In the vast ocean of content that is Netflix, a drama has been released quietly but is creating substantial ripples with its heavy impact. That drama is the Taiwanese series, The Resurrected. When Korean viewers think of Taiwanese dramas, it is easy to recall the romance genre or youth dramas dealing with fresh and nostalgic first love. This image is likely formed by the massive success of works like Someday or One Day. However, the potential of Taiwanese content does not stop at sweet romances. While it is true that the romance genre has a thick fandom, behind that facade, crime thrillers and social commentary genres that keenly penetrate the dark side of society also boast solid perfection. The Resurrected is a representative work showing the evolution of these Taiwanese genre pieces; while it may have less mass popularity, it is a masterpiece whose depth is by no means light.
The further a genre is from mainstream interest, the higher the probability that those who seek it out are so-called "maniacs" or hardcore fans. Even in Korea, the viewer demographic that enjoys Taiwanese crime procedurals or thrillers, though small, offers very loyal support. It is often regrettable that high-quality dramas are buried without becoming widely known, and The Resurrected is one such hidden gem. This drama, which people find through word-of-mouth rather than flashy promotion or marketing, delivers a heavy message beyond simple entertainment. Above all, the decisive reason this drama captured the attention of countless drama fans immediately upon release was the overwhelming presence of its lead actor.
That protagonist is none other than Shu Qi, an icon of Chinese-language cinema and a legendary actor. The moment movie fans saw her name in the drama credits, they must have felt both welcome familiarity and intense curiosity. To the generation that remembers the golden age of Hong Kong cinema, Shu Qi was a unique existence possessing innocence, sensuality, and deep acting skills. For fans who found it difficult to hear news of her activities alongside the recent stagnation of the Hong Kong film market, The Resurrected is like welcome rain during a drought. In particular, since the movie The Girl, directed by Shu Qi herself, was in the news this year, there was a happening where this work was initially mistaken for a movie, but it holds special meaning in that it is a long-form drama she has chosen after a long time.
From the beginning, the drama creates a bizarre and strange occult atmosphere, as if trying to overpower the viewer. Reflecting the historical and geographical distinctiveness of Taiwan, the indigenous beliefs of the aboriginal people, who lived on the land before the migration from the mainland, are deeply embedded in the narrative. The ritual scene that appears in the early part delivers a strong visual shock. The cruel act of seemingly stabbing an old woman, the scattered blood, and the surreal depiction of suddenly transforming into a monkey figure to threaten people imply that this drama is not a simple crime show. These scenes blur the boundary between reality and unreality, acting as foreshadowing that the revenge to unfold cannot be resolved by ordinary methods.
At the center of this strange narrative are two women: Wang Hui-jun, played by Shu Qi, and Zhao Jing, played by Angelica Lee. With desperate hearts, they visit a mysterious girl who worships local deities to make a forbidden request. The drama's core setting, the "ritual to revive the dead," is concretized here. However, this resurrection comes with strict and cruel conditions. The dead can be revived, but not for eternal life; there is a restriction that they can only stay in this world for a set period. Furthermore, the rule that the deceased cannot be revived if the body is unconscious serves as a device to heighten the tension. The occult elements scattered in the beginning are not merely for visual spectacle but function as devices representing the desperate feelings of the victims' families driven to the edge of a cliff.
So, what on earth led these two mothers into the world of forbidden sorcery? In the background lies a terrible modern crime: a fraud and kidnapping case. The daughters of Wang Hui-jun and Zhao Jing were kidnapped and confined by a vicious criminal organization, suffering indelible pain. This setting, reminiscent of voice phishing or overseas employment scams that have recently emerged as social problems, infuses the drama with realistic horror. The boiling anger and sorrow of mothers who have lost their daughters or had to watch them be destroyed pierce the hearts of viewers through the dense acting of Shu Qi and Angelica Lee. If the initial bizarre occult setting is fantasy, the criminal damage they suffered lies in the realm of grim hyper-realism.
The point that triggers the most rage is the situation after legal punishment for the perpetrator has been carried out. The criminal was caught, sentenced to death—the maximum penalty in court—and the execution was carried out, yet justice was not fully realized. This is because the whereabouts of the massive amount of black money earned through the crime remain unknown. The mother and younger brother of the death row inmate put on a show of kneeling and crying in apology in front of the victims, but behind their backs, they enjoy a luxurious life, shopping for luxury goods more expensive than the victim's losses. The hypocritical appearance of the perpetrator's family, satisfying their own desires without giving a single penny of compensation to the victims, causes the viewers' blood to boil with indignation.
In this absurd situation, public authority and the legal system are helpless. Lawyers and investigators conduct investigations in every possible way, but there is no evidence anywhere to find the flow of the cleverly concealed funds. The dry words of the legal professional, "Since there is no evidence that the money moved, there is no way to recover it," are no different from another death sentence for the victims' families. To punish the sins the law could not judge and to recover the damages the law could not find, the victims eventually devise a private sanction—or rather, a supernatural method beyond that. Here, the strange resurrection ritual that appeared in the beginning of the drama re-emerges at the forefront of the narrative, acquiring perfect probability.
The title and core keyword of the drama, The Resurrected (Hui Hun Ji), can be translated as "Resurrection Plan" or "Plan to Return the Soul." The plan to revive the criminal who died and fell silent, to find out the whereabouts of the money he hid, and to receive true repentance foretells a thrilling catharsis that is chilling in itself. The setting of summoning the soul of an executed criminal to revive his body and using him to take revenge on the perpetrator's family is a fresh attempt that completely twists existing revenge tropes. This dangerous gamble, performed outside the boundaries of the law and akin to shaking hands with the devil, races forward, granted legitimacy in the name of maternal love.
Comprising a total of 9 episodes, The Resurrected proved its topicality by taking the number one spot on Netflix Taiwan immediately after its release. The drama uses not only Taiwan but also Thailand as a major backdrop, starkly depicting the reality of transnational crimes occurring in Southeast Asia. The thriller unfolding amidst exotic scenery provides visual attractions while effectively utilizing the primal fear that unfamiliar places evoke. If you want to witness the desperate revenge drama of two mothers who had to revive even the dead to resolve injustices the law could not solve, and the overwhelming aura of legendary actor Shu Qi returning to her main profession after a long time, this quiet but intense drama, The Resurrected, will be a must-watch title you should not miss.
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