It Came From the Sinosphere

It Came from the Sinosphere: My Queen

June 26, 2012 by Sara K. 5 Comments

My Queen is a 2009 idol drama. For an explanation of the meaning of the Mandarin title Bài Quǎn Nǚwáng check out Jade’s post at Wai-Taiwan.

Story Overview

So, Shan Wushuang is a hard-working journalist who, at the age of 33, is … single. Actually, “Shan” can also be read as “dan,” which means single, and “wushuang” means “not in a couple,” so her name pretty much means “SINGLE!!!!!!” in Mandarin. At work, she overhears her co-wokers make snide remarks about how men don’t want her because she is so career-oriented. Meanwhile, there is a handsome man, Lucas, who works odd jobs. Through a series of ridiculous events related to her job, Shan causes Lucas to lose the pay for one of his gigs, which means that Lucas can’t pay his rent. Understandably, Lucas is pissed off at Shan.

Shan feels bad about causing Lucas to lose the money he needs to pay rent, so she lets him stay at her place. She sees having a handsome man in her apartment as an opportunity, so she puts on her sexiest dress and tells him that she won’t let him refuse her. He does not, in fact, refuse her, but being a responsible person, he wants to fetch a condom before things go too far. While he’s searching for his condom, Shan sees the birthdate on his ID card … and realizes that he is 8 years younger than she is! That’s it for her—she does not want to get in bed with a man 8 years younger than she—which is pretty frustrating to Lucas.

Oh, and then Lucas get a new job … at Shan’s company.

This is of course just the beginning of the story (and I didn’t even talk about Shan’s big scoop), but it should be pretty clear that this is a romance between Shan and Lucas, and that the major obstacles are a) Shan’s reluctance to date a younger man and b) Lucas’ propensity to get irritated by Shan (often due to misunderstandings).

Location

My father enjoys watching re-runs of The Streets of San Francisco. It is not a show noted for great storytelling. However, unlike some TV shows “set in San Francisco,” The Streets of San Francisco actually was shot in San Francisco. The main reason he watches so much of it is that he enjoys trying to identify the various locations in the episode, and comparing 1970s San Francisco with present day San Francisco. Location-spotting is also one of the reasons I enjoy watching idol dramas (though the storytelling tends to be much better in idol dramas than in The Streets of San Francisco, thank goodness).

The idol drama and Taiwanese tourism industries are aware of their symbiotic relationship. Idol dramas are mostly shot in Taiwan*mdash;filming abroad is rather expensive—but since idol dramas are mostly escapist, they try to find locations which allow viewers to get their minds off of their everyday lives. Sometimes they even try to sell a drama based on the location. For example, there is an idol drama called Love in Alishan (Alishan is one of the most visited tourist spots in Taiwan). Likewise, tourism companies try to use idol dramas for their own benefit. A tour operator I talked to said that they try to get the places where they offer tours shown on TV so that “everybody knows how beautiful Taiwan is” (and of course to get more business). Taiwanese tourism bureaus offer brochures based on idol dramas, and I have seen one travel book dedicated entirely to locations shown in idol dramas.

To me, the most notable locations in My Queen are the ones close to home—quite literally. A few scenes in My Queen were shot in Taoyuan City, where I live. The first episode in My Queen has a scene shot in Hutoushan Park, which I can walk to from my apartment in under and hour. There is also a scene shot in the Taoyuan City Night Market, which I can also walk to in under an hour. For the record, I like the Taoyuan City Night Market more than most of the famous night markets (Shilin Night Market and Liouhe Night Market, this means you). The Taoyuan City Night Market has a chill, relaxed atmosphere, and has a nice, humble, neighborly feeling. While they don’t show it in My Queen, there is a nice comic book rental shop right next to the Taoyuan City Night Market. If somebody out there is wondering how I got ahold of some of the out-of-print manhua I reviewed in my The Condor Trilogy in Manhua posts, there’s your answer. I used to think that I would never see Taoyuan City shown in an idol drama, so it was nice of My Queen to prove me wrong.

There are also some scenes shot in what I think is Miyuewan (Honeymoon Bay) in Yilan County, though I have not confirmed this. Miyuewan is one of the most popular spots for surfing in Taiwan. One of my guidebooks claims that Miyuewan has a nickname among the locals, “Killer Bay.” This is supposedly because some fatal accidents happened there. In the story of My Queen, somebody does die there.

