(D) Qi - A Dance of Wushu - Dec 29

THE young Jet Lis were in their element on stage. They displayed all the controlled grace of the Chinese wushu champion and action star – but with the added dimension of nature-inspired dance choreography, they seemed, at times, to lift the martial art to a higher level.

Control ruled the night: With wushu training under their belt,

the dancers leaped, tumbled and cartwheeled across

the stage with grace and beauty.

– Photos by SIA HONG KIAU / The Star

Qi: A Dance of Wushu by the Lee Wushu Arts Theatre was inspired by the power of nature in the form of qi (energy) and the ancient Chinese belief in the power of the five basic elements that are said to compose the universe: metal, wood, water, fire and earth.

The 80-minute contemporary Chinese dance performance had every element of Chinese culture you could think of in it – a little bit of Chinese dance (with flags, ribbons and fans), modernised classical Chinese music as well as Chinese opera, poetry, and most prominently, wushu (both bare fisted and with weapons). All these were linked together by the language of dance.

The programme was divided into nine parts: Origination of Heaven and Earth; Realisation of Truth in the Grounds of Cultivation; To Seek Direction from Where He is Led; Fire, Earth; The Omnipresence of Yin and Yang; Metal, Wood; the Cessation of Yang and the Emergence of Yin; The Union of Heaven and Man; and Flow of Qi.

The concept seemed very philosophical and ethereal. It was based on the transmission and convergence of qi that affects the balance of yin and yang (the “male” and “female” aspects of qi) energies, thus producing, integrating and dispersing the five elements. Wow. All the philosophy was too deep for me, so I resorted to simply enjoying the kung fu flicks, wonderful costumes and music that was put together.

It was clear that the prerequisite for these performers is strong fundamentals in the art of wushu. Their troupe’s founder had, after all, started as a wushu practitioner first. Lee Swee Seng had been practising wushu for 10 years when he decided that he would not limit himself to the martial arts; he explored Chinese opera and dance – the latter interest surely a natural result of wushu’s graceful movements.

Since founding the troupe in 1998, Lee has produced Wushu and Dance (2001), Wushu and Dance United (2003) and The King’s Sword (2005). This production, which was in celebration of the troupe’s 10th anniversary, was put together with the assistance of dancers and choreographers Albert Tiong (based in Singapore) and Mark Yin Hao (based in Shanghai), who served as art instructors.

Wushu was the strong foundation on which Qi was based. The dancers’ lean bodies executed the martial arts movements with an authenticity that comes only with years of tough training, and with a beauty that dancers trying to fake wushu movements could not possibly achieve.

The integration of acrobatic moves such as cartwheels, handsprings and such was no surprise; these are customarily used in martial arts as they emphasise strength, flexibility and acrobatic and balance skills. What surprised me were the perfect tours en l’air (literally, “turn in the air”) executed by the male dancers, none of whom had, as far as I know, any ballet foundation at all. Tours en l’air is a jump into the air with, typically for a male, a full 360° rotation. And if my eyes did not deceive me, some of the dancers even achieved an amazing double rotation (720°)!

The only element in the programme that jarred was a character presentation taken from a Chinese opera. A roaring man tried his best to look and sound fierce without much success. There’s a good reason performers of such character roles traditionally wear masks with exaggerated features on stage: conviction.

Okay, this didn’t work: Man trying to act fierce. The character masks traditionally used in Chinese opera would have worked.

When the performers stuck to combining wushu and dance, they were magnificent. Qi is a reminder that, with strong fundamentals in any traditional or classical art form, versatility comes naturally.

Here’s to even better and more sophisticated works from Lee and his troupe – hopefully, while remaining steadfast to their Chinese roots.

(D) Patches of Dreams - Dec 21

Capping the year in the local contemporary dance scene was Patches of Dreams, a German-Malaysian dance collaboration organized by the Kwang Tung Dance Troupe and sponsored by Gothe-Institute Malaysia, The Ministry of Culture Arts and Heritage, and Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre (KLPac).

This performance is the output of a dance workshop for the troupe held in September 2007. Choreographers Amy Len (Malaysia) and Ben J. Riepe (Germany) shared their experiences from their Asian and European perspective respectively.

Ben J. Riepe

For Reipe, the multi-cultural heritage is a big draw for him. He said, “When you are a foreigner, naturally you will find the local culture extremely interesting. I was interested to see what these dances had in common and what was different between them. In Europe, we had ballet, then expressionist, and then contemporary. The dance we have today has no connection to our heritage. You may say we have either lost it, or you may say that we are free from it. It depends on your point of view.”

