Let’s Dance

When the hammer hits the metal, it feels like time runs backward. The clang and resonance of the gamelan is mystical. Nothing else makes quite that sound – a sound unique to Bali. It’s strange dissonant clangs linger in the air, giving auditory form to the magic in which the Balinese believe.

In one moment, more than 20 hammers came down on their respective gamelans as last night’s performance of the Ramayana Ballet began.

We took Susan and Aunt Penny to Ubud’s Lotus Temple – the most beautiful dance venue in town. On a platform in front of a royal temple, surrounded by a pond full of lotus flowers, foreign visitors enjoy a 90 minute glimpse of one of Bali’s oldest and most important traditions.

Bali’s religious and artistic traditions were transplanted from Java when the Hindu Majaphit dynasty was losing hold of Java. Javanese aristocracy, including their most famous artists and priests fled to Bali where they were able to maintain control until the Dutch put the squeeze on them in the early 20th century. As a result, Balinese dance uses the bright, rich, colorful costumes in the style of 13th Century Javanese royalty.

Dance is an integral part of how Balinese propagate their culture. Dances tell stories from Hindu religious texts like the Ramayana as well as the stories and myths of their unique pantheon of animistic spirits.

We watched the story of how the Hindu god Rama fought to save his wife Sita from the clutches of an evil king. Other dances portray how demons and witches try to put innocent Balinese into trances and how good spirits can be invoked to save them.

One could easily conclude from the fact that there are four different elaborate dance performances in Ubud on any given night – all staged for tourists – that Balinese dance is a money making gimmick. After all, it’s featured in every guidebook and images of Balinese dance are all over billboards, brochures and packaging throughout the island.

Even the airport is decorated with the design elements of a Balinese temple, usually plays gamelan or other traditional Balinese music and has pictures of traditional dance in numerous places.

But dance is alive and well in Balinese towns and villages. Ironically, we came home and could hear a dance performance taking place in the nearby village. There’s a two-day holiday underway and the corresponding religious stories were being told through dance.

Paid dance performances in the middle of Ubud not only generate important revenue, but they keep nosy tourists from invading local village ceremonies. Dance remains a real tradition strangely kept in tact by “selling out”.

Most importantly, foreigners’ undying interest in Bali’s intricate and beautiful dances fuel the pursuit of the art. Ubud’s dance schools and training have expanded dramatically over the past few decades. Dancers begin their training as four and five year-old children. Like ballet, if someone starts too late, they probably will never be able to do it.

That’s because there’s a lot more going on in a Balinese dance. Throughout a performance, each dancer is constantly moving every part of his or her body – head, eyes, arms, shoulders, neck, fingers, feet, legs. Balinese dance is almost a rhythmic series of formalistic poses in motion. It’s exactly the opposite of the smooth fluidity of ballet.

Every finger movement, gesture, glance, turn of the head and movement of the body has symbolic meaning. While there’s a narrator (who speaks in ancient Balinese) in the background, the dance itself is a narration in its own kinesthetic language. Anyone can appreciate the beauty and intricacy of Balinese dance, however a person properly educated on the symbolic meanings of the movements enjoys a much deeper understanding of it.

Because of the tremendous coordination, strength and stamina required to perform well, a girl can easily spend 12 years training before she can perform a lead role like Sita. And like ballerinas, Balinese dancers’ careers are short. A girl won’t be able to play a lead role past her mid-20’s and may not be able to perform in any role past 30 years-old. Every Balinese dance I’ve ever seen has a beautiful girl of about the same age playing the lead roles. Sita is ever-young, ever beautiful – it’s the girls who change.

While Balinese dances generate money, lead dancers are not superstars. They don’t gain fame and fortune. They’ll receive recognition from their communities and certainly a better salary than they might make in another job. But it’s not the Balinese equivalent of being a Hollywood star. Being a dancer may be one of the most challenging jobs in Bali. It’s something someone does for the love of the art.

Last night we decided to have dinner at Lotus Cafe – the restaurant adjacent to the Lotus Temple. Not only is it a great restaurant, but it made it easy to get to the dance after dinner. While we perused the menu, young girls were on the stage in their sarongs, getting their daily lessons and practicing. I’ve seen hundreds of these girls before – every afternoon in villages, temples and community centers around Ubud. It’s a way of life for them.

After an amazing performance by a very talented dance troupe, Emily raised a great question at the end of the night. The kids who perform at night and spend their entire childhoods and young adulthoods dancing – are they exploited?

Ever since India when we saw small children forced to dance and beg for money, this question has begun to haunt us. When it comes to children being part of a sanctioned performing art, our natural inclination is to say no – children aren’t exploited. Performing in plays, movies, TV shows, musicals, sports, dance, music – these things are fine.
But do children always choose them, or is it their parents? Is it okay because it’s art? Is it okay because it makes a lot of money? There are a lot of wealthy, but very messed up child actors out there…. Are Gary Coleman, McAuley Culkin and Michael Jackson all that different from a girl in Agra, India forced by her father to dance for tourists in front of a restaurant and ask for money?

I have no idea.

However, I can say that watching young girls practicing their cultural art happily on a stage in front of a temple felt different to me. But I can’t explain why.

What I can say is that last night was at least the 40th dance performance I’ve seen in Bali. It never gets old for me. Each performance, I notice something a little different. Last night I was fascinated watching the narrator pitch his voice in ways I can’t even imagine doing. Balinese dance is such a spectacle with so many things going on at once that it’s impossible to absorb it all in one, or even many sittings.

Still, every time one thing is the same. I feel very far away from home, transported by a culture so different from my own into their world of magic and beauty. For 90 minutes, I suspend my construct of reality and happily step into a dimension found only in Bali.

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