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Professor Barbara Andaya (University of Hawaii and University of Hawaii Press) Professor Colin Brown (Curtin University of Technology) Associate Professor John Butcher (Griffith University) Professor Emeritus D avid Chandler (Monash University) Associate Professor Helen Creese (University of Queensland) Dr Robert Cribb (Australian National University) Dr Jane Drakard (Monash University) Dr Greg Fealy (Australian National University) Professor Robert Elson (University of Queensland) Professor Barbara Hadey (University of Tasmania) Professor Kevin Hewison (University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill) Professor Virginia H ooker (Australian National University) Professor Rey Ilero (National University of Singapore) Gerald Jackson (NIAS - Nordic Institute of Asian Studies) Associate Professor Paul Kraroska (NUS Press, National University of Singapore) Professor Tim Lindsey (University of Melbourne) Professor Andrew Macintyre (Australian National University) Emeritus Professor Campbell Macknight (Australian National University) Professor Anthony Milner (Australian National University) Dr Harry Poeze (Director, KITLV Press, Leiden) Professor Anthony Reid (National University of Singapore) Associate Professor Craig Reynolds (Australian National University) Professor Merle Ricklefs (National University of Singapore) Professor Kathryn Robinson (Australian National U niversity) Dr Mina Roces (University of New South Wales) Professor Krishna Sen (Curtin University of Technology) Associate Professor Maila Stivens (University of Melbourne) Dr Philip Taylor (Australian National University) Professor Carl Thayer (University of New South Wales, ADFA) Professor Adrian Vickers (Univers ity of Sydney)

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JAVANESE PERFORMANCES ON AN INDONESIAN STAGE

Contesting Culture, Embracing Change

Barbara Hatley

Asian Studies Association of Australia

in association with

UNIVERSITY OF HAWAI'I PRESS

HONOLULU

First published by:

NUS Press AS3-01-02, 3 Arts Link Singapore 117569

Published in North America by:

University of Hawai ' i Press 2840 Kolowalu Street Honolulu, HI 96822 www.uhpress.hawaii.edu

© 2008 NUS Press National University of Singapore

~J I I

"") J' ~ .' .

'T,h" ~ ~ .-I\IJ"'"

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission from the Publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Hatley, Barbara. Javanese performances on an Indonesian stage: Contesting culture, embracing

change / Barbara Hatley. p. cm .

Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-0-8248-3295-7 (pbk.)

1. Theater - Indonesia - Yogyakarta - History - 20th century. 2. Theater and society - Indonesia - Yogyakarta - History - 20th century. I. Title.

PN2906.Y64H38 2008 792.09598'2709041 - dc22

2007052918

Cover: Bondan Nusantara introducing a community show held in the wake of

the devastating 28 May 2006 earthquake in Yogyakarta. Photo supplied by Bondan Nusantara.

Printed in Singapore

To the performers~

who made it all possible

12 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

appropriated by and accommodated to the New Order government, while continuing to give expression to the experiences and perspectives of its lower-class, village and kampung participants. Chapter Four traces the development, from the late 1970s onwards, of a new style of theatre, performed and watched largely by students and other educated youth. Modern Indonesian-language plays drawing on Javanese "tradition" are seen to provide an outlet for the critical political views of its participants to reflect on their mixed Javanese/Indonesian sense of self.

In the 1990s the forces of commercialisation and globalisation, combining with ongoing authoritarian political control, presented both challenges and new opportunities for theatre. As performance genres

blended in commoditised spectacles, practitioners ofketoprak and teater c~lIaborated t.o.stage huge stage events combining global cultural imagery WIth local polltlcal reference. Chapter Five explores the resonance of these shows for their largely young, urban, middle-class audiences. In the late 1990s, as the opposition towards the Suharto regime grew, performance activities thrived in the atmosphere of heightened politicisation.

The post-New Order period, covered in the final three chapters, presents many uncertainties. In the immediate post-Suharto years, performance activity declined under the combined impact of economic crisis and political instability. Identity and ideology could now be

expressed directly rather than being displaced to the field of cultural

display. Theatre's role in voicing shared political critique faded with the dispersal of the anti-Suharto opposition movement. Yet since 2003 the

Y~gyakarta theatre scene has become livelier, as performances engage WIth the politics of regional autonomy and democratisation and con- vey varying reassessments of "Javanese tradition". Diversity thrives, in

theatre as elsewhere in contemporary Indonesian society, resisting the notIOn of general trends. But one possibility is a degree of re-creation of ketoprak as a populist, participatory form, encouraged by democratic

ideo.logy and devolved administrative structures. Another is the spread, albeIt contested, of more inclusive gender attitudes, and the participa- tion of strong, talented women.

1

Yogyakarta in the 1970s - Communities, Performances,

History

Yogyakarta in the mid- to late 1970s was a diverse, dyn~mic. city. A court centre steeped in tradition, it was also thoroughly WIred 111to the modern nation through its history as the centre of nationalist struggle in the war of independence of the late 1940s and its current role as

educational capital of the nation. Its distinctive spatial formation,

with particular areas associated with specific social groups and cul~ural activities, gave expression to this rich history and contemporary diver- sity. This chapter outlines the physical and socio-cultural landscape of Yogyakarta in the 1970s and locates the popular melodrama ketoprak as a cultural form explicitly associated with the inhabitants of the kampung, the crowded neighbourhoods between the city streets, defined

by themselves and others as wong ciLik or underclass . It explores the origins and meanings of the identification between ketoprak and the

wong cilik social group by giving an overview of ketoprak's history of development and mode of practice in the 1970s.