What I Liked and Disliked

These are the parts of the story I liked the most 1) whenever Shan used sneaky tricks for the sake of her job 2) whenever Shan and Lucas engaged in silly activities or witty banter with each other. In short, I liked My Queen when it acted like a romantic comedy.

As a romantic comedy, it works quite well—Shan and Lucas are very good foils for each other. Shan is overall a very serious person, but she lengths she goes to in order to fulfill her journalistic duties are quite funny. Her boss’ attitude—that she is the jewel of the company who must be protected so she can keep on getting the best scoops—is also amusing. Lucas, on the other hand, has a sense of humor, and while Shan’s attention is often very focused, Lucas is more broad-minded. This turns out to be pretty fertile ground for friction and sparks between the two. At the same time, it’s clear that they are good for each other. Lucas helps Shan chill out and make work just one part of her life instead of the overwhelming totality her life, whereas Shan helps Lucas focus on getting his own life together.

What did I dislike? Mainly, I disliked most of the parts where it did not act like a romantic comedy.

For example, one of my least favorite scenes is (trigger warning) the attempted rape scene. This was not because it was an attempted rape scene per se. For example, The Outsiders has a rape scene. But The Outsiders is a dark drama which, among other things, has women who are kidnapped, pushed into sexual slavery, and forced to take strong recreational drugs so they are dependent on their captors for their next fix. A rape scene fits thematically in The Outsiders. A rape scene—even just an attempted rape scene—does not fit thematically in My Queen. What’s worse, shortly after the scene happens, the victim recovers very quickly and it does not seem to affect her very much. The scene was so brutal that it should have had some tangible effect on her for the duration of the drama. But really, the scene just should not have been there in the first place.

I also generally disliked the subplot around Shan’s fiancé. I recognize that the drama needed to let Shan show some vulnerability, that the story needs some gravitas, and that, this being an idol drama, she needs to have a romantic alternative to Lucas. But for some reason, this subplot rubbed me the wrong way. I’m not sure why. Maybe I just did not like the fiancé.

That said, I did not always dislike it when My Queen played it straight. After all, the best comedies have some seriousness. However, I liked the serious parts best when they were well-connected to Shan and Lucas’ relationship and foibles. For example, I liked the arc where Lucas is accused of a committing murder and Shan has to use her journalistic prowess to clear his name.

Feminism?

One of the reasons I was interested in this drama is that it supposedly discusses feminism. In the first draft of this post, I talked about how the show failed to meet my expectations on this matter. But I was disappointed because I had forgotten this is an idol drama.

This is escapist entertainment shown late at night on TV when people are tired. This is not where cultural attitudes get challenged. This is where you see how the culture has already changed.

Even though the age gap felt more like a gimmick to me than a launching point for serious examination of Taiwanese notions of age, gender, and romance … the fact that an idol show would have the main couple be a woman and a man 8 years her junior shows that Taiwanese culture is changing. And Shan’s mother gets to pursue romance herself—it’s played for laughs, but it is still very unusual to see a woman her age to find new romance in an idol drama. And while Lucas does turn out to be the son of a man with a lot of power and influence, at least Shan is not economically dependent on his family and she does not play his Cinderella.

Of course, one could also look at this drama and see how far Taiwanese culture has to go when it comes to gender equity. Ultimately, it does not question the attitudes held by Taiwanese people 30 or younger, it just shows that that the attitudes of the young people are in fact different from the attitudes of their elders.

Availability in English

Dramafever offers My Queen with English subtitles for streaming in North and South America. If you don’t live in North or South America, if it’s any consolation to you, I don’t live in North or South America either.

Conclusion

My feelings about this drama are mixed. Some parts are very entertaining … and some parts fell flat for me. I think I would have had a better attitude about this drama if I had entered it with lower expectations. However, people in North and South America can try this drama for free. If that is you, I recommend trying this drama to see if it hits your spot.

Next week: Special Tuesday-Friday Double Feature about a Really Popular Wuxia Novel That Was Not Written by Jin Yong

Sara K. has a love-hate relationship with idol dramas. On the one hand, they have jaded her by recycling the same plot over and over again. On the other hand, they still make her laugh, and, when she’s caught off guard, make her cry. She keeps on telling herself that she’ll quit idol dramas after she has finished drama X, or at least take a long hiatus … and then she picks up another one at the DVD rental shop.

