read the first volume, it didn’t engage me. I didn’t get what the big fuss was about Jiangnan. I think the problem is that it was so different from anything else I’ve read that I didn’t know where to sink in my teeth.

On the other hand, I kept it around, and eventually, I figured it was worth a second chance.

The second time, I got hooked.

It’s fascinating partially because Asule’s personal circumstances are amazingly messed up (basic rule of fiction = the more hurt the characters are, the more the audience cares), it’s fascinating partially because of the contrast of Asule’s sensitivity and perceptiveness with his “uselessness,” and it’s fascinating because Jiangnan creates a world which feels truly fresh and original (though it sure is not a world I would want to live in).

I think it makes a difference that Jiangnan’s starting point was nonfiction rather than fiction. Even though he apparently tossed out most of the facts to pursue his own ideas, his ideas come from his thoughts on ancient Chinese history, not the tropes of any particular fictional genre (though I have nothing against recycling tropes, particularly tropes I like). Reality, being stranger fiction, in some ways is more creative.

Availability in English

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

However, the mere fact that contemporary wuxia from mainland China is getting published outside of China at all is intriguing. I certainly do not expect this to get translated into English in the near future (or ever), but I wonder … would Kadokawa consider publishing this into Japanese?

Conclusion

If all wuxia novels were the same, even if they were all just like my favorites, I would be thoroughly bored of wuxia by now. However, just when I think I have a rough idea of the parameters of wuxia, surprise surprise, I find a story which falls outside of those parameters. The main reason I keep on trying different wuxia novels and writers is not because I want to relive the wonderful experiences I’ve had with certain books—re-reading those books would be much more efficient—but because discovering the range of the genre is exciting.

Granted, Jiangnan claims this is not actually an wuxia novel, but I think it’s fair to say it at least belongs to the wuxia tradition (hey, if you’re betraying tradition, you still have a relationship with it). And this novel is certainly quite different from any other wuxia novel I’ve read, or for that matter, any other novel I’ve read.

This novel is not complete, at least not in traditional Chinese characters, so I don’t know how it concludes. But I certainly intend to read future volumes.

Next Time: Ashes of Time (movie)

Sara K. actually ended up ordering volume two of The Nine Provinces online. She finds the Taiwanese system of buying books online a lot more convenient that the system in the United States (she can get the books the next day AND free shipping AND she can pay with cash, no credit card necessary). Though this is partially because Taiwan is a densely populated island, she still can’t help but feel a bit disappointed in the services offered by online booksellers in the United States.

It Came from the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 2)

December 7, 2012 by Sara K. 1 Comment

You may read Part 1 here.

The Fighting

It would probably be unfair to say that the fights in this series are just indiscriminate sword-clanging. But I think most of the fights are no more than one notch above that level.

The thing is, to get good on-screen fighting, you need the following:

1. A good fight choreographer
2. Skilled performers (actors and/or stunt people)
3. Tons and tons of rehearsal time

Now, a great fight choreographer can compensate for less skilled performers, and very talented performers can compensate for a mediocre fight choreographer … but nothing can compensate for a lack of rehearsal time.

All of the above costs quite a bit of money. Particularly the rehearsal time.

I suspect this was outside this TV series’ budget.

Given that they couldn’t afford good fighting, I think they handled the fights pretty well. Though the choreography itself was not exciting, at least the fights moved the story forward. And Jin Yong writes his fight scenes so well that they would be engaging even if the performers were wet noodles.

There were a few fight scenes which did stand out … surprisingly, they were mostly fight scenes which weren’t in the original novel (or maybe that shouldn’t be surprising … when you make up your own fight scene, you can choose to do something which will look good without breaking your budget).

The standout for me is definitely the big fight at the end of episode 25 / beginning of episode 26. I never expected I would say this, but this fight works so well because of the set.

Look at that fantastic ribbon leading up to the stand.

It’s a very scenic way for the fighters to run up…

… and get kicked down.

And that stand is a great place for the fighter to stand above the crowd.

But wait!

The stand gets destroyed in the midst of the fighting!

And we have the two fighters standing on drums, while the stand collapses. Now the space has completely changed. Notice that the fighters are still elevated above the crowd. And notice all of those nice tall yellow-and-red streamers, adding nice vertical lines to the scene. With a set like that, it’s okay if the fighting itself is mostly indiscriminate sword-clanging.

I also need to give points to the costume designer who gave Di Yun such a swishy white outfit. It makes his ~~dancing~~ sword-fighting look more graceful.

