Choreographers: Han Zhen and Zhou Liya
Writer: Feng Shuangbai
Composer: Yang Fan
Having been performed in over 48 theatres in 38 cities around the world, and been seen by over 260,000 people, Wing Chun has become something of a cult phenomenon. And now, in this run at London’s Sadler’s Wells, it makes its UK debut.
Wing Chun is an ancient martial art from China that was popularised across the world by Yip Man, the man equally famed for having taught Bruce Lee. This is a telling of Man’s life, albeit in a rather abstract and sycophantic manner.
The story is told in two parallel parts – Man’s life since arriving in Hong Kong and making home in a close-knit neighbourhood, and a modern-day story of a film crew shooting the story of Man’s life. The then and now are used to show how, despite the generational gaps, people still are, fundamentally, the same. They chase dreams, they have insecurities, and the power of community is stronger than the individual.
Both stories are told powerfully and effectively through a blend of martial arts and contemporary dance set to an orchestral soundtrack. However, whilst this proves a treat for the eyes, it fails to provide any real deeper engagement, leaving the overall experience frustratingly meandering and, ultimately, boring.
There’s no denying that Wing Chun is an absolute visual feast for the eyes. Hu Yanjun’s simplistic, modular set design is nothing short of genius. Using movable columns, she creates the streets of ancient Hong Kong, the back lot of a film set, and a labyrinthine maze with amazing effect. Add to this Ren Dongshen’s lighting design and you have an evocatively thrilling backdrop.
The physical mastery on display is, almost, too effective. The physical undertakings are delivered with such ease and nonchalance that you have to pause to realise what you’ve seen. Bodies leaping metres into the air, silent tumbles and somersaults, balance-defying leg stretches and crouches and more, all delivered so effortlessly that it almost loses its impact. But once you do a double take and really acknowledge what you’re looking for, you’re left agog at the control and strength on display.
Zhen and Liya’s choreography uses this to great effect and when placed on Yanjun and Dongshen’s set it creates something visually intoxicating. Unfortunately, however, the overall production is let down by a lacklustre story, laboured direction, and an overly obvious sentimental soundtrack.
The story’s double narrative, whilst giving a pan-generational message, is distracting. Neither is given enough attention and so both are frustratingly unfulfilling. Man’s attempt to take on local gangs, separation from this girlfriend, and attempts to build a stronger community are all given such scant attention as to remove any care from the audience. Add to this an overarching narrative geared to driving some wider socio-political message about being humble, living in a community, and working hard, and the story feels manipulative and contrived.
The direction is so on the nose as to be heavy-handed. There’s a lot of posturing and posing, slow purposeful movements, and long imploring looks direct into the audience. It lacks any subtlety or nuance. This is bad enough, especially with a flat and unengaging story, but add to this a sentimental, emotionally manipulative soundtrack and you have something that makes a sub-par Hallmark TV film feel like a Dickensian drama.
There’s an immense amount to enjoy about Wing Chun but when’s all said and done, you’re left with one overwhelming thought – how can something so visually stunning and physically breathtaking elicit such boredom?
Runs until 7 September 2024