Ben J. Riepe studied dance and choreography at the Folkwang Hochschule, Essen. He worked at the Neuer Tanz, Dusseldorf and was a guest-dancer in the Ensemble of Pina Bausch at the Tanztheater Wuppertal before forming the Ben J. Riepe Company in 2004.

As a tutor for the dance production, Riepe focused on the technical side of arts. According to Len, “We learnt many new methods that help us to enlarge movement possibilities and translate it into dance. We also learnt how to work with material, make good choreography, focus our thoughts and create the right ‘taste’ and theme.”

Len, the winner of Best Performer award at the 4th Annual BOH Cameronian Arts Awards 2006, was trained by the Kwang Tung Dance Troupe. She is one of the founders and the Artistic Director of the Youth Studio of Dance. Len is a full time dance instructor, choreographer and dancer. She is active in promoting dance art and dance education through dance productions and projects. This project is the latest that she’s embarked on.

The program comprised of two collaborative works and two dance videos.

One would have thought it was Len who choreographed “LAH,” the first dance, as it had every flavour of locally assembled thoughts, memories and movements. But it was in fact Riepe who choreographed this piece, assisted by Len. The dancers, all from the Kwang Tung Dance Troupe, dressed plainly in black sleeved shirts and tight-fitted slacks that threatened to rip, danced to classic Chinese oldies reminiscent of the romantic ‘Shanghai Tang’ times. The dance schema, progressing from non-movement, to slight movement, to large movements, and back to slight movements, is common but done tastefully. The vision that remains of this piece is the moving lips in bright pink lipstick lip-syncing to the lovely melodies. The appeal of this piece is its boldness in simplicity.

“Winter at 33°C” was choreographed by Len with Riepe as dance tutor. This piece, not unlike other strange contemporary works, did give me a feel that it was battling the Asian mindset of what dance ought to be. Use of material was evident; the robotic caterpillars with blue-lit antennas were indeed the highlight of the dance. What wasn’t clear though was whether the material inspired the caterpillar-like movements or vice-versa. However, thematically it was weak as it was difficult to relate the ideas in this dance, though interesting, to a scorching hot winter.

Given the outcome of both works, an interesting thought came to me: should we ask, “Who’s the better choreographer?” or “Who’s the better teacher?”

Dance Videos

The concept of dance videos (not MTVs) is new to Malaysians. If not for the 10th Annual “Dancing for the Camera: International Festival of Film and Video Dance” that I attended in 2005 at the American Dance Festival, I would not have seen such film.

Reipe’s “Amour Espace – Le Film,” which was created towards the end of this year, was a lengthy film (although it was called ‘short’). His experimental film combines the surreal and real world and draws its parallel with clear continuity of ideas from disjointed scenes. However, the film drags on, there’s more theatre than dance, and the acting could be more refined.

Len’s “Wall,” created in 2006, was a test of patience as we watch Len, who also danced in this film directed by local filmmaker James Lee, literally rolled (against the wall) in and out of ‘frame’. Thankfully, this was not repeated. The silhouette of a man appears and begins a monologue about the inability to communicate with his true love, hence the ‘wall’. Unfortunately, this monologue was repeated until it drives you up the wall!

Patches of Dreams was like the year (2007) that just flew by. There were moments of fun, pain, boredom, anticipation, but yet, hope; especially for those who dare experiment.

(D) Asyik - Dec 16

ASYIK means to be mesmerised or transfixed in Bahasa Malaysia. It is also a type of Malay royal court dance with mesmerising and hypnotic qualities, which has its roots in palace and temple traditions.

It was an apt title for Asyik ... The Beauty of Classical Dance, a recent production by the Dance Department of the National Academy of Culture, Arts and Heritage (Aswara), which showcased a repertoire of classical styles from the Malay, Chinese and Indian cultures through a simple dance drama.

Asyik is a graceful court dance

“Reclaiming our past has to begin by first learning about and loving its constituents! Our cultural heritage is resplendent in its grandeur and diversity,” says Joseph Gonzales, who has been the head of department since 1999.

“My dream is to take this production on tour one day. The level of appreciation for classical dance versus pop culture leaves much to be desired. Foreign perception of our dances is still very commercial. I want the world to see the real thing.

“I also want to take this production to other states in Malaysia because I find that each state has very little idea about classical dances other than its own.”

Gonzalez, the artistic director of Asyik, stresses that, “One must eliminate the misconception and fear that culture is about religion. A Chinese dance is not about being Buddhist; a Malay dance is not about being Muslim; nor an Indian dance, about being Hindu. The performers are simply Malaysians, and they are good at dances that are not from their own race!”

