Barbara Hatley

Theatre expressed its criticism in satirical renditions of traditional legends, exposing the flaws of thinly disguised contemporary powerholders, and in dark, dystopic representations of the alienation of modern life. But such theatre was socially marginal. Regarded with suspicion by the authorities, modern theatre was denied the state patronage extended to traditional performing arts, and faced many hurdles in gaining permission to perform. It could not compete for audiences with either traditional theatre or modern media such as television and pop music, focused above all on popularity and profit.

However, the emergence of a strong opposition movement against Suharto early in 1998 provided a new context for politically critical art. Huge crowds of student protesters became eager audiences. Political theatre was suddenly at the centre rather than on the margins of social change. No longer was there need for indirection and restraint - the satire was broad, the targets obvious. Activities reached a climax in the ‘happening art’ and performances at the demonstrations in May - staged before the students occupying parliament house, and to an audience of a million on the city square in Yogya the day before Suharto resigned.

Lightning!

It is against this backdrop that the group Gandrik developed its style. It was first formed in 1983 to perform in a theatre competition, representing the subdistrict of Yogyakarta. ‘Gandrik’ literally means ‘lightning’. It is an exclamation of surprise suggesting the shock of a lightning strike. There are several ‘myths of origin’ for the group’s name. One says that, since there were only a few weeks to go before the competition when the group came together, someone, either the subdistrict head, or the director and actors, cried ‘Gandrik!’ at having to prepare a performance in such a short time. Alternately, the official exclaimed ‘Gandrik!’ when he learnt that the group had won. Whoever made the historic utterance, the group's catchy name soon became almost a household word in Yogya, through a series of very successful stage performances, many of which were also presented on television.

The plays characteristically involve ordinary folk - market sellers, old people waiting for their pensions, a village singer and her husband, the local headman and his wife. Dialogue is in the national language, Indonesian, liberally laced with expressions in the local language, Javanese. Performances draw upon a wide variety of Javanese theatrical forms, including shadow puppet theatre, gamelan music and village masked dance. Such blending of the traditional and local into crafted, innovative performances has inspired the designation of Gandrik's performance style as ‘avant garde looking backwards’ (avant garde ke belakang).

One vital factor in Gandrik's success is the way its skilled performers combine into a compact, creative team.

Jujuk, director and artistic designer for the group, has trained in traditional and modern dance, and has a strong interest in traditional theatre. Jujuk says that ideas for including traditional motifs generally arise during the rehearsal process, rather than by prior planning. Sometimes they have a technical or artistic function, at other times the association is emotional or spiritual.

Butet Kartaredjasa, son of the famous choreographer Bagong Kussudiardjo and manager of many of his father's productions, contributes management experience, critical ideas and impressive performance skills. A prize-winning actor, he typically plays the figure of a ludicrously pompous yet chillingly callous government official.

His brother, Djaduk Ferianto is a popular composer and performer of tradition-inspired contemporary music. He creates the musical accompaniment. Heru Kesawa Murti, cousin of Butet and Djaduk, collaborates with two other group members to produce the scripts. Saptaria Handayaningsih, a prizewinning performer of traditional and modern theatre, who is married to Jujuk, is the main female performer. Rulyani, Butet's wife, who originally came from Kalimantan to Yogya to study dance at Bagong's school, likewise plays female roles.

Pinch without pain

For each production a provisional script is prepared, usually on a theme which has arisen from discussions with the group. Then the actors meet for a process of mbedah naskah, literally ‘taking apart the script’. They comment about ways the dialogue might be extended, building upon, complementing and parrying each other's suggestions. Later during rehearsals they improvise music, songs and dances. Individual actors suggest alterations to their parts in an atmosphere of lively fun. Gandrik members say this production process mirrors the democratic spirit of traditional folk theatre. Contextual humour, reflecting on issues of immediate interest to the audience, is another quality of folk theatre found in Gandrik performances.

