The brilliant book Mao’s Last Dancer, Li Cunxin’s memoir of childhood conscription by the Chinese state into ballet boot camp redeemed by defection and global stardom, was always going to be tough to translate to celluloid. Cunxin’s life story has so many turning points ripe for saccharine treatment – a Hollywood blockbuster approach would have ruined the rousing but bittersweet tale. We can be thankful, then, that veteran Australian director Bruce Beresford, with his calm, nuanced approach, has been the one to unveil the movie Mao’s Last Dancer.
The book is a linear journey. The film begins with the goggle-eyed ballet dancer coming to Houston and then proceeds through his life with a well-selected series of flashbacks. Such framing inevitably skews the long, incident-filled life story towards the American portions, and perhaps that was inevitable, but even though I personally found the childhood scenes most vivid in the autobiography, I could not fault the chosen structure, nor the aptly chosen scenes. All the Chinese actors who play Li Cunxin at various stages of his life are well cast and deliver strongly, but a special mention must go to Chi Cao, who is pitch perfect as the adult Cunxin. Beresford dwells on Cunxin’s ballet performances, which should have diminished the movie for me (I loathe ballet), but instead the incredible athleticism underpins the drama of the entire story.
Mao’s Last Dancer is viewed by many as a ‘hero done good’ story. But I prefer to see it as a stark, grand tale of a man wrestling with his art while on a quest to find meaning and happiness. The screen version has a different slant and feel to the book, but I consider it as vibrant and as glorious. Thoroughly recommended.