Elvis Doesn't Rock
Let me start with a disclaimer: I don't mean to specifically target the actor playing the male lead in this drama, Elvis Han. I just can't resist making a pun. The truth is, this drama is so flat, dull and stilted that I don't believe any kind of cast could have made it rock and roll.
At first glance, there is nothing terribly and obviously wrong with the Heir. The drama is exquisitely shot with a delicate color palette strongly reminiscent of Chinese traditional ink paintings. It embodies, quite literally, the notion of "moving pictures", presenting us with a succession of meticulously curated visual compositions. The costumes are authentic, the settings carefully elaborate. Frame after elegant frame, we can but sit back and admire subtle images parading before our eyes.
The problem is, these pretty pictures may be moving, but they fail to move us. They can't engross or entertain because they feel like paper-thin illustrations. The characters lack substance and, well, character. They are nothing but cyphers, empty shells populating the arduous but triumphant journey travelled by the female lead on her way to recognition and prosperity.
I strongly suspect that the Heir was written by AI. Somebody typed in: "give me a story about an independent, high-spirited, career-oriented young woman practicing a complex heirloom craft" and what came out was Li Zhen, a girl who manages to impose herself against all odds as a leading figure in the highly competitive and heavily monopolized ink industry flourishing under the Ming dynasty.
In the abstract, a young woman of strong character making her own way in a world made by and for men sounds like an interesting and inspiring premise. In practice, our heroine is a quintessential poster girl with whom no living woman made of flesh and blood could ever hope to compare.
For example:
- Li Zhen is omniscient and preternaturally mature from her early childhood;
- Li Zhen is universally capable, never puts a foot wrong and has a ready solution for every kind of problem;
- Li Zhen is never intimidated when faced with an obstacle: she spontaneously improvises motivational speeches so stirring that she invariably sways stubborn patriarchs into submission and has them eating out of the palm of her hand;
- Li Zhen is never tired, moody, dispirited or anything short of breezily energetic;
- Li Zhen always looks exceedingly pretty in spite of her unshakeable devotion to duty and and endless working hours.
Et cetera ad infinitum.
Only a bot would believe that such a peerless paragon of perfection could ever seem relatable, interesting, inspiring or anything other than oppressive from the point of view of an ordinary human being.
In our imperfect and flawed human reality, the heroine's unimpeachable excellence is so out of reach that we can only observe her goings-on from a polite distance. The lofty standards she sets for women to live up to are so unrealistic that trying to get invested in her story feels like a laborious uphill battle against our own conscience. For the sake of sisterhood, we feel that we should be rooting for her, but we can't; so we keep pushing through in the hope that things will get better, but they don't.
The Heir is very clearly a vehicle for the actress Yang Ze, who has turned protofeminism into her niche specialty. The drama seeks to capitalize on the success of the Flourished Peony - and to rectify some of its weaknesses - but is so superficial and soulless in its approach to storytelling that it fails to convince in spite of its painstaking efforts.
Moreover, the protofeminism it preaches is counter-productive as it burdens young girls with impossible expectations. There is nothing wrong with creating an enjoyable story about a superwoman so long as it is made clear that it is pure fiction, which is not the case here. The Heir takes itself very seriously and expects us to do the same. If I had to describe this drama in one word, it would be sanctimonious: making an artificial show of upright values with the goal of generating profit by courting public approval.
In order to punish the producers for their exploitative approach to the issue of women's empowerment, I am sorely tempted to give this drama an overall score of 7. However, this would be profoundly unfair to the crew members involved in the cinematography and the art direction. Also, the fascinating history of ink-making under the Ming dynasty is meticulously researched and does have an educational value for anyone who, like me, is eager to learn more about Chinese culture.
In conclusion, it is a pity that the best elements of this drama were not used to make a gorgeously instructive documentary. Strange as it may sound, I can't help feeling that a non-fictional exploration of the historic ink-making craft would have been infinitely more thrilling and entertaining than the Heir in its present form - woefully undramatic, self-righteous and emotionally blunted.
