David O'ConnellMao's Last Dancer
October 8th 2009 03:56
Director Bruce Beresford hits every spot, just like the subject of his new film, Li Cunxin, an engineered dancing talent who defected from China in 1981 after falling for the intoxicating freedom and bountiful pleasures of the West. Plucked from obscurity in a far-flung province, Li (Chi Cao) would find a true niche in artistic expression and, aided by the staunch support of Houston Ballet Company director Ben Stevenson (Bruce Greenwood), would soon find himself on a path to international stardom.
Such is the proficiency of Beresford’s direction, and Jan Sardi’s screenplay with its unsurprising trajectory, that every emotional response is expertly squeezed from the audience in what is an admirable fine-tuning of Li's original tome. There have definitely been far more inspiring stories of struggle and succeeding against the odds, but you still need a heart of stone to avoid being moved by the closing scenes. These form part of a rich emotional payoff for all the turmoil of Li’s fight for recognition in a free world he couldn't even know existed as a boy raised in abject poverty.
We are occasionally short-changed in some ways, with no more than cursory attention paid to finer details of his evolving life. Though they've been sacrificed for the sake of momentum and streamlining Li's story into a wide narrative arc, this is still a thoroughly enjoyable film, full of merit despite its manipulative nature.
It covers a gamut of emotions: there are genuinely moving moments in the portrayal of familial hardships, a moment or two of awe upon the stage, and even mild tension in a showdown for supremacy at Houston's Chinese Embassy once Li's plans for defection are made known.
The quality of the acting is first rate with accomplished dancer Cao convincingly stepping into the role of Li as an adult. He’s very photogenic and a natural in front of the camera too; I never sensed any awkwardness or lapses in his performance and of course he’s thoroughly sympathetic in every way. Seeing the world from his naïve, limited perspective gives the film a refreshing innocence but things quickly turn dark when he chooses a new life; the Chinese, when provoked, are adept at deploying underhanded means to retain one of 'their own' and a culturally sensitive storm brews.
The other standout is Bruce Greenwood in a very different role for him; here his usually masculine attributes are consumed by a wispy, effeminate voice and stagy affectations that, although off-putting at first, slowly won me over. The female interests in Li’s life are given very little to do frustratingly, although Amanda Schull makes the most of her lovestruck role as Liz, the dancer whose lack of talent becomes counter-productive to Li’s rise to stardom, ultimately pushing them apart.
Straying into melodramatic excess seems a given for these crowd-pleasing biopics, and one domestic confrontation between Li and new wife Liz, struggling to fit into the scheme of things, is a contrived, recognizable moment from dozens of other films. It's a lazy fallback but it pushes all the right buttons, as do all the ‘big’ shiny moments guaranteed to connect with audiences. Though it may be resented for inching dangerously close to award-winning grovelling, it can’t be accused of being boring for a moment.
The dancing itself is very good, neither accessorised or allowed to overwhelm the human drama. A couple of slowed-down frames and CGI touches in the Rite of Spring finale seemed utterly unnecessary but then again, being swept up in the emotional tide, they’re easily forgiven. Despite its shortcomings, Mao’s Last Dancer is still a resounding success in terms of the pure entertainment value it offers. For sure, it's no heavyweight drama, with subplots failing to be fleshed out satisfactorily, but it never aspires to be that anyway and should probably be judged on those terms.
Trailer here.
Such is the proficiency of Beresford’s direction, and Jan Sardi’s screenplay with its unsurprising trajectory, that every emotional response is expertly squeezed from the audience in what is an admirable fine-tuning of Li's original tome. There have definitely been far more inspiring stories of struggle and succeeding against the odds, but you still need a heart of stone to avoid being moved by the closing scenes. These form part of a rich emotional payoff for all the turmoil of Li’s fight for recognition in a free world he couldn't even know existed as a boy raised in abject poverty.
We are occasionally short-changed in some ways, with no more than cursory attention paid to finer details of his evolving life. Though they've been sacrificed for the sake of momentum and streamlining Li's story into a wide narrative arc, this is still a thoroughly enjoyable film, full of merit despite its manipulative nature.
It covers a gamut of emotions: there are genuinely moving moments in the portrayal of familial hardships, a moment or two of awe upon the stage, and even mild tension in a showdown for supremacy at Houston's Chinese Embassy once Li's plans for defection are made known.
LChi Cao as Li Cunxin, with Australian dancer Camilla Vergotis as his future wife Mary
The quality of the acting is first rate with accomplished dancer Cao convincingly stepping into the role of Li as an adult. He’s very photogenic and a natural in front of the camera too; I never sensed any awkwardness or lapses in his performance and of course he’s thoroughly sympathetic in every way. Seeing the world from his naïve, limited perspective gives the film a refreshing innocence but things quickly turn dark when he chooses a new life; the Chinese, when provoked, are adept at deploying underhanded means to retain one of 'their own' and a culturally sensitive storm brews.
The other standout is Bruce Greenwood in a very different role for him; here his usually masculine attributes are consumed by a wispy, effeminate voice and stagy affectations that, although off-putting at first, slowly won me over. The female interests in Li’s life are given very little to do frustratingly, although Amanda Schull makes the most of her lovestruck role as Liz, the dancer whose lack of talent becomes counter-productive to Li’s rise to stardom, ultimately pushing them apart.
Straying into melodramatic excess seems a given for these crowd-pleasing biopics, and one domestic confrontation between Li and new wife Liz, struggling to fit into the scheme of things, is a contrived, recognizable moment from dozens of other films. It's a lazy fallback but it pushes all the right buttons, as do all the ‘big’ shiny moments guaranteed to connect with audiences. Though it may be resented for inching dangerously close to award-winning grovelling, it can’t be accused of being boring for a moment.
The dancing itself is very good, neither accessorised or allowed to overwhelm the human drama. A couple of slowed-down frames and CGI touches in the Rite of Spring finale seemed utterly unnecessary but then again, being swept up in the emotional tide, they’re easily forgiven. Despite its shortcomings, Mao’s Last Dancer is still a resounding success in terms of the pure entertainment value it offers. For sure, it's no heavyweight drama, with subplots failing to be fleshed out satisfactorily, but it never aspires to be that anyway and should probably be judged on those terms.
Trailer here.
| 66 |
| Vote |
Comment by Janet Collins
Acceptable Etiquette
The Social Critic
Janet Collins Blog
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
Comment by Michelle Sweeney
Competition Queen
Always Learning
Cinema Voyage
Comment by David O'Connell
Screen Fanatic
It has a couple of very moving moments towards the end. It's pretty commercial but still very effective storytelling, I have no doubt you'll love it!