08-29-2006, 10:33 PM
(For Indians - Pali = Vali, Totsakan = Dashkandh/Ravana, Ramakien = Ramayana, Sida = Sita, Phra = Shri, Isuan = Shivan, Narai = Narayan,
<span style='color:red'>Thai Dance Khon - ARTS OF ILLUSION </span>
http://www.tatnews.org/emagazine/2796.asp
Philip Cornwel-Smith
The Grand Bangkok International Film Festival has a khon dance character as its mascot. As Philip Cornwel-Smith explains, film shares much with traditional Thai dance: both use illusion to create awareness.
Viewing a film requires suspension of disbelief. Performing on stage demands even greater illusion to beguile the senses. Thai culture goes further in recognising that in real life, too, our senses create illusions that Buddhists call âmayaâ.
Thais have a long theatrical tradition of utilising maya to convey lessons about life, whether through the artificial movements of puppets, the flickering chimera of shadow plays, or the ethereal costumes and postures of dance. The most sophisticated of all Thai dance-dramas, khon, involves masks. Its fixed expressions compel the viewer to interpret other, subtler signals in order to understand the full picture.
Such acknowledgement of lifeâs illusions continues in modern media. In soap operas, seemingly individual characters conform to khon-like moral roles. Thais nickname modern entertainment maya, and a celebrity magazine admits the illusory nature of fame by calling itself Maya Channel.
Being both performance and mere light, film is pure illusion, pure maya. Appropriately, the mascot of the Grand Bangkok International Film Festival (GBKIFF) symbolises maya. As this yearâs festival honours the Diamond Jubilee of His Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej, Rama IX, this mascot is a character from khon, a dance originally reserved for royal audiences.
Khon relates the Ramakien epic, the Thai version of the ancient Indian Ramayana in which each character is colour coded and has particular attributes. In the taleâs conflict between Dhamma (righteous knowledge) and evil, the green monkey character, Pali, adopted by GBKIFF embodies maya.
The leads are the noble prince Phra Rama (also green), his loyal brother Phra Lak (gold), his chaste bride Sida (white) and the jesting warrior monkey Hanuman (white). Their ten-faced opponent, the demon king Totsakan (green), frequently deploys illusions such as shape shifting and disguise.
Khon imagery and Thai film share a history of connections, from Hanuman studios and cinemas called Rama to various films of Ramakien tales. Now Thai animators are turning out cartoon versions of the epic. Two modern stagings of khon also utilise screen projections to transform public understanding of this multi-layered art.
In tribute to His Majesty the Kingâs Diamond Jubilee, Sala Chalermkrung Royal Theatre is staging khon performances throughout 2006. Built as Siamâs first sound-equipped cinema in 1933, the theatre has served two purposes: to project films using the latest technology; and to stage Thai dance for cultural preservation. For the Royal Masked Dance commemorative project, the marathon drama has been compacted into a 70-minute production with six acts repeated on Thursday, Friday and Saturdays until April 30. These will be followed by different khon productions until yearâs end.
In the past, Thai dance has typically been presented with little introductory context for either foreign audiences or Thais under-acquainted with their heritage. Plot summaries help only partially if the audience is unaware of the visual language at play, so they often miss the nuances, wit and meanings that would aid their attention and enjoyment. This age of multi-media and rival entertainments calls for clear explanation of whatâs going on in the postures and gestures, costumes and colour coding, props and set-pieces. In a major advance, the Royal Masked Dance production subtitles the partly-sung narration, which is accompanied by a phi phat musical ensemble beside the stage.
The production pleases purists through master performers and the quality of production, whilst brilliant lighting and fast-moving narrative entices young audiences. Using an innovation pioneered by contemporary companies like Patravadi Theatre, the setting is enhanced by other traditional arts such as nang yai shadow puppets. Nang yai (literally âlarge leatherâ) employs perforated buffalo hides depicting Ramakien characters. These are manipulated by a dancing puppeteer in front of an illuminated screen. The Thai word for film, nang, comes directly from shadow puppetry.
Khon uses many devices to create otherworldly impressions: gilded crowns and bangles, idealised faces, mural-esque compositions, vivid costumes embroidered with metal thread and set with glinting beads. But what if that distracting costume were removed to reveal a khon without illusions? Pichet Klunchun, Thailandâs leading contemporary dancer, does just that.
In two productions currently touring, Pichet employs his mastery of khonto deconstruct it. His cross-cultural collaboration Phichet Klunchun and Myself (aka Made in Thailand) explores khonâs form and how it tackles universal themes like love, truth and death. Dressed in rehearsal clothing, Pichet answers questions by French choreographer Jerome Bel by demonstrating excerpts with finesse and humour. Pichet then poses questions of Belâs modern choreography to indicate parity between their respective genres.
