Honouring a remarkable life through understanding, not assumption

Research is more than gathering facts. It's an act of respect.

Every authentic production begins with respect for its subject. And I have truckloads for celebrated Chinese-Australian dancer - Li Cunxin.

Dancer, defector, author

Not every famous person writes their autobiography, but boy, I’m glad Li Cunxin did. As a dancer myself, I devoured it when it was first published, and it’s stayed with me all these years. Researching Mao's Last Dancer isn't simply learning about Li Cunxin's extraordinary life. It's about understanding the cultural, political and artistic world that shaped him, his family and the choices they were forced to make. Before I can write a single lyric, I need to understand the world those lyrics will inhabit.

Immersion in the times

I've realised that good research extends well beyond reading books. It means listening to music from the period, studying dance traditions, understanding language, watching documentaries, reading first-hand accounts and, wherever possible, speaking with people whose lived experience can deepen my understanding.

It also requires something less tangible but just as important: empathy. Research asks us to stand, however imperfectly, in another person's shoes. That's not an exercise to be taken lightly.

Art requires empathy

When I read about the Li family's living conditions—a dirt floor, newspaper covering the walls to keep out the cold and the daily struggle just to find enough food—I can't help but look around at my own comfortable surroundings with enormous gratitude. At the same time, I'm reminded that the purpose of theatre isn't simply to recount history. It's to help audiences ask themselves, 'What would I have done?' and 'How would I have survived?'

That, to me, is where the emotional truth of a story lives.

Few of us will have to make the kind of decisions and sacrifices the Lis had to make. But what if we were faced with those dilemmas - would we have had the courage, the tenacity, the self-belief? That’s what I will want the audience to feel deep within if I get this story to the stage.

Life, book, film…musical?

Of course, in this particular case, I also have the enormous privilege of Bruce Beresford's beautiful film as a reference point. I'd be lying if I said I'd only watched it a couple of times. But a film is one interpretation of a remarkable life. If I were ever fortunate enough to create a stage musical, I would want to go back to the source—to the memoir, the history and, above all, the humanity that made the story resonate with so many people in the first place.

Only through thoughtful, respectful research can a theatrical adaptation honour both the individual and the culture from which the story emerged. If audiences leave the theatre understanding not only what happened, but why it mattered, then the research has done its job.