Review: A Heartfelt Masterpiece: 'Tender Light' Shines Bright

#TongYao #童瑶 #微暗之火 #TenderLight #ZhangXincheng #张新成​​​ #cdrama
(SPOILER FREE)

Tender Light defies conventions as a bold and daring Chinese drama series that takes risks, potentially alienating some viewers—but undoubtedly rewarding those willing to invest time and effort to understand its narrative. This series demands a mature and dedicated audience, losing some fans of the starring actors who sought a more straightforward experience. However, for those who appreciate complex storytelling and innovative techniques, Tender Light shines as a rare gem. Despite some missteps in the final 15 minutes of Episode 28, the overall brilliance of this 28-episode series far outweighs its flaws. The 'tender light' it emanates may be subtle, but its impact is profound and lasting. 

Perhaps the most significant risk that this drama took was its decision to embrace an arthouse approach right from the start. From its unconventional narrative structure to its meticulously crafted visual style, the drama prioritizes artistic vision over familiar genre tropes. Its slower pace allows for contemplation and a deeper exploration of complex themes which are often absent from mainstream Chinese dramas or not explored in detail. The arthouse approach is also one that is rarely used in Chinese dramas, if anything, there is a tendency to go for an indie film look when making crime dramas because the level of detail needed is less demanding.

A considerable amount of thought and effort was invested in the mise-en-scène, music, sound design, editing, composition, lighting, the choice of location and more. This level of attention to detail is rare in Chinese dramas, especially considering the typically long episode count, which can make maintaining such a vision challenging. While Tender Light is not an exceptionally long drama, at 28 episodes, it’s not exactly short either, making it's achievement of maintaining this aesthetics all the more impressive.

I'll admit, I'm using this image partly because it says "Singapore" on the screen. :P

The creators for this drama series decided to take "the road less travelled" and instead of giving us a straightforward narrative structure, they used two supporting characters Lin Fanglu and Old Chen to frame this drama. Through their investigation, the layers of the mystery behind Xu Yi’s death and the stories of our two protagonists, Nan Ya and Zhou Luo, are gradually revealed. Moreover, it is through them that we will discover that the true story of Tender Light isn't about the crime but of trauma, love and redemption. This narrative structure, while not new in crime stories, can be risky depending on its execution. In Tender Light, the risk lies in the significant screen time given to these two supporting characters, especially in the first two-thirds of the series At times it even felt that these two support characters have more screen time than the protagonists. 

(Sorry, this paragraph was edited in on 25th May 2024 because I forgot to include it when I published it. This is to explain why I think they chose this narrative structure.)
Interestingly, this narrative choice also mirrors the viewer’s experience with the police in the series. Just as the police are often kept in the dark about the true nature of the events unfolding, so too are the viewers. This clever parallel not only enhances the mystery and suspense of the series, but also deepens our understanding of the complex dynamics at play in Qingshui Town.

Tender Light's non-traditional narrative structure is complemented by a nonlinear timeline, skilfully woven with flashbacks that enhance the story. While nonlinear storytelling can be challenging, the drama series executes it superbly, avoiding viewer confusion and disinterest. The flashbacks are expertly motivated, edited, and differentiated from the current timeline, ensuring a seamless flow. Visual cues like black and white transitions and superimposed text indicating the year and date help maintain clarity. However, the flashbacks are so well-integrated that viewers may not even notice these cues, a testament to the show's exceptional storytelling.

The cinematography of Tender Light is truly beautiful. Each scene is lit exquisitely, every camera movement is motivated and every shot is composed to perfection. The series appears to aim for an arthouse film aesthetic. While it’s almost certain that it was shot in HD, it seems to have been treated to appear softer and grainier, mimicking a more filmic look as opposed to the stark sharpness typical of HD video. The colour palette is generally muted and natural, not overly saturated and restrained. It evokes a sense of simplicity, authenticity, and naturalness. The tone is often somber, reflective, and contemplative. Given that this is a crime drama, low-key lighting common in film noir was used. However, as the drama unfolds, it becomes clear that Tender Light does not intend to portray a cynical world like the typical film noir. Hence, although the lighting is dim, the shadows are subtle and not overly contrasty. The series aims for a more nuanced, introspective ambiance.

