Money Value of Time

Time Value of Money is one of the first concepts taught in finance, that money now is worth more than money later. Recently, though, I have been thinking about how time in itself has inherent worth and can likely be quantified. I am not talking about how much money one can make during a certain period of time, such as, I can make $20 an hour, therefore the money value of my hour is $20. I am talking about instances where time in and of itself is worth money.

This concept dawned on me when I was thirsty for water. In many parts of the world, including China, water must be boiled first before it is potable. In my hotel room, I can either boil water and wait 20 minutes for it to cool, or spend $2 on bottled water. Functionally, they are the equivalent. In this scenario, the only thing that differentiates the two is time passed. $2 buys me 20 minutes (assuming that time cannot be used for anything else productive; I am dysfunctional when dehydrated).

I was studying Cash App, a payment service owned by Block. One of the main ways it makes money is through Instant Transfers, where customers can send money to their bank account instantly for a fee instead of waiting a few business days for the free wire to arrive. This is clearly a case where time is assigned a monetary value. Many companies are in the business of making money off of time, or the lack thereof. A UPS Next Day Air is more expensive than UPS Ground. Booking a plane ticket last minute costs exponentially more than booking it months in advance.

It would be fascinating, then, to quantify the money value of time based on how elastic the demand is (how urgent the situation is) and geography. For example, time in Hong Kong may be valued at $X/hour while it is valued at $X/hour in New York based on Uber prices. Other data sources could include Disneyland Express Passes and urgent care fees. Of course, there are always confounding variables — people are rarely only paying for time. But it is nonetheless a huge driver that is understudied. One can then see which time-saving services come at a premium or bargain (and should thus raise their prices according to the comps). This is the topic for another blog post.

How does this idea affect our personal lives? Perhaps think of the money value of time as the risk free rate, and your money-making prowess as your required rate of return. If you know for sure that you can earn $20 per hour, then you are better off spending $20 on something that saves you more than an hour. You can just spend the money and spend the next hour recouping your $20, thus saving the excess time. In other words, you would only pay at most $20 for something that saves you an hour. So you would only make an investment where the returns are higher than the required rate of return (cost of time, ta-da!).

Of course, simple actions combined with the risk free rate can lead to compounding returns. I wish I started lifting in high school. If I had just done 2 sets of bicep curls every day, I would have huge arms by now. Many a times, time is so valuable that one cannot assign any monetary value to it.

Chinese Cafeterias – Tray Design, Food, and Subsidies

I went to visit my mom at her friend’s office, and she took me to a cafeteria downstairs. It was named “Labor Union Cafeteria”, or 工会食堂.

The Tray

I walked in and picked up the familiar metal tray that every single Chinese person knows. It is a stamped metal piece with various sized components meant for rice, 3 dishes, chopsticks, and a round-shaped hole for a soup bowl and is meant to be easily stackable.

It’s fascinating to consider the cultural, economic, and nutritional factors that motivated the tray design. A single design that is dominant throughout the entirety of China signals its central planning. The concept that the government, albeit at different levels and of different organizations, would fund lunches across schools and workplaces is unlike any other country in the world. In the U.S., for example, there is no such unified design. Lunch services are often contracted to outside companies with various designs of plastic trays. It is also a testament to Chinese efficiency. The one piece of stamped metal is easy to manufacture, cheap, and replaces the need for individual bowls on top of a tray. Government funded cafeterias adhere to dietary guidelines, which balances healthy diets with economic constraints. In some Western countries, lunch is served on a single plate with no divisions, which shows the more lassize-faire approach to individual choice.

The foundation of the Chinese diet is rice. On top of it, people prefer adding separate dishes to accompany the rice. Under austerity, this would be two or three veg dishes. In good times, it might be one or two meat dishes and the rest veg. This is in contrast to Western dishes, which oftentimes consists of one main entree that has both carbs, meat, and veg. Examples include spaghetti and meatballs, cheeseburgers, chicken fingers, etc, which only requires one main compartment or plate.

This hilarious photo is an attempt from Chinese manufacturers to sell the tray to the West, adapting accordingly with their cuisine. A waffle takes the places of a soup bowl.