SPACE AND PLACE IN THE 19705

The legacy of Yogya's founding as the royal capital of the kingdom of Ngayogyakarta by Sultan Hamengkubuwono I in 1756, and its func- tioning as a powerful court centre, lived on in the 1970s in the large area in the southern part of the city taken up by the palace (kraton) and its surrounds. Within the remains of palace walls were the former

residences of retainers and troops, also workshops making batik cloth

13

14 Javanese PerfOrmances on an Indonesian Stage

and other traditional crafts. Nearby stood the grand houses (dalem) of princely families . The power of the court, located on the north-south axis between the volcano Mt Merapi and the southern ocean, suppos- edly harnessing the energies of both, was recalled in periodic ceremonies such as Sekaten - when the sultan's largesse was distributed to the people in the form of a giant rice cone - and the yearly cleansing in the ocean of the court regalia. The great square (alun-alun) outside the northern gates of the kraton was the site of huge night fairs and popular spectacles.

Just north of the alun-alun, the huge city market, Beringinharjo, was the thriving hub of produce trade, while the main street, Malioboro,

lined with shops and pavement stalls and constantly thronging with people, was a commercial centre, tourist attraction and late-night bohemian hangout.

East of the Malioboro area, separated by the Code River, was Kota Baru (literally 'new city'), established as a residential area by the

Dutch colonisers during the nineteenth century. It became the site of elite European-style houses and schools, a large Catholic church and seminary, and modern facilities such as a sports ground and swimming

pool, the telephone company office, newspaper offices and the state radio station, RRl. Government offices and a military complex were located on the southern edges of this area. To the north, across Jalan

Solo, the main road leading east to the other court centre of Solo (officially Surakarta), was a more recently settled and rapidly expanding area, the main site of Yogyakarta's burgeoning educational industry.

The prestigious Gadjah Mada University, founded within the palace during the war of independence against the Dutch, had moved to the Bulak Sumur area in the early 1950s. In the 1970s it underwent a

programme of construction and expansion that encompassed a post- graduate school, new research institutes and a huge administration complex modelled after a traditional Javanese pavilion (pendopo) with its distinctive layered roof. Several other tertiary institutes - a state and

a Catholic teachers' college, a performing arts institute - were located in the same vicinity, with the lAIN (Institut Agama Islam Nasional or National Institute of Islamic Studies) further east on Jalan Solo.

Students from all over Java and other islands clustered in this area, although others lived scattered throughout the city, renting rooms in private homes. Expanding into the farmland to the north of the city were new suburbs inhabited by university teachers, other professionals and student boarders.

Yogyakarta in the 1970s 15

Allover the city, in the areas between the m ain thoroughfares, were

karnpung, entities often described as village-like settlements within cities, with narrow lanes and small, densely packed houses.! Some kampung,

particularly those in the southern and central p~rt of the city, were very old, having first been established to house the soldiers of the kraton army and

provide services for the court. This history was marked by conte.m'p0r~ry names such as Bugisan, Ketanggungan and PraWlrotaman ongmanng from the names of particular military units designated by these terms; Dagen, Jlagran and Siliran for settlements of woodworkers, stonemasons

and lamplighters respectively (Setiawan, 1998: 98). Other kampung took their names from the grand compounds of aristocratic families around which they were built - Wirogunan, Notoyudan, Pringgokusuman.

Newer settlements grew up on the urban fringes as the city expanded outwards, absorbing formerly rural areas. In time, the distinctions between these different types of kampung had blurred, as streams of

eople from the countryside moved in and the original functions in

~elation to the kraton were lost. Kampung took on the reputation and sense of identity of concentrations of the commoner underclass. While

the occupational makeup of kampung was often quite mixed, including considerable numbers of government employees (Setiawan, 1998: 142-3), the majority of residents worked at humble jobs such as labouring and petty trade, contrasting with the white-collar occupations and middle-

class status of the inhabitants of the brick and concrete houses (gedongan) along the major streets. Most tellingly, for the people of the gedongan, and for government authorities, the term kampung was generally equated with "slum", while to residents of these districts themselves it meant

something like "home community" (Sullivan, 1992: 25).

MAPPING CULTURAL AND RECREATIONAL PRACTICES

Broad connections can be traced between these spatial and social divi-

sions and the diverse cultural life ofYogyakarta in the 1970s. Although

individuals might engage in a range of activities across the city, clear patterns of association linked particular cultural forms, geographic

locations and social groups. The kraton and the aristocratic houses, long regarded as the pin-

nacle of cultivation of the traditional Javanese arts, remained centres

of such activity, although on a much reduced scale compared with the heyday of court cultural life in the nineteenth and early twentieth cen- turies. Descendants of noble families, many with influential positions

16 Javanese PerfOrmances on an Indonesian Stage

I al b ts passe d on the heritaae of classical Yogyakarta as cu tur ureaucra, t>

d h ough amateur dance associations and private dance court ance t r schools, rather than the institution of the court. The dance foundation Siswo Among Beksa, led by Pak Dinusatama, aristocrat and official of the state department of culture, rehearsed several times a week in the pendopo of the Purwodiningratan house, while the Pujokusuman dance school, headed by the famed performer and teacher Romo Sasminto, held classes daily in the aristocratic house by that name. To mark their yearly anniversaries and on other special occasions, both groups held performances for the general public in their grand pendopo buildings. In the kraton itself, special calendrical events were marked by rehearsals and performances of the sacred srimpi and bedaya dances. Siswo Among Beksa sometimes also performed outside of Yogyakarta, for state celebrations in Jakarta. Occasional cultural missions would take Yogyakarta court dance onto the national stage and into the wider, international world.

Another site of transmission of court dance was the state aca- demy of the performing arts, ASTI (Akademi Seni Tari Indonesia or Academy of Indonesian Dance), where descendants of noble families were well-represented among the teaching staff. Located in the north of the city next to Gadjah Mada University in the 1970s, its status was upgraded to that of Indonesian Institute of the Arts (Institut Kesenian Indonesia, lSI) during the 1980s when it moved to a vast campus in

the far south of the city. The government secondary school for music and performing arts SMKI (Sekolah Menengah Krawitan Indonesia, Indonesian Fine Arts High School) staffed by many kraton-connected

musicians, was situated very close to the palace in the 1970s, then moved further south.

