Filter (2025) A Look At Perception

As a child I collected riddles and jokes. More than that I liked telling them, feeling superior (albeit temporarily) for having the answers, and watching the reaction of my readymade audience when I finally gave them the answer. But it wasn’t enough to tell the jokes once but to re-tell them to as often as possible. Looking back, and seeing my own progeny do the same, it’s clear that the teller enjoys the attention more than anything else. The joke is merely the platform. As adults we’ve heard the popular jokes more times than we would care to remember, indulged the kids as they repeat the old jokes until they grow out of it. So we hope. Even the best jokes told once too often loses its punch.

This is the feeling I get when I watch Filter. Rather than a story with a series of gags. It’s more a gag that’s repeated in a series of stories. One too many times, I might add. It’s amusing the first few times but a good joke told too often. It soon lacks power. The freshness dissipates. Repeating a joke that has outstayed its welcome might even be said to be inconsiderate.

Filter starts off like many C dramas. When the leads are young. There’s actually very little that’s original by way tropes. Although the blending is fascinating. It begins with fated lovers whose time have not yet come. On the big rock that is China, somewhere there are these two people meant to be together but because high school isn’t exactly conducive to the forging of relationships. Being the cesspit of raging hormones that it is, misunderstandings ensue on both sides. Mostly because neither party really cares enough to dig deeper. Fair enough. They’re in different year levels and immature. They’re also East Asian teenagers nagged to death about achieving academic and occupational excellence. The brainwashing is complete. Then their parents wonder why their fatigued offspring have a tough time finding spouses once they hit their thirties.

Because of all the pre-existing baggage, adult Tang Qi (Tan Jianci) and Su Chengcheng (Li Landi) seem to have very little in common. He’s a successful developer of beauty products now employed by an online cosmetics start-up. She on the hand, is desperately looking for a job. There’s also the matter of the unpleasant school reunion to deepen any negative impressions already festering in either. Inevitably they end up working for the same company where Su Chengcheng has to navigate an exhausting double life as herself or any alter ego which her “filter” enables her to create. Thus Su Chengcheng attempts to play the superhero with mixed results.

Chengcheng’s ability to change her outward physical form comes from an immovable bracelet which was gifted to her by a mysterious flower vendor. Increasingly it becomes a double-edged sword as Tang Qi is drawn into a web of deception that’s not based on malice but has its origins in insecurity or a lack of confidence. The biggest joke and probably the only one that matters is that he is attracted to her various alter egos or selves but has no knowledge about the woman behind them. Ultimately those wandering egos are fragments of who Chengcheng is or perhaps of who she doesn’t know she can be.

The point of the image “filter” isn’t just to pontificate the importance of inner beauty or reiterate the old adage that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. More than any of that it’s the vehicle by which the fated lovers separated by a large wall of misunderstandings can bulldoze their way back to each other. It’s also the mechanism through which Su Chengcheng finds healing in order to be comfortable in her own skin. On the one hand it’s hard to believe that Li Landi who looks like Zhao Lusi’s older sister, could ever have a complex about her looks but to be fair to the script, the story is less about “looks” than it is about confidence in oneself.

There’s a lot to like about this drama. And I mean it despite my earlier critique. When the humour lands, it has me cackling in laughter. There are some genuinely great laugh out loud moments especially in the early part of the show when Chengcheng transforms into non-human or inanimate objects. Unfortunately or fortunately for her, Tang Qi is persistent. And super smart. Despite her attempts to pull the wool over his eyes, eventually he works it out on his own. The deception though understandable at first, seems to me to go too far. All credit to Tan Jianci who makes Tang Qi such a well-rounded character who grieves so convincingly every time someone he cares about dies in unseemly fashion. While the filter conceals Su Chengcheng it also reveals to her that the nerdy and taciturn Tang Qi is actually a sensitive, caring soul.

Chengcheng and bestie, Lin Yuan (Huang Sirui) seem to subscribe to the school of “in order to be kind, one has to be cruel” way of dealing with Tang Qi’s curiosity about the transient alter egos. I would have thought honesty would be not just kinder but less exhausting. They pay for their deception and naively believe that a man who they don’t understand at all will somehow follow a script that they’ve conjured up just because.

For many Tang Qi’s determination to get to the bottom of things is stalkery stubbornness. According to that view he is a frustrating man who can’t take “no” for an answer. His natural curiosity is not welcomed in this situation. So he should shove off and go where the sun don’t shine. But I don’t share that view. Because it is that same resolute spirit that makes him a really steadfast spouse. Not only is he the salt of the earth among men but also a rock that will carry her through the most difficult moments yet to come.

I suppose the show is meant to be a psychodrama for those of us who grew up as average looking girls. For a long time many of us grew up uncomfortable in our own skin and bodies. By the grace of God go I… I survived adolescence. Still beautiful people aren’t the problem. There’s a reason why we love them. I like seeing them on screen especially those of the male variety. They’ve won the genetic lottery undoubtedly but are not meant to be role models unless they actively contribute to conversations about moral character and merit. In fandom, far too often far too many are caught up in the world of the story and fall into the trap of blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

The best thing about the show isn’t the seemingly original transformation plot device but the marvellous Tan Jianci. For him I reserve all my plaudits because he never fails to impress regardless of the role. He imbues the egghead Tang Qi with a vulnerability that is sweet and moving. When he realises that he’s been in love with Chengcheng all along, he reverts to his nervous schoolboy demeanour trying his best to win over the true love that’s been eluding him all along. He is traversing new territory and unsure of himself. Tan Jianci nails every bit of the character to perfection. Moreover, whether intentionally or not, implied or otherwise, Tang Qi and Su Chengcheng turn out to be better collaborators in the use of the magic duvalackey than Chengcheng and her best girls. It’s regrettable the show doesn’t put more its resources into developing that side of things.

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