The Meal

Going down the lunch line immediately brought back memories of elementary school lunch. I’d eagerly up held my tray for Mrs. Tang to fill with tomato and egg, before I would jump back in line for while munching. The cafeteria had great options. We had white and purple rice, broccoli with pork, sweet chicken, salty chicken, pumpkin, pork belly with pickled veggies, dessert, seasonal fruit, and a station for noodles and dumplings — the Chinese equivalent of the grill. We both thought it was healthy and delicious. I especially appreciated the noodle station lady. In my experience, they have always beamed with warmth and care, as a mother would, and would truly serve the food with pride.

Subsidies

Collective meals are somewhat unique to the post socialist China. The name of the cafeteria conjures up images of Great Leap Forward eras with entire villages sharing meals over a central fire. After all, their pots and pans have been confiscated.

Aside from the name, the cafeteria we ate at was plentiful, clean, and modern. The only collective thing about it is how it’s funded. Lunch cost 40 yuan, or about $5.52 USD. A partitioned side of the cafeteria offered 2 fewer dishes, no fruit, and no noodle/dumpling station for 30 yuan, or $4.14 USD. That is remarkably cheap in American standards, and decently cheap in Chinese standards for the amount and quality of food. What is the catch? It turns out that the cafeteria, located in a bustling office development, pays no rent. The government mandated that the developers allocate a space for such a cafeteria, to be operated by an outside contractor subject to government regulations. For instance, the price must be reasonable. The food quality and cleanliness is also held to a high standard. There are also many other privately operated restaurants in the development, and they seem to be getting good business.

This is a fascinating proposal. By lowering the cost of working, it makes more people want to work in this area, thus boosting economic development and tax revenue. The lowered price also forces other restaurants to lower their prices to stay competitive. Recently, employees around the country desire government jobs for its stability and benefits such as subsidized lunch and housing. This would help the private sector achieve some level of parity.

I do not think this rationale stands. By subsidizing a single restaurant, the government makes it harder for other restaurants. Theoretically, no business would be able to out-compete the Labor Union Cafeteria absent some operational advantage. It forces them to lower prices to compete, which either results in lower quality food or fewer restaurants operating at all. It also unfairly benefits the restaurant with the contract. It could be that it underwent a fair bidding process, but the illiquidity of the license promotes complacency and prevents competitors from innovating. In practice, the cafeteria takes away some business from restaurants, but because there are so many workers, people end up eating out anyway. Restaurants and food stalls also offer more variety, with some at a lower price (the cafeteria food is quite nice).

It is essentially a tax on the developer, with the revenue going to employees who use the cafeteria. If the government wanted to achieve the goal of promoting economic activity in a certain geographic area, it could simply offer tax benefits — either to employees, their companies, or restaurants operating in that area. That way, the savings are more directly passed on to the individual. One could argue that restaurants are incentivized to keep prices elevated. However, assuming the market is liquid, competitors would lower their prices in order to take away market share. In order to make the private sector more appealing, the government could either take away funded lunches for public employees or offer tax benefits as above.

In conclusion, I am very glad I got to dine at the Labor Union Cafeteria. The food was excellent and healthy and brought back many great memories. I imagine, though, that the restaurant chain across the street was less happy.

“The Pig, The Snake, and The Pigeon” – Thought Provoking Deaths

We all die – what do you live for? Kui-lin is an efficient and cold-blooded assassin. The film starts with a savage fight between Kui-lin and a detective in pursuit. It’s unclear what motivated Kui-lin to his ascent to Taiwan’s 3rd wanted criminal. But he clearly has two things he value more than crime or money — his dying grandma and a want for respect. When his doctor informs him that he will die from terminal cancer soon, Kui-lin goes to to turn himself in. In a comical turn, he isn’t even recognized at the police station. He’s not even the most wanted criminal. He goes on a vigilante killing spree in hopes of launching himself to the top of the list. Spoilers ahead.