The kraton precinct was also an important centre for the cultiva- tion of the traditional Javanese orchestra music, the gamelan. A weekly gamelan concert was held in the kraton and broadcast each week over RRI radio station, gamelan music accompanied other performance

genres and former court performers tutored amateur gamelan groups at their homes inside the palace walls. Performances of wayang kulit shadow theatre, marking family, community and state events, took

place throughout the city, rather than being concentrated in a parti- cular area. But it was in the Sasana Inggil pavilion of the palace that wayang kulit was staged each month for the general public, while the

Habiranda School for puppeteers held its classes in a kraton building. Many performers also lived nearby. Until today, the area south of the

Yogyakarta in the 1970s 17

kraton, extending beyond the city boundaries into the rural regency of Bantu!' is home to an especially large number of practitioners of

Javanese traditional arts. The main site for modern, Western-derived cultural and recreational

activities was at the other end of the city. Sports fields, swimming pools and movie theatres were concentrated in the area from Kota Baru to the north and east, including the northern campus district. In colonial times Dutch schools had introduced the study of Western music, visual arts and theatre. These forms, and the modern Indonesian visual and performing arts modelled on them, continued to be associated chiefly with an educated elite. Practice of modern Indonesian arts was not confined geographically to the north of the city - Akademi Teater Nasional Indonesia (ATNI, Indonesian National Theatre Academy), for example, was located in the kraton area. But these arts remained strongly Western-influenced, academically connected and student-based.

During the 1970s, expansion of educational opportunities saw a broadening of the social group identifYing as students and involved in student culture. In addition, theatre practitioners consciously sought to extend their outreach and audience base by emulating the lively style and intimate connections with the audience of folk theatre. A model was close at hand - the theatre form cultivated by the people of the

kampung of Yogyakarta, ketoprak.

KAMPUNG AND KETOPRAK

Kampung populations could be quite mixed and tastes in recreation and cultural practice naturally varied. Clusters of youths often gathered on a bench in front of someone's house on Saturday nights to sing pop songs and play guitar; primary students might learn "group dance" after school from a local teacher; some neighbourhoods had a women's choir or gamelan group. The traditional Javanese arts were strongly supported. Gamelan groups gathered to practise where a resident had sufficient wealth and house space to maintain a gamelan orchestra. Wayang kulit performances drew avid crowds, especially when the dalang was well- known, and many older men, in particular, were very knowledgeable about wayang lore. All-night radio broadcasts of wayang resonated though the thin walls of kampung houses and from street stalls and resting becak late at night. Kampung children, particularly girls, often had some training in traditional Javanese dance. But classical Javanese dance continued to have an aura of a connection with the court, a revered status that set it at some remove from kampung folk.

18 Javanese Pelformances on an Indo nesian Stage

Ketoprak had no such courtly aura. It staged Javanese legends and stories of past kingdoms as maintained in the o ral traditions of ordinary people, with much comic reference to issues of everyday life. Its top professional actors lived in kampung neighbourhoods and often worked by day at humble occupations, such as labourer, seamstress or petty trader. Certain neighbourhoods were the site of concentrations of actors, often linked by complex family connections. The densely populated inner-city neighbourhood of Patook, for example, was home to many famous actors. Amateur groups thrived in similar locations. Many Yogyakarta kampung had local amateur groups that "came out"

at the neighbourhood concert for Independence Day, while this was not the practice in elite neighbourhoods such as Kota Baru or Bulak Sumur. Young men in amateur groups reported that they gained their

knowledge of Javanese history and developed skills in Javanese language and etiquette through participation in ketoprak performance. Asked what attracted them about the form, some expressed an explicit sense of ownership, describing it as "our own art" (kesen ian piyambak). Keto- prak's special resonance among kampung populations might be seen in

the fact that a ketoprak play constituted the main performance (puncak acara) at the vast majority of community concerts.

POWER AND CHANGE

The above picture portrays two concentrations of power and social capital in Yogya in the 1970s - the ongoing symbolic influence of the

royal court, drawn upon by its contemporary descendants in their high positions in modern institutions, and the fast-growing material power of modern education, communication and technology, controlled by

those by those with appropriate degrees and expertise. The two groups together constituted a socially dominant elite vis-a.-vis a large substratum of residents of urban kampung and villages on the fringes of the city, who maintained a sense of identity as wong cilik.

What has not yet been included in the picture are the structures and programmes of the national and provincial governments as powerful, determining forces in these processes of change, for during the 1970s the New Order state, which had seized power in Indonesia in the late

1960s from the populist, nationalist Sukarno regime, set about imple- menting its wide-ranging agenda of development (pembangunan). In Yogyakarta, government departments expanded and moved to new buildings and 'beautification' programmes of city streets, kampung,

Yogyakarta in the 197 05 19

markets and riverbanks were carried out. State ideology was forcefully

promoted though government departments, educational institutions and new community-level organisations. Government officials also became actively involved in defining and promoting cultural forms.

A sense of the impact of such change for the people ofYogyakarta can be gained from the theatre form representative of the mass population of the city, ketoprak. In the following account, first comes the story of ketoprak's origins and growth, tracing the roots and ongoing meanings of its connection with the lower class. One part of this history, that of ketoprak's socialisrlpopulist connections in the 1950s and 1960s, could barely be mentioned in the 1970s. Following the disbanding of groups and the imprisonment of many actors in the anti-Communist purges

of 1965-66, most troupes were now government- or army-controlled. Under their new masters actors were necessarily silent about the past, and in wider society the topic was too sensitive for discussion. But the memory and influence of those times lingered on, forming a sub text

to contemporary practice. At the same time, ketoprak was rapidly changing. It was adopting new techniques, appearing in new settings, being documented, categorised and 'upgraded'. How these divergent influences interacted and how ketoprak in (he 197 0s reflected underclass

identity reacting to modernising trends is a subject reviewed below and illustrated in detail in subsequent chapters.