It Came from the Sinosphere: Divine Melody

June 19, 2012 by Sara K. 4 Comments

Overview

This is going to seem weird and complicated, but take my word for it, this all makes sense when you read the manhua itself.

The story starts with a tribe of húli jīng, which means “fox spirits.” These fox spirits were born as ordinary foxes, but by magic they had been transformed into yāoguài. If that seems similar to the word ‘yōkai’, it’s because the Japanese borrowed the word from Chinese. The fox spirits now have the shape of beautiful human maidens and a lifespan of 500 years. But after 500 years, they will disappear. For this reason, they want to have children so that their tribe will last forever. Yet … they are all female, which makes reproduction a little tricky. If they use human males as studs, their children will only have a human lifespan. However, they have a special child in their care—Qin Caisheng, a fox spirit with xiān blood (xiān, is usually translated into English as “fairy” or “celestial,” but since this manhua is based on Chinese, not European, mythology, I am going to stick with the word “xiān“). Qin Caisheng is currently a girl, but in 200 years will have the ability to change between female and male forms (from this point forward, I am going to refer to Qin Caisheng with the pronouns “ze” and “hir”). The fox spirits looks forward to having Caisheng’s babies so that their tribe can last into perpetuity.

Caisheng, however, at the beginning of the story is just a young child. Caisheng feels that the only fox spirit who actually loves hir and does not see hir as just a future stud is Huiniang, who practically raises Caisheng. Huiniang is one of the tribe leader’s favorites, along with Yuniang. Yuniang is determined to be the one to bear Caisheng’s babies. Caisheng sees and talks to some of the human boys Yuniang captured, and decides to leave the fox spirits’ mountain to see the places the boys talked about. While in the human village, Caisheng meets a human boy and girl and plays with them. When a wolf attacks, the boy and girl bravely defend Caisheng’s life. When Huiniang comes to rescue Caisheng, she recognizes their service and puts a mark on the boy and girl so that they can later repay the kindness. Yuniang, meanwhile, is expelled from the tribe.

Two hundred years later, Caisheng finally has the ability to turn into a male, yet ze is hiding the truth from all but Huiniang. Caisheng only wants to have children with hir one true love, and ze is not in love with the fox spirits. Huiniang, meanwhile, fell in love with a human, and left the tribe to marry him and have his children. Caisheng figures that Huiniang is the person ze loves the most, so Caisheng wants to have hir children with Huiniang once Huiniang’s husband has died. Huiniang, on the other hand, wants to become human so that she can grow old with her husband.

On a trip to visit Huiniang in the human village, Caisheng meets the reincarnations of the boy and girl who saved hir from the world two hundred years ago. One of them, Han Yunshi, is an apprentice to a Daoist priest who tracks down and kills yāoguài (hmmm, is there some potential conflict there?). The other, Su Pinger, is a girl from a noble family who is afflicted by some kind of yāoguài. Caisheng expels the yāoguài and discovers it is a cat spirit called Gu Mao.

A xiān called Wei Ziqiu comes looking for Caisheng. His task is to bring hir back to the place where the xiān live to make hir a full xiān. Wei Ziqiu was originally human, but transformed into an immortal after suffering great tragedy. If Caisheng has children with the fox spirits or with a human, ze would be unable to ever become a xiān.

It also turns out that Gu Mao is in the service of none other than Yuniang, the outcast fox spirit who has since turned into a yāomó (which is like a yāoguài but more evil).

This is only the beginning of the story, but it is actually not that hard to keep track of what it going on.

Background

This is a 9-volume work by Yi Huan, one of Taiwan’s most delightful manhua artists. It ran in Star Girls, Taiwan’s girls’ manhua anthology, from 2003 to 2009.

Star Girls is a manhua anthology which is heavily, heavily influenced by shoujo manga. Even though I generally have little trouble distinguishing from Korean sunjeong from Japanese shoujo, I cannot distinguish between Star Girls manhua and Japanese shoujo until I recognize a specific artist’s style (for example, Yi Huan’s style is very distinct). Taiwan’s local manhua tradition was pretty much killed by censorship (by “censorship,” I mean “people did not dare create/publish manhua because they were afraid of going to prison”). After the democratization of Taiwan, Taiwanese manhua experienced a revival, but the new generation’s role models are from Japan, not from the golden age of Taiwanese manhua. Some artists are trying to piece together a new distinctly Taiwanese tradition of manhua, but those artists are not the artists who get published in Star Girls.

