The Performance of Calon Arang: Indonesia

By Wombat | December 12th, 2006 | 1 Comment »

I noticed on my travels in the archipelago recently there was much emphasis in the media on a production of Calon Arang – a legend of Indonesia and adopted as sacred by the Balinese.

Freelance writer Carla Bianpoen had an article published recently in the JP that illustrates this magical legend.

Calon Arang, a phenomenon for all times
Carla Bianpoen, Contributor, Jakarta

Calon Arang has proven to be the most fascinating legend in the country. With its roots in East Java, the story has become a sacred piece of Balinese heritage. It has also shifted from an 11th-century tale of an old witch wreaking disasters upon the kingdom, to a modern one about women and patriarchal violence.

The story as it used to be told is about a widow named Calon Arang, who lived in the village of Girah in the kingdom of Daha. Her powers were said to be even mightier than the king’s. She used them to do evil things, so much so that no man dared to come close to her daughter, Ratna Manggali (sometimes written Manjali), let alone marry her. This made the widow extremely angry, and with the help of Durga, the Goddess of Destruction, she vented her anger by spreading pestilence throughout the kingdom. To outwit her, the king conspired with the priest, Empu Bharada, who resorted to a ruse to get hold of her sorcery book. He allowed his most gifted student marry Calon Arang’s daughter. Thus Calon Arang, the personification of wrath and evil, was destroyed by the power of the same book she had used to spread havoc.

Folk theaters may still stage the story in its traditional version, perhaps with site-specific variations, but more contemporary adaptations have arisen in recent years.

Goenawan Mohamad’s The King’s Witch, written in 1999 to music by Tony Prabowo, was performed by The Jakarta Players in 2000 as part of the Manoa Pacific Writings Special Edition of Silenced Voices. In spite of the tiny size of the Teater dalam Gang Tuti Indra Malaon, The Jakarta Players and soprano Binu D. Sukaman created a powerful effect. It was very much what the poet meant when he said: “What I have tried to create is a libretto for a poor theater, a poor orchestra. It should be simple. It should be a new poetry.”

No wonder expectations were running high when it was announced that a world class performance would be staged at Taman Ismail Marzuki this year. Furthermore, the production would be supported by three top performers from abroad: Korean Bo Chang as Calon Arang, Canadian Abigail Fischer as Ratna Manjali, and Britain’s Michael Smallwood as King Airlangga. The New York-based Continuum Orchestra led by the well-known Joel Sachs would provide the music along with the Batavia Madrigal Singers led by Avip Priatna. The lighting would be done by master Iskandar Loedin, who had acquired a lot of experience in Robert Wilson’s contemporary production of the old Bugis epic of I La Galigo. The collaboration with Yogyakarta-based Teater Garasi promised an interesting exploration as well.

Opinions about this production of The King’s Witch turned out to be mixed, however. There were those who enjoyed it mainly as a spectacle of beautiful colors. “Absolutely splendid,” said a Dutch man. Others enjoyed only the music, as atonal and unusual as it was, and the splendid orchestra that played it. And others had great appreciation for the performance as a new form, a collaboration among poetry, music and the stage, and an enrichment to the world of music and theater.

But some were less appreciative. Attentive spectators found the flow of the revised poetry confusing. Some felt the stage was over-filled with seemingly meaningless symbols. The focus on dancers doing acrobatic movements often reminiscent of self-defense at the front of the stage was disturbing. Every part was very good in itself — the music, the orchestra, the choir, the dancers, etc. — but cohesion was missing, resulting in a presentation that was no more than a spectacle of colorful parts.

Yet to have this semi-contemporary piece staged at all in Indonesia, and to have found funding of Rp 1.5 billion (US$165,000) to stage it in this format, must be noted as a historic achievement.

Another stage performance of Calon Arang was the result of a collaboration between Retno Maruti, the master of Javanese Bedaya dance, and Ayu Bulantrisna Djelantik, heir of the Balinese kingdom of Karangasam and an internationally renowned performer specializing in new and traditional forms of the Balinese Legong.

Combining the beauty of the different shapes marking the sacred dances of Java and Bali brings back into focus the ties that once linked the two islands. The legend of Calon Arang, which has become popular as a sacred piece of Balinese heritage, sprouts from the Javanese kingdom of Kediri under the rule of King Erlangga, who was born from the marriage of Balinese Prince Udayana of the Warmadewa dynasty to East Javanese Princess Mahendradatta (991-1046).

Combining Javanese gamelan with the Balinese gong, highlighting the futility of war and blame, while blending young and upcoming dancers with more senior ones, added to the sense of both continuity and change.

Toeti Heraty’s book

Continuity and change are two words that definitely apply to Calon Arang in the version of Toeti Heraty N. Roosseno, a philosopher, poet and women’s rights activist.

The launch of the English translation of her book, Calong Arang, The Story of a Woman Sacrificed to Patriarchy, was held in Jakarta on Nov. 26 in conjunction with an exhibition by 19 women painters. They looked at the story artistically from various angles. The paintings illustrate the book, which was published by Saritaksu Editions Bali.

Toeti Heraty does away with the male biases of the traditional story and explores the injustices inflicted upon women while connecting the old story to modern reality. This view closely relates the position of women to politics and male dominance. Under this interpretation, the powers of Calon Arang may have been seen as a threat to the ruling authority, and she was thus made a scapegoat for all the disasters that struck the kingdom.

Similar in her viewpoint, but on a different plain, is Cok Sawitri, a Balinese poet and performer who staged the Widow of Dirah in 2000. Cok Sawitri claims that the Widow of Dirah, as Calon Arang is called in Bali, was a holy woman, otherwise she could never have had the sacred book.

In light of this transformation, perhaps the legend of Calon Arang must now be called The Witch Who Never Was.