Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Kathakali Dance Drama in Kerala

Today was the big Kathakali Dance Drama trip I planned to the village of Killimangalam, a three hour bus ride from our second Indian port of Cochin. This southwest area of India, the beautiful state of Kerala, is home to a rich cultural life, with a large and active Christian community, a centuries-old Jewish Synagogue, Muslims and Hindus of course, many forms of Indian performing arts--and loads of coconut trees. In fact, Kerala means Land of the Coconuts in Mallayalam, the regional language. (Hindi and English are the primary languages of India, but each region has its own language distinct from Hindi.) Kerala is also the birthplace of Kathakali Dance Drama, a fascinating form of dance theatre based in ancient Sanskrit theatre dating back to 100 BCE. Kathakali was born out of these ancient storytelling, singing and dancing techniques, developing into its own form in the 17th century. In my World Theatre course at Butler and here on the ship, we have been learning about Kathakali. I was thrilled that a guest artist who visited Butler last spring, Phillip Zarrilli, kindly set me up with the finest Kathakali artists of India for an all-day visit. Phillip, a theatre scholar and artist, is the westerner who has written more about Asian theatre practices, particularly Kathakali, than any other practitioner in the world. He studied in Kerala in the 70s and has maintained close ties with all of the major practitioners we visited.


Our host was Kunju Namboodiripad, the gentleman offering the sweets in the first photo, and a man that Phillip Zarrilli considers to be a brother. (The man on the left was the photographer from a Kerela newspaper which ran a story about our visit.) Our first stop of the day was Kunju's lovely home, where we enjoyed fresh coconut water and sweets they had made to offer at the temple to Ganesh, the god of good luck, as an offering to ask that our day would go well. Kunju said that since Ganesh was not going to eat the sweets, he brought them home from the temple for us to try! Outdoors, Steve and the boys talk with Kunju's father, Vasudevan, one of the foremost authorities on Kathakali in the world. For thirty year, Vasudevan ran the famous Kalamandalam School, where Kathakali artists train. In addition to being some of the finest artists in India, both of these men are truly amongst the kindest people I have ever met. Kunju's gentle and sweet spirit made the day a true delight.

Here we pause in front of Kunju's house for a group photo before heading to the local weavers' workshop, located just a five minute walk from Kunju's home. The village is trying to preserve the art of weaving grass mats; one of the weavers above demonstrates the process for us on the loom. And the man in the third photo is a master of this weaving style. He and the other one or two weavers are unable to get others to learn the trade. Synthetic mats are widely available for a fraction of the price, so it is difficult for the weavers to make a living. The weavers utilize grass from the river banks; some mats are dyed with natural dyes, others with synthetic color. They said that the finest mats the master ever wove were 6 feet by 3 feet and woven so fine that when rolled up, the mat roll could fit through a ring!


Most of us bought a mat or two to take home as a souvenier of our day. They were lovely, and many of us will use them as wall-hangings--too pretty to walk on! Next we walked back to Kunju's uncle's home, where our lunch was set up on the front patio. We had a traditional Kerala feast, which means a special kind of rice and many different vegetarian sauces and stews plopped on a banana leaf. The idea is to mash the sauces into the rice and eat it with the right hand. The meal was absolutely delicious.

Kathakali is traditionally performed in a temple, and so the men of our group donned the customary male clothing worn to a Hindu temple: a skirt (lungi) worn without a shirt. Asher and Barek decided not to join in--but Steve said they would have been a lot cooler.
We headed across the street to Kunju's family temple, where Kunju's brother is the temple priest. Their family are Brahmins, and you can notice the three-stringed thread across the chests of Kunju and his father, which is a Brahmin custom.
Inside the temple, the actors were finishing the 2-4 hour process of putting on costumes and make-up. The actor who would play Hanuman, the monkey king, was being wound up in layers and layers of skirt pieces designed to give the costume volume. The actor playing Bhima was putting the final touches on his striking green make-up.


Rather than using a crinolin or underwire form, the costumes get their shape from layer after layer of cloth, something we marveled at as the actors performed in the extreme heat and humidity. The make-up is made from colorful minerals that are ground up and mixed with coconut oil. I loved the coconut shell make-up pots. A small lamp was burning in the corner.


The actor above is a man playing Drupada, wife of Bhima. Although there are a few women Kathakali artists (and one all-female Kathakali group that I heard about!), the artform is undertaken primarily by men, many of whom play female roles. We quietly took pictures, but did not talk much with the actors beforehand; it was clear they were in the zone and we did not want to disturb them. One of the reasons for this focus is that the Kathakali actors do not rehearse! During their 8-10 years of rigorous training they learn over 100 roles by heart. They are then expected to simply do any of up to 200 roles on command--no wonder they were concentrating before the show. They certainly learn discipline in their training: days begin at 3 am with several hours of eye exercises before breakfast, and the hours of training continue all day and into the evening.