Come into my arms: The 1,000 Hands dance was a spectacle to behold

– AZHAR MAHFOF / The Star

In 2000, Asyik was performed by eight students (two borrowed from Aswara’s Theatre Department) and only 17 people turned up for the show. There were so few dancers that only a limited repertoire could be presented – joget, zapin, endang and mengadap rebab (the opening dance of the traditional theatre performance, Mak Yong).

The academy has come a long way since then. This year’s production had 80 dancers, 25 musicians and an audience of 350. The repertoire included Gurindam, Silat Gayong Ota-Ota, Joget Gamelan Topeng, the Chinese court banquet dances Ruanwu (sleeves dance) and Jian Wu (warrior dance), Bharatanatyam, Warrior Silat Dance, Asyik and Terinai.

Gonzales’ idea for the production was borrowed from a bangsawan (Malay opera) tale, which somehow fitted in nicely with this genre and prevented it from looking like a commercial variety show.

The story is about a young prince who hears a melodious voice and is drawn to the magic of the lyrics and the hypnotic quality of the voice. The king summons his soldiers and orders them to find this person for his love-stuck son. The soldiers bring guests from near and far who present themselves to the king and prince with a showcase of their culture and precious gifts. The prince finds his love when a princess sings and dances the Asyik accompanied by maidens from the royal Kelantanese entourage.

For this performance, the talent of choreographers such as Wong Kit Yaw, Umesh Shetty, Vatsala Sivadas, Hajijah Yaacob, Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi, Firdaus Mustapha Kamal and Sharip Zainal Sagkif Shekwere sought to find exciting and fresh ways to present the dances.

Of all the performances, 1,000 Hands drew the most applause. The dancers, decked in resplendent white costumes, emulated the goddess of compassion (with 1,000 hands) in graceful synchronicity and with great aplomb.

Warriors show off their prowess in the Jian Wu.

In the Asyik, dancers, seated most of the time, swayed their upper bodies hypnotically like human pendulums and gazed fixedly at the slight but fluid and continuous movements of their own hands, each dancer very much absorbed in her own world. The bonang (bronze kettle drum) lead stood out as it lent a unique flavour to the music that accompanied the dance.

Overall, the performances served their purpose of educating and entertaining, although with practice, they could be perfected. But if the production manages “to fan the fire of patriotism and pride in being Malaysian” in even a small portion of the population, as is Aswara’s hope, then it would be deemed a success.

(D) Not Quite Right - Oct 19-20, 2007

Wonky furniture, nimble dancers

When is a table not a table? When it is actually a dancer who has a table lamp on her back. Here is a tale of strange homewear that simply won’t sit still.

THE revenge of IKEA rejects, that’s what this story was really about.

Titled table tops, three-legged chairs, a see-saw bench and other such furniture took centre stage during Not Quite Right, the result of the collaborative efforts of Melbourne-based set designer Justin Caleo and Tokyo-based choreographer Chie Ito, founder of Strange Kinoko Dance Company.

The performance was produced as part of the Australia-Japan Dance Exchange 2006 programme.

Caleo claimed that after talking to Ito and understanding more of her company’s works, he designed a set that suited their style.

Playful dance moves portray a carefree spirit.

– Photos by WEE LIN / Kelab Shashin

The set was made up of colourful and quirky furniture and unconventional lighting – light bulbs were screwed onto ordinary domestic items such as saucepans and coat hangers. A big bottle with a door formed the backdrop and this served as the main entrance and exit point for the dancers.

It seems that Caleo wasn’t the only one playing designer. Ultimately the performance was also about forming shapes, courtesy of the unconventional choreography.

Ito’s “chair’’ changed form as moving bodies dictated its final shape. A table lamp placed on a dancer’s back made her into a “table’’. Ito’s attempts to “make her own furniture’’ and explore shapes were executed through dance with a lot of body contact and “lifting’’ techniques.

Ito's dance style had a playful and innocent quality to it, and there was an air of casualness to the performance – after all, aren’t domestic oddities part and parcel of life?

The dancers, always smiling, also portrayed the essence of a carefree spirit. They were nimble and quick, hopping on and off furniture effortlessly without fear of toppling off the unstable tables and chairs.

These movements flowed very well with the lovely music made up of a combination of lounge, swing, jazz, Hollywood classics, Japanese pop and music by avant garde Japanese talent, Ammakasie Noka.

The dance certainly gave me the impression that domestic life could be a dull thing and that the occupants of a home are constantly trying to inject fresh energy with perpetual home makeovers. (Sure enough, the dancers reorganised the stage by moving the furniture around). Also, everyday household chores like cleaning and scrubbing seem to have been exaggerated under the scrutiny of a floodlight.

There were several sequences in the dance that was repeated once too often, and a sense of monotony set in which doused the initial novelty of the performance.

