Play puts a human face on Dutch era

Play puts a human face on Dutch era

By Dewi Anggraeni

MELBOURNE (JP): For those who were brought up in Jakarta in
the 1950s, where Dutch homes were still grand enough to be out of
bounds for locals, seeing The Language of the Gods is like
peering into an intimate corner of a colonial Dutch home, in the
time of their decline.

It fills one with voyeuristic thrills and pathos all at once.
The story, set in Makassar in 1946 or 1947, shows not only the
humanity of the supposedly mighty Dutch, but it also reveals
their weaknesses, their moral rigidity and, in the case of Capt.
Westerling, their complete slide into depravity.

The set is simple but effective. The width allows physical
movement and dramatic interaction, while the clever use of
screens, light and darkness give the illusion of depth.

The story revolves around the family of Peter Braak, the
governor of the Celebes, now Sulawesi. Ignoring the declaration
of independence in August 1945, the Dutch had returned to
Indonesia. Surrounded by Alice, his new Australian wife, his son
Theo and daughter Doddy, Braak tries to recapture the enjoyment
of life in the Indies as he knew it. However, the inevitable
onset of decay, and his own conscience, get in the way.

Louis Nowra reflects his more than fleeting understanding of
the locals' psyche in his depiction of the local characters,
indigenous and of mixed blood. The story itself is set in an era
when European authors would portray local characters as wooden
props or background landscape. Without soul. But Nowra's
characters act, feel, talk and influence the development of the
story.

While the white characters, Dutch and Australian, are
portrayed as socially superior, they are not in any way morally
so. In casting his characters, Nowra successfully captured some
aspects that made the locals' psyche different from that of the
Dutch -- and Australian -- in the character of Urip, the Braaks'
maid.

Played by Sri Pudjiarti Dean, Urip listens and observes, and
does not say much. But very little escapes her attention. To the
audience, it is obvious she feels sorry for Braak, tolerates
Alice and abhors Westerling, but she continues humoring them,
without excessive obsequiousness or malice.

In Dely, the transvestite dukun (shaman), Nowra created a more
idiosyncratic personality. From early in the play it's clear that
Dely harbors huge grudges against the Dutch, although like Urip,
he humors them. Dely, as a shaman, has inherent authority, and is
more inclined to speak back to the Dutch. Yet being a
transvestite, his flirtatiousness and coquettishness are also his
shield against the wrath of the foreigners.

Playing Dely is definitely not child's play. Anthony Wong in
trying to incarnate the character sometimes goes too far;
Indonesian transvestites are usually more flirtatious than
supercilious.

Another character who comes across as very real is Mrs. van
Does. In her overwhelming desire to join her husband in the
Netherlands, a futile dream, she becomes opportunistic to a
fault. In the 1950s, Jakarta had its fair share of Mrs. van
Doeses.

Nowra is not so generous in casting Adrian or Addy, the
Eurasian, who seems opportunistic for its own sake.

No one is flawless in this story, yet everyone is human with
accompanying good and bad characteristics. Braak, an
unaccomplished humanist still trapped in his own rigid cultural
background. Alice, a self-centered woman, generous only when it
suits her. Theo, a typical young colonial who has never had to
work in his life. Eva, an artistic and kind-hearted woman trapped
in cultural limbo who resorts to alcohol.

The only character that stands out as bereft of any goodness
is Westerling, the sadistic Dutch captain who enjoys not only
killing, but torturing the locals, republican or otherwise.

The plot and the portrayal of the characters are so credible
that it is like seeing a real-life story unraveling before you.
And throughout the story, the threat of the imminent decline adds
to the tension, making it a compelling experience.

The Language of the Gods stands out among other plays that
deal with Indonesian-Dutch issues because it does not paint one
or the other as morally or even intellectually superior.
Throughout the story the audience's sympathy shifts from one
character to another, regardless of race.

Like most Australian plays, this play is not moralistic, but
is enlightening nonetheless. More than that, it makes you want to
see it a second time.