Artwork

I’ll start with the obvious—THIS MANHUA IS PRETTY!!!

The style is defined by long, vertical, slightly curved, lithe lines. Long flowing dresses, long flowing hair, long flowing flourishes, and so forth. The artwork consists of fine lines without much screentone—which means it is really hard to take good pictures of it with my cheap camera, but on paper it looks really nice. I dig it. I can even forgive it for having jewel-eyes (note: I am not a fan of jewel-eyes).

The costumes are one of the most detailed parts of the artwork. Yi Huan clearly has fun with the clothing. Of course, just as clothing is a way humans express themselves, costumes done right ought to express the characters. Yi Huan does costumes right.

Look at the dresses of the fox spirits. Notice how the waistlines are so high. When a woman wears clothing with a high waistline, it makes her look a bit pregnant. Considering that the fox spirits are obsessed with making babies, it is appropriate that their attire would have such a high waistline (it’s also appropriate that Caisheng has such attire, since throughout much of the story ze is wondering who to make babies with). Of course there is more that could be said about this, but this is comic book criticism, not a discussion of costume theory.

I actually did not realize that the later volumes were so crowded with talking heads and reaction shots until I actually started thinking about the artwork from a critical point of view. But the later part of the story is pretty much an angstfest, and angstfests tend to look pretty busy, artwork-wise.

The manhua is punctuated with pages like this which show off the characters’ graceful figures.

These pages are meant to make the reader sigh. And it works. I am trying to come up with more insightful observations about the artwork, but as I’m flipping through the pages, all I am thinking is “pretty … pretty.”

More On the Story

The story sets up a world based on Chinese mythology. I bought into the alternative logic. Indeed, I got caught up in the love polygons and the drama and all that angst.

This story is ultimately about choosing between love and longevity. If Caisheng gets the fox spirits pregnant, the tribe will live on forever. But Caisheng does not love the fox spirits. Huiniang does not want to live without her beloved husband, so she seeks to become human so they will die together. Wei Ziqiu has become immortal, yet he is losing the passionate feelings he had as human, and trying to hold onto them might cost him his immortality. Caisheng wants both love and longevity, but having both is impossible—either the lovers will change so much that they will no longer be the people they fell in love with, or they will stay the same forever, and that would merely be death of a different kind.

When I put it that way, it makes the story seem really deep. So I am wondering why I didn’t have a deeper experience.

Hmmm.

I think it’s because the second half of the manhua is too rushed. I sometimes do not understand why characters make certain choices because their motivations have not been sufficiently illustrated for me. And I think that’s it—the second half of the story needs more supporting plots to illustrate its points. While the point of Huiniang’s subplot in the early part of the manhua is quite clear, the point of the subplot around Huiniang’s clone is not. So while I understood the plot … understanding the plot is not the same as being moved by the plot. The last part of the manhua is less moving than the first part.

That said, the story overall is still good. My main complaint is that, even though it could have been a masterpiece, it is not.

Availability in English

The first 5 volumes were published in English by Dr Master. While it is a pity they did not publish the full run, at least the volumes they did publish are the better volumes.

They can be obtained for low prices at many websites. At the Cubic Mall Manga Outlet, they can be obtained at 2 USD per volume. At that price, it’s worth buying just for the artwork alone. Buyers can also pick up some volumes of The Legendary Couple at the same time, which was previously reviewed here.

Conclusion

Good artwork and good story. What more can one ask for?

Okay, I ask for great stories and great artwork. On the other hand, I’ve read Divine Melody twice, and enjoyed it both times. It held up well on the second reading, something which cannot be said of many comics.

The most important thing is Yi Huan’s distinctive style, both the drawing and the storytelling. I have not read any other comics quite like hers. That is why you should read Divine Melody.