The composition of the shots also plays a crucial role in conveying the drama's intended atmosphere. The 2.39:1 widescreen ratio was use so that shots can be composed with a tight frame, minimizing the presence of the sky. Even when there was a sky or mountains in the background, they were often overblown or overcast, evening out the background till it appears soft. In some of the shots of the fields, there is also an obvious vignette. Even in wide shots of bridges, buildings, and other structures, the frame is often constricted by surrounding elements like trees, leaves, and branches. The deliberate use of frames within frames adds depth and visual interest. Even overhead shots are carefully composed, ensuring that everything remains within a frame.

For instance, in the scene with the burnt car, the wreckage is framed by adjacent vehicles and groups of people (see screenshot above). While the overall tone of the drama doesn't feel overtly claustrophobic, this visual approach effectively conveys the sense of a small, enclosed community, emphasizing the characters' feelings of entrapment within the town's limited politics and social dynamics. Our characters, like the burnt car in the shot, feel trapped within this insular world, where every detail matters and boundaries are tightly drawn.

I wonder how many people realized that producer Zhang Shuwei, played Wen Ting, Lin Fanglu's girlfriend.

In addition to the tight framing, there is also a liberal use of shallow depth of field. Even in long shots of just vehicles driving through the town, a shallow depth of field is employed. The deliberate use of a shallow depth of field contributes to the feeling of hyper focus, where everything is intensely scrutinized and magnified, much like the gossip and attention Nan Ya or Zhou Luo or anyone who's the flavour of the week receives. This technique makes it seem like the characters' actions are under a microscope. Even the smallest details become amplified in this insular world where boundaries are tightly drawn, and everything feels intensely observed. The shallow depth of field enhances the feeling of being trapped under a lens, where every move is watched and judged.

Furthermore, it creates a sense of isolation, as the blurred background separates the characters from their surroundings, emphasizing their disconnection from the world around them. The shallow depth of field also draws attention to the characters' emotions, making their facial expressions and body language feel more intimate and vulnerable. This, in turn, heightens the emotional impact of the scenes, making the viewer feel like they're experiencing the characters' struggles firsthand.

Lighting also plays a crucial role in establishing Nan Ya’s character in Tender Light. Particularly in the early episodes, she is often bathed in beautiful, soft, warm light. The deliberate choice of lighting enhances her ethereal quality, making her seem like a creature from another realm.

Wardrobe also plays a big part in characterization, especially when it comes to Nan Ya. Her wardrobe is thoughtfully curated. Her clothes are made of soft, gentle materials that elegantly catch the breeze, enhancing her dreamlike presence. This romantic allure not only draws Zhou Luo to her but also captivates us viewers. Nan Ya becomes more than just a character; she embodies an otherworldly grace that lingers in our minds. She is, in essence, poetry. We can empathize with Zhou Luo, a young man who's just discovering youthful passion, as he becomes so captivated by her that he becomes obsessed.

This juxtaposition is particularly striking, especially when compared to the first times viewers see Nan Ya. We first see her in the cold open before the title card in Episode 1, glimpsing only fragments of her: close-ups of her bloodied, trembling hands, the sound of her ragged breathing, and a distant shot of her hunched over, shaking uncontrollably in a room filled with furniture. Later, in the interrogation room, we see her more clearly: she sits calmly with a barely perceptible defiance, her face almost bare of makeup, dressed in dull, heavy prison clothes, yet still elegant even as she exudes weariness. As she recounts the events of that fateful night, we witness Xu Yi brutally assaulting her.

This stark contrast highlights the intentional transformation of her character, revealing resilience and complexity. Guixiang Jie's observation that "This woman, she's beautiful to look at, but doesn't want to be like others, and is bound to attract trouble" reinforces the theme of Nan Ya's defiance and her status as an outsider. Tong Yao's portrayal masterfully captures this defiance, making Nan Ya a more nuanced and captivating character.

