241.
KUNG FU
Bruce
Lee, the American-born, Hong Kong-raised Asian martial arts actor who died just
as his career was exploding, is a fascinating subject for a biodrama. Handsome,
beautifully built, articulate, supremely gifted as a teacher, theorist, and
practitioner of kung fu and other combative sports, and with a background in
traditional Chinese theatre, where his father was a famous performer, he had
all the qualities to become the first major Asian Hollywood action star.
However, Hollywood’s suits were too narrow-minded to see just what they had in
him, thinking that the American public wasn’t ready for an Asian star, and he
had to establish himself with a career in Hong Kong movies before his moment arrived
on this side of the Pacific.
David Henry Hwang, America’s
foremost stage chronicler of the Asian-American experience, puts Lee at the
center of a promising and often entertaining, if unfulfilled, play, KUNG FU, at
the Signature Theatre, that tells his story in episodic fashion, using
flashbacks and various theatrical devices to introduce his childhood (during
which he acted in Hong Kong movies); his uneasy adolescence as a street fighter
(my daughter-in-law’s father went to school with him and vouches for him as a
troublemaker); his strained relationship with his father, an actor in the
Cantonese-style traditional theatre; his career in Los Angeles as a successful
teacher of martial arts to movie stars like Steve McQueen and James Coburn; his
short-lived success as Kato, the fighting chauffeur in service to the Green
Hornet on the TV show of that name; his creation of the idea for the popular TV
show, “Kung Fu,” which overlooked him in favor of David Carradine; and various
aspects of his private life, including his marriage to a Caucasian woman, Linda
(Phoebe Strole), who bore him two children.
From left: Reed Luplau, Cole Horibe, Peter Kim, Ari Loeb, Emmanuel Brown and Jon Rua. Photo: Joan Marcus.
With
Japanese-American Cole Horibe, a runner-up on TV’s “So You Think You Can Dance,”
as Lee, Mr. Hwang and director Leigh Silverman have a reasonable physical
manifestation of the original to carry off their project, even though Mr.
Horibe seems to be making his acting debut in it. His bio establishes his martial
arts expertise, both in taekwando and kung fu, and his dancing talents are
brilliantly in evidence; his acting, while lacking in subtlety (he tends to
shout too much, for one thing), nevertheless is sufficient unto the task, and
he does a pretty good job of standing in for a man of legendary charisma.
When
we first see him, he’s a hotshot with a tall pompadour, glasses, a wad of gum
at which he chews away, and a noticeable if mild Chinese accent (more
pronounced than his actual one, which can be heard in YouTube interviews) but
he soon enough overcomes the nerdy image as he picks up a Japanese-American
girl at a gym and soon has her enthralled by his cha-cha moves. Quickly, he
matures into the cocky, ambitious, chauvinistic, hot-tempered Lee, who marries
and begins to make enough money to buy a fancy L.A. house (which he barely
furnishes), but eventually has to return to teaching (at high prices) when his
career gets punched around. Lee, always philosophical, is prone to spouting spiritualistic
aphorisms about the martial arts, such as those about fighting without fighting.
The story unfolds on a stage designed
by David Zinn that very believably recreates a martial arts training studio but
that, by changing the back wall via sliding units, allows for a variety of
other locales—from Seattle to Hong Kong to L.A. to India—to be suggested
without ever altering the gym-like framework. With terrific lighting by Ben
Stanton (my son thought the light streaming into the gym was from the street
outside), costumes by Anita Yavich ranging from stylized Chinese theatre garb
to everyday wear, original music by Du Yun, projections by Darrel Maloney
(including comic book effects to emphasize the violence), sound design by
Darron L. West, Chinese theatre routines staged by Jamie Guan, fight direction
by Emmanuel Brown, and sensational fighting-inspired choreography by Sonya
Tayeh, the show sometimes crosses the border into musical theatre, with
outstanding set numbers that help to tell the story, effectively combining
naturalism and theatricality. Most of the supporting actors play multiple roles
with gusto and versatility, and the blend of stylization and realism makes it
possible to accept, for example, black actor Clifton Duncan playing white actor
James Coburn without being concerned for authenticity.
Biodramas of famous people,
especially film stars, are often stiffly written enterprises, forced to stick
to the known aspects of the lives being shown so as not to offend knowledgeable
fans, yet also required to make their subjects seem convincing as human beings.
Moreover, an audience attending a show like KUNG FU will be very interested in
seeing something of what the central character was famous for, in this case Bruce
Lee’s martial arts skills. To a great extent, this production, while imperfect
as a drama, is triumphant in putting a semblance of Lee’s abilities on stage,
albeit in the difficult context of live action where actors have to avoid
actually hitting each other and lack the kinds of technical aids, like sound
effects, camera angles, and editing, to make their blows seem true. Audiences
at KUNG FU should be pleased with the fight and training sequences, several of
which are expanded into group dance numbers creatively managed by the
choreographer and her support staff.
Having expected the paint-by-numbers
approach typical of most biodramas, I found myself thoroughly engaged by the
play’s first act, which moved swiftly, introduced its themes clearly (especially
that of Lee’s conflicted relationship with his dad, Hoi-Chuen, played excellently
by Francis Jue), and left me fairly exhilarated when it concluded. Act two,
however, bogs down, with talky family scenes that go on too long, especially a
couple that have Lee flat on his back because of an injury, forcing him to
shout his lines even more than in his other scenes, and restricting his
movements drastically. Scenes with the ghost of his dead father also border on
the hokey. But the play's racial, familial, and cultural themes give the play substance, even when the dialogue sounds a little clunky and the situations somewhat forced.
The play doesn’t take us past the
beginning of Lee’s meteoric rise in Hong Kong films, and we are deprived of seeing
him finally becoming a Hollywood star in movies like ENTER THE DRAGON, only for
him to die at age 32.
There are some fine, enthusiastic
performances from the supporting cast, including Peter Kim as the doofus
student Tōshi and, in a sharp character turnaround, the Hollywood producer,
William Dozier. There’s also a nice job by a child actor, Bradley Fong, who
plays both the young Bruce Lee and Bruce’s own son, Brandon, who also died
tragically young as his own career was beginning to soar.
KUNG FU is uneven drama, but much of it is
engrossing theatre. Cole Horibe, while not a new Bruce Lee, gives a focused and
efficient performance as the late star, and helps make the production eminently
watchable. There are quite enough flying kicks and lightning fists to keep most
audiences engrossed in the action, and the energetic cast keeps things humming
even when the playwriting is taking its lumps. For all its flaws, I see the potential for an exciting movie in KUNG FU. Can you?