From the premise of the movie to the humorous catalyst behind Kui-lin’s spree, the entire movie is full of surprises. The most shocking surprise was the religious cult segment of the film. His discovery and induction into the cult meshed so well with where he was in life. He needed help and lacked direction. The moment in which Kui-lin completely loses purpose (he realizes criminal #1 is dead) is when he joins the cult. Everyone who is lured into joining has their own story, but the movie gets at the core of what drives people. We all want a sense of purpose, help, validation, and a community.

In another brilliant turn of events, director Wong Ching-po reveals the cult is a scam and questions what people really need help from. The need for help is manufactured by the cult leader to exploit people’s number one concern – their health. But beyond that, it is unclear whether the cult, or any religion, can offer satisfying answers.

Kui-lin’s resurrection was a great biblical nod. The spree that followed was my favorite part of the movie. Some cultists have bought in so much that they stay after the leader is dead, and Kui-lin issues an ultimatum: leave or be killed. Consequentially, the killing is meant to stop more people from joining the cult and punish the harm that cultists have inflicted. But on another level, these people dying for their faith is just the same as them realizing it’s all a scam and running away. If they don’t believe, they get to start a new life. Amusingly, when the gun misfires, some cultists realizes they really do not want to die and runs away. If they truly believe, then death is okay.

Kui-lin’s execution scene was especially poignant. Never have I thought about, much less witnessed, how a man’s life is so intentionally ended. Replete with the final meal and shave. Especially when the director has succeeded in creating such a likable character, saying bye to Kui-lin was difficult. This brought the at-times absurdist movie into a believable and poignant close.

Tay Yek Teak of TODAY critiqued the film of having two halves, the gangster half and the cult half, that are incoherent. Quite the opposite. This is where Wong does a great job in lulling the audience into thinking that Kui-lin has finally completed his life’s work and transitioned into his version of heaven. I felt a bit of selfish disappointment from the sudden decline in action, but it would have been believable enough had the film ended right there. Tay points out a brilliant similarity in the mass killing scene and the church scene from Kingsmen.

Lastly, Wong did a laudable job with casting and costume design. I cannot imagine Kui-lin played by anyone else than the talented Ethan Juan. It takes some dynamism to pull off this level of machado, grief, grit, and absurdism. Chen Yi-wen is great at portraying the cult leader (the weight loss reveal is believable). Grandma’s pig is such a good symbol. The pink stands out from Kui-lin’s black and boxy suit, and the innocent pig is a great symbol for his grandma and “good side” and how he chooses to pass it on to Xiao-mei. Like Tay and many critiques point out, I do agree that there could have been more character development for Xiao-mei and Kui-lin. I think Dr. Chang’s character is quite well exposed by her parting conversation with Kui-lin, not only through her words but expressive complexion.

There are many killings in this movie, many of them dark and some darkly-humorous, but they command reflection unlike any film I have seen. At Kui-lin’s own death, he looks up as if to ask “we all die – what do you live for?” Other deaths implicitly begs the same question. I would highly recommend a watch.

Quirks and Values From My Many Hometowns

The Boston Celtics won their 18th NBA Championship, and on Friday, the city burst into a kaleidoscope of green in celebration. Beantown is my hometown. It has the winding Charles, historic red-bricked buildings, fresh nature, crooked streets, freezing winters, and calm, bucolic summers. It also has an intellectual aura, sharp spirit for innovation, relaxed mannerisms, historical air, and a strong belief in values and collegiality — it feels like a neighborhood rather than a city. Everything is walkable and bikeable. In business, people see each other as neighbors instead of counterparties. And people are proud of their Boston roots.

I grew up in China and am now traveling around for college and internships.

Identity is something I have struggled with as a transplant. As I have come to understand and sympathize with many value systems, I have also realized how arbitrary they are. I now have to contend with the cognitive dissonance multiple value systems living in my head. All with great people and communities leading meaningful lives. Sometime, I question the values that I grew up with. I define values as the cultural and moral character of a city (e.g. family is paramount). I define quirks as characteristics or mannerisms specific to a city (e.g. Brownstones or we park the car in Harvard Yard).

