Poster art for Dan Kwong's play Be Like Water, featuring a graphic likeness of the late Bruce Lee.

A modest converted church located on Judge John Aiso Street in the Little Tokyo district now houses the East West Players and a number of Japanese-American organizations. It provides a community center and a cultural focal point in this small but influential part of town.

Hmm ... small but influential. Sounds a lot like a familiar and very special martial artist.

Playwright Dan Kwong’s monthlong world premiere of his play, Be Like Water, closed on October 12, 2008, but I managed to slip in for the last evening performance—and I’m glad I did.

The scenario is Chicago in 1978. It’s the height of the disco craze and an Asian-American family is trying to figure out how to avoid trouble.

It’s Lee’s fault in a way: He’s managed to indirectly inspire 13-year-old Tracy to use her wing chun skills to beat up a local bully who enjoys picking on her nerdy disco-dancing school chum named, you guessed it: Bruce Lee.

Tracy’s parents Frank, a second-generation Chinese-American and Kimiko, a nisei (second-generation Japanese-American) are having a hard time agreeing on how to define right and wrong for her. After all, they don’t want their child to become a victim of racism; but they don’t want her to have an arrest record, either. Tough call.

Lucky for Tracy (played by Saya Tomioka), when things get tough, she’s visited by Lee’s ghost, who appears in a glass of water and gives her sage advice on how to be herself and deal with her problems, thus explaining the play’s name. For good measure, he tricks her into a cha-cha lesson by disguising it as martial arts.

It’s a simple premise that uses the awkwardness of adolescence to press the timeless lesson of grace under pressure as taught by Lee. Other themes touched on were standard assimilation dilemmas, but the cast, particularly Michael Sun Lee, in the role of Tracy’s father Frank, brought a warmth and humor to the script that could easily have turned into a two-dimensional paean to a playwright’s nostalgia for the lost 1970s and all the decade’s quirky joys.

Cesar Cipriano shone as Lee. His dozen or so costume changes reprised most of Lee’s trademark looks and his excellent (to my ears, anyway) take on Lee’s singular hipster jargon and delivery were a genuine pleasure, conjuring the fallen idol for a fleeting evening. Between Cipriano's portrayal and Shawn Huang’s riveting disco-dancing as the schoolboy Lee, the production shared an energy of joy and reverence with the audience. Because Lee's martial arts legacy demands special excellence, the production team turned to Diana Lee Inosanto and her husband Ron Balicki, whose choreography added a crucial layer of reality.
 

For those nostalgics in the crowd who lived through that era, the shirt-tucked-in, hip-hugging, white-belt, wide lapel and chunky-heeled fashion highlights brought it all screaming back. Kwong’s choice of signature disco hits and Queen tunes added the final filigree of realism to a world that had to go on living after their hero had left them behind.

About the author: Edward Pollard is the managing editor for Black Belt and can be reached at epollard@aimmedia.com.