Next Time: My Queen (idol drama)

Sara K. is listening to birds right now. Yes, even in the heart of a industrialized Taiwanese city, there are songbirds, though it is remarkable that she can hear them more clearly than the scooters. Sara K. is impressed with how few pigeons there are in Taiwan – possibly because Taiwan has a zillion birds, so there is not much room for pigeons. Some people come to Taiwan just for bird-watching. Taiwan also has the world’s prettiest butterflies (well, at least the prettiest butterflies Sara K. has ever seen).

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Book and the Sword

June 12, 2012 by Sara K. 4 Comments

Opening

To kick off this review, I will go over the first three pages of the novel. Here’s a summary:

Page One: Li Yuanzhi, a 14-year-old girl, sees her school teacher, Lu Feiqing, kill flies by shooting golden needles at them. She begs him to teach her how to do it.

Page Two: Lu Feiqing accepts Li Yuanzhi as his kung-fu disciple.

Page Three: Li Yuanzhi eagerly awaits her first lesson. Lu Feiqing arrives late, injured, soaked with blood, and he tells Li Yuanzhi to close the door and be quiet.

Right there, on the first page of the novel, we get the first glimpse of the writer’s imagination. He does not merely kill the flies, he kills them by SHOOTING GOLDEN NEEDLES AT THEM!!! Li Yuanzhi seems to be a spunky girl, which is always a good sign. And of course, page three sets up some suspense and promises a fast-moving story with plenty of action.

With an opening like this, I was pretty excited to read this novel.

Background

The Book and the Sword is Jin Yong’s first novel. Jin Yong (English name: Louis Cha) is the most popular Chinese-language novelist of the 20th century. He is one of the most popular novelists of the 20th century period. The Book and the Sword was a sensation when it was first published in 1955-1956, and to this day it is still adapted for television (the most recent TV adaptation was made in 2008).

Brief Plot Overview

The story is set during the reign of Emperor Qianlong of the Manchu dynasty. The Red Flower Society is a secret society of sword and kung-fu fighters who want to restore rule by Han Chinese. I think the conflict here is really obvious.

One of the members of the Red Flower Society, Wen Tailai, discovers Emperor Qianlong’s greatest secret, so he is captured in order to silence him and the Red Flower Society has to rescue him.

Meanwhile, an Uyghur tribe is trying to recover their copy of the Quran (the “book” referenced in the title). Chen Jialuo, a Red Flower Society member and the chief protagonist, helps them, and in return the leader’s daughter Huotongqing gives him a sword (the “sword” referenced in the title).

As the plot gets thicker, things get messier, especially after the emperor’s secret gets spilled and Kasili (aka Princess Fragrance) gets involved.

The Bad

Chen Jialuo is the most boring of Jin Yong’s main characters. He is virtuous, a good fighter … and that’s pretty much it. Almost all other Jin Yong leads are also virtuous and good fighters, but they generally have personalities too. Chen Jialuo does not, or at least his personality is so flimsy it does not count.

The worst is that he almost never experiences doubt or inner conflict, or questions himself, not even in a “Do I kill the man who caused my father’s death or do I marry his daughter instead?” kind of way. This is especially bad because he is put in situations where 99% of the human population would experience inner conflict, yet he does not. For example, towards the end of the novel, he has to choose between keeping something precious to him, or doing what he thinks is in the interest of the greater good. He goes ahead and does what he thinks is in the interest of the greater good without hesitation or even suffering. The explanation is that he thinks he is going to paradise after he dies, so it does not really matter if he has want he wants in life. Not only is this less interesting than actual conflict, it also rings false. Even people who believe in paradise, believe they are going there, and use that thought to console themselves would experience some reluctance and pain when they give up something precious. The fact that Chen Jialuo does not experience this makes me think that either this thing is not actually precious to him, or that he’s not human.

And then there is keeping track of the cast. There are other Jin Yong novels with a far larger cast of characters (Yǐ Tiān Tú Lóng Jì and Tiān Lóng Bā Bù come to mind), yet this is the only Jin Yong novel where I had serious trouble keeping track of who was who—particularly the various members of the Red Flower Society. I was able to keep track of Li Yuanzhi and Lu Feiqing pretty well because of the memorable opening of the novel, but most characters did not get such a memorable opening, so it was hard to sort out who is just a minor character and who is somebody I should actually remember, especially when a bunch of characters are introduced at the same time. In later novels, Jin Yong handles this much better. Significant characters generally get a memorable introduction, and are generally introduced one by one instead of in a batch.

