In a move that has left the nation’s television writers scrambling for the smelling salts, Beijing has declared war on ‘soft porn’ and materialism in viral dramas. Yes, you heard that correctly. The very fabric of our cheap thrills and aspirational handbag shots has been deemed a threat to socialist harmony. I can almost hear the collective sigh of relief from your grandmother’s porcelain figurine collection.
The new guidelines, issued by the National Radio and Television Administration, are a masterclass in bureaucratic bloodletting. Gone are the days of heaving bosoms and designer labels unless, of course, they serve a higher moral purpose. Which, let’s be honest, is about as likely as finding a sober politician at a brewery opening.
Let us parse this with the seriousness it deserves, which is to say none at all. The ban targets ‘vulgar’ content that promotes ‘excessive materialism’ and ‘improper sexual innuendo’. In other words, if your drama contains a character who owns a Louis Vuitton bag and breathes heavily, you’re in trouble. The Party has essentially become the world’s most overbearing film critic, armed with a red pen and a grudge against anything that might make you feel, well, anything beyond patriotic fervour.
Consider the implications for storytelling. No more rags-to-riches narratives where the heroine buys a designer dress and finds love. No more sultry glances across a boardroom table. Instead, we are to be treated to tales of selfless cadres discussing crop rotation while wearing Mao suits. Thrilling stuff, I’m sure.
But let’s not forget the silver lining: this is a goldmine for satirists. Imagine a drama where the protagonist’s greatest sin is owning a toaster with too many settings. Or a romantic scene where the couple’s passion is expressed through mutual admiration for a well-kept ledger. The possibilities are endless, and by endless I mean depressingly finite.
And what of the ‘soft porn’ element? The term itself is a marvel of linguistic puritanism. It suggests there is a hard porn out there that is somehow acceptable, which is a debate I am not paid enough to enter. But for the sake of argument, let us define soft porn as anything that might cause a minor to ask an uncomfortable question. Under these rules, even a passionate sneeze could be edited out.
The irony, of course, is that Chinese dramas are already sanitised to the point of being indistinguishable from dental hygiene videos. But apparently, they weren’t sanitised enough. Now, writers must navigate a minefield of dos and don’ts that would make a contortionist weep. Do not show a character buying an expensive watch unless it is to highlight their moral decay. Do not show a kiss unless the participants are married and the camera angles are approved by a committee of octogenarians.
In conclusion, the Party has decided that our dreams should be as drab as a government-issued pencil. But fear not, for where there is censorship, there is creativity. I fully expect a new wave of dramas where the most scandalous scene involves someone wearing a slightly-too-revealing turtleneck. And you will watch, because what else is there to do?
So raise a glass of lukewarm tea to the new era of television. May your dramas be pure, your materialism checked, and your innuendos firmly under lock and key. As for me, I’ll be over here, weeping into my gin. Cheers.
