Impressive collage

Masakini Theatre Company’s interpretation of The Tempest is bold and presents a visual treat, but it isn’t without flaws.

The nightmare of Urmi opens as a visual feast. A misty stage with mystical lighting dancing around human waves that roll, sway and leap, dragging down struggling sailors. A ship, depicted as a wayang (shadow) projection on a screen in the background, approaches closer. Suspense. When is the ship going to crash?

A cacophony of sounds accompanies the tempest. A live orchestra of traditional musical instruments, the chanting of a dalang (shadow puppet master) and special effects drown out the sailors’ desperate cries.

When the ship does crash, eventually, the audience is taken to a mystical island of beasts and spirits, of illusion, enchantment, magic and wonder.

Urmi, on stage at Istana Budaya in Kuala Lumpur until Sunday, is Masakini Theatre Company’s interpretation of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest that is boldly set in Bali.

Director Sabera Shaik’s choice of setting lends strength of authenticity to Prospero’s Isle from The Tempest. Cultural observers such as Gill Marais and James Murdoch have commented how in magical Bali, as on Prospero’s Isle, the powers of dark and light, represented by Shakespeare’s Caliban and Ariel, live side-by-side. Synonymous to many as a land of exotic dreams, Bali also offers an authentic living culture.

The magnificent appearance of the mythical Garuda bird, Jentayu, as the magical isle’s monster is a highlight of the show. Created by the tight choreography of seven dancers moulding as one to form the bird in a cascade of fiery wings, Jentayu, which traditionally defended Sita from Rawana (in the classical Indian epic, Ramayana) was incandescent in its new role.

Like a dream, Jentayu burst on stage, awed and enthralled the audience, and disappeared. Refreshing, after the drawn-out scenes with jester Trinculo and drunken butler Stephano. Comic relief is a strength in both Shakespearean theatre and traditional Balinese dance and drama. Done well in quick bursts in between the main narrative, it is typically welcomed by the audience.

But, as wine can turn to vinegar, milking comic relief for more than its worth can cause it to turn sour.

Since its presentation before English royalty in 1611, The Tempest has continued to enthral through the many interpretations directors have given it, be they political, feminist or geographical. Urmi brings The Tempest to the East. (“Urmi” is Sanskrit for “wave”, by the way.)

Many interpretations have revolved around Prospero’s evocative control and surrender of power. Urmi is fascinating in that it blends this thread with the millennium-old story told in Indonesia of Calon Arang, a powerful medicine woman from Dirah in Java.

Prospero the Magi is given the same alter ego as the witch: Rangda. Both Prospero and Calon Arang forsake their power for the happiness of their daughter, who has fallen in love.

Where Shakespeare directed Prospero to break and bury his staff, and “drown” his book of magic, Made Djimat behind the mask of Rangda performed this closing scene as the momentous burning of the sacred Javanese text Lipyakara in a captivating dance, worthy of sacred temple performances in Bali.

The authenticity of the performance was supported by the body language of Samantha Schubert as Miranda, daughter of Prospero, and Aanantha, as Ferdinand, Miranda’s beau.

As a visual treat, Urmi is a great success. However, my experience of the performance on Monday night was troubled by indulgent music, lazy lighting and lingering scenes with cavorting spirits in rather loose choreography.

The sound, fraught with technical glitches, was jarring. The beautiful song Full Fathom Five Thy Father Lies was ruined by bad sound engineering.

Sabera insists this is not an easy play to perform: “The Tempest fascinates and baffles. Although universal and timeless, its themes are not sufficiently developed and their resolution far from adequate,” she notes in the programme.

Perhaps this is why there seems to be a lack of focus in the performance, where lines are at times delivered without adequate motives.

Mano Maniam as Prospero, in resplendent High Priest garb, narrated well and exuded authority. As an almost-permanent fixture on stage, however, his presence as manipulator and commentator became somewhat wooden. Using wayang, as in the opening scene, could perhaps have presented him more effectively as an omnipotent shadow.

The synopsis at online arts portal kakiseni.com describes the play: “Prospero, a high priest, banished to an island for dabbling too much in the occult, waits for his chance to revenge his exile upon his brother Antonio and Alonso, the king of Naples.”

The play staged, however, had the aggrieved Duke of Amsterdam vying for revenge upon the King of Netherlands.

It becomes evident that the Masakini Theatre Company has not invested enough thought to give plausible credence to the characters’ back-story. The Dutch did once control Nusantara (the Malay Archipelago), but does that justify the half-hearted shift from Italy?

The 1,001-nights illusion, with belly dancers, dervishes and Indian martial arts was also out of place. The dreamy musical score and the Malay dancing conjured by Prospero to entertain his future son-in-law would have fitted better, had the entire setting been shifted decisively to Nusantara.

Bravo for using Alan Durband’s modern English translation of The Tempest (from the Shakespeare Made Easy series) to make it current and more easily understood. But why stop there in bringing this play to the East?

The director’s courage does not seem to match her spot-on conviction. Her pioneering vision stopped short of bringing Urmi closer to home. The performance was staged in the splendour of the East without any adaptation of the text. An astute localisation would have brought it a step further from local flavour to local identity. Prospero as a Sriwijayan-era ancestor of Sultan Iskandar Shah of Malacca, perhaps?

All said, Sabera has put together an impressive collage to bring the play along towards its end. As she succinctly put it: “I have from the very beginning wanted to make it into a spectacle – a dream nightmare.”

by:www.star-ecentral.com