Sankai Juku provokes thoughts about birth and death

By C.G. Asmara

An empty space; look around it; Choose any spot; There stands an egg on end, quietly. A dialogue. (Excerpt from a poem by Ushio Amagatsu)

JAKARTA (JP): Although no words are spoken during the 80- minute performance of Unetsu: The Egg Stands Out of Curiosity by Japanese dance group Sankai Juku, it generates a thought- provoking dialogue about birth and death, possession and loss.

Using sophisticated technology and lighting that gave the appearance of simplicity, the stage in Graha Bhakti Budaya, Taman Ismail Marzuki, was transformed into a swallowed pool filled with 4,500 liters of water kept at a constant temperature of 40 degrees centigrade. Several egg-shaped objects were scattered about the stage. Soon after the start of the performance, a fine stream of white sand began to fall from above on one side of the stage, while a stream of water descended from the other side. Relentless, they provided a constant reminder of the passage of time and both its destructive and engendering forces.

Unetsu was presented on Oct. 4 and 5 under the joint auspices of Art Summit Indonesia l995 and the Japan-Indonesia friendship Festival l995. To date, Sankai Juku has performed in 32 countries and over 500 cities since it was established in l977.

Unetsu, which was first performed in Paris at the Theater de Ville in l986, is in the butoh style or "the dance of darkness". This Japanese dance genre was created in the late l950s by Tatsumi Hijikata as a new form -- one not tied directly to the traditions of kabuki and noh -- that could serve as an expression of contemporary life and its suffering in postwar and post nuclear Japan.

Originally known for its extremes of movement (often painfully slow and difficult) and its daredevil and at times almost sadistic choreography (such as dancers hanging from their feet which has caused the death of at least one dancer), Sankai Juku's butoh style appears to be more moderate, but no less original.

Their performance of Unetsu features lead dancer and choreographer Ushio Amagatsu, who, with contorted hands and limbs, seems to be desperately trying to communicate with the audience using a cryptic sign language that is left open to free interpretation. In typical butoh style, with head shaved, skin painted white and wearing a white flowing gown, he appears stricken, sexless and malformed.

In the first of seven scenes, Amagatsu slowly rises, rings the four bells suspended over the stage and sounds a snake-like horn wrapped around his arm as if to signal that life is about to begin. An awed audience gasps as he steps into the pool and the rippling water reflects in breathtaking patterns on the upstage white curtain.

In a later scene, as he lies on his back on a platform lit from underneath, Amagatsu appears to be floating like a fetus in the womb. By his head rests on what appears to be an egg standing on end. By his feet swings another "egg" over a pyramid of sand, like a pendulum signifying the inevitable passage of time. He reaches for the standing egg as if wanting to grasp it -- only to pull away. His finger tips are red, and a splash of red trickles from his ears. Four other distorted dancers enter the pool, "breathed" into life by the power of Amagatsu's sneezes. They are harmless, defenseless, with heads as white and smooth as eggs. Like newborns, they try to stand, only to fall down again until they can barely lift themselves out of the water and begin to flail helplessly.

Muttering silently to himself, Amagatsu with eyes closed, grasp the egg and, as if guided by it, eventually makes his way over to the waterfall. Holding it up triumphantly under the endless stream of water, the egg breaks and Amagatsu face and body contort in a silent cry of pain. Giving the impression that the loss of the egg is too overwhelming, he makes his way over to the shower of sand.

Standing under it with the fine sand forming an aura around his body, he at first fights its relentless flow. However, he finally yields and the sand covers him. The scene fades to black momentarily. When the stage is lit again, Amagatsu is gone, but the sand and the water remain -- the journey is to begin again.

Unetsu is at once sculptural, beautiful, breathtaking and disturbing. The music by Yas-Kaz and Yoichiro Yoshikawa, which is sometimes as simple as a breath and other times loud and incessant, provides a perfect complement to the underlying emotions and flow of the performance.

Giving rise to a myriad of personal interpretations, Sankai Juku's performance is representative of what makes butoh so fascinating to audiences outside Japan. Each spectator's experience is far beyond what actually happens on stage due to the innovative and original style particular to each group. Fortunately for Jakarta audiences, they will also be able to experience the internationally renowned artistry of 89-year Kazuo Ohno, one of the founders of butoh, on Oct.7 and 8 at Gedung Kesenian Jakarta.