I could not believe our luck when Kunju emailed me a few days before our visit and told me that M.P.S. Namboodiri, who most people recognize as the finest Kathakali actor alive in India today, would give us a pre-show talk. He is an amazing artist whom I knew from countless photos and quotes in many books. I had the great pleasure of sitting in between Kunju's father and MPS at lunch and felt like the luckiest person in the world. They have recently published a book on Kathakali that will hopefully be translated into English soon.

Above, MPS gives a lovely and informative pre-show talk to us, telling us about the story and about the art form. Not only is MPS a world-class performer, he, like Kunju and Vasudevan, is a world-class person. These men are incredibly kind and gentle--and at the same time, we could really sense their artistic power.
Traditionally, Kathakali performances begin and dusk and continue until dawn! Above, the assistant lights the traditional coconut oil lamp that always burns during performances.
The production begins with drums and vocals, followed by the raising of the curtain by two assistants. The musicians for this performance were incredible: Kunju played drums with two percussionists for the first section, and there were two vocalists that were amazing. In earlier forms of dance-drama, the performers would sing/chant their own dialogue, but as the face, eye, and hand gestures became more complicated, the dialogue moved to the musicians. Now in Kathakali, a character might call out occasionally, but the "lines" of the play are supplied by the singers in a sung and/or chanted delivery.



Our performance was only to be two hours long since we had to return to the ship. For a performance of this shorter length, it is customary to select several scenes from a play, as most plays run for hours and hours. We saw scenes from the popular "The Flower of Good Fortune", a play based on a story from the ancient Indian epic, the Mahabharata, and written by Kottayam Thampuran, the most famous of Kathakali writers. Kottayam's plays are considered the classics of the form and every actor learns these pieces as part of their training, and they are also the most widely performed plays. In our story, Bhima, one of the five Pandava brothers married to Drupada, goes off in search of a beautiful flower whose lovely smell has captivated Drupada.


Along the way, Bhima causes an uproar as he searches for the flower, and he disturbs Hanuman, the monkey king, who is actually also Bhima's half-brother.




Hanuman is a lively character, loved by audiences for his antics. He decides to teach Bhima a lesson and acts like he is an actual monkey, blocking Bhima's way.


Bhima tries to move the "monkey's" tale, but when he cannot, he realizes that this is no ordinary animal, but a deity. He begs forgiveness. Bhima is humbled, Hanuman reveals his true identity and the half brothers embrace.
The story goes on with Hanuman helping Bhima find the flower, which he ultimately brings home to Drupada and they are all happy! We did not see that part!
I was astonished when everyone began clapping: I was certain that only an hour had passed, but two hours had gone by. The performances were alive and full and connected--and at the same time, the actors were absolutely precise and athletic in their physical execution of the roles. The music and movement combined so seamlessly that it was difficult to believe they had not rehearsed for months and months altogether. The structure of the movement is very set, but within the structure there is room for personal interpretation and even for improvisation. Kunju told me later that the actors wished they had more time to allow for more improvisation in our performance; some sections of what we saw contained a bit of improvisation, but only the informed people in the audience would be able to distinguish this.
Kathakali can be seen in theatres in India, but it is rare to have the opportunity to see the artform in a temple where it was meant to be performed.


There were 19 of us in the SAS group, and Kunju had also invited some of his friends to watch, too. This cute boy is trying out one of the gestures (mudras) that a performer is making.
Backstage after their magnificent performances, it was easy to talk with the actors. Actors backstage after a show are the same everywhere! Sweaty, tired but energized, eager to connect with the audience and share their art. The piles of "stuffing" for the costumes lay in neat stacks and the costume crew worked efficiently to tidily fold each piece and pack it away. The gentleman sitting next to "Hanuman" is the costume and make-up professor at the Kalamandalam School. His father is one of the older gentleman who was winding up Hanuman in the layers and putting them away after the performance. This is certainly an instance where the art passed from one generation to the next, which was customary until recent times. Now, anyone can apply to the Kalamandalam School--one need not have forefathers who have passed down the art to them.


The actors talked about their make-up and training. The actor who played Hanuman gave us a demonstration of some mudras, which almost look like a form of sign language, and meant "we are glad you came to see us." Kunju, MPS, Vsudevan and others at the school have performed all over the world, including a production of Kathakali King Lear at the Globe Theatre in London, where the actor playing Hanuman played several roles, as did Kunju. MPS played Lear. How I would have loved to have seen that!


Kunju gave us a tour of his family temple, a very peaceful temple which was divided into many different sections. In a couple of the pictures, you can see offerings of coconut oil, brought by villagers in bottles and offered to the gods at the various shrines, many of which date back hundreds and hundreds of years. The day was hot to say the least; here Asher and Barek rest in the shade.

I have rarely experienced such a rich and satisfying day. Everything was perfect thanks to Kunju. I did not want the day to end and felt so at home in the village. I hope that I am able to get back to Kerala with more students and/or bring the artists to the states.

Live theatre always loses a great deal of power and humanity in a video-recording...but here are three clips from "The Flower of Good Fortune." Kunju hired a videographer to capture our whole day, so I will treasure that DVD for years to come and will be glad to share it with anyone who is interested.

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