'Spirit of Cambodia' reviews

The words winsome, engaging, gentle and strangely innocent all rise when confronted with this paradox of highly stylized regal entertainment plus Cambodia's recent history. Seen just before the devastation in New York City, I experienced deja vu for two reasons. One, I had seen young adult children of Prince Sihanouk perform sections of The Ramayana at the old San Francisco Museum of Modern Art back in the late 'Fifties. Second, I volunteered for a special program for Cambodian Women Refugees for four and a half years and witnessed the after effects of the total devastation of that culture. Hard to believe something so fragile and dream-like as the royal dancing tradition was rescued from oblivion, let alone that the current government is assiduous in trying to maintain and revitalize the tradition. Perhaps, as an after note, that there are such beguiling children growing up physically whole to mirror the ancient tradition to their country and to the world in one of those miracles of human regeneration.

With that knowledge as my cultural luggage, on first viewing the company could not lose. They are obviously well trained, and certainly the flutist who rendered melodies on perhaps a half dozen varieties of flutes was one of the program's high points, along with the truncated tale of The Ramayana.

In this current version of the Hindu classic which is a prevalent classical theatrical theme throughout southeast Asia, the monkeys are portrayed by the men in the company, while both Rama and Sita are depicted by women. This is one of those interesting divisions of labor and interpretations of refinement one sees in traditional Asian theater. The director was obviously versed in Western taste, The monkeys, in addition to cavorting, did a great deal of scratching and lice picking as part of their antics, masked and clad in glistening silver pantaloons, several steps removed from the dhoti and the sarong.

The repertoire included two numbers based on folk tradition and village life which provided a refreshing earthiness and believability. One, very obvious, concerned a pretty woman arriving amongst a group of males horsing around, who obviously started vying for her attention. A second placed a man versus two opposing, obstreperous water buffalo, the beast of agriculture and transport traditional in southeast Asia. The buffalo, of course, were two men.

I liked the folk numbers best for the classical Cambodian style reflects a progression of timing and movement style from India to Indonesia, where the pace is still quite active. Hence to Thailand, where a high degree of embellishment at the expense of motion already occurs before the Cambodian classical style almost is guilty of what I call "run and take a pose" to which gestural language and fingers fluttering with elaborate skill seem to be part of its distinctive signature. It is, for me, a style most inclined to box the dance into the visual equivalent of strips of a glass chime tinkling in the wind, charming, fragile, an ornamental past time rather than an experience to galvanize one's existence. Such an impression, unfortunately, is not one I want to register with much frequency.

The audience was enormously appreciative, and they should be, for the dancers were beguiling and appealing. I only wondered what they might do with a freer form, and I'd wager they could be dazzling if permitted.