STAGE

INTERNATIONAL POLITICS AND PERSONAL DRAMAS COLLIDE IN THE HANGAR’S “GREAT LEAP”

By Ross Haarstad

Abasketball court is the arena for this witty, fast-paced drama of international politics and the dreams of one kid.

In Lauren Yee’s e Great Leap, 17-year-old ChineseAmerican Mumford, just (barely) graduating high school, is desperate to join the USF college team readying to travel to Beijing for a “friendship” exhibition game. If there is trouble, Mum will nd it, much to the chagrin of Connie, his more worldly ‘cousin’, a grad student and his protector.

Opposing him (initially) is the team’s long-time coach, Saul—brash, foul-mouthed, cynical—who, facing the possible end of his career, is eager for a rematch with the Beijing University team he helped coach and play against in 1971. at team is now coached by Wen Chang, Saul’s interpreter back then, Communist Chinese cool to Saul’s U.S.-Jewish heat. e year is 1989, when images of the protests and massacre in Tiananmen Square will soon overtake broadcast coverage of the exhibition game.

With stunning economy Yee sketches the world-shaking dynamics of two pivotal moments in communist China—the 70s turn to the West (‘ping-pong’ diplomacy, hard on the heels of the Cultural Revolution), and the youth independence revolt of 1989—dropping them into the real-life desires and struggles of four people.

Culture-clash humor mixes with generational and international divides, all this driven by an aspirational sports story that just happens to reach deep into the scars, secrets and hopes of immigrant lives.

It’s brilliant, it’s funny, it’s heart-wrenching, and you don’t need to know all that much history or basketball to lean into every heartpounding moment.

Under Natsu Ononda Power’s agile, propulsive and inventive direction, as realized by a top-notch quartet of actors and a uidly designed environment, the Hangar’s production scores big-time. (For those who have been avoiding indoor shows, the audiences have been wearing masks.)

As Mum, Ray Yamamoto is the personi cation of lightning in a bottle, tightly-wound, brash, explosive, self-aggrandizing, emotionally con icted, confused, and yearning. Yamamoto’s feelings can turn in on a dime, and he pulls you into his need to unlock the puzzles of his past.

Jim Shankman has a eld-day with Saul, a sometimes stereotypical type, whom Yee makes warm and three-dimensional both through the wash of insults, Yiddishisms in his language, and the agility of his intellect. He has married himself to basketball, and Shankman reveals both the personal regrets of this choice and the second fatherhood he has found through his team, in a humorous, high-energy relish for Saul’s performance of self. His chemistry with Yamamoto consistently strikes sparks.

Eileen Doan wears Connie lightly, investing in older-sister teasing, championing, and challenging of Yamamoto’s Mum. Basketball-savvy but not so testosterone driven, she is the calm at the center of the mens’ storms.

Wen Chang is the play’s pivot; the character is youthful, astonished, tentatively peeking out of his shell in the 1971 scenes, turning careful, calculating, and near frozen in place in 1989. It’s a role that requires subtlety and a wry coolness, all of them supplied in Norman Garry Yap’s adroit performance. Underlying the surface is an incompleteness that waits to be pierced, and Yap moves brilliantly into that moment.

Like Power’s direction, the design is minimal, inventive, clean—allowing language and movement to carry the story’s bulk.

The combination of an abstract basketball court, evocative lighting, video projections, and bright splashes of color from props and costumes makes for very effective staging. (Photo: Rachel Philipson)

Ray Yamamoto and Jim Shankman spent time together on the court practicing ensuring their performances were realistic. (Photo: Rachel Philipson)

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