Even if you don’t understand Mandarin, I highly recommend watching this fight scene yourself, because I don’t think I can adequately describe it with words and screenshots alone. You can see it in this youtube video (it starts around the 17 minute mark).

Life in an Unjust World

In a way, this is the harshest, bleakest, and most relenting of Jin Yong’s stories. The world is full of greedy people who really aren’t concerned with ethics … and they ruin the lives of the people who actually do follow some ethical principles. Again. And again. And again.

The characters could have easily been portrayed as being just black and white, and I think the TV series does go in that direction for some of the characters. However, rather than showing people as being innately good or evil, it shows that some people choose to prioritize money and power over other people, and let their greed corrupt them …. and other people choose to prioritize other people over money and power. Alas, the people who prioritize money and power tend to actually get more money and power.

Yet when money and power are not involved, the ‘bad’ guys can actually do good things and be very nice people. They don’t want to do evil. They merely don’t mind doing evil.

There is something called the ‘just world fallacy’ (TRIGGER WARNING for the link) – in other words, people want to believe that life is fair. It’s called a ‘fallacy’ because there is lots of evidence that the world is not, in fact, fair.

To pick one example (I could pick many other examples) a bunch of financial firms in the United States bribed politicians to loosen regulations, then violated even the watered-down regulations, committed fraud on a wide scale, blew up a giant housing bubble which made shelter less affordable for tens of millions of people, and which destroyed over 40% of the net wealth of middle-class Americans when it burst. Were the CEOs fired, the financial firms broken down, and serious criminal investigations launched? No! The financial firms got large government bailouts, the CEOs saw their pay increase, tens of millions of people lost their jobs and homes, fraudulent foreclosures are poisoning the centuries-old chain-of-title system which are essential to property rights, etc etc. Oh, and the statue of limitations on their crimes is coming up, which will make them immune to prosecution. This is not what a fair and just world looks like.

A variant of Sartre’s hell: being stuck in the mountains with somebody you don’t like (fortunately, for them, they stop disliking each other, which improves their quality of live).

Justice does sometimes happen in the world, but only by random luck, or when people insist on justice happening. And when people already think that the world is just, they aren’t motivated to do the hard work required to insist on justice.

Most fiction (okay, most fiction that I’m familiar with) supports the just-world fallacy – the good guys win and the bad guys lose. Like most people, I also want to believe the just-world fallacy, so in a way it’s very comforting. Such fiction serves as an escape, which probably is necessary for one’s mental well-being. But I don’t want all of my fiction to be like that.

The TV series does make the story a little more just than the original novel. For example, in the TV series (but, IIRC, not the novel), the bad guys are often plagued with nightmares filled with the ghosts of the people they have wronged. It’s a nice idea that everybody who commits evil is tortured by their consciences, but I don’t think reality always works out that way.

There’s also a new subplot in the TV series where the good guys defeat one of the bad guys very neatly. On one level, I loved watching that, because it’s nice to see the characters I like delivering a character I hate what he deserves. On another level, it makes the world of the story a little more fair, which I think goes a little against the point of the story.

This detestable character finally gets impaled on the spear of justice (the character in the background means ‘justice’). This does not happen in the original novel.

The power of this story, for me, is that it shows that, in spite of the fact that the world is unfair, it is still a wonderful to be alive.

First, integrity is its own reward. Even if you lose, lose, and lose, integrity is still worth something.

Second, there are wonderful people in the world. It is only by staying alive that one will ever have the opportunity to connect with them. And a good relationship is worth the hardship of living in an unjust world.

Of course [SPOILTER] the bad guys blow themselves up with their own greed at the end, and the good guys who are not dead get an ending that is, if not joyful, at least has some contentment. There is a limit to how much unjustness even I can stand in a story, and I’m not sure I could have taken it if the bad guys were all allowed to live happily into old age in luxury. But this story certainly takes the unjustness of the world a bit farther than a lot of other fiction I’m familiar with.[END SPOILER]

I actually find a story which acknowledges that the world is unjust and how to live on in spite of that more comforting than an escapist tale about a just world.

Availability in English

This TV series is, sadly, not available in English. It would be really nice if somebody fixed that. The novel isn’t available in English either. The only version of this story available in English is the movie, which is available on Region 3 DVD with English subtitles.

Conclusion

This … is actually a good TV series. I had my reservations at the beginning, and it took a number of episodes to win me over … but I totally got sucked into the story all over again. If you understand Chinese, I highly recommend trying this.

The movie is also worth watching.

