Teater Tanah Air (trans: The Mother Land Theater), where Robert Wilson’s I La Galigo was performed, stands in the midst of dying monument sites. Located behind the Cultural Park station and across the miniature traditional house of Bengkulu province, the theater is a part of the replica of the archipelago established in 1970. This national park, called Taman Mini Indonesia Indah (Beautiful Indonesia in Miniature Park), is Indonesia I thought I knew 20 years ago, a version of Indonesia that has been interrogated for the last decade.
Initiated by New Order first lady Tien Suharto, who was inspired by her travel to Disneyland, Taman Mini Indonesia Indah was meant to create “a balance between physical/economic development and mental/spiritual development” (tamanmini.com). We need to link this sentence to the New Order cultural strategy, which was founded mostly on weapons and mass murder. The State was an institution built on the manipulation of history. Invested in cultural and economic stability, the New Order regime spent a huge amount of money to establish a memorial or water sparks.
This politics of space narrative crosses my mind in the mid of I La Galigo’s lighting spectacle. I try to put aside this narrative before entering the building, thinking how irrelevant it is to associate such narrative with a performance production that probably chose the building for simple and pragmatic reasons. Such a pragmatic decision might not shed a light on the political context in which this performance is situated; yet in my reading of this performance context, I eventually take a detour to my earlier reflection on Taman Mini, which I will mention later in this essay.
Robert Wilson’s I La Galigo is a long and down tempo performance. Like most of Robert Wilson pieces, it is slow. While watching this piece, it is possible that you let your mind wander, just like mine. This performance, as I will describe later, is not strong enough to grab all of my attention. And what I am doing, pondering, is simply to try harder to attach myself to the piece. In trying to read its performance context, I remember Rustom Bharucha’s essay on Peter Brooks’ Mahabharata, a critique that has opened a long debate on the intercultural modes of production.
To further elaborate his previous premises on orientalist aesthetic framework that he saw in Brook’s Mahabharata, Bharucha in his essay “Somebody’s Other” (Pavis, p.196) discussed how the state perspective (in this case, the state of India) was forced (itself) to affirm the orientalist perspective, or even worse, to initiate and act within this perspective at the very start. In Bharucha’s view, not only was the simplified reading on the Hindu culture brought home as merely commodity, Brook’s Mahabharata also received a celebratory attention by the media and the intellectual elite audience. For Bharucha, all arguments for this project and the lack of critical perspective have proven to be a form of “colonial hangover.” Bharucha also notes that the sum of fund allocated by the Indian government for this project was far greater than the sum of money ever spent for local Indian cultural group.
Despite the similar background that echoes Mahabharata, I try not to rush to conclude my reading on I La Galigo that is still taking place before me.
***
As I continue watching I gradually revise my thought. Bharucha is not sitting among the house. Robert Wilson is not Peter Brook, though both are an avant-garde theater creator share similar position within the field of contemporary theater. Peter Brook reconsiders modern theater convention, mostly base his works out of a particular play; meanwhile, as quoted from Der Spiegel interview, Robert Wilson seems to come out of nowhere and attempt to form a new visual aesthetics that distinguish himself from his predecessor.
Sureq Galigo is not Mahabharata. Many historians and literary scholars have been trying to align the two texts, but both occupy different places within their social contexts. The Bugisian, as repeatedly stated in production’s press release, is a “dusty” text that is not even complete in its translation process. Mallika Sarabhai, who plays Draupadi in Brook’s Mahabharata, states in the behind-the-scene video that the Indian people have no distance with Mahabharata as the text is still playing a big part in their life experience. The hideous and bad creatures in the texts are common nicknames used as mockery among children, while the adults are still quoting the wisdom from the texts in daily conversations. This is similar even to some part of Indonesia: Mahabharata is still playing a wider role in our daily experience. But I Lagaligo is a different case. Even among the Bugis, the Bugisian text is esoteric.
Mahabharata’s performance, as it was so expensive, was never performed in India. Meanwhile, I La Galigo, despite its expensive cost, was finally presented in Jakarta. This, however, is not because Indonesia is richer that India, nor does it have a better strategy and effort in dealing with exchanges in culture.