The editing, sound design, and music in this drama are excellent. For example, in Episode 2's cold open, when Lin Fanglu enters Nan Ya's shop, the editing and sound design effectively create a vivid atmosphere. Between the shots of interviews and the beautiful Nan Ya in her shop, several quick close-ups of the sewing machine's needles punching the cloth rapidly and Nan Ya's feet moving rapidly on the pedal are intercut. The sound of the needles and the sewing machine's mechanisms suddenly emerge, contrasting sharply with the soft background music. The sound is amplified, drawing a parallel with Nan Ya stabbing Xu Yi, which is a clever hint at her potential as a femme fatale in this crime story. This is particularly effective since it's only the second episode, and viewers still don't know much about Nan Ya's character.

The arthouse approach in Tender Light—with its deliberate pacing, willingness to let visuals linger for their beauty, unconventional narrative structure, and experimentation with various editing styles and storytelling methods—demands compelling characters or stories to keep viewers engaged. Fortunately, the story of the protagonists, Nan Ya (played by Tong Yao) and Zhou Luo (played by Zhang Xincheng) is not just compelling, but also deeply meaningful, tackling complex social issues like domestic violence, mental health, misogyny and collective bullying which are rarely discussed or portrayed in detail in Chinese dramas. The series' thoughtful portrayal of these themes, combined with its captivating visuals and romantic sequences, makes for a truly impactful viewing experience.

This was crucial, as some episodes focus more on one character than the other to the point that sometimes one of the characters were mostly absent from some episodes. This was once again a risky approach, but it succeeded because viewers came to love these two characters and became so emotionally invested in them. Even when one or the other isn’t central to the topic of a particular episode, the emotional attachment to these characters ensures that viewers remain engaged in their overall journey.

While the use of poetry in Chinese dramas isn't completely absent, the amount of poetry and the importance attached to the poems and their meaning in Tender Light is exceedingly rare. The creators skilfully used poetry, music, and romantic visuals to weave a connection between the couple. Their growing affection transcended simple romantic love; their connection was soul-deep.

Zhou Luo’s initial misstep—driven by youthful passion—forced him to confront shame and work hard for Nan Ya’s forgiveness. Moreover, this departure from the typical forgiveness trope in Chinese dramas where women forgive men too easily added authenticity. Even after Zhou Luo shielded Nan Ya from Xu Yi’s brutality, she didn’t easily let him into her world. It took an epiphany, inspiration from Dead Poets Society, his persistent sincerity, and his genuine interest in her inner world of poetry and beauty for Nan Ya to finally allow this ‘tender light’ to reach the depths of her heart. As the story unfolds, viewers will discover the profound pain Nan Ya endured, not only from Xu Yi and the townsfolk but also from her own family. Which makes her slow trust-building with Zhou Luo realistic and satisfying.

This drama series also achieves a balance between beautiful, romantic imagery and a sense of dread by interweaving Nan Ya and Zhou Luo's romance with an intricate narrative of grief, trauma, and societal scrutiny. Nan Ya, constantly scrutinized and judged by the townspeople, symbolizes the harsh realities of small-town life. Zhou Luo's journey from infatuation to understanding mirrors the viewer's growing empathy for Nan Ya. This duality enhances the storytelling, making their relationship feel real and fragile. The series' ability to maintain this delicate balance is a testament to its narrative and artistic strengths.

While the entire cast was excellent, the central couple had to be exceptional. Zhang Xincheng's portrayal of Zhou Luo is captivating. He infuses the character with warmth, youthful energy, and vulnerability, bringing a relatable blend of impetuosity and idealism to the role. His depiction of Zhou Luo's quiet sensitivity, empathy, and complex emotions is outstanding, showcasing a deep understanding of the character's motivations. Zhang's nuanced handling of Zhou Luo's sexual awakening and initial obsession with Nan Ya is authentic and poignant. He skilfully portrays Zhou Luo's awkward attempts at connection and subsequent realization and remorse, conveying genuine shame and regret. 

