Fire Kacap Dance

As we were led into the local villager’s temple, the impending performance kindled an artistic curiosity within me. The dance of rhythm, heat and passion: the captivating Kacap Fire Dance. This dance is based on the ancient text Ramayana, where prince Rama embarks on a perilous mission to rescue his kidnapped wife, Sita. This would be performed by the same village group of our tour guide, Wayang. This added a sense of personal engagement to the experience, since many of the performers are probably well acquainted with him.

When we entered the temple, a striking pair of split gates (called Candi Bentar), characteristic of the Majapahit Empire, created the sense of space and discontinuity which felt like a looming, heavenly power. I always thought these gates added a sense of grandeur to every dancer’s entrance, as the tall split gates seem to emphasise the performer’s height and stature. It is interesting to note that the audiences’ main attention is not captured by the amazing ornate detail that seem to seep into every nook and cranny of the temple, yet it is the empty space of the Candi Bentar which strikes the experiencer as the most jarring and eye-catching thing. Even though there is a great requirement for complexity, the architectural environment purposefully gives the performers space and emptiness to fill in with their own type of artistic complexity.

Inside the temple, spectators were fidgeting about on their seats in excitement, creating a lively, invested atmosphere. The stage was set intimately close and at eye level, ensuring that every wooden bench offered an up close view of the impending spectacle. The music, composed solely of rhythmic chants of “Kacap,” highlights the inherent allure and familiarity of the human voice, which somehow deepens the sense of engagement and personality, a unique feeling seemingly impossible to replicate with mere instruments. 

The performers chanting “kacap” not only sustained the everlasting rhythmic backdrop, but also embodied various elements of the dance narrative. For instance, when the storyline transitioned to a scene of rowing a boat, the chanters seamlessly synchronised their movements, mimicking the rhythmic motion of rowing. This dynamic integration of gestures also fostered a sense of inclusion, since the positioning of the seats makes the audience members seem like a physical extension of the chanters, almost as if we were actively participating in the unfolding story. 

One particularly memorable moment occurred during the intense showdown between Prince Rama and the nefarious King Ravana. As the epic battle unfolded, the chanters rose and strategically positioned themselves, obscuring the confrontation from direct view. This clever theatrical technique left the outcome to the audience’s vivid imagination, heightening the drama and suspense of the scene. Throughout the performance, the chanters ingeniously conveyed the intricate plot without uttering a single word, employing a multitude of inventive gestures and movements to captivate the audience’s imagination.

The name “fire dance” took on a literal meaning as we soon discovered during the intermission. Amidst the silence, preparations began with the setting up of metal benches around the dance area, accompanied by coconut husks, palm leaves, and motor oil in the centre. The anticipation mounted as the flame blazed before us. Then, with a dramatic entrance, a masked dancer (impersonating the Monkey king) stormed onto the arena. With forceful kicks, he sent fiery fragments which scattered across the floor. Thankfully, the protective measures set up earlier shielded us from the inevitable burns. Despite the danger, the dancer continued his frenzied performance, repeatedly kicking the flaming bundle around the arena. The intensity escalated with each iteration until the audience could no longer bear the exhilarating yet nerve-wracking spectacle. 

Legong dance.

The Legong Dance is separated into a series of captivating scenes, each exuding its unique charm. Among them, a gracious welcoming dance, devoid of narrative, graces the stage, showering the audience with floral tokens of appreciation. Compared to the Kacap dance, this one certainly felt a bit more civilised. 

The performance commences with “Waves of the Oceans,” a mesmerising piece that captures the essence of the sea. The amalgamation of distinct Gamelan textures, ranging from sharp, piercing notes to ethereal, resounding tones, creates a rhythmic ebb and flow reminiscent of the ocean’s dynamic nature. It evokes a sense of serenity juxtaposed with moments of exhilarating chaos, mirroring the ever-changing tides of the sea.

However, it is the Baris dance that steals the spotlight. The performance emanates an effortless yet commanding aura, characterised by masculine grace. From the dramatic tossing of the sarong to the piercing gaze and precision of hand gestures and foot movements – this is no primitive form of art, it is one of complexity and deep sophisticated meaning. Just as we might ponder why Bach created his musical compositions, excluding his religious works, we find that this question is in fact not the easiest to answer, you could argue that he is creating music for the sole purpose of creating music; and I believe while watching the Baris dance, although it obviously holds ritualistic and religious purpose, it also has the sense of meaningless meaning, the creation of art for the sake of art.

Next, we delved into the heart of the narrative. Arjuna sets out to vanquish the evil king Newata Kawaca by launching an arrow that bridges heaven and earth – the ultimate triumph over good and evil (a common theme in Balinese dance narrative). The stage was alive with performers clothed in what seemed like a warrior’s, their red metallic looking cloth draped from their shoulders grandly. Intuitively, I felt as if they were probably Arjuna’s warriors, since they had a benevolent obedience to their movement.

Initially, these men wielded umbrellas that resembled spears, brandishing them with a warrior’s prowess. Yet, as the scene unfolded, they transformed these implements, opening them to dance more gracefully—a stark contrast to their earlier aggression. This unexpected elegance was further highlighted when the depiction of Arjuna’s chariot entered, its wheels ingeniously represented by spinning ornate umbrellas. The smooth transitioning of the vertical umbrellas to the horizontal umbrellas representing the wheels of a chariot made the introduction of narrative seem seamless, almost inducing a dream-like state.

To conclude my first ever experience with Balinese art, it has taught me a great lesson in the vast diversity of artistic styles. We have a tendency to classify things as ‘tribalistic’ or ‘primitive’, but you may find that different civilisations, villages and even little indigenous tribes can exude the same level of artistic meaning. Keeping open to these amazing artistic styles will be a way to piercingly understand and immerse oneself into an unique culture; this can unlock an openness of mind almost impossible to achieve by stagnating in one’s own culture, no matter the level of complexity or meaning (if it is even quantifiable that is). In summary, it is the attitude towards meaning which is of utmost importance, not to obscure other cultures and to always keep an open mind.