Just as I was starting to feel like watching a Desperate Housewives repeat (minus the naughty bits), suddenly, one of the dancers came forth with a puppet which grooved to a Nat King Cole number. This item was a departure from the rest of the dance albeit the cutest and most adorable.

Well, all said, there is no such thing as a perfect shape, home, or dance. It's what you make of it.

(M) Jumpstart - Oct 21, 2007

Those boundary-pushing musicians of Inner Space are back!

From left: Kumar Karthigesu, Prakash Kandasamy and Jyotsna Prakash

are all about jump-starting creativity without losing sight of their roots.

– Photo courtesy of the Temple of Fine Arts

IN 2005, the musicians of Inner Space created quite a stir when they began fusing classical Indian music with contemporary elements drawn from jazz, even hip hop. This was, for Malaysia at least, new ground indeed.

Inner Space – the professional performing wing of voluntary arts organisation Temple of Fine Arts (TFA) – was founded by four award-winning TFA stalwarts: dancer Umesh Shetty, keyboardist Jyostna Prakash, sitarist Kumar Karthigesu and tabla player Prakash Kandasamy. Their purpose was to push boundaries in Indian performing arts with dance and music that blended the classical and contemporary. Their debut show in 2005, Inside Out, certainly tried valiantly to do that – and received numerous Boh Cameronian Awards for its efforts.

The group has been pretty quiet since then, so I was delighted to hear it has a new show, Jumpstart, coming up at the end of the month (details below).

Concentrating only on music this time, Inner Space will present eight compositions, five of which are new. The repertoire is intended to make Indian classical music more relevant to the 21st century without losing its primordial essence.

According to Prakash, 33, “At first the purists had reservations. But they now realise that youngsters are attracted to pick up traditional Indian music after listening to our music.”
He adds that, “The one thing that we emphasise is that before you can explore fusion music, you must first have a strong foundation in classical music. With this foundation, one can play anything.”

In other words, know the rules before you break them creatively....

Well, there will certainly be a lot of enjoyable rule breaking in Jumpstart if the intriguing line-up is any indication. Joining Jyostna, Kumar and Prakash are old friends of Inner Space, Syahrizan Sahamat (djembe and rebana) and Bhavani Logeswaran (Carnatic vocals) and new friends Isyam Daud (guitar), Jazlan Noorman (bass), Pangasaasini Gowrisan (violin) and Eddie Kismilardy (saxophone).

Promising to be an exciting show with the potential to make stunning musical connections, Jumpstart brings together the classical Indian sitar, sarangi, dilruba and tabla, the Western guitar, saxophone and piano, the African djembe, the Malay rebana, and the Arabic darbuka to create a magical web of African and jazz rhythms.

Then there’s the rap connection: Yogi B. will be a guest artiste!

Also making a special appearance will be Indian maestro Faiyaz Khan on the sarangi, the rare and exotic instrument capable of mimicking the human voice.

“We are very excited about the new combination of instruments especially the saxophone,” says Jyotsna, 34. “We had one wind instrument, the Chinese flute, the last time. But the saxophone really changes the dynamics and gives the pieces a whole new dimension.” A new dimension of Inner Space? How apt....

‘Jumpstart’ will be on at 8.30pm from Oct 31 to Nov 3, and at 3pm on Nov 4, at The Actors Studio (Bangsar Shopping Centre, Jalan Ma’arof, Kuala Lumpur). Tickets are RM40 and RM60 for adults and RM20 for students. Astro subscribers can present their bills to get a 10% discount (this discount does not apply to student tickets).

(R) Sept 16, 2007 - Just Married!

(D) PINK - August 15, 2007

Pix source: The Star

The last time I watched Lena Ang perform was about a decade ago. In one piece, she chased a chicken around the stage; in another, she casually swallowed some sort of vegetation for a good 10 minutes, with a blank expression on her face. That was my first exposure to the shocking world of butoh – a post World War II Japanese dance form. Ang had introduced a new dance genre to Malaysia via fowl and fauna.

After a 10-year hiatus, Ang, dubbed the “Queen of Butoh”, is back in Kuala Lumpur for a “reunion” performance with scattered members of the Taro Dance Theatre (which she founded). They are Ang herself (based in New York), Ana Barbour (Oxford, Britain), Janette Hoe (Melbourne), and globe-trotting Palani Narayanan.

Ang’s choreography, titled Pink, was performed over three days last week at The Annexe, Central Market. The five-part performance was staged in different sections of The Annexe, thus the audience had to move around Galleries 1, 2 and 3.