And there are the fights. Many of the sword fights are just good guys and bad guys finding themselves in the same place at the same time, therefore they fight. All of the sword techniques are generic. It gets pretty monotonous. To contrast this with an excellent Jin Yong fight where the sword techniques are well described and interesting to follow, as well as having psychological depth, read my post The Condor Trilogy in Manhua: Fighting. To be fair, the fights in the second part of the novel are better, with more variety and human interest, but they still do not measure up to the fights in later Jin Yong novels.

So, what did I like about the novel?

The Good

First of all, there is Emperor Qianlong’s secret. It is a good secret. I will not spoil it here.

Then there is Jin Yong’s imagination. It is evident in passages like this:

過了良久良久，陳家洛才慢慢放開了她，望著她暈紅的臉頰，忽見她身後一面破碎的鏡子，兩人互相摟抱著的人影在每片碎片中映照出來，幻作無數化身，低聲道：“你瞧，世界上就是有一千個我，這一千個我總還是抱著你。”

“After a long time passed, Chen Jialuo slowly let her free, gazing at her blushing cheeks. Suddenly he saw behind her the shattered mirror, the reflection of two people hugging each other visible in every fragment, fantastic countless incarnations of themselves. He murmured ‘You see, the world is just a thousand Chen Jialuos, these thousand Chen Jialuos all embracing you.'”

(Please forgive my English translation for not being as elegantly phrased as the Chinese original.)

His imagination sometimes manifests himself for just a moment, like above, and it sometimes manifests itself for an entire scene, such when the characters are running around in the desert city.

Of course, Jin Yong got lots of ideas from Chinese history and lore. For example, Princess Fragrance was inspired by the Fragrant Concubine, who, according to legend, was an Uyghur woman with beautiful looks and an even more beautiful smell. Jin Yong is at good at picking which ideas to borrow, and the historical background adds another layer to the story. He skillfully weaves his own ideas with other people’s ideas into a fresh narrative.

One of my favorite scenes in the novel is when Chen Jialuo goes to visit his mother. This is one of the rare times in the novels where Chen Jialuo actually seems heartbroken. He had been delaying visiting his mother because of his duties at the Red Flower Society, and when he finally does it he learns that she has just died. I can sympathize. I was actually more moved by this scene than certain scenes in other Jin Yong novels where mothers commit suicide right in front of their sons (a lot of main characters watch their mothers commit suicide in Jin Yong novels). Of course, Emperor Qianlong happens to be around when Chen Jialuo pays his respects to his late mother. This helps set up the reveal of the emperor’s secret, and foreshadows later events in the novel.

Availability in English

The Book and the Sword has been translated into English by Graham Earnshaw and published by Oxford University Press. It is supposed to include a character glossary, which I would have found really useful when I was reading the novel. Excerpts from this translation are available at Graham Earnshaw’s website, but I must note that some of the later excerpts might contain spoilers. Considering how expensive this translation is, borrowing it from the library is the most practical option.

I have only taken a brief look at the translation through Graham Earnshaw’s website, but based on what I looked at, it seems alright.

Conclusion

I really, really wanted to like this novel … but it should be apparent that my efforts to like this novel failed. In fact, this is the only Jin Yong novel I do not like.

That said, I am still glad I read it. It deepened my appreciation for Jin Yong. Some of his techniques are more obvious in this novel than in other novels. Some of the ways this novel does not work for me helps me understand how other Jin Yong novels do work for me.

And finally, I am in the minority, at least among people who have expressed in English their opinions of this novel. Most people who have reviewed the Earnshaw translation have a positive opinion of the novel.

Still, why they decided to publish this in English and not Shè Diāo Yīngxióng Zhuàn (which, in my opinion, is the best choice for people who have never read a Jin Yong novel) is beyond me.

Next Time: Divine Melody (manhua)

The Book and the Sword was technically the first novel Sara K. ever tried to read in Chinese. Of course, considering that she knew less than 800 characters at the time of her first attempt, she did not get very far (she did it more as an experiment than as a serious attempt). She did learn that it would probably be better to slide into rather then leap into Jin Yong … and then she saw Lee Chi Ching’s The Eagle Shooting Heroes in bookstores, and the rest is history.

