History may be about the past but it speaks to the present. Real figures become mythologised, and legends are made and remade to find their audience – perhaps nowhere more than in the realm of cinema. So it is a deft manoeuvre on the part of this stage production based on the real-life figure of Yip Man – grandmaster of the wing chun style of kung fu, teacher of Bruce Lee, and already the nominal subject of a four-part film franchise and several spin-offs – to tell his story as if it were already a movie. In short, the Man is now even more the Myth.
Shenzhen Opera and Dance Theatre’s spectacular Wing Chun follows a dual narrative, pitching between a 1990s film crew who are making a movie about Yip Man, and the man himself following his arrival in Hong Kong from south China in the 1950s. That sounds head-scratching – real-life performers playing movie-makers making movies about real-life people played by performers. But fear not: all questions are swept away by smart staging, sleek designs, awesome revolving sets, tricks of the light, a pulse-quickening soundtrack, uplifting storytainment, and above all exceptional dance, acrobatics and martial arts.
The dancers’ physical poise and prowess are outstanding. In a dream sequence, Yip Man (Chang Hongji, simultaneously restrained and spectacular) and film crew member Da Chun (a youthfully enthusiastic Feng Hoaran) seem to surf upon the seascape projected behind them, backflipping like waves breaking or spiralling airwards like spray. There is also an impressively choreographed and awesomely executed showcase of showdowns between Yip Man and the masters of various martial arts styles – Praying Mantis, Baguazhang, Bajiquan, Taichi – which mix lightning-fast action with freeze-frame and slow-motion effects. At the same time, the flow and detail of their combat echo the dynamic discipline of the calligraphy that introduces each scene, and the smoke-like patterns of light that drift behind the adversaries like motion trails.
If action and production are top-notch, the drama that embeds them can be pretty hokey. Not a problem to start with – this is a fable, not a psychodrama – but by the end, inflated by a tub-thumping score, the story is slapping on its sentiments and moral meanings thicker than a blockbuster movie, and I longed for more of the fine-tuning so evident in the dance, design and choreography.
• At Sadler’s Wells, London, until 7 September.