Pink is what I would call “street butoh”, which cleverly infuses jazz and hip upbeat music that appeals to the (wo)man on the street. It moved away from being an art for the artsy, to being an art for every (wo)man. In fact, its theme, “the sweet and sticky side of gender stereotypes”, wasn’t too hard to swallow.

The dancers’ movements were not grotesque at all. They opted instead for a combination of slow and slightly contorted movements with intermittent twitches and spasms. On many occasions, they even portrayed, through plain and direct actions, the vanities of (wo)men.

Life in Plastic is Fantastic, which kicked off the show, saw the dancers lying in a circle with legs up. As they slowly reached towards the ceiling with their legs, a Barbie doll in pink cheongsam was passed from foot to foot. The legs thrust in mid-air ooked like a flower laden with “active” pollen. That, together with Barbie, combined to give the image of a fertile female.

In the Pink saw Ang, Barbour and Narayanan donning pink gowns, coats and top hats, in their element. They made a pseudo red carpet entrance, each hugging a half-bodied, naked mannequin of the opposite sex. Everything about their movements and facial expressions screamed look-at-me-I’m-a-star as they basked in their narcissism. The physical connection they made with the mannequin – touching, feeling, hugging – implied sexual discovery.

Moving to Gallery 2 from 1 for Let’s Eat Carrots Together, we saw a two-tiered stage – one above the wooden ceiling beams, and one at floor level.

The world below was that of a little girl (Hoe). Veiled in pink curtains, shrouded in pink fluff, and lit by dangling multi-coloured light bulbs, the sickeningly sweet scene questioned if femininity was inborn or a conditioned trait.

The scene on the upper stage with Ang stuffing tissue into her bra and Narayanan lifting weights, showed, above all, that beauty and vanity are common across gender.

There was hardly any pink left in Dog-Eat-Dog save for Ang’s underwear and Narayanan’s tie. Ang emerged as a human Barbie in a short, white cheongsam. As the title suggested, it was all about power struggles, dominance, ambition and control regardless of gender.

The crisp mechanical movements in Let’s Eat Carrots Together and the numerous lifts in Dog-Eat-Dog were a departure from traditional butoh, perhaps in the manner they were executed. Whether or not they were improvised, they didn’t flow smoothly.

In Gallery 3, Pinked-Out obliterated any trace of pink with the whole set in white. Dressed in white, each dancer held a mannequin’s arm or leg. Their mouths wide open in visible anguish, they showed that wiping out gender stereotypes isn’t so easy. It could “cost an arm and a leg”.
When the dancers dropped to the floor and lay still, the lack of activity shifted our focus to the gentle stir of the suspended mannequins that made up the stage decor.

Ang and Barbour had their own butoh styles; Hoe’s approach was more contemporary rather than butoh, while Narayanan needed a bit more concentration and focus.

Overall, Pink was a whacky, humorous and straightforward presentation of stereotyped ideas. It didn’t try to weave in any heavy social messages. In short, it was “butoh lite” that anyone could enjoy. With this first performance in 10 years, Taro Dance Theatre showed that it had lost none of its lustre.

Break-a-Leg is a non-performing former student of Lena Ang. She has never performed after she graduated.

(D) TARI '07 - August 2, 2007

Khaol by Amrita Performing Arts (Cambodia)

Tari is the largest international dance festival that is sponsored by the Culture, Arts and Heritage Ministry through the Dance Department of Akademi Seni Budaya dan Warisan Kebangsaan (Aswara).

With generous support from the government, Malaysia made its mark on the dance map as all the top institutions from the Asia Pacific region turned up in full force to attend what is now one of the most sought after dance festivals in the region amongst educational institutions.

A total of 15 institutions were selected to participate in Tari ’07, which was held at Aswara, in Kuala Lumpur.

The biannual dance festival began in 1994 to launch Akademi Seni Kebangsaan (ASK) as it was then known and the festival now coincides with the development and expansion plans of Aswara, which includes launching new fields of study at undergraduate and post-graduate levels.

This year’s theme, Independence and Identity, gels with the nation’s celebration of its 50th year of independence. As the nation enjoys growth and stability, the focus turns to understanding and preserving our culture and identity.

One of the key components of the festival is its seminars where many papers presented on Dance in Tertiary Education. Compared to Tari 2005, presenters provided even more solid contributions. These will be compiled into a monograph that will record the teaching methods and challenges faced by these institutions and scholarship in the respective countries.

The dialogue and exchange of knowledge that took place strove to further improve standards of teaching, research and performance. The standard of arts education in Malaysia needs to be on par with that of other international institutions. It is heartening to know that the Ministry of Education has recognised the importance of dance education from young. This year, the Ministry had launched two new arts secondary schools in Johor and Sarawak.