Meanwhile, Tong Yao's portrayal of Nan Ya is a masterclass in subtlety and nuance. She brings immense depth and complexity to the character, conveying a rich inner life through expressive eyes and understated gestures. With pitch-perfect accuracy, Tong Yao embodies Nan Ya's quiet strength and resilience, capturing her multifaceted nature with precision. Whether portraying vulnerability,  protectiveness, or gradual openness to Zhou Luo, Tong Yao's performance is mesmerizing.

Tong Yao's subtlety is so exquisite that it often defies capture in a single frame. A simple screen capture can't fully convey the intricacy of her performance, which reveals its depth only through close observation of her movements. A slight change in gait, a subtle shift in posture, or a fleeting flicker in her eye speaks volumes. Her portrayal is authentic and captivating, bringing profound depth to every aspect of Nan Ya's story, from initial optimism to traumatic experiences and eventual redemption. While Zhang Xincheng's portrayal of Zhou Luo is equally impressive, the intricate emotional landscape of Nan Ya makes Tong Yao's achievement particularly remarkable 

Equally important is the undeniable chemistry between Tong Yao and Zhang Xincheng, which makes their romantic scenes tender and heartfelt. Their performances are intricately woven together, capturing the complexity and depth of Nan Ya and Zhou Luo's relationship.

Their exceptional performances are the very soul of this drama. Without their riveting portrayal of Nan Ya and Zhou Luo's love story, the series' innovative editing, unconventional narrative, and artistic visuals would have been mere style without substance. Their performances breathe life into the characters, making their love transcend time, space, and boundaries. This arthouse series, with its slower pace and experimental approach, relies heavily on the actors' ability to convey depth and nuance. And they deliver, making the story achingly beautiful and resonating deeply with audiences. Their love story is the heart of the series, and their performances are the glue that holds it all together.

Beyond the story of love and redemption disguised as a crime story, the drama's tackling of social issues is particularly impactful. The portrayal of communal bullying, where the entire town gossips and victimizes certain characters, resonates deeply in today's world, especially with the prevalence of cyberbullying. 

Moreover, the show's decision to depict violence realistically, without sensationalism, is commendable and courageous. Unlike many dramas that shy away from portraying domestic violence authentically, Tender Light confronts it head-on, including the often-overlooked issue of marital rape.

This honest portrayal is crucial, as it highlights the severity of the issue and the need for empathy and support. Tong Yao's performance is particularly noteworthy, as Nan Ya endures countless beatings and abuse, requiring Tong Yao to remain in character and emotionally invested throughout. The scenes where Xu Yi strangles her are so convincingly portrayed that it's unsettling, leaving one to wonder about the physical and emotional toll on the actress herself. Overall, the show's unflinching approach to these issues is a testament to its commitment to storytelling and its impact on audiences.

Which is why the final 15 minutes of the Youku cut feel like a disappointing departure from the excellence that precedes it. After 28 episodes of captivating visuals and audio, the conclusion resorts to a conventional and abrupt summarization of the characters' fates, relying on white text on black screens. This approach, likely imposed by Chinese censorship guidelines, undermines the narrative's impact and feels at odds with the creative vision that defined the series.

The sudden shift in focus—from Nan Ya and Zhou Luo’s poignant story to Lin Fanglu’s heroism and an implied, seemingly unrelated romantic subplot—feels disconcerting and incongruous. (I’ve discussed this in more detail in my blog post, which I recommend reading after watching both the Youku version and the more satisfying CCTV8 TV ending.) By this point, viewers have already invested so much in the couple’s narrative that introducing another character at the end feels not only unacceptable but, dare I say, indicative of poor screenplay writing.

