The Ambiguous Focus - episodes 1 to 3
Chinese series The Ambiguous Focus is currently screening at the time of writing, so only the first three episodes are available to view, and only intermittently as they get taken down. It's described as a BL drama, but it's far removed from the youthful innocence and tentative attractions of that genre. It's a ferocious melodrama, riven with the exploitation, cynicism and cruelty of gay adulthood. It's blown me away, so I thought I'd work through my initial thoughts about it now, and watch the rest later. (UPDATE: You can find my review of the final three episodes here.)
Summary: Friends since childhood, Zhang Zhe and Zhang Nan have been in a relationship for ten years, since university. When we meet them, it's obvious that they are having difficulties, to the point where trust and fidelity are no longer even the most serious part of the problem. They are both having affairs and hookups on the side, though Zhe is less brazen and Nan is more careless. Both men lie blatantly to each other - Zhe pretends to be unfazed and powerless to stop Nan and so he continues to have sex with him as if nothing is wrong, while Nan swears his dalliances mean nothing. Zhe relies on his two best friends for advice and support, especially an older gay man Yang Chunzi. When the rupture finally occurs, it's explosively bad, and it has a vast impact on the boys' wider social group as well. Will the two men be able to find the core of their love again and reunite, or are they lost to each other forever?
The Ambiguous Focus takes the usual 'gay friends' movie template and then plasters on the passion, contempt and high drama with a tip truck. There's no subtlety or finesse in this show, no softness or even humour. If there's any humanity at all, it's a ruse to gain an advantage. Every single character is deeply hateful. They have no compunction about delivering the most cutting barbs or the most deadly betrayal. Decency and a noble spirit are contemptible weaknesses, and love is a delusion. God help us if the gay world really is as it's depicted in this series.
We follow Zhe as the central character of these initial episodes, especially once the boys have separated in episode two. It's clear he still yearns for Nan, though there's plenty of movement around him to distract him from his pain - new and old friends, possibilities for love, job and money difficulties. There's some effort made on the writers' part to create sympathy and pity for him, but there's not much chance of success, given how flawed and irritating he is. There's an extended sequence where he stays with his mother in the country for a while, post breakup, and we're treated to a few flashbacks of his time with Nan as a new couple at uni. These flashbacks are rather nicely done, giving a good sense of their deep love, complicity and understanding of each other.
But then, suddenly...
The story really kicks it up a notch when the audience is made aware of a devastating deception.
A truly evil psychopath observes the couple's complacency and weaknesses, and decides to exploit them to his own advantage. In a shocking realisation, the story we think that we've witnessed up to that point collapses under a misconception. It's a brilliant conceit and wonderfully pieced together through episode three via a series of flashbacks seen from Nan's perspective. It contributes even further to the appalling lack of decency and humanity in the story, but only now, at last, do we feel sympathy with (and for) the two leads. The real purpose of their story now floats to the surface among the wreckage of the torpedoed narrative, and it almost pulls us under us by posing the most confronting question of all: were Zhe and Nan ever really compatible to begin with?
As it stands, I'm taking this reversal in the story as a wake-up call to avoid making snap judgements. I learnt this tough lesson once, when I had turned my nose up at the 'rich-kid-who-benefits-from-nepotism' Tod in 'SOTUS S'. I thought I had cured myself of it then, but The Ambiguous Focus takes the use of this particular human frailty to a whole other level. At last, the show's title is beginning to make sense. The ambiguity isn't just in the purposeful ruthlessness of the screenplay or the venomous cruelty of the characters - of which there is more than plenty. It's in the audience's disgusted reaction to it and, as a result, our instant assumption that what we're seeing is the whole truth. It's a red herring, and a masterful one. It's not just a depiction of the relativity of truth and perception; it's also a stark reminder of how susceptible people are to manipulation and deception. I'm marvelling at this feat of narrative trickery for now, but I'll see how I feel about it once I've properly reflected on what I've just seen. It's truly remarkable, make sure you watch it.
Rating: I'm reserving my rating for the moment, I'm still in two minds about it.
UPDATE: You can find my review of the final three episodes here.
Summary: Friends since childhood, Zhang Zhe and Zhang Nan have been in a relationship for ten years, since university. When we meet them, it's obvious that they are having difficulties, to the point where trust and fidelity are no longer even the most serious part of the problem. They are both having affairs and hookups on the side, though Zhe is less brazen and Nan is more careless. Both men lie blatantly to each other - Zhe pretends to be unfazed and powerless to stop Nan and so he continues to have sex with him as if nothing is wrong, while Nan swears his dalliances mean nothing. Zhe relies on his two best friends for advice and support, especially an older gay man Yang Chunzi. When the rupture finally occurs, it's explosively bad, and it has a vast impact on the boys' wider social group as well. Will the two men be able to find the core of their love again and reunite, or are they lost to each other forever?
The Ambiguous Focus takes the usual 'gay friends' movie template and then plasters on the passion, contempt and high drama with a tip truck. There's no subtlety or finesse in this show, no softness or even humour. If there's any humanity at all, it's a ruse to gain an advantage. Every single character is deeply hateful. They have no compunction about delivering the most cutting barbs or the most deadly betrayal. Decency and a noble spirit are contemptible weaknesses, and love is a delusion. God help us if the gay world really is as it's depicted in this series.
We follow Zhe as the central character of these initial episodes, especially once the boys have separated in episode two. It's clear he still yearns for Nan, though there's plenty of movement around him to distract him from his pain - new and old friends, possibilities for love, job and money difficulties. There's some effort made on the writers' part to create sympathy and pity for him, but there's not much chance of success, given how flawed and irritating he is. There's an extended sequence where he stays with his mother in the country for a while, post breakup, and we're treated to a few flashbacks of his time with Nan as a new couple at uni. These flashbacks are rather nicely done, giving a good sense of their deep love, complicity and understanding of each other.
But then, suddenly...
The story really kicks it up a notch when the audience is made aware of a devastating deception.
A truly evil psychopath observes the couple's complacency and weaknesses, and decides to exploit them to his own advantage. In a shocking realisation, the story we think that we've witnessed up to that point collapses under a misconception. It's a brilliant conceit and wonderfully pieced together through episode three via a series of flashbacks seen from Nan's perspective. It contributes even further to the appalling lack of decency and humanity in the story, but only now, at last, do we feel sympathy with (and for) the two leads. The real purpose of their story now floats to the surface among the wreckage of the torpedoed narrative, and it almost pulls us under us by posing the most confronting question of all: were Zhe and Nan ever really compatible to begin with?
As it stands, I'm taking this reversal in the story as a wake-up call to avoid making snap judgements. I learnt this tough lesson once, when I had turned my nose up at the 'rich-kid-who-benefits-from-nepotism' Tod in 'SOTUS S'. I thought I had cured myself of it then, but The Ambiguous Focus takes the use of this particular human frailty to a whole other level. At last, the show's title is beginning to make sense. The ambiguity isn't just in the purposeful ruthlessness of the screenplay or the venomous cruelty of the characters - of which there is more than plenty. It's in the audience's disgusted reaction to it and, as a result, our instant assumption that what we're seeing is the whole truth. It's a red herring, and a masterful one. It's not just a depiction of the relativity of truth and perception; it's also a stark reminder of how susceptible people are to manipulation and deception. I'm marvelling at this feat of narrative trickery for now, but I'll see how I feel about it once I've properly reflected on what I've just seen. It's truly remarkable, make sure you watch it.
Rating: I'm reserving my rating for the moment, I'm still in two minds about it.
UPDATE: You can find my review of the final three episodes here.
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