KETOPRAK IN THE TIME OF MOTION

Village Origins

Ketoprak is generally believed to have emerged in the latter half of the nineteenth century in the countryside around the court cities of

Surakarta (Solo) and Yogyakarta. 2 A 1977 account begins by describing how ketoprak developed as an elaboration of a form of musical enter- tainment long established in villages in Java, performed after harvesting or for community celebrations .3 Gejog or kothekan music is produced through the rhythmic striking of poles in the wooden trough used to pound and husk rice (fesung) and the beating of smaller sticks against the sides of the trough to supplement the main rhythm. A picture is given of informal gatherings in the evenings, where one or two people

would beat the lesung, summoning a crowd; some people would join in beating and others dance about in time to the rhythm . Sometime

in the late nineteenth century, a simple dramatic story came to be

20 Javanese PerfOrmances on an Indonesian Stage

performed and other musical instruments added - drum, flute and tambourine. Whether performances of this type were already described as ketOprak is said to be unknown, but development of the genre from this kernel is clear (Wijaya and SutjiptO, 1977: 13) . Later the text cites as authoritative the popularly accepted view of the origin of the term ketOprak - that it derives onomatopoeically from the sound of the pounding (kethok) of the large wooden poles on the floor of the trough and the beating (prak, prak, prak) of the smaller sticks on the side (Wijaya and SutjiptO, 1977: 61).

Elite Patronage in the City

The next stage in ketOprak's development involved a move to the city and cultivation by members of the aristOcracy. In 1908 the Solonese aristOcrat, K.R.T. Wreksodiningrat is reported to have established a ketOprak troupe in his home. Its simple, humorous style, using a lesung plus drum, flute and tambourine as accompaniment, reputedly attracted widespread attention when the group performed in public for events such as a royal wedding in 1909 . After Wreksodiningrat died in 1914, attempts by a former member of his group to establish ketOprak as a commercial venture were unsuccessful. Solo people reportedly were not used to paying for entertainment, since they could often watch without charge performances staged in aristOcratic homes (Wijaya and Sutjipto, 1977: 22). Moreover there was strong competition from wayang wong, a dance drama of court origin, which since the 1880s had been per- formed outside the palace as a commercial show.

In the city of Yogyakarta, by contrast, ketOprak quickly achieved immense popularity. Krida Madya Utama, a troupe led by an actOr from one of Wreskosdiningrat's offshoot groups, went on tour westward from Solo in 1925 . It played in the towns of Klaten and Prambanan, and finally the district of Demangan on the western edge ofYogyakarta. Within weeks groups had sprung up all over the city: ketoprak became a veritable craze. By 1928 , a contemporary newspaper account reports that 300 groups were operating in Yogyakarta . One elderly court offi- cial, Pak Probosoeprodjo, with whom I spoke in 1978, recalled that in the 1920s and early 1930s there were often three or four ketOprak groups in one kampung. Young men did not feel satisfied unless they were involved in performing. People were so keen to participate that when all the parts in a story had been assigned, those who had not been given a role would plead, "Aku neng adegan taman ben dadi wit wai!"

Yogyakarta in the 1970s 2 1

("In the garden scene, please let m e be just a tree! "). Pak Probosuprodjo himself was actively involved, playing his first role as a devil (setan) at the age of ten. 4 His older brother AtmosuriptO, later to become a very famous figure in the ketoprak world, was at that time piously devoted to his studies at the Muhammadiyah teacher training school. But just as he was about to graduate AtmosuriptO got caught up in the ketOprak craze, dropped his studies and took to the stage.

While most ketOprak participants were ordinary kampung folk, members of the nobility were likewise fascinated by the new form .5

Beginning in 1925, ketOprak groups were formed in several of the great houses ofYogyakarta, including the residences of four sons of the reigning sultan, Tejakusuma, Adikusuma, Mangkukusuma and Suryodiningrat. The groups were composed of sons of the princes themselves, along with children of their retainers (abdi dalem) and some neighbourhood boys. In another model , a kampung group was invited or permitted to rehearse and perform in the house of a local court official, although the nobleman was not directly involved. Each noble house specialised in a particular lakon (stOry) or group of lakon taken from the repertoire of shadow-puppet theatre and dance drama or from Javanese and Middle Eastern legend. 6 Weeldy practices and performances would be held in the large open at the front of the house, with invited guests seated inside and hundreds of kampung people standing in the courtyard outside to watch.

Court drama and dance started to influence the style of perform- ance. The lesung was generally replaced by instruments of the game- Ian orchestra. While the style of dance for men remained simple and strong, with stiff arms and closed fists, that of female figures became more refined, in imitation of court dances, even though all female roles continued to be played by men. Performances became more structured, modelled after dance drama, and a separation was introduced between serious, heroic characters and comic roles. Very probably it was at this period that palace scenes employing more elaborate language were first introduced; however, ketoprak retained its naturalistic style of speech and gesture in contrast to the stylised movement and vocal delivery of court dance drama.

Numerous ketOprak greats of later years started performing in these aristocratic groups . Brothers Cokrojiyo and Sudjati , famous stars of rival troupes in the 1950s and early 1960s, began acting with the Mangkukusuman group. Their father, like his father before him, was a retainer in the Mangkukusuman house, a maker of coaches.

22 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

So Cokrojiyo, Sudjati and a third son, Pardi, joined the keto~r.ak acti- vities and went on to illustrious careers. By the 1970s, only Pardi lived on, performina the part of toothless clown with the Sapta Mandala troupe.

Seve~al of the old performers recalled their group being invited to perform for the reigning sultan and his family.? The Sultan had heard of this new thing called "ketoprak", and wanted to see for him- self what it was like. But it could only be staged in a side hall of the palace rather than the main dance pavilion, for ketoprak was consi- dered a lowly (rendah) form within the kraton and never performed by

palace dancers. 8

Cultivation of ketoprak by the nobiliry lasted for only a few

years. By 1930 or 1931 most of these groups had been disbanded. Elderly aristocrats suggested various explanations, such as the expense of rehearsals and boredom with the craze. Political factors may also

have had an influence. Ketoprak as a popular art form appears to have been influenced in the early 1920s by the ferment of political activiry

taking place in Central Java at that time (Shiraishi, 1990). Jaap Kunst writes, with particular reference to ketoprak in Solo , "politics took

possession of it ... unmistakably forcing the performances in a commu- nistic direction" (Kunst, 1973, vol 1: 288) . However, after attempted communist rebellions in 1926-7, Dutch colonial authorities crushed the political movement and in tensified surveillance of social and

cultural life. Fear of attracting adverse attention from the Dutch may well have influenced the aristocrats in ending their direct involvement

in ketoprak activiry.