However, my love ultimately belongs to the original novel. Whenever I go back to a story which I had loved before, I’m always afraid that it won’t be as good as I had remembered it. Sometimes my fears prove correct … but not this time. I noticed some flaws in the story which weren’t apparent to me before, but overall it served as a reminder of why I have come to love this story.

Sara K. actually did take a class on set design (as well as a class on costume design and a class on lighting design). She is not a good designer, but she got a lot of practice describing how various designs help or do not help tell a story. The posts she writes about comics would be really, really different if she hadn’t taken those classes … in fact, when she’s writing about comic book artwork, she often feels like she’s talking to one of her design teachers. Of course, it also bleeds into some of her other posts, like this one.

It Came From the Sinosphere: A Deadly Secret (Part 1)

December 4, 2012 by Sara K. 2 Comments

It’s high time that I discuss something from China again. It’s high time that I actually review a TV series that is not an idol drama. And it’s high time for me to discuss Jin Yong again. Now, I’m going to do all three at once.

A Scene

Why, it’s a wedding!

It’s a wedding in front of a tomb.

See, both the bride and the groom are dead, so the wedding has to take place at the bride’s tomb.

In wuxia stories, if you promise to marry somebody, you marry them. Death is no excuse.

He’s drinking because he is so happy that his best friend is finally marrying the love of his life (who apparently is also the love of his afterlife).

And he’s swinging his sword around with joy.

Anyway, since the groom and bride are dead, he needs to help them get together. This is the problem with getting married when you’re dead – there’s no privacy when the newly married couple finally gets intimate physical contact.

Wait a minute … why are the bride’s arms stretched up like that?

And there’s writing on the inside of her coffin. That’s only possible if she was put in the coffin while she was still alive.

The writing says that, as a reward to whoever reunites her with the love of her life (afterlife), she is revealing The Deadly Secret (which is not exactly a favor, since people who learn The Deadly Secret have a tendency to die young).

The groom’s cremated ashes are poured onto the bride’s body. What a romantic wedding!

Background

I don’t think it’s possible for a Jin Yong novel to be underrated, but if any of his novels are underrated, it’s this one. It’s my personal favorite of his novels under 1000 pages.

If you don’t know or forgot who Jin Yong is, you can refer to my post about the Condor Trilogy or The Book and The Sword.

There are only three adaptations of this novel: the 1980 movie, the 1989 TV series, and the 2004 TV series. This is (mostly) about the 2004 TV series.

The Story

Di Yun is a country bumpkin who is studying martial arts and is in love with his master’s daughter, Qi Fang. It’s a real bummer when his master disappears, he gets framed for heinous crimes, Qi Fang marries the man who framed him, the prison guards break his body, and he’s put with a cell mate who beats him up for apparently no reason whatsoever.

This is what Di Yun looks like after hearing that Qi Fang is going to marry the guy who framed him and put him in prison.

Why does his life suck so much? Well, you see, there is this ultra-powerful martial arts technique and fabulous fortune that everybody is trying to get … and Di Yun is unwittingly close to this deadly secret.

The Songs and the Production Values

At first I didn’t like either the opening or the ending songs. But the opening song eventually grew on me and, by the end of the series, I even liked the ending song.

If you watch the opening and ending songs, you might notice that the production values are a bit lower than the norm for, say, Hollywood TV shows.

Welcome to China.

Personally, I’d rather watch something with consistently low production values than something with mostly high production values which spectacularly drops the ball, and really, the production values of this TV series really aren’t that bad at all. And ultimately, the quality of the story and acting is much more important to me than the quality of the special effects.

Adaptation

This TV series is 33 40-minute episodes long. The original novel is less than 500 pages long. Before watching this series, I wondered how they could make it so long without lots and lots of padding.

Well, it turns out that there is not that much padding per se. There is quite a bit of added material, but a lot of it is just spelling out things which are merely implied in the novel. Most of the added material is relevant to the story. At worst the new stuff is offensive (because of sexism or ableism) but thankfully most of it is not. Quite a bit is powerfully mediocre. Some of the new stuff, however, is quite good.

The biggest change is not that new stuff is added (since much of it was implied by the novel), but the pacing itself. This novel is quite concise by Jin Yong standards, so things move fairly quickly. In the TV series, things progress in a much slower and more thorough way. In some ways, this increases the emotional impact – for example, we see a lot more of Di Yun and Qi Fang’s relationship, which makes their separation even more heart-breaking. However, in some ways it makes the story harder to watch – it’s much easier to read about Di Yun getting framed in the novel, where events move pretty quickly, than to watch the TV series, where it takes several episodes to watch Di Yun getting framed and tortured in prison.

