网飞版三体：评分差异大引发热议

Netflix's revolutionary adaptation of "The Three-Body Problem" has divided the audience in China.

As of the time of writing, the Netflix version of "The Three-Body Problem" has a rating of only 6.8 on Douban, which is not a reflection of consensus but rather a result of conflicting ratings with many 1-star and 5-star reviews canceling each other out.

The controversy stems from Netflix's extensive adaptation of the original work. Not only were the protagonists changed from Chinese to foreign characters with diverse skin colors, but the story's setting was also shifted from China to England, making it almost unrecognizable as "The Three-Body Problem."

The "de-Chinesing" of the adaptation has offended many Chinese fans of the series and turned discussions about the show's quality into a cultural dispute.

However, radical adaptation itself is not the issue. If film and television productions remained completely faithful to the source material, they could risk becoming mere visual translations. Outstanding adaptations should engage in an equal dialogue with the original work, challenging themselves in terms of artistic and intellectual merit to surpass the source material.

Looking beyond the fog of controversy and focusing on Netflix's "The Three-Body Problem," one finds that behind the uproar lies a case of the creative team falling short. The bold adaptation has taken the opposite direction from Tencent's adaptation of "The Three-Body Problem," with the creative team aiming to accommodate different ethnic and cultural groups, making the plot accessible to those unfamiliar with the original work. However, the final product feels lackluster and mundane, resembling Netflix's trademark fast-food entertainment.

For viewers unfamiliar with the "Three-Body Problem" story, the series serves as a passable way to pass the time. Yet for those who have read the original work, the exaggerated horror movie elements in the series fail to evoke any real emotions.

If this version of "The Three-Body Problem" has any achievement, it lies in sparking interest in the original work among audiences worldwide.

"The Three-Body Problem" is notoriously challenging to adapt visually, given its abstract sci-fi descriptions, such as Earth's two-dimensionalization, the sophon, and the Trisolarans. Translating these sci-fi elements into visuals requires not only imagination but also substantial capital, technology, and talent.

Therefore, when Netflix announced the adaptation of "The Three-Body Problem," readers were eager to see whether Netflix could use America's advanced film industry to recreate the grand universe of the Three-Body Problem.

In terms of visualizing sci-fi concepts, the Netflix version of "The Three-Body Problem" has some commendable aspects. Scenes involving the Three-Body game, the unfolding of protons, and the Staircase Program exhibit the quality and standards expected of a sci-fi blockbuster.

However, the plot itself leaves much to be desired.

The series gives a rapid impression, pushing the narrative forward to a hurried degree. The first season, consisting of only 5 episodes, covers the entire first part of "Remembrance of Earth's Past," with the season concluding at the initiation of the Wallfacer Project.

Such swift pacing results in a rough narrative, lacking in detail. While major plot points like the Red Coast Plan, the unfolding of protons, the Guzheng Plan, and the Staircase Program are touched upon, they lack depth, descending into a mere showcase of sci-fi spectacles, diminishing the creativity and imagination behind these sci-fi ideas.

The fast-paced narrative also leads to shallow and flat character development.

The original "Three-Body Problem" was never known for its character development; many characters served as mere tools for the plot. Even Ye Wenjie, with the most intricate psychological changes, depicted her descent into disappointment with human civilization objectively, failing to elicit genuine empathy from readers. In literature, character development can yield to narrative demands. However, in more concrete visual mediums like film and television, this becomes a drawback. Netflix's adaptation employs a formulaic and conventional approach, accentuating the weaknesses in character development.

The team behind Netflix's adaptation made an effort to inject contemporary perspectives into the story by making two female characters (one Chinese and one Mexican) the protagonists, showcasing their professional qualities and personal charm. However, the rushed narrative leaves no room for nuanced character development, resulting in formulaic portrayals.

The opening scene at the bar, where a male stranger flirts with a female scientist, illustrates this point well. This original scene aims to showcase that women can also be independent and accomplished scientists, imbuing characters with agency. However, the contrived dialogue lacks vitality, resembling a cliché romantic subplot from a teen drama, failing to capture the allure of a female scientist. The protagonists, uttering numerous expletives, come across as immature college students rather than seasoned scientists immersed in their field.

This formulaic treatment is most evident in the portrayal of Ye Wenjie. To establish her trust with other male characters, the writers included several kissing and emotional scenes, yet these emotional portrayals are superficial, endowing Ye Wenjie with shallow motivations, overlooking the deeper roots of her nihilistic views.

This version of Ye Wenjie doesn't resemble the restrained and introspective Chinese women who grew up before the reform and opening-up era but instead embodies the typical style of an American-born Chinese (ABC).

If the aforementioned changes only affected the viewing experience, Netflix's adaptation of "The Three-Body Problem" alters the dynamics of character relationships, affecting the overall scope and atmosphere of the story.