With all these differences, in addition to astonishment to this Bugisian genesis mythology, how does a theater read and represent it? When the rumor of the performance process initiation spread among some circles in Indonesia, mostly in Sulawesi and Java, the involvement of Robert Wilson looked promising. After performances in Singapore, Barcelona, and New York, I La Galigo was eventually performed at “home.” I quoted the word in trying to be cautious since Jakarta and Makassar are located in two different islands. For now, let us underline this difference as a complexity far beyond geographical terms, though it will take another article to discuss this.
Indonesian modern theater has a long history, even longer than Indonesia’s independence. As many forms of modern art, it played an influential part in Indonesian culture. At first, we imitated this from the Dutch, and later, from the modern world. This humble history has nevertheless enabled us to establish our own theater field that comprises of several names of initiators, creators, directors, theorists, groups, educational institutions, genre, and periods. Yet this history is not strong enough for Robert Wilson.
Wilson’s performance forced us to borrow and ship lighting equipment from Europe, which has probably not been seen by most of our lighting artists. I La Galigo performance accumulated economic capital which has never been imagined by the Sureq Galigo’s translators, and even further, by most Indonesian theater artists. Indonesia theater history has never experienced so huge a capital mobilization. In fact, most of Indonesian theater actors have never stayed in Hilton hotel, the official hotel for the performance. What was more bizarre was that this capital accumulation, this huge expense, came from local sources, the Indonesian state, while as this performance happened, people in the Eastern part of Indonesia was suffering from famine. The intention behind I La Galigo performance in Indonesia is not even similar to the Dutch colonial’s Ethical Policy. It does not engage with inter-dissemination circuit in which something created and developed from a particular source could return to its cultural roots. While Indonesian history is not long enough to make our artists, even the most prominent ones, brave enough to write down 250.000 Rupiah (around 28 USD in 2004) on their performance ticket, I La Galigo is a performance that invades and attacks our common sense, as well as the logic in our social life. This is because we cannot see the relation between Indonesian spectators who pay 1 million rupiahs to see I La Galigo and the Indonesian theater, or even further, the Indonesian culture.
It was through this route Wilson’s I La Galigo went “home.” Perhaps the brutal force of this cultural event is necessary to change the entire logic of the modes of cultural production in Indonesian theater. As most revolutions kill, perhaps a change is in demand. Perhaps this is the time and, somehow, I La Galigo is its marker.
It is true that I close my eyes towards how common it is for Indonesians, especially the Indonesian elites, to pay as much or even more for entertainment. I, a stakeholder of Indonesian theater, simply refuse to see the evolution of Indonesian theater being reduced to merely an eye candy of these small circles of Bourgeoisie.
***
In the series of movement and choreography in I La Galigo, as I mention earlier, I cannot find the astonishment that I felt when I saw Peter Brook’s Mahabharata. While the excitement of watching how Western dramaturgy interprets Mahabharata enabled me to temporally put aside questions on political correctness, I La Galigo reminds me of ceremonial dances I saw in Taman Mini. The canon is violated and compressed as synopsis as if the performance is rushing toward the end. The Bissu, Bugisian priest, after chanting in the opening scene, is sitting in front of the stage during the whole performance. He is distanced from the story, muted for the rest of the performance, sometime spotted by the light as if he was a statue. I am questioning his awareness of his own role in the performance as his eyes and his mimic expose his confusion. There are some interesting movements and gestures, but most of them fail to be developed. The mise-en-scene is a diorama, mostly translating in banal ways what is articulated in the physical movement and composition.
Some performers count their movement (literally, their lips murmur as they count one, two, three, and so on), and strangely keep smiling to the audience as most of Agnes Monica’s (Indonesian Britney Spears wannabe) back up dancers. I have to struggle to remember whether Sawerigading in the Sureq Galigo is mute. Robert Wilson once stated his reluctance to dialogs on stage, which, in his terms, are “insulting and unsettling.” He considers dialogs as being pedantic, limiting and even closing the space for interpretation. Nevertheless, most of the physical corporeality in I La Galigo has a limited modality. As if the whole performance was intended to merely replace spoken words through stereotypical and substitutive movements, it is restricted by composition and choreography that limit interpretation. In my terms, the performance is insulting and unsettling.
