Film Name: 王子与108煞 / 108 Rois-Démons / The Prince and the 108 Demons / 108 Demon-Kings / La légende des 108
If “The Dream of the Red Chamber” stands as the only one of the Four Great Classical Novels never adapted into an animated series, it’s largely due to its profoundly Chinese cultural essence—particularly the subtlety of its prose—which proves exceptionally challenging to convey through animation. In contrast, “Water Margin” possesses a far more compelling narrative, heroic spirit, and natural suitability for adaptation into animated works. Yet, animated adaptations of “Water Margin” remain remarkably rare.
“108 Rois-Démons” represents one such attempt. Its distinctly international production background lends the work an exceptional sense of artistic design. From characters to settings to props, if you’re primarily seeking visual appeal, this adaptation is undoubtedly a solid choice. Even from a cinematographic perspective, its use of camera work—particularly in pacing sequences—significantly surpasses domestic animations. Yet its narrative execution feels rushed.
As a revenge-driven narrative, “108 Rois-Démons” vacillates between portraying the prince’s vengeance versus General Gao Yunfei’s. Both classic prince-revenge narratives and recent Japanese anime like “Arslan Senki” demonstrate that the avenger should be the prince himself, not the general. The prince should use the general to exact vengeance while showcasing his virtuous governance and justification for replacing the usurper as king—not the other way around. The film leans toward the latter approach. This weakens the prince’s motivation, desire, and actions for revenge, ultimately leaving the impression that he was forced into vengeance and succeeded.
Beyond the title evoking the “108 heroes” of “Water Margin,” the film contains virtually no Water Margin elements. Its plot and characters are entirely original. In truth, this is a story entirely unrelated to Water Margin—a conventional revenge tale that had no need to adopt the “108 heroes” theme. One must ask: aside from the roughly ten avengers featured, where exactly are the remaining ninety-odd heroes?
For any act of vengeance, necessary sacrifices must be made. Revenge without sacrifice is impossible and cannot form a compelling narrative. The film portrays vengeance as a mere formality, simplifying the logic to an unrealistic notion that revenge is achievable simply by gathering people together. Gao Yunfei never faced a worthy final adversary who could truly test his strength and loyalty; he made no sacrifices whatsoever. In my view, the young storyteller girl should have borne the cost of vengeance—even if not through death, she should have made a sacrifice on the final battlefield. Otherwise, how could the prince’s final resolve and the ultimate abilities of the Sha warriors be truly ignited?
The film portrays each character’s performance vividly, with subtle gestures and expressions capturing the audience’s attention and empathy. Yet the overall characterization remains flat. Rather than creating ten sha with skills but no personality, it would have been better to develop two or three sha that audiences could emotionally connect with and grow to love. The portrayal of Zhang Tianshi is the most vivid, yet his departure feels rushed and underdeveloped.
The usurper has a dim-witted subordinate who records everything, but this plot thread fails to bear fruit later on, which is somewhat disappointing. After all, the prince must reveal his identity and evidence of the usurper’s crimes to other ministers and the public—otherwise, he’d merely be another usurper. Does he possess the imperial seal? What if the seal is stolen by villains? His legitimacy hinges on the evidence left by that dim-witted subordinate. The plot surrounding the prince’s identity should have been a core narrative thread, yet the film largely neglects this aspect.
Overall, the film’s conception of the throne remains stuck at the primitive level of bloodline theory—that whoever carries the royal bloodline should inherit the throne. But this isn’t actually the case. If a new king, though bearing royal blood, is a tyrant, utterly incompetent, or uneducated, should he truly become king? The film offers scant depiction of the prince’s character, failing to clarify what merits beyond bloodline would justify his elevation. Does he possess leadership or charisma? Wisdom or martial prowess? Does his desire for the throne stem from selfish ambition or a genuine commitment to the welfare of the realm? After all, pity alone is hardly a valid reason for him to become king.
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