'Panji Sepuh', from classical to contemporary

JAKARTA (JP): And the master was dead. An umbrella, the royal emblem, was burned. The fire licked it slowly but certainly and illuminated the dark stage. It was very quiet, only the sound of breathing indicated that the room was full of people. People who were waiting for the next unpredictable scene to appear. Nothing. The fire died...and the sound of enthusiastic applause was heard from the back of the stage.

It was the stage crew applauding in relief that the fire didn't consume anything on the stage except the umbrella. During rehearsals for the dance titled Panji Sepuh at Gedung Kesenian in Central Jakarta, the fire had not been practiced. When the show was staged early this week everyone was a bit tense when the fire first started to burn the umbrella, despite there being fire extinguishers on hand.

Presented for the third time in Jakarta, after its first and second shows here in 1993 and a tour of other cities including Melbourne, Australia, last year, Panji Sepuh -- which has developed into one of Indonesia's most well-known contemporary pieces -- has had a few new touches added. A "bird" dancer has been introduced, for example, and some of the movements have been refined.

Representation

The dance has been chosen by the Indonesia chapter of World Dance Alliance to represent Indonesia in Korea International Dance Exposition 1995 to be held in Seoul from July 16 to 26.

Directed by Sulistyo Tirtokusumo, currently one of the foremost figures in Javanese dancing who has studied dance since the tender age of six under the training of Javanese court dancers in Solo, Central Java, Panji Sepuh -- inspired from Central Java's most classical female dance bedhaya -- has been transformed into a contemporary dance. This surprised the audience as they seemed to expect to see a traditional Javanese dance.

For almost one and half hours, the audience was taken into a austere world where dancers wove a story of the life and death of their master in slow, meditative and magical movements.

The audience had been prepared for the transformation, starting with the stage setting by scenographer Roedjito. In the center of the somber stage there was only a plain bed, far from the image of royal bed which would be full of lace and grandly decorated. A spittoon, a brass water basin, masks, an umbrella and a lamp were the only other decorations. A man, supposedly a royal guard on duty, kept walking slowly and soundlessly from one end of the stage to the other. The smell of incense permeated the air. For the first ten minutes, the audience was presented this austere and sacred atmosphere in complete silence.

Slowly, a male dancer, apparently the master in the story, dances without the accompaniment of music. Four female dancers joined him later, still with the absence of music. The silence seemingly turned into music eventually and gave the dancers the space and freedom to fill it with their own interpretations.

"So, it is the dancers themselves who give rhythm to their dance, they can dance it slowly or fast, it depends on them because everything comes from themselves," said director Sulistyo.

"Real" music is there too, but not in the form of Javanese gamelan music as is usually the case. Music composer Tonny Prabowo offers a new experience of intense string music and singing presented by a group of Pengrawit--traditional musicians who usually play for Javanese wayang shadow puppetry--and soprano Nyak Ina Raseuki. It was soothing and elegant in some parts, disturbing and deliberately discordant in others, it was also poetic and expressive. It was perfect in depicting the life and death of the story's master.

Sensuality

Interesting is the sensuality of the dance. Every move and gesture, choreographed by Elly D. Luthan and danced by Maria D. Utomo, S. Pamardi, Restu Imansari, Wiwiek Sipala and Ayu Bulan Trisna, expresses the impossibility of separating sensuality and sexuality from life.

When a female dancer bathed the master's feet with water, the action was purely sensual. In Javanese wedding ceremonies, the bride is usually asked to wash the feet of her husband as a symbol of faithfulness and submission to the husband. In Panji Sepuh it was more like foreplay. Yet it was also an act of total surrender to the master, as a man and a powerful master.

A lovemaking scene, following the sudden death of the master, did again surprise most of the audience who had expected to see a chaste Javanese dance. It was not that astonishing actually, considering that some Javanese classical literature, such as Arjunawiwaha, does include sexual intercourse quite explicitly. Lyrics of songs or pangkur, especially written by poet and former chief editor of the banned Tempo weekly Goenawan Mohamad, support the importance of the scene, as life and death is the main theme of the play.

"A voice stirs inside him, a restless symbol, an anxious reminder in your body as well as in mind that the ending will come in the beauty of coitus and tears to make life's cycle disappear will dissolve in love and death."

And the master was finally dead. When the umbrella, the symbol of power, was burned, it became a reminder that there is no eternity, even a reigning master eventually departs. (als)