The social critique which abounds in Gandrik plays - of self-serving officials and their obsequious lackeys, as well as the foibles of ordinary folk - is conveyed in playful fashion. Actors say their aim is to ‘pinch without causing pain’ (mencubit tanpa membikin rasa sakit), just as criticism should be conveyed in the Javanese communal environment. Once again they draw an explicit link between Gandrik's theatrical style and Javanese cultural practice.

Another key influence towards indirection and humour in social criticism was surely the repressive political climate. Several members of Gandrik had previously worked in a group which suffered bannings by the authorities. Their own choice was to play down politics in order to maximise opportunities to perform. This subtlety of critique facilitated Gandrik's many appearances on state television, notorious for its tight censorship. Some in the theatre world grumbled that Gandrik was not serious in its criticism and had sold out to commercial interest. Yet its big, enthusiastic audiences, including many people not normally attracted to modern theatre, clearly delighted in its humour, its straightforward, colourful presentation, and local cultural reference .

As popular dissatisfaction with the Suharto regime grew and political criticism became more open, Gandrik's style shifted. In 1993-1994, a number of Gandrik actors joined with others in a production inspired by the dispossession of land caused by the newly built Kedung Ombo dam. The play portrays the suffering of ordinary people, their rights to sheer survival disregarded by the rich and powerful, through the bitter reminiscences of the title character, Pak Kanjeng (see Inside Indonesia no.40, September 1994).

In the past year Butet, the lead actor of Gandrik, has become a popular figure among the opposition movement. His 1997 monologue, Lidah pingsan, ‘Paralysed tongue’, is a tale of official corruption and the silencing of the press inspired by the recent murder of a Yogya journalist (Udin). It portrayed the figure of a village head who epitomised the overbearing, corrupt officialdom of Suharto’s New Order. Huge audiences roared with delight. Butet later gave speeches impersonating the president himself in campus performances all around the country. He appeared in the same role in front of the great student demonstrations at the parliament building in May which precipitated Suharto's fall.

He recently developed a sequel, Lidah masih pingsan, ‘The tongue is still paralysed’. It portrays ongoing corruption and repression despite supposed political reform, and features both the old village head, now pictured explicitly as the wily old Suharto, and his successor, a ludicrously parodied President Habibie.

His composer brother Djaduk also stages his own performance of innovative percussion music, called Kompi Susu. Players in comic military uniforms, beating away at odd-looking instruments, present a picture of violence and bumbling incompetence full of ironic reference to the armed forces.

As you read this, Gandrik will have just visited Australia, performing at Monash University in Melbourne in late March. The play they presented, Brigade maling, ‘Brigade of thieves’, showed some similarities to an earlier Gandrik production, Orde Tabung, ‘Test Tube Order’. The latter was set in a futuristic society populated entirely by test tube. People born in the normal way were tracked down and institutionalised. The performance combined zany, parodic humour with an all-pervasive sense of menace. Surely this was a reference to persecution by the New Order government against anyone with a relative implicated in the so-called ‘communist coup’ 25 years before.

In the surrealistic world of Brigade maling, residents are obliged to have their hearts removed, eliminating any potentially disruptive emotion. One, however, who has escaped the operation, must be hunted down and dispatched as a threat to the established regime. The obscure motives of a shadowy group of leaders overseeing this operation suggest something of the menacing uncertainty of political conditions in 'reformasi' Indonesia. Does the reference to removing emotion satirically suggest its opposite, the deliberate stimulation of communal sentiment to create unrest widely attributed to ongoing forces opposing reform?

The lively creativity of Gandrik’s response to the new conditions clearly continues modern theatre's role of critiquing the status quo and shaping Indonesian culture. It will have been the great privilege of Australian audiences to be able to watch this happening.

Barbara Hatley teaches at Monash University. This article draws on her forthcoming book on theatre performance in Yogyakarta.