I also think there is some power in leaving some things left unsaid. That’s one of the things I like about the novel. Sometimes, when the TV series fleshed out the unsaid stuff, it did pretty cool things with it … but I still think leaving things to the reader’s imagination is more powerful.

It’s hilarious to compare the 33-episode TV series to the 90-minute movie. Things which take two episodes in the TV series happen in two minutes in the movie. Of course, the movie cuts out about 60% of the original story (the TV series covers about 130% of the original story).

Ding Dian

Even though Ding Dian only appears in two chapters of the original novel (specifically chapters 2 and 3 of the novel), he is definitely the most memorable character in the story. Apparently, other people agree, because both the movie and this TV series give him plenty of screentime.

On the one hand, he is a bad-ass martial artist, one of the toughest fighters in this story, and he spends a great deal of time cultivating his kung-fu skills. In fact, he can even (under certain specific circumstances) bring dead people back to life. But it turns out martial arts is not his greatest passion in life.

His great passion, it turns out, is flowers.

Ding Dian at the flower fair

He is a flower encyclopedia (this is most apparent in the novel, but also indicated in the TV series). He goes to a flower fair. His greatest joy in life is watching flowers. It turns out that one of the villains is also a flower-arranging geek, so he gets to communicate with Ding Dian via flowers.

Of course, there are other reasons to love Ding Dian. He is a person of great integrity, and intensely loves his friend and his sweetheart. But being a badass martial artist who loves flowers above all else (except maybe his friend and his sweetheart) clinches the deal.

The Female Characters

In some stories, I would be annoyed if the female characters were constantly relying on the male characters to rescue them. Not in this story. It is clear that they are just as innately competent as the male characters. However, patriarchy has so badly stacked the deck against the female characters that they can’t rescue themselves. They do still manage to rescue the male characters when it is in their power to do so.

A picture of Qi Fang

All of the main female characters – Qi Fang, Ling Shuanghua, and Shui Sheng – have the same problem; they were born into a society that is so patriarchal that even their own families, who ‘cherish’ them, ultimately consider them to be merely disposable possessions. Sure, their families claim to love their daughters and other female relatives dearly, but when push comes to shove, in this TV adaptation [SPOILER WARNING] one female character is murdered by her father, another female character, after having almost been murdered by her fiancee, is driven to suicide by her uncle, and the last one is murdered by her husband [END SPOILER WARNING].

And the fact that Baroque China was an extremely patriarchal society makes it that much easier for their families to oppress them, in fact, without the patriarchy helping their families bully them, these female characters would have definitely had much happier outcomes.

A Picture of Ling Shuanghua

An interesting thing I noticed is that the female characters don’t want to believe that their families regard them as (potential disposable) possessions. They want to believe that they are being loved as full human beings. I can understand this, since the truth is very cruel. In a way, it’s easier to keep on believing one is being valued and loved properly. But reality catches up with all of them.

I appreciate that this TV series gave a lot more attention to the female characters than the novel. On the one hand, some of the new material is powerfully mediocre (at worst, offensive). On the other hand, some of it is good, and definitely fleshes out the females characters more than the novel does. In particular, the TV series is a bit more sympathetic to Qi Fang, and treats us to the Extended Adventures of Shui Sheng (granted, it’s a mixed bag).

A Picture of Shui Sheng

Yes, the adult female characters even talk to each other in the TV series, which is not true of the novel (they mostly talk to each other about men though). That said, I actually think it’s okay that this story fails the Bechdel test, because the female characters’ isolation is one of the worst ways the patriarchy has stacked the deck against them. Two of the female characters’ families hardly ever let them leave home, and only with supervision, and the third one gets kidnapped, which drastically limits her opportunities to bond with other women.

What is really interesting is that, even though all of the main female characters have the same problem, they react to the problem in different ways.

You Think I’m done Talking? Bwa ha ha ha ha…

I definitely have more to say about this TV series, but this post is getting long, so I guess I’ll have to wait until Friday to say more.

Next Time (not Friday): The Bride with White Hair (novel)

Sara K. plans to discuss every single Jin Yong novel at Manga Bookshelf. She is now halfway there, having discussed six novels and having six novels left to cover. Her plan is to discuss Tales of the Young Fox, Sword Stained with Royal Blood, and The Laughing Proud Wanderer next, in that order, but that’s only a tentative plan.