A Review by Nirmala Seshadri
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| sifa.sg |
September 4th and 5th saw the manifestation of the much-talked about and anticipated Smriti Padha staged as part of the Singapore International Festival of Arts 2015. The production was marketed over many months as the return to a point in Singapore’s past, 61 years ago, when the same core performance group -Kerala Kalamandalam from India, performed their renowned work Dussasana Vadham at the same venue - the Victoria Theatre. At that time, Singapore’s pioneering dance guru the late Mr. K.P Bhaskar is said to have been instrumental in the staging of the Kathakali performance.
Smriti Padha, which means ‘memory thread’, was a looking back at that point in history and in that sense tied in closely with the ongoing celebrations of Singapore’s 50th year of independence. Dussasana Vadham by present-day Kerala Kalamandalam artists was the main performance of the evening. Joining the cast from India in telling the story of the slaying of Dussasana were Singapore-based artists Kalamandalam Biju, Kalarangan Santhosh Kumar and Kalamandalam Prasad, who Bhaskar had brought to Singapore as part of his deep desire to form a Kathakali troupe here.
I recall a 2012 interview in which Mr. Bhaskar gave me the background of this troupe – his pride and joy, saying to me, “I am a Kathakali man!”. As I watched the Kathakali performed that night, I could not help but remember fondly the ‘Kathakali man’.
Dussasana Vadham - Kathakali
As soon as the emotive Sopanam style singing began and the sound of the chenda and maddalam reverberated loudly, I became aware of a submission within myself to being transfixed. They had all the means of transporting us into that timeless space – oh those costumes, masks, acting, rhythm, singing and above everything, the supreme confidence. Yes, we were in the hands of master storytellers.
Seven years ago, I witnessed the Kalamandalam artists perform overnight at the late choreographer Chandralekha’s open air theatre at her home in Chennai. My friend, artistic collaborator and translator/film historian Dr. Vasanthi Sankaranarayanan who was with me that night later penned these words on this very blog:
“The elaborate masks and costumes heightened the quality of other-worldliness and fantasy and without any Brechtian effort reminded us of alienation and distanciation. And yet it was not just that but the theatre of transformation that prevailed, where emotions had an important part to play. They were never trivial or sentimental expressions of emotion but the elevated, universally applicable kind of emotions which made us face the inevitability of human condition without any fan fare.”
These words came back to me as I watched the tale unfold on September 5th.
The chilling climax saw Bheema disemboweling Dussanna and subsequently drying his bloody hands on Draupadi’s hair. As the sound levels of the percussions rose higher and higher, I couldn’t help but feel that Kathakali is for the outdoors; the sound needs to be free to travel. Also, there is something magical about watching it under the sky and stars.
Epilogue & Prologue
After the loud banging of drums, the epilogue that followed came as a relief. A group of young girls dressed in green saris with pink borders provided a refreshing break. This section was choreographed in the Mohiniattam style by Mrs. Santha Bhaskar, the late K.P Bhaskar’s wife who is a respected and revered dance guru and pioneer in Singapore. The piece, aimed at reflecting Draupadi’s consequent peaceful state of mind and the joy that abounded in the city, dragged slightly but was beautifully choreographed, pleasing and gracefully executed by dancers from Kalamandalam.
It was a treat to listen to renowned Chennai-based flautist B.V. Balasai live on the flute, who composed the music for this and the prologue to the show. His music was pleasing in parts but was in general fussy with too much instrumentation. A combination of live and recorded tracks, the music for both segments seemed disjointed within itself and from the core Kathakali segment of the show.
The
3 segments of the show did not come across as a seamless and integrated whole.
While the core Kathakali segment was clear in its intent and delivery, the
purpose and content of the prologue and epilogue, that sandwiched the
Kathakali, did not always come across clearly.
The opening of the production by a group of male movement artists was especially disappointing. While the female dancers in the epilogue succeeded in concluding the show on an Apollonian note, the prologue by the young male Kathakali dancers, meant to depict the Pandava army’s preparation for war, seemed contained in Bharatanatyam choreographic structures and solkattus and was not a Dionysiac enough prelude to the Kathakali section. The final pose in this segment was however a powerful one, representing the chariot all set for battle.
On the whole, Smriti Padha presented the most seasoned of India’s artists and the country’s novices on the same platform. The young dancers in the opening and closing sections, students of Kalamandalam who were flown in from India for the show, seemed inexperienced. Instead, this might have been a good opportunity to encourage promising local talent.
At the end of the day, with such brilliant Kathakali as the filling in the sandwich, Smriti Padha was a memorable experience.