Pichetâs solo piece, 'I am a Demon', reveals another hidden aspect: the sheer physicality needed for khon. Covered only in a loincloth and white powder, Pichet re-enacts daunting disciplines from his khon training. Video of instruction by his legendary late master projects onto Pichetâs body as it flexes, holds and leaps. The title derives from body shape dictating the character a pupil can study. Willowy frames evoke gods, and spry physiques suit monkey roles. The robust Pichet was fated to play a demon.
Now with pupils of his own, Pichet passes on his knowledge and commitment in order that khon may not just survive, but thrive and cross-fertilise. Worldwide, traditional arts face a dilemma: the impulse to preserve often confines them to ethnic contexts and inhibits further development, thus squandering potential and audiences. Today, khon risks languishing as masters pass away, young Thais reject it as old fashioned, and variety showcases fragment the epic into desultory snippets.
Like all traditions, khon was never fixed, but changed over time. It interchanged over centuries with ancient Khmer court dance. A century ago, masks were removed from some characters. Earlier khon costumes were looser, more varied and less ornate than the current tunics which are so tight and thick they must be sewn on to the dancers.
By loosening conventions and explaining the art clearly, Pichet places khon at an international level on a par with other important dance forms. His âunpluggedâ way of presenting khon intrigues modern audiences. Curiously, developing an art often spurs demand for seeing the original version too. In Thailandâs increasingly cosmopolitan culture, khon needs both.
There are unprecedented opportunities to view khon in 2006. In between major festivals in Europe, 'I am a Demon' returns to Bangkok in March, followed by 'Made in Thailand' from June 30 to July 2. And once Sala Chalermkrungâs production finishes, perhaps khon might finally be staged on a regular schedule, both for audiences to predict and dancers to pursue their art as a career.
Runs until April 30, when a different Khon production takes over.
A 70 minute production summarising the epic into six acts:
Act I: Phra Ram is Cakravatar (Narai's avatar)
Act II: Phra Ram parts with Nang Sida
Act III: Phra Ram acquires an army
Act IV: Thotsakan in the garden
Act V: Phra Ram fights Thotsakan
Act VI: Phra Ram returns to Ayodhya
<span style='color:red'>Thai Dance Khon - ARTS OF ILLUSION </span>
http://www.tatnews.org/emagazine/2796.asp
Philip Cornwel-Smith
The Grand Bangkok International Film Festival has a khon dance character as its mascot. As Philip Cornwel-Smith explains, film shares much with traditional Thai dance: both use illusion to create awareness.
Viewing a film requires suspension of disbelief. Performing on stage demands even greater illusion to beguile the senses. Thai culture goes further in recognising that in real life, too, our senses create illusions that Buddhists call âmayaâ.
Thais have a long theatrical tradition of utilising maya to convey lessons about life, whether through the artificial movements of puppets, the flickering chimera of shadow plays, or the ethereal costumes and postures of dance. The most sophisticated of all Thai dance-dramas, khon, involves masks. Its fixed expressions compel the viewer to interpret other, subtler signals in order to understand the full picture.
Such acknowledgement of lifeâs illusions continues in modern media. In soap operas, seemingly individual characters conform to khon-like moral roles. Thais nickname modern entertainment maya, and a celebrity magazine admits the illusory nature of fame by calling itself Maya Channel.
Being both performance and mere light, film is pure illusion, pure maya. Appropriately, the mascot of the Grand Bangkok International Film Festival (GBKIFF) symbolises maya. As this yearâs festival honours the Diamond Jubilee of His Majesty King Bhumibol Adulyadej, Rama IX, this mascot is a character from khon, a dance originally reserved for royal audiences.
Khon relates the Ramakien epic, the Thai version of the ancient Indian Ramayana in which each character is colour coded and has particular attributes. In the taleâs conflict between Dhamma (righteous knowledge) and evil, the green monkey character, Pali, adopted by GBKIFF embodies maya.
The leads are the noble prince Phra Rama (also green), his loyal brother Phra Lak (gold), his chaste bride Sida (white) and the jesting warrior monkey Hanuman (white). Their ten-faced opponent, the demon king Totsakan (green), frequently deploys illusions such as shape shifting and disguise.
Khon imagery and Thai film share a history of connections, from Hanuman studios and cinemas called Rama to various films of Ramakien tales. Now Thai animators are turning out cartoon versions of the epic. Two modern stagings of khon also utilise screen projections to transform public understanding of this multi-layered art.
