Balinese Dance Drama a Sensuous 'Dream'Dancer Ida Ayu Diastini performed the Bidadari in a scene from the Balinese dance drama "Kawit Legong: Prince Karna's Dream." (Chronicle photo by Lance Iversen)
Gamelan Sekar Jaya seduces at Zellerbach
Allan Ulrich, Chronicle Dance Critic
Monday, February 19, 2001
©2001 San Francisco Chronicle
URL: http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/chronicle/archive/2001/02/19/DD81005.DTL
East met West on neutral ground Friday evening at the University of California's Zellerbach Hall, where the world premiere of the frequently ravishing Balinese dance drama "Kawit Legong: Prince Karna's Dream" drew a crowd so large that the response seemed to surprise sponsoring Cal Performances.
A rare local commission from this agency, the 75-minute production united the Bay Area-based Gamelan Sekar Jaya Musicians and Dancers with members of STSI Denpasar, Bali's National Academy of the Arts.
In all, more than 20 dancers and 30 musicians participated, under the direction of Ellen Sebastian Chang. Sensuous, exotic and charming in turn, the evening emerged as both unclassifiable (by our rigid Euro-American standards) and oddly self-referential.
Legong is a familiar Balinese dance form (performed annually by masked dancers), and the Berkeley production delivered the legend behind the evolution of that form. It is a 19th century myth here reconceived by I Ketut Kodi, who also danced the central role of the prince whose reverie inspires the evocative flow of images that spell Balinese culture. Ni Ketut Arini, who devised the choreography, also portrayed a dance teacher in one sequence.
Traditional Balinese dance, it would seem, welcomes new interpretations of its cultural heritage without crying vandalism. The movement language may be codified, but it also can be shaped and directed to both dramatic and decorative ends by newcomers without giving offense. This, we are told, is the first occasion on which this particular story has been deployed as a theatrical venture.
Gamelan Sekar Jaya, seated on the floor at stage right in raspberry-colored shirts, performed on the standard metallophones, drums, gongs and winds, but what it played in "Prince Karna's Dream" was an original score by Bali's esteemed I Nyoman Windha, who directed the orchestra with I Made Subandi and I Dewa Putu Berata. The restricted scales, idiosyncratic tunings and acrid dissonances framed vocals that seemed to issue from deep within the soul. The music is not improvised nor is it notated; in the Balinese tradition, it is passed among musicians.
In the story, Dewa Agung Karna attends to the ceremonies after his father's death, then during meditation in the temple, he discovers two ancient masks. He experiences a vision of two celestial nymphs and later teaches the movements to a pair of prepubescent girls and fits them with the masks.
The forces of evil lurk. One girl falls into a trance. The witch Rangda and her four cronies arrive in quest of human sacrifices. They are ultimately repelled through ritual movement. We might call it dancing the blues away. For the Balinese, the resonance is considerably more profound.
The stylized choreography radiates a universal appeal. In Karna's opening solo, a promenade of bare feet slapping the floor, the torso is askew and the spread fingers suggest an openness of spirit. The six Sutri dancers launch into sweeping unisons (imperfectly dispatched on Friday). The two young Legong dancers favor the aligned shoulders and oscillating heads that one associates with Asian dance. The witches (led by I Wayan Dibia) break with all protocol and seem to ooze across the stage.
Beyond steps and postures, these dancers communicate with arched eyebrows and gentle smiles. Symmetries govern the climactic temple dance. From simple gestures, narrative sequences grow.
The trappings of "Prince Karna's Dream" were worth the price of admission. The costumes, designed by Ni Ketut Arini and Kompang Metri Davies, inflamed the senses with their golden headgear and sumptuous brocades. The witches, by contrast, were faceless creatures with wild manes, and they skulked around with simple white cloths flying from their heads.
Larry Reed directed the often breathtaking shadow projections, which seemed to leap off the rear screen. It's a pity that no translations were provided for the speech sequences, but "Prince Karna's Dream" still communicates in a manner that speaks over the centuries. It surely merits more than this two- performance engagement.
E-mail Allan Ulrich at aulrich@sfchronicle.com.
©2001 San Francisco Chronicle