Camp, or genuinely excellent? Many C-Dramas teeter between the two. Widely beloved, The Untamed is a prime example of plentiful awkward effects being forgiven on account of its compelling story and believable chemistry between characters. On the complete flip side, recently aired Whispers of Fate boasts its budget on all the VFX necessary for a high-fantasy Wuxia, but its characters feel flat when compared to those on the frontlines in Zeng Qing Jie’s Pursuit of Jade. 

You can’t escape Zhang Linghe when diving into Chinese dramas. He starred alongside Bai Lu in Story of Kunning Palace, played a major role in hit Wuxia Love Between Fairy and Devil, and has starred in countless other projects, with some highly anticipated roles on the horizon. Any actor with a run as packed as Zhang’s is at risk of contracting Timothée Chalamet disease, wherein the actor is seen across film or TV so frequently that viewers fail to see them as their intended character, and instead as the actor themselves. 

Though for the first few episodes, Zhang’s role as Yan Zheng is comprised mostly of his handsomely staring out of windows – or getting injured, handsomely again – he maintains a fantastic embodiment of his character that only gets better as the series progresses. We witness and believe the growing amity between the two leads. Tian Xiwei is the perfect answer to Zhang; she plays Fan Changyu as a brilliant and chirpy young butcher with unassuming strength. The only aspect putting viewers’ suspension of disbelief at risk is her incredibly small stature for a supposed pork butcher, but the show itself jokes about this juxtaposition. 

The casting and directing went absolutely hand-in-hand. Sole credit can’t be given to one; both movements caused the actors to embody their characters to such an extent that their faces alone exude those characteristics on screen. The gentle yet mighty Yan Zheng, the bloodthirsty playboy Sui Yuanqing (Lin Muran), and the delicate and calculated Yu Qianqian (Kong Xueer) are all examples of this. Even when Sui’s derangedness is a bit theatrical, it is just below the cusp of being overdone – a mark the likes of Whispers of Fate missed with its antagonists. 

Side and minor characters, too, are cared for by their portrayers and director. We see ample character development across the board, and even small parts consisting of just a few lines are played with life breathed in. Clearly, the masterminds behind the project were zoomed in on the details. Love from the creators is seen not just in the show’s profoundness or believability, but also in its humour. Our heroine’s thugs-turned-good provide a lot of comic relief with their antics, but their presence carries weight too via found family. 

Were the creators cheating their ratings by casting the adorable Cao Yan Ning as Changning, Changyu’s baby sister? Technically, no, but the young actress is a true joy to watch. One of the best demonstrations of cinematography actually involves Cao and Wu Jia Jun as Yu Bao’er; as the two children are playing gleefully and chasing each other in one scene, we view their journey via a panned cross-section through walls. The sequence doesn’t last too long, but it brings viewers back into the sunny world of childhood. 

Contrastingly, another token of great camerawork is at a massacre’s end; an initially strange shot brings our view of the scene higher in rough increments, which we only understand later is from the perspective of a body being hoisted up. 

What likely stands out most at the initial viewing, however, is the styling. In the wintry fictional Dayin dynasty, Changyu and her sister are wrapped up with charming layers of coloured woven fabrics, sometimes with a dash of fur, and always completed with a convenient plait or two. Whether or not these braids are neatly done is an afterthought; the strong-willed Changyu exhibits her homely, hard-working nature from the tips of her hair. Of course, as we reach the latter arcs, we see this styling change to a more intentional, swept pony: no space for haphazardness as the story reaches its climax. 

To top it all off, the score is done beautifully, especially in the flute and string departments. It’s not all just historical C-Drama mush either; certain characters get their own melodies, such as the menacing flute call whenever Qi Min (Deng Kai) is on screen. All these aspects come together harmoniously in a drama that hits all the marks. 

We could’ve done without any AI at all. The practical is fantastic, like the falcon puppet looking as real as it does. Seeing blurry-faced civilians swept up by an AI-generated flood breaks immersion for sharp-eyed viewers. It’s strange: Pursuit of Jade is strong in every area, and the budget clearly wasn’t lacking, so why did someone on the team feel the need to shove in the odd jarring snippet of AI generation and expect viewers not to notice? Were it not for this, it might’ve been top marks for Pursuit of Jade. 

Luckily for the creators, we’re provided such fabulous performances by the actors that we can forgive these sequences (but not forget). With fleshed-out characters portrayed without flaw, the occasional female-gaze panders, and a compelling tale of converging storylines and untold truths, the adaptation of Tuan Zi Lai Xi’s Zhu Yu has a tight grip on viewers. Changyu may not be able to absorb old proverbs, but we’re sure she’d agree with Pursuit of Jade’s utmost truth: the biggest strength of all is community.

Rating:

Written by Maddie Armstrong

Featured image courtesy of Netflix

_{View of the Arts is an online publication dedicated to film, music, and the arts, with a strong focus on the Asian entertainment industry. As we continue to grow, we aim to deepen our coverage of Asian music while remaining committed to exploring and celebrating creativity across the global arts landscape.}