Concrete Playground

Before China flung open its imposing red doors to an international market, it was very much the quiet kid in the corner with super strict parents who didn’t talk to anyone for fear of inviting a wedgie. This was the backdrop for the early years of young Li Cunxin's (Chi Cao) life in Mao’s Last Dancer, adapted for the screen by Aussie director Bruce Beresford (Driving Miss Daisy) and writer Jan Sardi.

At the tender age of 11, Li was plucked from his town and family in rural China by Madame Mao’s cultural delegates and sent to study ballet in Beijing. Years of rigorous self-discipline and draconian tutelage bestowed on Li the goods required to represent China in a 3-month cultural exchange at the Houston ballet in Texas. 

In a series of flashbacks and forwards, we see Li’s baby steps into the USA’s capitalist landscape (disco, Pepsi and chicks) starkly contrasted with his earlier life in Communist China. Buoyed by the accolades that accompany his stunning performances (and, thanks to choreographer Graeme Murphy, they really are stunning), and the flush of budding romance, the impending return to his homeland becomes decreasingly appealing. Li opts for a shotgun marriage to his new sweetheart instead, providing him with grounds for defecting. What happens next is a predictable combative pas-de-deux with a pretty peeved bunch of Chinese officials and Li's new American friends.

If you liked the book, can stomach a bit of cliché and a script that occasionally teeters on template Hollywood schmaltz, Mao’s Last Dancer is worth it for the impressive cinematography and technically brilliant dance sequences smattered with some genuinely stirring emotional moments.