What a viewThe Rise of Phoenixes, Netflix new Chinese drama: plenty of style, less substance, but a lot can happen in 70 episodes
Is it possible to have too much of a good thing? The new offering from Netflix gives viewers plenty of time to decide
Philosopher George Santayana (probably) said: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” It is one of the best-known aphorisms anywhere, and is therefore habitually mangled, usually as: “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it.”
Which means certain Chinese television channels and production houses are obviously damned.
The King’s Woman, Princess Agents, Fighter of the Destiny, The Princess Weiyoung, Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms, The Virtuous Queen of Han, Prince of Lan Ling … even for the most slavish lovers of blue-bloods, that represents royalty overload. It is also antiquity overkill, regardless of whether the storylines are really allegories masking contemporary comment.
So colourful they look like an explosion in a paint factory, these dazzling extravaganzas always engage the senses, but there are only so many magnificent gilt thrones, peacock feathers, gold-braid uniforms, lacquered screens and shimmering longpao a viewer can take. Likewise, only so many history, or inspired-by-history, or let’s-pretend-it’s-history yarns. So, where does that leave The Rise of Phoenixes, the lustrous Chinese series that recently made its Hong Kong entrance, via Netflix?
Adapted from the novel Huang Quan, by Tianxia Guiyuan, it’s another production propelled by its dressmakers. But, it’s also rebellion! It’s empire! It’s corruption, assassination, plague and a cumbersome title, at least in translation. (Why not Phoenix Rising? The Golden Phoenix? Boss Phoenix?)
It’s also confusing in its backstory, which is populated by walled cities in ruins, slaughtered infantry, political factions manoeuvring for position, floaty princesses, shifty-looking officials at court exposed as imperial spies (surprise!) and, touchingly, an exiled royal who’s made a pile of cash from “weaving fabric and doing embroidery”, as one dodgy nobleman puts it. “That’s a woman’s job!” says another. (Surely, this Easter egg is there for those hard-working costumiers.)