Taking the Show on the Road

After the disbanding of ketoprak actlvlry in the noble houses, many performers joined commercial troupes, which performed intermittently in Yogyakarta and went on tour to other cities. Here was a major shift in the setting of performances, from outdoor locations or the pavilions

of royal houses to makeshift theatre buildings with proscenium stages, scenic backdrops and paying audiences. There was also contact with other theatre genres performed alongside ketoprak as neighbouring attractions at night fairs. The lifesryle of actors changed dramatically,

from settled kampung and village life, with its set routines, rules and responsibilities, to one of constant movement, living on the margins of sociery, with connotations of wild , immoral behaviour, in cramped

temporary quarters, ever dependent on the fortunes of the troupe.

Yogyakarta in the 197 0s 23

In its development into a commercial show, ketoprak took on

aspects of the model of Western theatre, adopted via the medium of Stamboel (from Istanbul, in reference to Stamboel 's core repertoire of Arabian Nights tales). This hybrid Malay, Middle Eastern and Euro- pean theatrical form had originated among the Eurasian communiry in Surabaya in 1890-91 and toured Java frequently in the last decade of the nineteenth century. After a spectacular first visit to Yogyakarta in 1892, three more very successful stays in the ciry soon followed (Cohen, 2006: 107-12, 155-6,235,280-1). By the 1920sand 1930s theoriginal Stamboel troupe had long since disbanded but offshoot groups conti- nued to emulate its sryle. In Yogyakarta these performances were popular

attractions at the yearly Sekaten festival and at night markets (Wijaya and Sutjipto, 1977: 40). Here ketoprak played alongside Stamboel as neighbouring shows. Many Stamboel stories were adopted into ketoprak _ Arabian nights tales such as Aladdin's Lamp, European classics like Romeo and Juliet- along with its staging techniques, scenic decor and costume sryle consisting ofloose satin pants, tunics, turbans and boleros. An elderly actress speaking in 1977 recalled, for example, that in the late 1920s the ketoprak group in which she was performing went on tour as part of a "package" of stage attractions owned by a Jewish entrepreneur, among which was also a Stamboel troupe. Her ketoprak group, Budi Langen Winodya, performed mainly Middle Eastern stories,

using Arabian-sryle costumes and European musical accompaniment using guitars, violins and drums. 9

The association with the exotic had at times a strategic dimen- sion. When ketoprak actors, as commoners, wished to stage historical

stories involving kings and princes of the still-reigning Mataram dynasry, palace authorities often forbade the use of traditional Javanese-sryle (kejawen) clothing, in particular court ceremonial dress. So Middle Eastern-sryle costumes, designated Mesiran (after Mesir, Egypt) had to be worn instead. 10 The costume issue connected with deeper political

tensions over the representation of Javanese history in ketoprak. Some older actors reported that in late colonial times the performance of stories of the kingdoms of Demak and Mataram was banned by the

authorities, ostensibly to avoid offending living relatives of historical figures but more likely for fear of allusion to the illegitimacy of the Dutch presence in Java. Ketoprak's negative political associations among government officials often meant that, in order get permission to per- form, troupes had to call their performances stamboel Jawa (Javanese stamboel) (Kunst, 1973: 288). As in the case of the Mesiran costumes,

24 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

the distance of the 'foreign' apparently served as a strategy to neutralise the threat of the familiar.

Not all attention to ketoprak by the colonial authorities was negative. In 1935 the troupe Krido Raharjo was appointed to present a weekly broadcast ofketoprak on the government radio station MAVRO (Maatschappelijke Vereeniging voor Radio Omroep). Presumably the popularity of the form made it appropriate for radio broadcast as a medium for both entertaining listeners and controlling the content of what was presented to them. The actors learned the performing skills and disciplines required by the new medium and knowledge of and interest in ketoprak was extended to new audiences. The results were far-reaching. An officially sanctioned, government-supported radio ketoprak group has continued to operate through all the subsequent shifts of Indonesian history. After Independence, the ketoprak group of the Yogyakarta station of RRI (Radio Republik Indonesia, Radio of the Republic of Indonesia) became a revered institution, the pinnacle of skill and artistry in performance. What the group also represented, through its institutionalised status, was conservatism, official connection and support for the status quo. During the 1950s and 1960s this was expressed in political difference from more radical, leftist groups and later in resistance to the innovations of style being introduced into the ketoprak world. The troupe has continued its weekly broadcasts and occasional live performances until today, albeit much reduced in size and influence in these transformed times.

POLITICAL MOBILISATION

Duting the Japanese Occupation, ketoprak activity reportedly declined drastically under the harsh conditions (Wijaya and Sutjipto, 1977: 41). After the occupation ended, during the war of independence against the returning Dutch, many ketoprak actors joined the troupe Sandiwara Rakyat (People's Theatre) formed by the Department of Information of the fledgling Republic of Indonesia and a successor group created a few years later. Yogyakarta, as capital of the Republican territories, was an important site of nationalist-oriented entertainment. Shows were organised by the entertainment section of the army and attended by both soldiers and the general population. There were Javanese-language comedy and Indonesian-language plays concerning contemporary struggle performed by the Sandiwara Rakyat group. A Yogyakarta resident who watched these performances as a boy dates the beginning of his nationalist ideals from these stirring shows. II

