Scent of Time (2023)
The Chinese drama Scent of Time may look glossy and straightforward on the surface, but its narrative hides a disorienting twist that leaves both the mind and emotions reeling. In many ways, it recalls the haunting psychological complexity of Hollywood’s Mulholland Drive - though Scent of Time unfolds in a more subdued and restrained manner, yet with equal power to frustrate and unsettle.
At its core, the drama’s greatest mystery lies in the elusive fragrance that Hua Quian (Zhou Ye) continues to perceive from beginning to end. What seems at first like a poetic motif gradually reveals itself as the key to understanding everything. The lingering scent is not simply a romantic or symbolic flourish - it is the quiet signal that all the events we have witnessed after near death experience are illusions. Time, as the story insists, cannot be reversed, exchanged, or reshaped from present to past.
What makes this revelation so disarming is the way the series cloaks it behind the setting of perfumery and incense making by a royal manufacturing business, presented as the central theme. The elaborate world of fragrance serves as a brilliant distraction, drawing attention away from the fact that the scent itself has always been the hidden truth. Only the most perceptive viewers will recognize, before the ending, that this seemingly delicate thread is the story’s sharpest blade.
The cinematography of Scent of Time is serviceable at best. There is nothing particularly striking about the set design or the visual composition because these are elements that we’ve already seen countless times in other Chinese dramas. The series also forgoes the breathtaking landscapes of ancient China that often elevate period stories into something visually memorable. As a result, the setting fails to add the depth or majesty that might have made the narrative more compelling.
The historical grounding is equally vague. While I am unsure which dynasty the story is meant to represent, the costumes suggest an earlier era than Story of Yanxi Palace. Unfortunately, the costuming and production design never rise above familiarity, leaving the show without a distinct aesthetic identity.
Performance-wise, the cast delivers competently but with less brilliance. Zhou Ye’s portrayal of Hua Quian is especially problematic. While she is undeniably captivating on screen, her divine beauty works against the menace her role requires. She never feels convincingly oppressive or cruel, and at times Zhao Qing seems far more sinister by comparison. Zhou Ye’s natural elegance makes her miscast as a villain, robbing the narrative of the darker energy it desperately needs. Wang Xi Yue, meanwhile, offers little surprise, echoing the same mannerisms and tone he displayed in his later project, The Double (which I happened to watch before this one).
The narrative itself also stumbles in the end. Many viewers, myself included, feel that the finale collapses under the weight of its objectives. Instead of delivering a satisfying conclusion, the story retreats into a weak, diluted version of a psychological thriller that undermines its romantic premise. A series like Marry My Husband proves that justice and closure can be woven into melodrama in a way that satisfies the audience, but Scent of Time opts for a moral lesson instead - that evil-doers cannot escape their reckoning. Unfortunately, the execution is muddled.
As a viewer, I never felt the intensity of evil the series wanted to assign to Hua Quian. Her supposed obsession with Zhong Ye Lan lacked the dangerous passion that could make her threatening. In fact, if I were in his position, I would have chosen Hua Quian over Mu Yao, which makes the central conflict feel strangely hollow. The finale gestures toward the psychological disorientation of films like Shutter Island or Mulholland Drive, but it never achieves their shocking impact. Instead, it ends up feeling flat, confusing, and ultimately disappointing.