Furthermore, the decision to emphasize Lin Fanglu’s heroism left me disheartened. Rather than solely focusing on Lin Fanglu’s question about trust in the law, the series missed a crucial opportunity. The more pertinent inquiry should have been why the police didn’t trust Nan Ya, the victim. Nan Ya sought help not only for the physical abuse inflicted by Xu Yi but also for marital rape.

Unfortunately, the police failed to assist her—a problem that extends beyond China. In many countries, law enforcement often treats domestic violence (DV) as a routine dispute between couples. As a result, I found it disheartening that the series didn’t fully explore this social issue.

While the inclusion of several mentions of the police’s neglect in handling DV complaints can be viewed as a small victory, Lin Fanglu’s final question and Old Chen’s lack of remorse for the police’s failings in Qingshui Town remain disappointing aspects. Although, in terms of the way this story was presented, we shouldn’t expect any grandiose statements. Tender Light’s intent was to draw attention to these issues, fostering a broader discussion. I don’t disagree with this decision, as veering in that direction could disrupt the carefully established tone over 28 episodes. However, unfortunately, the placement of Lin Fanglu’s question—coming after we finally learn the full extent of Nan Ya’s sufferings—feels like a slap in the face, akin to rubbing salt in the wound.

The more easily available international Youku version feels like a victim of censorship or executive meddling. It's unfortunate and I feel almost certain that director Yao Xiaofeng was forced to compromise the tone and narrative direction he so skillfully established throughout the series, leaving us with a masterpiece marred by a flawed conclusion. To fully appreciate this series, I recommend skipping the last 15 minutes of the Youku version and watch the CCTV8 TV Cut instead, which I've uploaded at this link. Although it's not perfect, it's still far more acceptable and satisfying than the Youku version.

Hats off to director Yao Xiaofeng and his talented team for crafting a masterpiece with Tender Light! The director's vision and guidance brought out the best in his actors, coaxing nuanced performances that resonated deeply. His crew was equally impressive, demonstrating exceptional skill and attention to detail in every aspect of production. The editing, in particular, deserves special mention for its innovative approach to storytelling, seamlessly weaving together disparate sequences and experimenting with bold techniques to convey the characters' inner worlds. The parallel storytelling, too, was expertly handled, requiring meticulous planning and execution. The music and sound design perfectly complemented the visuals, elevating the emotional impact of each scene.

From the thoughtful lighting design to the precise camera focus, every technical element was meticulously executed. The result is a beautifully woven tapestry of storytelling, with each element working in harmony to create an unforgettable viewing experience.

Tender Light shines brightly in the realm of Chinese dramas, not because of its grandiosity or overt dramatics, but due to its nuanced approach to storytelling and character development. Its commitment to an arthouse aesthetic, combined with a compelling narrative and complex themes, sets it apart. While it takes risks that may not appeal to everyone, those who appreciate its artistry will find it a deeply rewarding experience. The series leaves a lasting impression, demonstrating that sometimes, the most tender lights can illuminate the darkest corners of the human experience.

Appendix:
Tender Light defies convention and easy definition; it’s a captivating tapestry that tugs at the soul and beckons viewers to return time and again. Its allure lies in the hidden nuances – subtle brushstrokes across scenes, dialogues, and visuals – that reveal themselves gradually. With each viewing, fresh meanings emerge, and you feel like you're deciphering the meaning behind a poem.

The drama's complexity is deliberate, inviting viewers to unravel its intricacies. This drama isn’t mere entertainment; it’s a literary gem translated onto the screen. Its depth demands deep analysis – a dissection of motives, themes, and character arcs. Like a literary classic, it can stand up to scrutiny and will reward attentive viewers well.

If only time allowed, I could write multiple essays on its intricacies. Alas, my time is finite, and I have other things that require my attention. But someday, I hope sooner rather than later, I will be able to return and write articles on character analysis, meaning, and perhaps an entire article dedicated to Nan Ya, my favourite character in this series.

If you wish to check out the other articles related to this title please click me.

If you wish to check out my Tong Yao guide, please click me.

SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER - please do not read the comments unless you've already finished the drama.