Yogyakarta in the 1970s 25

After Independence, ketoprak in the 1950s and early 1960s, like other aspects ofIndonesian life, became deeply involved in party politics. Yet, for the reasons mentioned earlier, during the 1970s this involvement went unmentioned or was spoken of only obliquely. The basic facts were well known. Ketoprak in Yogya had been polarised between the PNI (Partai Nasional Indonesia, Indonesian Nationalist Party) and the PKI (Partai Komunis Indonesia, Indonesian Communist Party), each with its own ketoprak organisation and representative troupe. The PNI- affiliated Lembaga Ketoprak Nasional (LKN), the National Ketoprak Institute, maintained as its principal troupe Ketoprak Mataram, the troupe of the state radio station RRI . The Badan Koordinasi Ketoprak Indonesia (BAKOKSI), the All-Indonesia Body for Coordination of Ketoprak, was aligned, although not formally affiliated, with the PKI. Founded and represented by the star Yogyakarta professional troupe, Krido Mardi, it had member groups in most areas of Central and East Java. 12 The political parties staged ketoprak performances to celebrate special events and as entertainment at political rallies. Student groups affiliated with the parties also appeared at this time; the young actors would often invite a few professional performers to take the starring roles while playing the other parts themselves.

These were the main facts: how they were interpreted and explained and what impact political connections had on the nature of ketoprak as a form remain questions. In my experience of chatting with groups of actors, ketoprak in Old Order times never arose as a topic of discussion and I was wary of raising the issue in private conversations for fear of embarrassing or endangering performers; now and then, however, an actor would volunteer information on a particular point. An actor formerly affiliated with the PNI, now a member of the Sapta Mandala troupe, observed that the repertoire of ketoprak before 1965 was not much different from the present. Each period has its patrons or sponsors, whose interests are reflected in performances. Political ideology in the time of the parties was incorporated into ketoprak shows in about the same proportions as the promotion of jamu (patent medicine) in shows sponsored by jamu factories in the 1970s. He went on to cite the example of performances by communist-affiliated groups of the s~ory of Ki Ageng Mangir, a heroic village leader unjustly killed by the king of Mataram, in which Mangir's supporters shouted sloaans of the B . b

ansan Tani Indonesia, the communist-linked agricultural labourers' organisation.

On the other hand, the former director of the communist-linked Krido Mardi troupe and current director of Sapta Mandala had very

26 Javanese Perfo rmances on an Indonesian Stage

different recollections of performances of this lakon. This man described deeply moving scenes as Mangir travelled through the countryside to the Mataram court and his fatefu l encoumer with the king. Residems of villages along the way would plead with the revered leader to (Urn back, but he continued steadfastly on his doomed journey. In his account, a sense of the righteousness of Mangir's stance and the tragedy of his death had been built up gradually through the dramatic developmem of the performance, rather than a political message being crudely "tacked on" through political slogans. T here was gen eral agreement, however, that certain stories fitted the ideologies of particular political parties

and became their trademark lakon. Ki Ageng Mangir, with its damning p icture of oppress ive feudal authoriry and positive portrayal of a heroic village leader, was particularly popular with communist groups. T h e folk legend Roro Mendut, in which a noble official takes an unwilling village gi rl as his concubine and later kills h er commoner sweetheart ,

was likewise performed with anti-feudal, populist implications. Topeng Mas, a story with a Middle Eastern setting concerning treacherous military officers, was used to reflect negatively on the Indonesian mili-

tary, the main rivals of the Communist Parry. The Chinese lakon Sam Pek Eng Tay, in which a young girl disguises herself as a boy in order to be able to go to school, was performed by communist-linked groups

to convey a progressive message about women's rights and to counter negative stereorypes of the Chinese. The lakon Banteng Mataram, literally "Bull of Mataram", about a village youth who heroically defends his king and the kingdom of Mataram, was a favourite of troupes affili ated

with the PNI, whose parry symbol is a bull. At routine commercial performances, the aim was above all to

present a dramatic, engaging show and attract audiences . The Sapta

Mandala and former Krido Mardi director observed that many of the stories performed today by Sapta Mandala were lakon he h ad first learnt while with Krido Mardi. With minor adaptation they had been made

acceptable to a very different patron.

ORGANISATIONAL CONNECTIONS

Written sources, statements by bureaucrats and conversation with actors

and other Yogyakarta residents confirm that during the 1950s and 1960s, it was groups associa ted with the Communist Parry that had the most active ti es with the ketoprak world. Reviewing the organisa-

tion of theatre troupes in Indonesia in the early 1960s, James Brandon

Yogyakarta in the 197 0s 27

suggests that membership of the communist-linked ketop rak organisa- tion BAKOKSI was about four times greater than that of the LKN, the equivalent organisation associated with the PNI nationalist parry (Brandon, 1967 : 216) . He describes the aims of BAKOKSI , "a potent

organisation whose influence stems less from its size than its activist tactics", as those of recruiting members and insti lling government policy and Communist Parry ideology. Among its member groups, however, political awareness was patchy. For this reason, groups were offered "inducements" such as "free acting lessons, an invitation to join a local

theatre festival, assistance to an amateur group trying to set up its own theatre program" (Brandon, 1967: 215-18).

Wijaya and Sutjip to's text, in a spare, two-paragraph account of this period, describes BAKOKSI "as a child (anak kandung) of the people's cultural organisation LEKRA, under the protection of the Indon esian Communist Parry, the PKI , as an attempt to use ketoprak perfor-

mances as a tool for spreading parry propaganda by drawing ketoprak groups in the regions to join it" (Wijaya and Sucipto, 1977: 42). This

picture of the purposeful use of ketoprak by the Communist Parry and LEKRA for the spread of parry propaganda was also cited on occa- sion by government officials and other figures of authoriry during

the 1970s. They decried the involvement of political organisations in theatre activities during this period as detrimental to artistic standards and the welfare of actors.

