The Princess Royal (2024) Final Thoughts
There’s a well-known parable told by Jesus in the gospel of Luke that is commonly called “The Prodigal Son”. Traditionally the focus has been on the profligate son returning home and receiving forgiveness after squandering his inheritance on women and merry-making. While the focus has rightly been on the gracious father (God), the said parable is also about two sons — the repentant wastrel and the “good” one who stayed home to shoulder the responsibility of the family business. After hitting rock bottom, the prodigal knows he is a sinner and returns home shamefacedly while the one who acted responsibly is indignant that his father would welcome the other son home with open arms and a fattened calf.
Whatever else The Princess Royal is, it is at his core about cleaning house. Just like many second chance stories. The royal family is dysfunctional at its core. Led by emperor, Li Ming, the narrative exemplifies why a divided house cannot stand. Li Ming is a paranoid ruler who maintains two households in order to play one off against the other to keep the nobility in check. On first glance he’s prime candidate to be the drama’s Big Bad but to the show’s credit, there’s something far deeper at work here — a cast of fallen men and women who are stumbling around fumbling with their moral compasses as they navigate the tightrope of throne vs clan politics. This is where the show’s main strength lies — properly fleshed out characters whose motivations are clearly drawn out in the larger story. The show is rife with indecision and individuals torn between loves but it turns out that the most decisive and dogged representative of agency turns out to be the show’s primary antagonist. Like the brother of the prodigal son, his self-righteous fervour ultimately leads not only to self-destruction but the dismantling of the status quo that he holds dear.
While moderately better than most C dramas that I’ve seen in the past few years, the period aspect of the show is still fundamentally a window dressing like all the others. “History” is co-opted for the purposes of delving into contemporary issues. This one in particular reminds me of science fiction telly that I love eg. Star Trek or Stargate — set in another time and another place but the sensibility is contemporaneous. Following in the tradition of much speculative fiction, there’s an anachronistic pursuit of utopia — competing visions of utopia that take up much of the show’s tit for tat. The titular princess Li Rong (Zhao Jinmai) represents the potential and possibility that “true” equality might be achieved and the show has an overly optimistic perspective that in her hands the foundations of that enterprise can be laid down. The simplistic message seems to be that if people are permitted the liberty to live in the manner that they choose eventually utopia will come — an understandable impulse that flies in the face of actual recent history. Inequalities and disparities are real enough among the social order of Da Xia but as Pei Wenxuan (Zhang Linghe) observes, human beings are complex creatures that need to be understood in order that substantive interactions can take place and informed decisions can be made.
The show makes its case by way of offering second chances to three characters. This gives birth to three separate re-telling of what happened in the first life that in the end led to so much acrimony and blood-letting. One question reverberates in this contest for the truth of what happened — what caused the gentle crown prince Li Chuan to become a bloodthirsty tyrant? Was he, as Su Rongqing believes, predisposed towards evil? Or were there extenuating circumstances that transformed him into a uncontrollable despot that imposed a reformist agenda which caused the deaths of many? It’s a kind of nature vs nurture dilemma. Can historical outcomes be altered? Can people be redirected? Can the structure of society undergo reform without doing irreparable damage to the social fabric?
As the narrative unravels, it becomes clear who we should root for. The problem with the antagonist or why he becomes the antagonist in this narrative is not because he is necessarily morally deficient or lacking in normal human ways of processing emotions. He is a man well-taught in the virtues of his society and adheres to them in upstanding fashion. He is a good scion of the clan, a loyal brother and respected official representing his milieu. By every metric, he is well-qualified to be the princess’ consort. So why doesn’t he? Even his greatest rival grudgingly acknowledges this. But he rejects that trajectory. The answer it seems to me comes from the parable of the two sons — a spirit of unforgiveness coupled with gnawing resentment.
In his first life, the antagonist lives according to the social norms of his day — an obedient son and subject witnessing the horrifying downfall of the country. He identifies (not wrongly) the core of the problem to be the young emperor and sees the latter as a tumour that must be removed — an irredeemable and unmitigated evil that cannot be tolerated. This is the rationale of the conflict. According to the antagonist history can be and must be changed but only by locating its root cause and eliminating it without reservation.
Except of course, there is seldom just one root cause. In this case, Li Chuan was transformed over time into a reckless tyrant by many factors. For some monsters are not born but made and timely intervention is key.
Underpinning all these other themes, is the animating idea of forgiveness. Forgiveness is an interaction where two people acknowledge that a wrong has been perpetrated and remorse is properly shown in the effort to restore a relationship. The father of the prodigal epitomizes forgiveness even while his son is undeserving of it. The leads, Li Rong and Pei Wenxuan have to learn to forgive each other many times over so that the mistakes of the past cannot be repeated. No marriage can survive without forgiveness in a fallen world between two people who want their own way respectively. Humility is at its core. Humility in the wrongdoer in genuine repentance and humility by the one who forgives to set aside his/her anger for the long-term good of the relationship.
What makes the leads THE LEADS is not because they are necessarily better people but because of their willingness to forgive each other and then to forgive those who wronged them previously. After all they have been bestowed a second chance to change the nation’s trajectory… so why not give others a second chance to choose a better way — one motivated by healing and restoration that holds the promise of a happily ever after that doesn’t send the country into irreparable chaos.
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