Panji Sepuh exposes Australians to a new experience

By Dewi Anggraeni

MELBOURNE (JP): Australian art and dance lovers have seen traditional dances from Indonesia. Balinese and Javanese dancers perform at heartening regularity in Australian cities, and occasionally there are also visits by cultural groups from other areas in Indonesia.

Australia therefore, while still regarding Indonesian dances as somewhat exotic, have particular expectations when they come to an Indonesian dance performance.

Panji Sepuh, brought to Australia by IKAWIRIA, the Indonesian Community Association, and performed at the Victorian Arts Center in Melbourne from Sept. 21 to Sept. 23, has been a completely new experience. The story was based on a poem by Goenawan Mohamad, editor of the banned Tempo magazine.

The dance featured dancers and choreographers Elly D. Luthan, Maria D. Hoetomo, S. Panardi, Restu Imansari Kusumaningrum and Dewati Sukistini, with Sugeng Pratikno and Sulistyo Tirtokusumo as supporting performers. Music was composed by Tony Prabowo.

Part of audience's expectation of a dance performance is the accompanying music. Since the dance has been advertised as contemporary Javanese, some people would be prepared not to hear traditional gamelan accompaniment. They come with a fair excitement facing the unknown.

Complete silence

Very few, however, would be prepared for the complete silence. The only presence, initially, is the smell of incense, then slowly and gradually, the audience becomes aware of other emerging presences and movements on the stage. The effect of the giddy silence dominating the beginning heightens the audience's sensitivity of what is going to happen next. The stage, lower than the audience's seats, is like a somber pit with suggestively subdued lighting, and evokes an eerie sense of peering into one's own mind. This is especially so when there begins to be presences followed by slow, small movements. Then, the moving agents, a man and four women, merge with the symbols in the pit-armory signifying the Ksatrya caste; an austere bed evoking lack of superfluous luxury; flower petals which, with the incense haze, evoke a sense of sacredness; five masks strategically placed, a royal spittoon; and a basin full of fragrant water. A distance away from these, a lamp inside a curtained area and a royal umbrella.

The whole performance is an experience - almost chimerical, that haunts the audience with increasing intensity. Abetted by the disturbingly discordant string music and singing, the center presence, the man, presumably a prince as indicated by his attire, draws the audience into his own mental struggle.

The traditional aspect of this experience is emphasized by the use of women as temptresses and agents of distraction. The scene of temptation gains inner momentum when one of the women indicates that she will stop the mild teasing of the prince, and washes her face with the fragrant water. Then with calm but definite movement she begins to wash the prince's feet with the same water. This physical contact continues seductively with their symbolic love-making, climaxed with an explosive orgasm of the prince. This climax is also the beginning of the prince's defeat, auguring his vulnerability and weakness, thus his inability to overcome his own impure lust.

Interesting is the role of women in this story of temptation. The first impression is, naturally, women are basically evil or at least impure, otherwise they would not be used to tempt and test the prince's mental fortitude. However, it becomes also clear that women have the power to cause the downfall of a potentially virtuous character, from the lofty position of a would-be king to a mere failure.

On the other hand, the story also reveals the vulnerability of man as the stronger sex, the bearer of power. Even more disturbing still, is the cruel revelation how illusive and ephemeral power actually is. The audience is left with the question: who actually has it, the man, the women, or nobody?

The last scene was a brutally dramatic end of the whole haunting experience: the burning of the umbrella, symbolizing, it seems, the disappearance of what is visible of power.

It certainly is not a piece of entertainment people come to for relaxation after a hard day's work. The images that emerge and reemerge on one's consciousness after seeing Panji Sepuh are hardly light-hearted. In fact, they are disturbing, and emotionally probing.