It Came From the Sinosphere: The Outsiders 1 & 2

June 5, 2012 by Sara K. 9 Comments

Hi everyone. This is a new column on comics, novels, TV shows, films, and who knows what else from the Chinese-speaking world. As a resident of Taiwan, I’m going to put a disproportionate emphasis on Ilha Formosa, but I’m not going to restrict myself to it. For this first post, I am looking at a Taiwanese idol drama: The Outsiders.

Even though The Outsiders is not based on the S.E. Hinton novel, like the novel, it is a story of gang youth getting into more trouble than they bargained for.

The Story

Three orphans, Ah Hao, Shanzi, and Ah Qi, are sworn brothers and have taken care of each other (with the guidance of a sympathetic police officer) since they were children. Ah Hao and another student at their senior high school, Xiao Yanzi, fall in love with each other. The problem is that Ah Hao, along with his sworn brothers, are poor and “delinquent,” whereas Xiao Yanzi is a sheltered piano student from a nice upper-middle-class family.

Things go downhill from there. Hong Dou, a tough girl with a crush on Ah Hao, threatens violence if Xiao Yanzi gets too close to him. Xiao Yanzi’s parents do not approve of Ah Hao, and put a lot of effort into keeping them apart. Shanzi eventually also finds himself in love with Xiao Yanzi. And we’re not even halfway through the plot.

Ah Hao is unusual in that he is a male lead in an idol drama who is poor. For real. He’s not secretly the son of the CEO of some large corporation or otherwise high-ranking man. Even male leads who are merely upper-middle class are not too common in idol dramas. But this is not the only way in which The Outsiders is an atypical idol drama.

In most idol dramas, the main couple runs into a problem and they overcome it and become closer, then there’s a bigger problem and they overcome that and become even closer, and so forth. At first, it looks like The Outsiders is following the same pattern—Ah Hao and Xiao Yanzi run into problems and deal with them. But instead of gaining strength, resilience, and confidence, the very opposite happens. They bond with each other and their faith in themselves becomes more and more precarious. It eventually dawns on the viewer that this might not end well.

So, is The Outsiders a tragedy, or is this a setup for a grand climatic recovery where Ah Hao and Xiao Yanzi’s love for each other conquer all? The answer to that question, of course, is a spoiler. But regardless of the outcome, the mere fact that The Outsiders goes so far into dark territory makes it stand out from other idol dramas.

Acting

The actor who stands out the most, to me, is Ady An as Xiao Yanzi. It’s not because of her acting—though I think her acting is alright in this drama—it’s her looks. It’s not so much that she is pretty (she is, of course, pretty) as that she is blessed with looks which light up on camera. She is also blessed with the best role. Out of all of the characters in the drama, it is Xiao Yanzi who grows and changes the most. Come to think of it, her acting in this drama actually is pretty good since I found Xiao Yanzi’s character change convincing.

The actor who I admire the most based on ability is Xie Chengjun as Ah Bao, the main villain. Ah Bao’s dialogue is more like the way TV villains talk than real people, and his sidekick, Laoshu, is quite irritating because of the writing. However, Xie Chengjun managed to make Ah Bao a bit more like a human being with his performance. He sometimes downplays the role, making Ah Bao seem all the more chilling, while punctuating his performance with violent bursts of energy. I think the intensity and believability Xie Chenghun brings to the role saves the character from mediocre writing.

The acting in The Outsiders does not excel as much as the acting in, say, Mars. Still, I think most of the actors generally perform adequately.

The Music

Considering that one of the main characters is a piano student, it should no come as no surprise that music is an important part of this drama. In fact, The Outsiders has the most eclectic selection of music of any idol drama I’ve seen. Naturally, there are many piano pieces throughout the show, well-chosen to contribute to the atmosphere of the drama. Furthermore, the drama includes a Tsai Chin song (Tsai Chin was a very popular Taiwanese singer in the 1980s). I am not a Tsai Chin fan, but I appreciate that the song fits the mood, and I appreciate that they decided to include some older pop music.

The best known song in this drama is most likely the ending song, “Lydia.” It is a song by FIR, one of Taiwan’s most popular pop bands. You can hear what kind of song it is in the first few seconds, where the opening strings are joined by an underlying rock beat. The song breathlessly ascends in pitch … at least the lyrics seem breathless due to the creative use of Mandarin. For example, here’s a part of the lyrics:

He left (you still) bear, not having left, your own heaven
After the wind-drying there can remain rainbow tear light

If the translation does not make sense, it’s because the lyrics in Chinese do not entirely make sense to me and I tried to keep the translation as literal as possible. For people who are really interested in the song, there is a gloss of the lyrics into English at Chinese Tools.

