Butet's mimicry keeps Melburnians entertained

By Dewi Anggraeni

MELBOURNE (JP): If not for the fact that we were definitely in Melba Hall at the University of Melbourne, it would have been easy to be lulled into thinking we were somewhere in an Indonesian city, enjoying the hard-hitting, dangerously honest yet screamingly funny performance of Butet and his Teater Gandrik.

Evenly scattered among the mainly dark-haired, full house audience were a number of fair to honey-colored-haired individuals. And these non-Indonesians in the audience did not all flock together, because they did not need to. They were fluent Indonesian speakers and they enjoyed the theater with their Indonesian friends.

It was Teater Gandrik's last night in Melbourne before they continued their tour to Brisbane last week. Temporarily hosted by the Indonesian Art Society and Indonesia Forum, they were performing Raja Rimba (King of the Jungle), where Jujuk, Djaduk, Agus and Heru accompanied Butet's monolog.

Butet's extraordinary skills in taking off people's voices were the underlying strength of the performance. He was telling a familiar story, so the audience's demand on him was enormous: he had to live up to their expectations.

The rapport between Butet, his chorus-cum-accompanists and the audience was almost palpable. Each time he introduced an animal character, he had to deliver not only with gestures that blended harmoniously with the chorus and music, but also with his inimicable impersonating voice. Needless to say, when he assumed the voice of "he-who-allegedly-has-handed-over-power" when depicting the old tiger, the ripple of mirth in the audience left no doubt that the depiction met people's expectations. When Butet -- dubbed in Indonesia as the "king of monologue" -- introduced the infuriatingly cute baby tiger and put on the voice of "he-who-was-placed-on-the-throne", some people nearly fell off their seats laughing.

Throughout the entire monologue, there were voices in the audience naming and guessing who the current animal character was meant to be. There were also scenes where Butet, as well as his chorus, portrayed numerous ducks who followed the old tiger's word blindly, seemingly too scared to engage their own power of evaluation, or too comfortable in their absence of any sense of responsibility. Here a definable discomfort was felt; I dare say few would have a clean conscience. A collective sense of guilt seemed to flit across many a seated figure in Melba Hall. Luckily this was quickly brushed away by waves of laughter.

The play did not only draw laughter and stir a degree of mea culpa among its audience, but managed to sneak in a sinister warning as well. The laughter subsided significantly when the old tiger, instead of retiring into a mountain cave to live out its old age, became the custodian of the animal world.

The interplay between Butet and the rest of the group was smooth and flawless. They came across as compact and naturally easy with each other, as if they were born together and no practice was remotely necessary, let alone ever considered.

At the end of the play, the audience, still mesmerized, was given the opportunity to ask questions. It became obvious that some people retained their critical minds even when they were entertained. Butet was taken to task for his father's closeness to the authorities of the previous New Order government. He explained that he and his father did not always agree on the way he responded to social and political issues. To a barbed question whether he felt he took advantage of the general misery in the country, Butet's answer was diplomatic and somewhat humble.

He also modestly denied that he had mastered the art of voice impersonation fully. When technically analyzed, his "you-know- who" voices did not match those of the real people. However, he said, "somehow they match your memory of their voices."

Earlier performances at Monash University's Alexandra Theater were a great deal more theatrical and less infused with politics. Their season in Melbourne was indeed an initiative of the Office of Performing and Visual Arts at Monash University. Brigade Maling (The Thieves' Brigade) used up the whole group of nine, including the only two female actors, Ruliana and Saptaria. The story, set in a fictional kingdom where the populace had to surrender their hearts to the state, showed the incredible talents of the group, individually and collectively.

The story moved in and out of the shadow puppet screen, emphasizing the spectacular array of colors when it moved out on to the stage. This continuous display and withdrawal of colors when the characters filled out into real people then shrank back into puppets had a headily haunting and surreal effect. Brigade Maling was much more moving with its pathos than the heavily political Raja Rimba.

Like in Raja Rimba, the group fed into each other, interacted with one another like a dream. They even moved seamlessly from an acting role into a musician role and vice versa, and most of them played more than one acting part. The group have had to cut down on their size while touring, but their versatility made up for the smaller number.

Brigade Maling drew the audience physically on to the stage after the play, and all moved to congratulate them.

The group has successfully entertained not only the Indonesian community, but Indonesianists also. Bravo.