I am now living in my 4th city (Hong Kong). Although having visited quite often as a child, I have yet to fully understand its quirks and values. I do not know enough people in the city. I struggle to say that I am a Hong Konger.

All people should have a home — where they feel safe, comfortable, and welcomed. At the same time, home should embody a range of quirks and values that should feel natural. Home can take years go build, be it physical comfort and familiarity, community, or understanding its culture. I learned that home also takes an instant and a U-Haul truck to remove. This is how I left Boston, and will leave college, and possibly many towns.

I am lucky to call Shenzhen home now. It feels less home-ly than when I left 10 years ago, but it is still home. It will always remain a part of me. The quirks of a city typically do not clash with others, and it’s acceptable to embrace multiple quirks at the same time (e.g. appreciate bikability of Boston and public transit of Hong Kong). Its values are something that I can fully understand, and then evaluate other values against. Home will always be home no matter when you return.

I still recall Boston’s contours vividly. I can feel the cold water of the Charles and the Cape, the rush of wind as I bike through the Minuteman or down Commonwealth, the rustling sound of books at the BPL and leaves at Fresh Pond. The city still lives within me. Now, I can hear the cheers for the Celtics resounding down Newbury street as duck boats go by. I’m just happy that they won and that the city is happy.

I live with a kaleidoscope of values. Part of what makes values special is that you embrace them despite its arbitrary nature. It does not make it easy to have multiple value systems. However, it makes me more aware of the world and capable of forming my own value system — Daniel’s value system. This weighing of values and living with cognitive dissonance is something that everyone has to go through at some point in their life. It’s good to challenge that early on.

A final great thing about home and having quirks about you — it’s something to fall back on when all else, perhaps values, are confusing. Like Marian Robinson, Michelle Obama’s mom, once said, “Don’t worry about whether anybody else likes you. Come home. We’ll always like you here.” I will always have the confidence that I am embraced by the cities and communities I am from. I will always live by the quirks and combination of values of my cities. And I’ll always be rooting for the Celtics.

Failing the Chinese Driver’s License Exam – Motivation and Pathways to Success

I want to drive in China this summer so that I can go on a road trip with my mom. I have a license in the U.S., but that would not suffice. I have to jump over a series of hurdles to convert it into a full Chinese license. This meant getting my license officially translated, receiving a physical exam, taking a photograph, applying for a license, and finally, passing the Series 1 (科目一) theory exam. I had painstakingly completed the bureaucratic steps, and it was now time for the hard part —the exam.

The exam consists of 100 questions that tests the candidate on regulations, road signage, situational awareness, and vehicle mechanics. In order to pass, the candidate must score at least 90 questions right. When I asked my cousin and other college friends what they did to prep, they all pointed to a familiar term, 刷题. Literally, it means grind practice problems. It’s common knowledge that practice problems is an effective way to test your understanding and become exam ready, but it was not very intuitive to me that this was the way to learn material in the first place. Instead, I tried to look for materials that would systematically explain the concepts, first from official sources then on the internet. Either I am not very proficient with Chinese search, or there is simply not that many resources out there.

Fine, I thought. I should just grind practice problems. There are just over 1,000 of them available on the internet. Their difficulty ranged from perplexingly simple (The purpose of the seatbelt is to lessen injuries. T/F? or The “SLOW” sign means slow down T/F) to actually useful (When driving a car with ABS, how should you apply the brakes? – answer: apply with full force) to frustratingly obscure (If you are punished for x crime, will you be fined 100, 500, 1000, or 2000 yuan?). Some questions are straight up irrelevant for the license in question, which is to operate an automatic light vehicle (When driving a school bus 20% over the posted speed limit on a high way, how many points will be deducted? – answer: 12).

Some questions certainly taught me how to read important road signs and lane markings. However, I am not sure why it is important to know the permutation of monetary, probationary, and point-based punishments for each traffic violation. It certainly does not make me a better driver, and if I know anything about cramming for tests, the information will leave my head the moment I leave the testing room. Alas, I tried to summarize my understanding of regulations and punishments in notes. I tried to intuit solutions by principle, and I thought I had a pretty decent grasp of things. Admittedly, I did not grind all 1,000 exams. Maybe 400 of them over the course of a weekend.