The only consolation offered by this performance can be found in the soundscapes, several actors, and of course, the biggest star on stage: the lighting. The backdrop changes from a damp and wild afternoon to the bluest night to the fire in the dusk, testifying for his renowned visual approach that most spectators has not had the chance to see. This explains why the transportation from Germany is inevitable. The performance owes Thomas Alva Edison.
The performance is visually entertaining, just like Taman Mini, or the Hotel Indonesia’s fountain at night. I have been trying to look for signs that might tell me that this project was meant to inspire a particular mode of theater creation and reception in Indonesia. Yet I found mostly light and color. I La Galigo is similar to Taman Mini, and this is its political stand. Taman Mini no longer speaks of Indonesia except to the tourists.
I then gradually suspect myself. It is possible that I expect too much. It is possible that Wilson does not know anything about I La Galigo or the Indonesian performance context. I also do not know anything about I La Galigo. The different is that I stand in the safer position. The performance is open for public; in this way, I believe I am invited. Robert Wilson and his production are not as safe. As soon as he mobilizes cultural production, he is not safe. I have a huge expectation and I am not alone.
Being transported to a different social context forces someone to reconsider his methods of production, and even to discard them if necessary. Peter Brook has so many problems during Mahabharata, including being criticized for his attitudes. Yet his effort as an orientalist, if I may use the word, is a tough one. At least he spends 11 years for Mahabharata. Robert Wilson is familiar with this kind of method. He was inspired by Japanese classical performance from the beginning and this trace is clear throughout his works. To answer critics on how much he endorses mechanic, machine-like, actors on his stages, he reveals his sources. His way of treating and placing his actors derives from his interpretation on the convention of Noh, which is probably unfamiliar for Western spectators. His aesthetics consists of a long geographical journey. Yet, to put a burden of open and equal cultural dialog on him was a wrong expectation.
Patrice Pavis in The Intercultural Performance Reader mentions Wilson’s political stand clearly, “Wilson has no concern for cultural exactitude, his only interest in other traditions being on the level of how they might be used in his own aesthetic project.” If only Wilson or I La Galigo’s producer stated this in the first place.
It seems that I La Galigo for Wilson is neither a different nor an exceptional case. Using his usual mode of performance making, he methodologically designs the space, the scenography. As he casts his actors, a preconception performance is already finished. This is not in any case an organic intercultural collaboration. Unlike Brook’s Mahabharata, Wilson uses local actors, mixing not only Bugisian, but Center Javanese, Balinese, and Indramayu dancers in the piece. Yet, this was not organized in a proper approach, leaving traces of huge debates and rejection mostly among Makassar-Bugis artists. Even some of the Bugis actors chosen to be involved in the performance mentioned how hard it was for them to face their fellows as they returned home.
Referring mostly to the production’s statement, that this project is about “saving a dusty canon of the Celebes”, Indonesian mass media have failed to see what is beyond the sweet talk. No, this project is not about representing the sureq La Galigo canon, the Celebes, the Bugis Art, or Indonesia, like some media have stated. This is merely a Wilson project, a personal interpretation. The outcome is a shallow I La Galigo resulted from either his unfamiliarity with the text and the context or his reluctance to stretch his limit. I believe that if only it was emphasized from the beginning that the performance was based on the sole interpretation, that is, of Wilson’s, the project would not have left so much bitter feeling among Indonesians. As I believe that cosmopolitanism and lightness in approaching our identity is inevitable, I probably would end up defending this project myself. Too bad, a fake diplomacy, the heroic one, is a boomerang.
As the performance ends, we cannot even find a way to place this piece among his best works, like CIVIL warS or Einstein on the Beach. One could argue and highlight that this project is an authentic performance making out of a text that has never been performed before. Unlike most of Mahabharata’s or Ramayana’s interpretations in Indonesia that play a huge part in Javanese wayang and performance tradition, the Sureq has indeed never affected or left clear traces in Bugis performance culture. But this argument is weak. It is so common that Wilson’s works start neither from a performance text, a play, or a performance convention. This is anticipated earlier in the project. I La Galigo is not a play, nor was it intended to be one. The text had not been inspiring, transforming, or affecting local performing art. Since the beginning, the production team knew that this project would be an attempt of creating an authentic and new performance. As a theater practice, this is not special; it is common in contemporary theater even in Indonesia. As the result is a vague performance, a strange and obscure event-making (starting from day one of the preparation up until the performance event), shall we then regard the whole project by its initial and obvious challenge?