At first glance, there is nothing terribly and obviously wrong with the Heir. The drama is exquisitely shot with a delicate color palette strongly reminiscent of Chinese traditional ink paintings. It embodies, quite literally, the notion of "moving pictures", presenting us with a succession of meticulously curated visual compositions. The costumes are authentic, the settings carefully elaborate. Frame after elegant frame, we can but sit back and admire subtle images parading before our eyes.
The problem is, these pretty pictures may be moving, but they fail to move us. They can't engross or entertain because they feel like paper-thin illustrations. The characters lack substance and, well, character. They are nothing but cyphers, empty shells populating the arduous but triumphant journey travelled by the female lead on her way to recognition and prosperity.
I strongly suspect that the Heir was written by AI. Somebody typed in: "give me a story about an independent, high-spirited, career-oriented young woman practicing a complex heirloom craft" and what came out was Li Zhen, a girl who manages to impose herself against all odds as a leading figure in the highly competitive and heavily monopolized ink industry flourishing under the Ming dynasty.
In the abstract, a young woman of strong character making her own way in a world made by and for men sounds like an interesting and inspiring premise. In practice, our heroine is a quintessential poster girl with whom no living woman made of flesh and blood could ever hope to compare.
For example:
- Li Zhen is omniscient and preternaturally mature from her early childhood;
- Li Zhen is universally capable, never puts a foot wrong and has a ready solution for every kind of problem;
- Li Zhen is never intimidated when faced with an obstacle: she spontaneously improvises motivational speeches so stirring that she invariably sways stubborn patriarchs into submission and has them eating out of the palm of her hand;
- Li Zhen is never tired, moody, dispirited or anything short of breezily energetic;
- Li Zhen always looks exceedingly pretty in spite of her unshakeable devotion to duty and and endless working hours.
Et cetera ad infinitum.
Only a bot would believe that such a peerless paragon of perfection could ever seem relatable, interesting, inspiring or anything other than oppressive from the point of view of an ordinary human being.
In our imperfect and flawed human reality, the heroine's unimpeachable excellence is so out of reach that we can only observe her goings-on from a polite distance. The lofty standards she sets for women to live up to are so unrealistic that trying to get invested in her story feels like a laborious uphill battle against our own conscience. For the sake of sisterhood, we feel that we should be rooting for her, but we can't; so we keep pushing through in the hope that things will get better, but they don't.
The Heir is very clearly a vehicle for the actress Yang Ze, who has turned protofeminism into her niche specialty. The drama seeks to capitalize on the success of the Flourished Peony - and to rectify some of its weaknesses - but is so superficial and soulless in its approach to storytelling that it fails to convince in spite of its painstaking efforts.
Moreover, the protofeminism it preaches is counter-productive as it burdens young girls with impossible expectations. There is nothing wrong with creating an enjoyable story about a superwoman so long as it is made clear that it is pure fiction, which is not the case here. The Heir takes itself very seriously and expects us to do the same. If I had to describe this drama in one word, it would be sanctimonious: making an artificial show of upright values with the goal of generating profit by courting public approval.
In order to punish the producers for their exploitative approach to the issue of women's empowerment, I am sorely tempted to give this drama an overall score of 7. However, this would be profoundly unfair to the crew members involved in the cinematography and the art direction. Also, the fascinating history of ink-making under the Ming dynasty is meticulously researched and does have an educational value for anyone who, like me, is eager to learn more about Chinese culture.
In conclusion, it is a pity that the best elements of this drama were not used to make a gorgeously instructive documentary. Strange as it may sound, I can't help feeling that a non-fictional exploration of the historic ink-making craft would have been infinitely more thrilling and entertaining than the Heir in its present form - woefully undramatic, self-righteous and emotionally blunted.
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