The testing center was one hour away from Shenzhen city center. When we arrived, there was ironically no legal parking for test-takers’ rides to park. The gates were lined with people hawking guaranteed passes and inside connections. After going through perfunctory security, I had to hike 300 yards up a hill (why not make the drop-off zone closer to the building?) and proceeded to the waiting room.

As is many things with Chinese bureaucracy, processes with a questionable premise are executed with surprising and sometimes pleasant efficiency. The test-taking experience was one of them. I do not think there was a more efficient way to administer a secure exam for ~300 candidates. We were instructed to store all of our belongings in a free locker space (they key was our phone number and selected passcode). We then checked-in with our ID cards and were verified via facial recognition. When time came, we were called up in the order in which we arrived and assigned a random desk in the testing room to prevent planned neighborly cheating. The desks had a monitor built in beneath the top and was visible via plexiglass. This prevented peaky cheating.

It was when I received an 87/100 that I realized I had underestimated my opponent. The key to this test was not necessarily logical comprehension or intuition, but rather sheer memorization. The 1,000 questions available online were literally the entire pool of questions that the exam-givers will randomly select from. I had failed at a task with a clear goal and pathway to success, whose only determinant was my hard work.

Aside from bemoaning my lost morning, registration fee, and walk of shame out the testing room, I reflected on the nature of goals and motivation. We all have some rationale to accomplish goals in our life. Most goals have clear pathways to success — it’s good to understand that as best you can. Many goals have a clear motivation but detestable (or not enthusiasm-inducing) pathways, i.e. one hates to do it but recognizes it needs to be done. It’s possible to be very good at understanding pathways and executing them based off of motivation. But I think it’s important to align pathways with motivation whenever you have a choice. And I’m beginning to wonder how many things in life fall under the category of clear pathways where differentiation comes from hard work and not intelligence. Or perhaps insight just comes from hard work.

But when you do not have the luxury to align your pathways with your motivations, then it’s time to grind.

#20 for Djokovic

I’ve been a Djokovic fan for as long as I’ve started playing tennis. I like that in addition to being a game-winning machine, he portrays himself as human. He is imperfect with his occasional outrages, but he’s also graceful and funny. It is that humanity that made me like him as a player.

I was nervous for him when the finals got underway today in Centre Court. I could feel the jitters that both him and Berrettini had at the start myself. Starting a match and planting your feet on firm ground could take a bit. Djokovic faced a tough challenge: Berrettini had a monster serve and forehand, producing aces and winners. Djokovic had 3 double faults in the first new games, yet broadened a lead to 5-2. There was more than 5 deuces, but Berrettini ultimately brought it back. Steadily, Berrettini showed the world his resilience and performance under pressure. He used his service games to his advantage and took the set in tiebreaks.

It must have been quite discouraging for Djokovic. But the next 3 sets precisely demonstrated why he is the greatest of all time. With Berrettini’s youth came power, but with Djokovic’s experience came a rock-solid mentality and consistency. He flew across the lawn to return serves and forehands like a self-proclaimed spider man. He sprinted towards drop shots and wide shots. I saw no trace of the jitters he had in the first set. The scoreboard seemed invisible to him — in front of him, only determination and history.

He won the next two sets 6-4. The final set was the most fascinating. Berrettini had the occasional power strokes, but at this point, he knew that Djokovic was inevitable. He broke Berrettini’s commanding service games. Even in critical, high pressure moments, such as a short, wide shot that was soft but easy to miss (ask me about it), Djokovic put it away in a clean, strong winner. The final point at 5-3 was the epitome of Djokovic’s craft. After returning a powerful serve, he forced Berrettini into a prolonged rally, knowing that he will not make a mistake. Berrettini barely put a slice over the net. The crowd gasped. The very next shot, the Italian missed into the net. It was Grand Slam #20 for the Serbian star. The floor (or lawn) is his. Next stop, Flushing Meadows, NY.

