I had a feeling I’d appreciate this fusion of martial arts, dance and storytelling, but I hadn’t anticipated just how intensely beautiful and emotionally resonant it would be. Created by Shenzhen Opera and Dance Theatre and presented in this North American premiere by TO Live and ADEM, Wing Chun Dance Drama is an enchanting spectacle that feels cinematic without losing its very deliberate theatrical identity. I often find myself moved by beauty and artistic excellence on their own terms, and this production’s aesthetic drama, athleticism and grace are deeply rousing.
Even without a full grasp on the specific story being told, the audio-visual splendour is compelling, though Creators Han Zhen and Zhou Lyia (co-director/choreographers) have so much more up their sleeves. They’ve crafted a theatrical event that grounds its pageantry with intimate human moments without so much as a single word being spoken.
The two interwoven stories run in tandem here. In 1950s Hong Kong, we follow Ip Man (Chang Hongji in a dignified and warm portrayal), the Grand Master of Wing Chun—a martial art fostered to stop fights rather than start them—through his trials and tribulations. He humbles local bullies with fierce grace and has a heartbreaking separation from a lover. We see his tale unfold through the obsession of a young lighting technician in the 1990s, Da Chun (Feng Haoran in a disarming embodiment of passion and urgency), working on a film tracking this iconic figure’s life.
Inspired to take heroic action in his own life, Da Chun is as endearing a portrait of devotion as Ip Man. A lot of their movements echo each other, suggesting a bond that resonates through time. One key symbol of this bond is a wooden training dummy that each attacks with disciplined vigour.
As Ip Man displays his tremendous skill, flying through city streets, his momentum is intensified by the facades of buildings swivelling around him and his adversaries. The fighting, the expressive emotional movements, it is all impressively fluid and dynamic. Lighting rigs and a boom mic descend into the frame to establish the artifice of film production while the air remains charged with the unfolding drama—reality and recreation, two realities co-existing on a single plane, history present and alive.
You might expect the camera to be the most prominent element of a film production, but here it is a light on a stand. As the film crew fixate on key moments of Ip Man’s plight, it isn’t a camera getting its close-up that focuses our attention, it is the ever-watchful and involved Da Chun moving with his light to illuminate and reveal—a novel, striking choice!
At times there was applause at moments I didn’t quite understand until I realized, of course, a key factor at play: there are events depicted here, tableaux with very specific cultural context, out of my frame of reference, that hold great significance. Far from being alienating, the experience of being invited into a space of authentic cultural celebration, as an empathetic spectator, is incredibly moving and adds a layer of shared intimacy.
Expressive gestures and mise en scène draw us deeper and deeper into this dual story. Legacy, a key theme here, is artfully rendered in a visual motif of photographic media. A projected flicker of celluloid grain over key episodes, the photograph of the film crew made flesh—these are inventive and poignant.
From the playful hustle and bustle of crowds scenes to heartbreaking duets, the precision of all this is astounding, anchored by a stirring emotionality. Wing Chun Dance Drama is a solid entertainment and majestic cultural artifact.