The song fits the story, as it expresses passion rising, without pause, pushed by a strong beat, just as Xiao Yanzi and Ah Hao are pushed forward at a pace faster than they can handle.

Fighting

I really like the violence in The Outsiders. Yes, romance comes before action, but the action is still pretty good. First of all, I like the free, raw, unrestrained energy. It really feels like violence. One reviewer claimed that the fights were not choreographed. As someone who knows a few things about fight choreography, I know the fights actually are choreographed, but they feel like they are not. I also like the atmosphere—broken windows, dark alleys, abandoned buildings. The best thing, of course, is that the characters are vulnerable. Many action flicks forget to include the vulnerability. The fighting in The Outsiders is short and to the point, but a short fight in which Xiao Yanzi (the piano student) gets hit by a baton makes a deeper impression on the viewer than 30 minutes of inconclusive fighting by invincible heroes.

If you want to get a feel for the fighting, watch the opening to Outsiders 2 – it shows quite a bit of fighting.

And, of course, people who cannot watch brutal violence on screen should avoid this drama.

Outsiders 2

Much of what I have to say about The Outsiders also applies to The Outsiders 2, so I will stick to comments which only apply to Outsiders 2.

The problem with making a sequel to The Outsiders is that the ending does not lend itself to a sequel. The writers get around this problem by setting The Outsiders 2 during the 5-year gap in The Outsiders. However, this setup limits what they can do with the story since they have to keep things consistent with the first drama. For example, they cannot do much to get the characters from the first drama to grow and change beyond what is shown in the first drama. Because of these limitations, The Outsiders 2 largely revolves around some new characters. Because I know the new characters do not show up in The Outsiders, I figured out pretty quickly that things do not end well for them.

In a way, the constraints are good, because they forced the writers to be more subtle about how they handled the characters. Considering the constraints in place, I am impressed that the main characters had as much development in The Outsiders 2 as they do. Nonetheless, Outsiders 2 does not manage to have the resonance of the first drama.

Huīsè Kōngjiān (“Gray Space”) is one of my favorite idol drama theme songs. It’s the song I linked to in the “Fighting” section. It is not so much the song itself as the way it fits the clips chosen for the opening and the way it fits the overall atmosphere of The Outsiders. The ending song, Nǐ Shuō (“You Say”), is also lovely. Whereas “Lydia” is the more popular song, I like that these two songs are quieter and feel more melancholy.

Overall

For all its flaws, The Outsiders is one of the most memorable idol dramas I have seen. I think what makes it stick out more than anything else is that it has some truth. I am not saying that it is realistic—it is most certainly not—and I’m not saying all of it is true (the villains in particular are not true to life). But there is enough truth to make an impression.

First of all, The Outsiders is almost entirely filmed in humble, ordinary neighborhoods (even the neighborhood of Xiao Yanzi’s faimly feels very ordinary). Many idol dramas are set in posh houses or tourist destinations. That’s not a bad thing—I have a lot of fun trying to identify locations—but it reflects fantasy, not the way most people in Taiwan live.

Most idol dramas are a retelling of Cinderella—humble girl gets swept up by wealthy guy and he takes care of her problems. However, most women, Taiwanese or not, are not going to get swept up by princes, let alone have their problems solved by them. This does not stop Ah Hao from trying to be Xiao Yanzi’s prince.

And that is the core conflict in their relationship. Ah Hao wants to be Xiao Yanzi’s prince, but Xiao Yanzi wants to be his partner. Their relationship gets even more strained when it becomes apparent that Shanzi wishes to be Xiao Yanzi’s partner, and a girl who really wants Ah Hao to be her prince appears. This is a problem that happens in real life, and it is this aspect of the story which stays with me the most.

Unfortunately, it is not possible to legally watch The Outsiders with English subtitles. Somebody ought to license this drama.

Next time: The Book and the Sword (novel)

Sara K. is not sure whether or not she will be able to make witty remarks about her life every week, but she will try. Since she is recovering from a cold, she certainly does not feel very witty right now.