Jazz under the stars

I got on my bike for the second time today, this time headed towards Starlight Square in Central. They were hosting a free jazz concert for the community. Being a bass player in my school’s jazz band, I’ve never turned down the opportunity for some good jazz. Live events were even more appreciated, since the last non-school concert I’ve attended was well over a year ago.

I arrived at 6:30 to an already filled Starlight Square. The space, behind H-mart on Bishop Allen Dr, was a parking lot just a year ago. It is still stunning how some well-designed scaffolding, and most importantly, love from the Central Square BID & beyond, can turn into such a staple for local arts, culture, and commerce. The people of Cambridge eagerly gathered in this space for some live music. The seats quickly filled up, and latecomers stood behind the seats. The lively atmosphere alone put a smile on my face.

After some brief introductions and thanks to event organizers, the trio came on stage. Playing tonight was the Tim Ray Trio, featuring Tim Ray on the piano, Terri Lyne Carrington on the drums, and John Lockwood on the bass. I did not know that it was a trio beforehand had expected some horn players, but I was pleasantly surprised by how rich and cohesive they sounded. Ray certainly held it together, both with his lively melodies and his humor during interludes. Carrington was dynamic with her craft. She managed to amp up the spirit during intense moments but also added beautiful flourishes to the rhythm with the cymbal and drumsticks. Lockwood delivered, too, with his steady rhythm and, for the lack of a better word, AWESOME solos. I aspire to move up and down the fretboard (Lockwood had a double bass, so fingerboard in his case) with such ease and grace one day. The trio played from their album, including a composition by Carrington, a piece by Thelonius Monk (yay!!), and even some pop tunes like one from The Rolling Stones, with a jazz flare to them.

The audience met their last performance with a standing ovation and called for an encore. I’m still mad at myself for forgetting the name of the song, but it was my favorite of the night. The pace was slower but the blues were on point. What a way to finish the night!

Picking up the speed

I’ve gotten back into cycling once again, and it’s the best thing that’s happened to me all week. The seasons here in Boston sometime makes cycling unattractive, unpleasant, even, in cold and snowy winters. I’ve always continued using my bike for commuting, but not for the joy of it. The last time I cycled seriously was in the fall.

Last Saturday, I pumped up the tires and went for a ride. However pleasant and predictable the gym is, it became too stale for my taste. I could not bring myself to step on the elliptical for half an hour straight, even with the help of NPR podcasts. The moment I zipped down Concord Ave, I was reminded of the thrill of riding. The wind grazing my face, the cars zooming by, and my legs warming up. This was the beauty of cycling. I loved exploring the unbeaten roads that were neatly tucked away in the hills of Belmont, an escape from the lights, the sounds, the textures of my beloved Cambridge. There were definitely more hills that I had remembered, but I took it as a challenge.

After my ride concluded, I basked in the enjoyment of drawing up my ride on a map. Unlike running or using the elliptical, I felt like I was going places and that I had accomplished something worthwhile that day. Not to mention, biking was an awesome way to get exercise. Despite the burning sensation of my quads, the sore seat, and the sweaty handlebar, the effort translated into miles, views, and smiles. I had hardly realized that I got a good workout for the day, though I would be reminded of it the very next by sore muscles.

On Monday, I did another loop around Belmont, this time slightly longer and with more hills (about 600ft of elevation). Perhaps I am getting too pensive here, but the rolling hills reminded me of the eternal truth of work — you reap what you put in. If I pedal up that daunting hill, I would surely reap the thrill of zipping down it. After all, potential energy is inevitable.

Wednesday came and I needed to run an errand through town. I did not mind biking in the city. It is certainly more dangerous and less smooth, though I loved traveling through Cambridge. You cannot feel the heartbeat of a city without the intimacy of the streets. For once, you can’t smell the vibrant food culture in Central in a car.