The 70 paying participants attended 19 types of workshops, each conducted twice. In one place, and in one week, participants get to learn from prominent lecturers, professional dancers and choreographers from all over the world. The exposure and knowledge gained is tremendous.

For the participants, the total immersion in dance at Tari would leave an impact that would last a lifetime. It ignites enthusiasm, provides inspiration and gives courage particularly to the youth to pursue a career in dance.

“The path is unknown for a dancer. In that sense, it can be scary. Unlike a career in medicine or accountancy where you pretty much know where you’re heading, there is no certainty for a dancer because the industry is not mature,” said Joseph Gonzales, Head of Dance, Aswara. “That is why Tari is such an important platform. We also discuss how to provide the transition for a student into the professional dance circuit, or related or alternative careers.”

The showcases featured some of Malaysia’s leading artistes and dance companies such as Lee Swee Keong, Ajit Baskaran Dass, Dua Space Dance Theatre, Batu Dance Theatre, Temple of Fine Arts; as well as upcoming young artistes Suhaili Ahmad Kamil, Gayathri Vadiveloo, Shafirul Azmi Suhaimi and Liu Yong Sean.

A few international artistes have been invited to perform such as Mark Harvey, Herbert Alvarez, and Lena Ang who will be making her comeback in Kuala Lumpur after a long hiatus.

The showcase performance succeeded in giving a powerful presentation of creativity, independence and identity.

Each institution was required to present twice – once for its main performance, and the other during the Gala Night (July 27) or the Closing Night (July 28).

The most impressive and captivating performance came from The Korean National University of Arts (South Korea) with their piece entitled Space. Two figures in white, lithe and silent, moved amidst the soft lit floor exuding perfectly the emotions held in the voice that sung a Korean folk song.

The other performances that I liked were About Last Night by LaSalle College of the Arts (Singapore), Khaol by Amrita Performing Arts (Cambodia) with their excellent impersonation of Hanuman and an army of monkeys, and Indigo, an upbeat street piece by Aswara. These performances, I felt, had a professional calibre about them.

Both nights held an international flavour as schools from all over the world presented their favourite pieces. They include Dream Flower and Beauty Girl, both by Guang Xi Art Institute (China), Inner Voice by Edith Cowan University (Australia), Folk Bengal and The Rain Drops, the Sun and the Clouds, both by Mamata Shankar Ballet Troupe (India), Phantom Masquer by Chinese Culture University (Taiwan), Khatulistiwa by Institut Seni Indonesia Jogjakarta (Indonesia), Ang Kasal by the University of Philippines (Philippines), Tonight by Chinese Culture University (Taiwan), Never Fail Me by Queensland University of Technology (Australia), Angin-Angin by Cultural Center University of Malaya, In Place by Nanyang Academy of Fine Arts (Singapore), Cherd by Chulalongkorn University (Thailand), and the lovely The Troupe and Pacifika, by University of Auckland ( New Zealand).

These performances capped an amazing week that was the seventh Tari festival – and judging from the good response, there will be many more to come.

(D) Three Sisters - July 27, 2007

IT was a dance-drama featuring an intense, insane and chaotic journey by three brilliant performers. Three Sisters, staged by the Japanese dance theatre company Pappa Tarahumara in Kuala Lumpur recently, encapsulated the contradictions of unfulfilled yearnings and mature acceptance.

It captured the essence of the original play written by Anton Chekhov, first staged in 1901, which is about the decay of the privileged class in Russia and the search for meaning in the modern world.

This is conveyed through the story about three fatherless sisters, refined and cultured young women who grew up in urban Moscow; however, for the past eleven years they have been stuck in a small provincial town. The sisters are always dreaming of going back to Moscow, hence the feeling of frustration and disappointment, and of being trapped.

By elevating these emotions and showing anything but the refined and cultured side of these ladies, director Hiroshi Koike brought to fore a universal theme of a young woman's unfulfilled aspirations .

The props used were basic. The red kitchen utensils and a doll hinted of home but these and the wooden chairs that occupied the stage were not specific to any era.

And within the confines of the small square dance space, all hell broke loose. The dancers let go all pent-up frustration as if the characters were inherent lunatics.

The presentation took on a graphic, in-your-face approach, laying bare on the stage everything we (women) are in the privacy of our bedrooms (and worse, bathrooms!) including nose digging, masturbating, faking a cleavage, scratching (yes, even women!); things that we would never for the world, publicly admit that we do.

The in-your-face dance laid bare everything that women
are in the privacy of their bedrooms, and worse, bathrooms!

With high adrenaline all the way, the dancers combined aggressive movements in their jumps, kicks, falls, and turns with a myriad of facial expressions, vocals and narratives.