***
In Theater and The World, Bharucha states that “as much as one would like to accept the seeming openness of Euro-American interculturalist to other cultures, the large economic and political domination of the West has clearly constrained, if not negated, the possibilities of genuine exchange” (1993: 2). Pavis underlines Bharucha’s decision to return to India and work in a small isolated village with pupils from rural backgrounds, confronting his own traditional cultures with “the tension and immediate realities of their history” (1996: 196). I partly share this opinion, but I am also interested in contemporary Indonesian culture that is not isolated. I am talking about the place where I live and work: a city which, like most cities in Indonesia, experiences cultural challenges from the global world. A big wave of the so-called global culture invades our living room on daily basis. In this particular context, Indonesian collective spectatorship is formatted. It is from this mass of spectators a creator is produced. In almost every place in Indonesia, we could testify on how forms of hybridization are taking place. It is so common that a particular traditional music is forced to be melting with an additional dance music beat. The discourse and event-making project of intercultural exchange can be avoided but are inevitable.
Robert Wilson may not have interests in the discourse, but it does not mean that he is free from consequences of his action. He once stated that an artist should not be responsible. Unfortunately, he forgets how this statement is only valid in the context of his art, which he has situated within the long history of modernist avant-garde in the West. In the case of I La Galigo, unless he thinks that performance making is ethically the same case as mass weapon research, he should realize how his statement is dangerous. As he walks the path of coming-taking-leaving, which is not even as rewarding as what the tourist usually brings to the local industry, the consequences of changing the context is far greater. He may think he did not do any harm, but this thought will only deluding himself. Scriptwriter Rhoda Grauer, who is also one of the project initiators, sets herself free from the debate by stating, “[…] If anyone said that this [text] is stolen from its real owner, I La Galigo is not a bread. If you chew a text, it would not be used-up.” (Kompas Daily, 11/12/2005)
It is clear that Rhoda Grauer has no data on the inequality of the world in dealing with dental health issues. And this inequality is not accidental as a result of mankind evolution. She probably also forgets how unruly chewing has its own risks. For instance, choking.
***
As we mention inequality, we are entering a classic debate. Classic, unresolved, and yet it has been playing an important role in the shift of paradigms in humanities and social science. Anthropology, sociology, history, and most of conventional social and humanities studies have gradually changed their perspectives. Cultural and Performance Studies are gearing towards comprehensive contextual studies. We have seen how post-colonial studies inspire most of social disciplines, including theater and performance.
From two corners occupied by Bharucha and Wilson, I am looking for the third space. Emphasizing the impossibility or avoidance of exchange does not only result in constant marginalization and negligence, but it also places more tension in efforts for dialogue against inequality. Perhaps we should move from our own map of the immediate present, starting from there and then moving towards in-between targets, not towards modernist Hegelian telos.
No, in these last paragraphs I am no longer discussing Wilson’s Galigo or Taman Mini. Yet, probably, to move towards this path, to be as light as Grauer’s statement, we need stronger teeth.
***
* At first, this writing is a translation work from its Bahasa Indonesia version entitled “I La Galigo Robert Wilson dan Taman Mini”, that was published in Kompas Daily Newspaper and Lebur Theater.Performance.Art journal. As I realize that some phrase, names, theory, even context of my writing is quite in a distant discussion to the reader of this daily newspaper, I deliberately let my writing to explain more on what is common knowledge in the field of theater and performance. Since its publication in 2006, some other writings on this performance were also published in several theater journal. One piece that I consider a comprehensive review is “Intercultural Expectation” by Jennifer Lindsay, published in The Drama Review journal. During the translation of this piece, I decided to incorporate my response to that article, especially on how much Lindsay emphasizes on how authentic this performance piece is.
(Ugoran Prasad, researcher and writer, based in Jakarta)
References
Bharucha, Rustom. Theatre and the World: Performance and the Politics of Culture. London: Routledge, 1993.
Pavis, Patrice, The Intercultural Performance Reader. New York: Routledge, 1996.