Netflix's protagonist group, known as the "Oxford Five," vaguely resembles characters like Wang Miao, Luo Ji, Zhang Beihai, and Cheng Xin from the original work but fails to correspond directly to them. For viewers familiar with the original work, such changes are understandably disliked and difficult to adapt to.

The creative team explained that they produced a television series aimed at a global audience. Retaining Chinese elements in both the plot and characters would result in an English television series set in China, which fundamentally defeats the purpose of making "The Three-Body Problem," a story about the fate of all humanity, accessible to a wider audience.

The creative team's attempt to adapt "The Three-Body Problem" into a more universal work, seemingly pursuing a global and worldly perspective, ironically narrows the scope of the original work in the final presentation.

The most critical aspect of the changes to the "Oxford Five" lies in breaking up the independent relationships among characters in the original work, replacing them with a familiar circle of friends.

The original story spans a vast narrative with numerous characters having no interaction whatsoever. Netflix significantly simplifies this aspect, undoubtedly easing the narrative complexity and improving storytelling efficiency, avoiding the prolonged setup seen in Tencent's version. However, Netflix's adaptation narrows the narrative scope into a low-budget version of "The Avengers," resolving the global crisis of an alien invasion within a small circle, losing the epic and grandiose nature of unrelated strangers in the original work striving for Earth's fate.

While changes in gender, ethnicity, and nationality add superficial diversity to the story, the internal narrative of a small circle deviates from the cosmopolitan spirit the creative team aimed to portray. To say it lacks ambition would be an understatement.

This contradiction is likely the cost of Netflix's expedient adaptation strategy.

In a global context, the main creative team doesn't fully grasp Liu Cixin's "The Three-Body Problem."

Though the original work tells a story about Chinese people, its themes and ideas possess a universal nature. More accurately, "The Three-Body Problem" extracts a universal proposition from Chinese cultural and geographical space, projecting it onto the scale of the universe.

Many viewers were incensed because, if Netflix relocated the setting overseas, why didn't they replace Ye Wenjie's background with the McCarthy era or the Civil Rights Movement, equally capable of showcasing catastrophe?

Indeed, Ye Wenjie's unique background is crucial to the story. Liu Cixin, although a science fiction writer, grounds his problem awareness in Chinese history and reality, exemplified by novels like "China 2185" and "The Village Teacher," creative responses to Chinese issues from a sci-fi perspective. "The Three-Body Problem" is no exception; its themes are rooted in reflections on specific historical wounds.

The idealistic passion to "smash the old world and create a new one" concludes tragically with moral disorder and social unrest. What is the relationship between a benevolent moral view and building a new world? This is the question "The Three-Body Problem" seeks to answer.

Thus, Liu Cixin has written extensive survival and moral conflict plots: after the Waterdrop incident annihilates the Earth's space fleet, Zhang Beihai and four other escaping ships establish the Starship Earth, assuming the responsibility of continuing human civilization. However, due to insufficient fuel and spare parts among the five ships to reach the designated planet, they must eliminate each other to ensure survival and the continuity of human civilization.

Similarly, in the later stages battling the Trisolarans, human civilization developed a terrifying balance strategy mutually ensuring destruction, using the dark forest law. As the swordbearer balancing against the Trisolarans, Cheng Xin's job is to ensure Earth's destruction when they invade, yet due to her preserved humanity and morality, lacking Luo Ji's determination to perish with the Trisolarans, she inadvertently leads to the demise of human civilization.

This relentless deduction isn't to express a social Darwinist perspective but rather, to present to readers the vision of a universe in moral disorder.

From this perspective, Ye Wenjie's unique upbringing, subsequent Trisolaran invasion, dark forest theory, and cosmic battle collectively form a nested narrative structure.

Regrettably, Netflix's creative team recognized this but failed to articulate this discourse effectively.

In the original work, Ye Wenjie completes the revelation of moral propositions. Based on her personal experience, she develops a sense of despair toward human civilization, believing the scientifically advanced Trisolarans must possess higher civilization and moral standards. This naive imagination leads her to call upon the Trisolarans.

Netflix's adaptation focuses on her persecution experience but overlooks her thoughts on "morality and civilization" during this process. Her conversation with Evans in the forest, originally a deep reflection on civilization's inherent flaws, becomes a superficial shift to "the interconnectedness of all natural things," a critical thematic deviation.

Ultimately, her decision to call upon the Trisolarans becomes more akin to personal retaliation based on individual experiences rather than a naive aspiration for civilization reform.

Netflix's version of "The Three-Body Problem" fails to elucidate Ye Wenjie's pivotal role in the story and relocates the subsequent narrative overseas, rendering this segment more abrupt and detached from the overarching story structure, lacking necessity.

The thematic defocusing has a detrimental impact on Netflix's adaptation of "The Three-Body Problem," reducing a profound, thought-provoking, and speculative work into a mediocre "Earth vs. Aliens" American fast-food product—a lamentable outcome.