The first of three segments in the dance theatre piece depicted a child’s world at home where the sisters played cooking, and explored their sexuality and identities with youthful curiosity.

The second scene was drastically different, featuring the sisters in shredded black lycra acting out their world of fantasy where they see themselves physically perfect and capable of doing anything - and flexing their muscles to that effect. However, their clumsy uncouth demeanour show them up as mere wannabes.

The final segment rang a tone of resignation and pessimism. The sisters, donning simple dresses, decide to come to terms with and accept the lives they have.

The pink balloon that was blown and released on several occasions was a metaphor for the sister’s aspirations shrivelled and flown away.

Three Sisters' complex choreography looks at every single element in detail – right down to casting based on physical stature. Besides their natural physique, Rei Hashimoto, Mao Arata, and Sachiko Shirai as the eldest, middle and youngest children respectively, danced their roles brilliantly and convincingly, drawing out the essence of what it means to be a young woman growing up.

(T) Show & Tell: Cantonese Opera - June 30, 2007

Pix: by Break-a-Leg

(T) Show & Tell: Cantonese Opera - June 30, 2007

Pix: by Break-a-Leg

(T) Cantonese Opera - June 26, 2007

Pix: The Star

EVERYONE, young and old, should take the opportunity to catch a rare glimpse of Cantonese opera during the Festival of Cantonese Opera, themed The Power and Passion, held at the Kuala Lumpur Performing Arts Centre (KLPac).

The festival, organised by the Rotary Club of Gombak, brings the Guangdong Cantonese Opera Academy First Troupe (GCOAFT), the world’s best-loved Cantonese opera troupe, to our shores. The 60-strong troupe, led by renowned lead principal Ding Fan, comprises performers, musicians, and acrobats.

The six-day festival, from June 26 to July 1, features several opera favourites, including Swapping the Prince with a Civet (June 26 and 29), The Emperor Tang and Yang GuiFeiA Night of Excerpts (June 27, 30 and July 1) featuring excerpts from stories such as Mui GuiYing, Journey to the West, Zhong Kui, and the King of Ghost. (June 28 and July 1), and

It’s not too difficult to fall in love with Cantonese opera once you get past the high-pitched voices, exaggerated mannerisms and make-up. It’s all these and more that make the genre so unique. Accompanied by live Chinese orchestra, the performance is filled with beautiful, traditional music, accentuating scenes and punctuating emotions.

Watching Swapping the Prince with a Civet on the opening night, I was transported back in time to the world of palace politics during the Song Dynasty.

The moral of the story is still relevant today. To sum it up, Dilbert (a popular management cartoon)-style, management is blind, evil triumphs, the good gets exiled and those who are loyal get framed and die for nothing.

Having said all that, the stars are actually the loyal and good servants (Chen Lin, played by Ding Fan and Kou Zhu, played by Jiang Wenduan), without which the dynasty will not survive and prosper.

The Emperor Zhao Heng, already in his 50s, has no heir. When the emperor learns that both Concubine Li and Concubine Liu are pregnant, he decrees that whoever gives birth to a son first will be crowned empress.

When Li (Ye Bei) gives birth to a son, Liu (Chen Jinyun) plots with the palace guard, Guo Huai (Shi Jian), to swap Li’s prince with a civet, and accuses her of conceiving an imp. Li is sent to live in the Exiled Residence. Meanwhile, Liu orders her maid, Kou Zhu, to throw a meal basket into the Golden River.

The maid, not realising that the prince is in the basket, is about to throw it into the river when she hears the baby cry. Superintendent Chen Li comes to investigate. When they realise that the baby is the Crown Prince, they hide the baby from Liu.

The most exciting part of the show is when Chen attempts to smuggle the baby into Nanjing Palace for protection. He hides the baby in a fruit basket, on the pretext of bringing Zhao Defang (Yang Lihao), the 8th King of Nanjing, a birthday gift of fresh peaches.

Guo and Liu stop Chen when he is making his way to the palace. The tension mounts as Liu inspects layer after layer of the three-tiered fruit basket.

Just as Chen is about to open the third layer, which has the baby in it, Kou comes along and distracts Liu, thus preventing him from discovering the baby. Chen succeeds in taking the prince to safety. Zhao, upon hearing of Liu’s evil plans, agrees to bring up the prince as his own son.

Meanwhile, Liu gives birth to a son and is crowned empress. However, seven years later, her son dies and the emperor starts to look for a new heir. The emperor chooses Zhao Zhen (Huang Zheng, the youngest performer), not knowing that he is Li’s son. When Liu realises that something is amiss, Kou and a few others sacrifice themselves to protect the Crown Prince and his mother, Li.