In tribute to His Majesty the Kingâs Diamond Jubilee, Sala Chalermkrung Royal Theatre is staging khon performances throughout 2006. Built as Siamâs first sound-equipped cinema in 1933, the theatre has served two purposes: to project films using the latest technology; and to stage Thai dance for cultural preservation. For the Royal Masked Dance commemorative project, the marathon drama has been compacted into a 70-minute production with six acts repeated on Thursday, Friday and Saturdays until April 30. These will be followed by different khon productions until yearâs end.
In the past, Thai dance has typically been presented with little introductory context for either foreign audiences or Thais under-acquainted with their heritage. Plot summaries help only partially if the audience is unaware of the visual language at play, so they often miss the nuances, wit and meanings that would aid their attention and enjoyment. This age of multi-media and rival entertainments calls for clear explanation of whatâs going on in the postures and gestures, costumes and colour coding, props and set-pieces. In a major advance, the Royal Masked Dance production subtitles the partly-sung narration, which is accompanied by a phi phat musical ensemble beside the stage.
The production pleases purists through master performers and the quality of production, whilst brilliant lighting and fast-moving narrative entices young audiences. Using an innovation pioneered by contemporary companies like Patravadi Theatre, the setting is enhanced by other traditional arts such as nang yai shadow puppets. Nang yai (literally âlarge leatherâ) employs perforated buffalo hides depicting Ramakien characters. These are manipulated by a dancing puppeteer in front of an illuminated screen. The Thai word for film, nang, comes directly from shadow puppetry.
Khon uses many devices to create otherworldly impressions: gilded crowns and bangles, idealised faces, mural-esque compositions, vivid costumes embroidered with metal thread and set with glinting beads. But what if that distracting costume were removed to reveal a khon without illusions? Pichet Klunchun, Thailandâs leading contemporary dancer, does just that.
In two productions currently touring, Pichet employs his mastery of khonto deconstruct it. His cross-cultural collaboration Phichet Klunchun and Myself (aka Made in Thailand) explores khonâs form and how it tackles universal themes like love, truth and death. Dressed in rehearsal clothing, Pichet answers questions by French choreographer Jerome Bel by demonstrating excerpts with finesse and humour. Pichet then poses questions of Belâs modern choreography to indicate parity between their respective genres.
Pichetâs solo piece, 'I am a Demon', reveals another hidden aspect: the sheer physicality needed for khon. Covered only in a loincloth and white powder, Pichet re-enacts daunting disciplines from his khon training. Video of instruction by his legendary late master projects onto Pichetâs body as it flexes, holds and leaps. The title derives from body shape dictating the character a pupil can study. Willowy frames evoke gods, and spry physiques suit monkey roles. The robust Pichet was fated to play a demon.
Now with pupils of his own, Pichet passes on his knowledge and commitment in order that khon may not just survive, but thrive and cross-fertilise. Worldwide, traditional arts face a dilemma: the impulse to preserve often confines them to ethnic contexts and inhibits further development, thus squandering potential and audiences. Today, khon risks languishing as masters pass away, young Thais reject it as old fashioned, and variety showcases fragment the epic into desultory snippets.
Like all traditions, khon was never fixed, but changed over time. It interchanged over centuries with ancient Khmer court dance. A century ago, masks were removed from some characters. Earlier khon costumes were looser, more varied and less ornate than the current tunics which are so tight and thick they must be sewn on to the dancers.
By loosening conventions and explaining the art clearly, Pichet places khon at an international level on a par with other important dance forms. His âunpluggedâ way of presenting khon intrigues modern audiences. Curiously, developing an art often spurs demand for seeing the original version too. In Thailandâs increasingly cosmopolitan culture, khon needs both.
There are unprecedented opportunities to view khon in 2006. In between major festivals in Europe, 'I am a Demon' returns to Bangkok in March, followed by 'Made in Thailand' from June 30 to July 2. And once Sala Chalermkrungâs production finishes, perhaps khon might finally be staged on a regular schedule, both for audiences to predict and dancers to pursue their art as a career.
Runs until April 30, when a different Khon production takes over.
A 70 minute production summarising the epic into six acts:
Act I: Phra Ram is Cakravatar (Narai's avatar)
Act II: Phra Ram parts with Nang Sida
Act III: Phra Ram acquires an army
Act IV: Thotsakan in the garden
Act V: Phra Ram fights Thotsakan
Act VI: Phra Ram returns to Ayodhya