During the 1970s, it was too difficult and dangerous to ac- cess the views of those who had been involved in communist- linked

ketoprak activiry, so as to compare with the accounts of New Order bureaucrats and James Brandon as an American scho lar wri ting at a time of intense Cold War anti-communism. However, in later years ,

I was able to speak at length to Hersri Setiawan, who was a regional head of LEKRA, the communist-associated cultural institute, during the 1950s, first in Yogyakarta and later Central Java. Hersri confirmed

the strong ideological commitment to socialism/communism of key ketoprak acto rs in Yogyakarta, who were members of the star troupe Krido Mardi, which formed the basis of BAKOKSI. He mentions Rukiman, Sudjati (Jati), Sasmito and Rukinah as active members of

LEKRA. These were all seasoned performers, veterans of the prewar group Warga Wandawa and of army-organised nationalist plays staged by the Sandiwara Rakyat group during the Revolution. Numerous Krido Mardi actors were members of the PKI parry, whi le Pak Jati

and Pak Sasmito also represented the PKI in the provincial parliament.

28 Javanese PerfOrmances on an Indonesian Stage

Similarly, the head of the RRI trOUp, the legendary Cokrojiyo, and a number of his colleagues were members of the PNI Nationalist Party.

The PKI maintained a party cell, a ftaksi in each organisation. The Krido Mardi fraksi head, Pak Rukiman, would consult both the head of the PKI and LEKRA before the troupe went on tour. The PKI provided information about the national political situation and the party's current ideological priorities: from LEKRA the actors learnt about local politics and cultural conditions in the areas to be visited. It was up to the troupe to draw on this information in devising a programme of performances for the tour. Actors often consulted Hersri,

who had been appointed as special advisor to BAKOKSI, regarding such matters as historical accuracy in srories and costuming, correct language and the kind of message appropriate to particular geographic areas .13

Hersri described his main mission in LEKRA not as spreading

political ideas but as fostering local cultural development, giving atten- tion to cultural forms which were not being valued - "to give people's art its rightful place, so it wouldn't be looked down on, treated like a pariah. " 14 The concern was a longstanding one. During his high school

years Hersri, a keen fan of ketoprak like his kampung neighbours, had bristled at the disdainful attitudes of elite classmates, who played hockey for recreation and saw ketoprak as a lowly pursuit of common kampung

folk. When, as an adult, he got the chance to support and promote ketoprak through his LEKRA work, he delighted in doing SO.1 5

In terms of ideological understanding and practical commitment

to advancement for the people, Hersi described the main performers in the Krido Mardi troupe as in no sense dictated to or manipulated by the party or LEKRA. Their ideas had developed from social experience

and contact with nationalist thinking, especially during the Revolution. Two actors he mentioned specifically in this regard were Pak Sasmito and his wife Bu Rukinah, whom I managed to meet briefly after their release from prison in the mid-1980s. In spite of their straightened

circumstances and the ill health which caused their deaths a few years later, they spoke glowingly about their experiences performing ketoprak in the 1950s and 1960s. Bu Rukinah expressed particular pride in the

ketoprak school run by Krido Mardi. Wherever the troupe went on tour, they would give lessons during the day to local young people in history and ideology and practicals skills, while at night staging routine

commercial performances. From the accounts of practitioners and the few written accounts

still extant, there emerges a picture of sincere ideological belief in

Yogyakarta in the 197 0s 29

socialist/communist ideas among keroprak activists such as the leading figures in Krido Mardi, combined with a commitment to the advance- ment of ketoprak as an art and the welfare of its players. A magazine, Ketoprak, published by BAKOKSI, which appeared briefly in 1959-60, includes articles about ketoprak history, language, music and organi- sational practice; expressions of concern at the lowly social reputation of the form; exhortations to practitioners ro work hard to improve artistic standards, recruit young players and keep up with changes in society; and protests at a crippling entertainment tax that caused great hardship to troupes (Ketoprak 1 st edition, 1960). Articles are written from the perspective of ketoprak practitioners, with the apparent aim of increasing their knowledge and skills, and encouraging and motivating them. Activities such as those described by Brandon as mere "induce- ments" to attract BAKOKSI members - the acting lessons, competi- tions and training school - seemed in fact ro have been highly valued. Presumably these performers saw communist ideology and LEKRA activities as providing support for ketoprak as the artistic expression of the ordinary people, the rakyat or wong cilik, and themselves as its practitioners.

PEOPLE'S ART AND ITS PATRONS

In some ways the connection between keroprak groups and political parties during the 195 Os and 1960s exemplified an ongoing pattern, the cultivation of this underclass art form by more prominent, influential social groups . From its origins as a simple rural entertainment form, to the Stamboel-influenced touring shows of the 1930s, to patriotic ren- derings of Javanese history tales in radio broadcasts and neighbourhood concerts after Independence, ketoprak retained its close identification with village and kampung folk and their culture. The label it acquired as ordinair (vulgar, common) in palace circles in the late 1920s, the disparagement expressed by elite school boys in the 1950s, and con- cern expressed by ketoprak practioners in the 1960s at the low social reputation of their art are all easily explained. Yet a key factor in the process of ketoprak's development had been the involvement of figures from outside the ketoprak world - the nobleman Wreksodiningrat in Solo, Yogyakarta aristocrats maintaining ketoprak groups in their grand homes in the 1920s, the business bosses of touring groups in the 1930s, nationalist groups and fledging government departments in the late 1940s and political parties in the 1950s and 1960s. These groups directed attention and resources towards ketoprak for their own

30 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

reasons. Ketoprak actors as 'little people' at the bottom of the Javanese class system became part of processes of transformation and promo- tion of their form through alliances with those of greater status, wealth and influence. Developments during the New Order period, when the government became extensively involved in ketoprak activities, can be

seen as an extension of this pattern. In one respect, however, what happened in the 1950s and early

1960s differed from the general pattern of elite cultivation of ketoprak. Official populist/nationalist political ideology during those years valorised the rakyat, the ordinary people, as the core of the nation. The communist movement promoted peasants and workers as a distinct class group, while LEKRA supported cultural forms defined as 'people's art'. Ketoprak performers and enthusiasts were thus encouraged to

identifY explicitly and positively as wong cilik and to stage performances embodying this class identity. In aesthetic terms there was no shaping by external models, such as that of court dance drama or hybrid, Malay/Middle Eastern Stamboel. Meanwhile, political indoctrination

promoting concepts such as class struggle and anti-colonialism/ imperialism, was vigorously pursued. Many performers, particularly in small rural troupes, would have had only a vague understanding of these

ideas. But the politically committed, like the leaders of Krido Mardi, joined enthusiastically in a political movement they saw as validating and promoting their own interests . And performers generally would have

experienced a strengthened sense of pride in their lower-class Javanese cultural identity, which arguably lingered on into New Order times, even after the momentous political shifts of the late 1960s.