The story ends amidst the crumbling, burning Exiled Residence, and we are expected to watch out for the next episode, as if chasing a TVB Cantonese serial. It's equally additive, I would say. But while television is just entertainment, Cantonese opera is a must-watch work of art.

(D) Tradition and Transference - May 4, 2007

Pix source: The Star

IF I’d watched Arushi Mudgal dance side by side with her aunt, Madhavi Mudgal, on TV, I would have thought they’d used some high-tech gimmickry to have Madhavi’s younger self dance with her present self.

The uncanny resemblance was not just a result of blood ties between aunt and niece but also because of the similarity of dance style seen in the final Pallavi (in rag Bhairavi) that concluded Odissi: Tradition and Transference, a performance that was a part of Sutra Dance Theatre’s Under the Stars series 2007 (2nd Flush), held last weekend. Madhavi is a senior disciple of Guru Kelucharan Mohapatra (one of the pioneers of the Odissi revival in India) and she has dedicated more than 35 years of her life to dance. Madhavi is credited with bringing a greatly refined sensibility to her art form. Her background in music has provided her with a rare insight into the art of choreography. She has received acclaim in the world’s major cities and at dance festivals worldwide and has received numerous awards and honours.

Arushi, born in 1986, started Odissi at the age of five under the tutelage of her aunt. Despite her tender years, Arushi has already toured extensively in India and overseas as part of her guru’s dance troupe. Her most significant performances have been in Brazil, France (at the Theatre de la Ville), Germany (Berlin Festspeile) and Morocco (Fez Festival), where she had the honour of dancing with the legendary Kelucharan and Madhavi as part of a recital that illustrated the continuity of the Indian dance tradition through three generations.

In this performance in KL, we witness the transference of tradition through two generations.

Madhavi’s refined sensibilities could be seen in the supple wrist work, distinctive hand gestures, and subtle head shifts. These were featured regularly in the dance that comprised of six sections – Mangalacharan, Pallavi (in rag Bageshri), Ashtapadi (Yahi Madhava), Abhinaya, Oriya Champu and Pallavi (in rag Bhairavi).

Madhavi’s Mangalacharan was one of the most simple and yet alluring invocatory pieces I’ve seen. Hands cupped most of the time, she swayed rhythmically to Sangitaratnakara, a 13th century musical treatise. Her feet stamped to the ever-changing rhythm and her consistent and gentle rocking motion invoked the image of cosmic balance and harmony. She moved like a slithering snake: one moment gliding smoothly, another, striking suddenly.

The Pallavi in rag Bageshri was choreographed and performed by Arushi. It was a demonstration of how successive generations can add to the development of Odissi. Madhavi’s imprint on Arushi was obvious, but her youthful interpretation was unmistakable.

In this pure dance item that celebrates rhythm and movement, the stage was her playground; and she took liberties with movements she had inherited to create a lively and energetic piece. The only movement that she did not quite complete properly was the balancing act – she had to rush rather quickly into the next movement.

Ashtapadi (Yahi Madhava) is a work choreographed by Kelucharan. Yahi Madhava is extracted from the Gita Govind, a 12th century Sanskrit poem that forms the core of Odissi for abhinaya (expression).

In this song, Radha (performed by Madhavi) is depicted as a hurt and jealous heroine – she has just noted the telltale marks of Krishna’s night of passion with another woman. But, rather than having loud hysterics as most betrayed women would, Radha’s interrogation and rage is gentle, as if scolding a young, naughty boy.

Abhinaya was a lovely personification of Spring through Cupid’s darting love arrows and flowers and trees and butterflies. This piece, performed and choreographed by Madhavi, overall, portrayed an aura of love.

Oriya Champu, written by Oriyen poet, Kavi Surya Baladeva Ratha, became a dance item and a wonderful abhinaya (Spring) piece. In this story, a sakhi (confidante) of Radha’s chides her for having fallen in love with Krishna. I thought Arushi did exceptionally well in expressing her mockery and questioning of Radha’s self-worth.

The Pallavi (in rag Bhairavi) I mentioned earlier concluded the performance instead of the traditional concluding Moksha. This was the only duet in the performance, the only time when Madhavi and Arushi danced together.

Madhavi’s choreography is made up of complex patterns with sequences arranged in an aesthetic order to bring out the architectonics of the tradition. She showed us double-sided views of a single movement with Arushi’s back to the audience and Madhavi facing us. Her combinations of synchronous and asynchronous structures also created visual uniformity.

The asynchronous structures implied that tradition can change and adapt with variations suited to the successive generation. But more significantly, Arushi was recording Madhavi’s movements and consciousness in that uniformity, hence “transference of tradition”. There is only one way to do that for dance, and that is to dance it, over and over again.