Yesterday, I biked to the borders of Lexington through the Minuteman bike path. Though crowded at times with runners and walkers, it was certainly a great way to put down some sustained effort. I turned back and arrived at my destination — Blue Ribbon BBQ in Arlington. Another aspect of biking that I love is how casual it can be. Us cyclists are often foodies/coffee lovers/brewery enjoyers (I only belong in the first category) too. Right now, my rides are averaging around 12 miles. I bike around 50 this first week back. My goal is to do more and more each ride, and with the help of navigation on my phone, explore new parts of the countryside as well. By the end of summer, I would like to go on long rides for hours on end. I would easily be able to visit any place in the Boston area that I would normally go by car. But for now — an afternoon ride.

Surfside

I woke up on June 24th to the devastating news of the Champlain apartment collapse in Surfside. As rescue operations continued, what made the event even more heartbreaking was seeing the faces of the missing people — among them, sisters, fathers, immigrants, retirees. The first identified victim, Stacie Fang, was the mother of a 15 year old boy. That especially hit home for me. The thought of closing one’s eyes for the very last time, or opening them to see death and devastation, is harrowing.

The number of missing people, 159 at the moment, hangs over the rubbles as families cling on to diminishing hope. The dreary uncertainty provides no comfort. Please, if you can, donate to the Support Surfside hardship fund for the families of victims.

The mayor of Miami-Dade has ordered an examination of buildings 40 years or older. Similarly, to prevent similar tragedies from happening in the future, cities around the nation must begin to audit buildings from the past eras. As a nation with a historically developed economy that is undisturbed by war, the US has a large amount of old and historic buildings. Many were built without stringent regulations and are only deteriorating. Such scrutiny must be extended to the nation’s failing infrastructure as well — bridges, highways, and power lines.

Line of Duty: Best bloody show I’ve seen in a bit

After watching Bodyguard last year, I was on a lookout for British police/action TV shows. Recently, I’ve started watching Line of Duty, and after finishing Season 3, I have nothing but the highest regards for it. It turns out that it was written by the same mastermind behind Bodyguard: Jed Mercurio. The following review is without spoilers, so please feel free to dive in.

Season 1 was great all-around. I was fascinated by the moral dilemma faced by DCI Gates. The tension and the complex character of Gates was molded by the end of the first one-hour episode, and it only got better from there. An award-winning copper (what they call a police officer in England), a brilliant mind, and an inconvenient relationship — such were the ingredients that brewed the drama throughout the season, though other characters and the overarching plot was captivating as well. I disliked Steve Arnott at first, but later, I began to like his doggedness, even his naïveté. The episodes in the middle never got dull, and I followed the plot quite well to the ending.

Season 2 was ambitious, perhaps too much so. The premise was fascinating: an armed escort of a protected witness gone wrong, and the only officer, DI Denton, is under suspicion. However, the interweaving plot with a missing persons case and an affair took away from the tension. It was simply too complex for its own good, and I got distracted. Still, what came out of the season did not disappoint: the character development of DI Denton. Was she a desperate, innocent woman or a manipulative, bent (colloquial language for corrupt) copper? Both? I’ve got to give credit to both the writers/directors and Keeley Hawes, who portrayed Denton. A hint: her character is quite important in Season 3 as well.

Season 3 has got to be my favorite so far. The premise was more direct — characters that would normally linger on are killed in quick succession, much to the surprise of the audience. This brought the focus to what the show does best: unraveling a large (but singular) conspiracy against bent coppers. Both seasons have been building up an underground network of crime, and the premise of season 3 reaps the fruits of this context. The action serves a clear focus to the audience, and the tension kept me on the edge till the very end. It has the best of both seasons: the plot and character development.

I’ve learned a good bit of UK Police procedure and ranks. Detectives, which most of the season centers around, are denoted by Detective (D) in front of their title. Some common ranks are as follows, in ascending order: DC (Detective Constable), DS (Detective Sergeant), DI (Detective Inspector), DCI (Detective Chief Inspector), and Superintendent. Also, I can now watch the series without captions, and you’ll even occasionally find me reading to myself in a British accent.

Again, I recommend that you check out Line of Duty. The show can be streamed on Hulu, but apparently it has been quite popular in the UK for almost 10 years now. I cannot wait for what the rest of the seasons have in store. Stay tuned for more movie/show reviews.