Butet's mimicry keeps Melburnians entertained

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.