AFTER THE STORM - MILITARY MASTERS

The alleged communist coup of September 1965 was followed by a

wave of reprisals against Communist Party members and sympathisers, which hit the ketoprak world hard. The association in public perception between ketoprak and Communism was very strong. As the military and local community groups mobilised in the months after the coup,

and the killings and disappearances began, many actors were rounded up and imprisoned or killed. In Yogyakarta the lead actor of Krido Mardi , Pak Jati, is known to have been killed, while many others were imprisoned. 16 All ketoprak activity, professional and amateur, ceased in

the weeks after the coup and did not resume for some years . In this traumatized atmosphere people did not dare to hold performances for

Yogyakarta in the 1970s 3 1

fear of violent disruption nor to attend public gatherings after dark. In Yogyakarta it was only in 1968 that two new troupes were formed: Budi Rahayu was established by a Chinese financier; Dahono Mataram was army-backed and used costumes and properties taken over from the former Krido Mardi troupe, with veteran performer and director Atmosuripto appointed as leader. After a year, however, Atmosuripto, reacting against criticism that he had benefited from the misfortune of his fellow performers, gave up the position and moved to Jakarta.

The New Order military now moved in as the new patron of

Javanese popular theatre. They took over the roles previously occupied by the political parties in relation to theatre, eliminating any lingering socialist/populist connections as they imposed their own ideological control. In East Java the focus was fudruk, the local form, which, like ketoprak in Central Java, had been strongly associated with the com- munist movement prior to 1965 (Peacock, 1968: 28). The Brawijaya regiment established six ludruk troupes, while the local military and

police force also founded groups. In Yogyakarta in September 1971 the Central Javanese Diponegoro regiment formally established a large, well-

equipped and supported ketoprak troupe Sapta Mandala, comprising actors from Budi Rahayu plus others invited to join. Meanwhile the Dahono Mataram group, now named Wringin Dahono, was supported by the military district command, Kodim 0374.

The founding of Sapta Mandala as a joint undertaking of the Yogyakarta military, government and arts establishments represented a major cultural initiative of the new regime. A well-known dancer, choreographer and cultural figure of aristocratic background, Bagong Kussudiarjo was appointed titular head while his younger brother, the

writer and journalist Handung Kussudiarsono, actively managed and led the troupe. Sapta Mandala's founders defined ketoprak as "people's art" (kesenian rakyat) in the sense of an art form appealing to the entire people, the society as a whole, rather than any particular group. This

description denied the notion of a specific identification between ketoprak and the underclass masses (Wijaya and Sujipto, 1977: 43). To satisfY the tastes of a diverse public, containing many high-ranking, educated people

as well as low status groups, the artistic standards and historical and cultural accuracy of performances had to be raised. Hence in addition to performing routinely, Sapta Mandala actors were given instruction

by experts in Javanese history, language, dress and etiquette as well as modern dramaturgy. They were frequently involved in performances for state events, in television broadcasts and in experiments with novel

32 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

h . h s written scripts and Indonesian-language dialogue, tec niques suc a requiring intensive rehearsal. . . . . .

They . were also provided wIth facilities not available to other One notable feature was transport between their homes in troupes . .. .

the city and the site of nighdy commercIal performances 111 vIllages outside of town. Where members of other troupes had to sleep on site in the theatre building, Sapta Mandala actors were driven back to town by panel van. This arrangement, allowing actors to remain with their families and maintain a normal domestic and work life, was much appreciated by Sapta Mandala members and envied by other groups. Its central aim, one actor reported later, was prevention of the sexual impropriety and other unruliness associated with touring troupes. Such

behaviour would undermine Sapta Mandala's image of respectability and social responsibility within the broader framework of the ordered, family-like New Order state. I ?

KETOPRAK TROUPES IN THE 19705 - SAPTA AND

THE REST

Sapta Mandala included a number oHormer members of the Krido Mardi troupe. As former political prisoners with communist connections, they were not permitted to work elsewhere but could perform with Sapta Mandala, which had military patrons as sponsors and guarantors. The

new troupe benefited from their expertise, while the actors, grateful for any work at all, had litde choice. The group included, as mentioned earlier, the former director of Krido Mardi, Pak Mujiharjo. Pak Muji

acted as director for routine, nighdy performances, while troupe leader Pak Handung took charge of preparation for special, experimental shows. Pak Rukiman, by then bent and shrivelled, played the roles of wise

old advisors, teachers and sages, and Pak Pardi appeared as a toothless clown. By day Pak Pardi and Pak Rukiman were also employed to do general labouring tasks in the large house compound and batik busi-

ness of the troupe's titular leader, Pak Bagong. Considering their lives a few years earlier, particularly that of Pak Rukiman, as Krido Mardi fraction head and active LEKRA member, this situation must have been very difficult. In a sense the actors' lives had come full circle. As children of servants to aristocratic families they had been introduced

to ketoprak, become prominent performers, toured the country, learnt about the world, and experienced some degree of social equality. Now, in old age, they were once more reduced to menial work in an aristocratic

Yogyakarta in the 19705 33

household, not as trusted retainers like their fathers but stained by

political disgrace. None of these actors lived long. By the early 1980s Pak Muji ,

Pak Rukiman and Pak Pardi had all died. Bu Rukinah, by then newly

released from prison, performed with Sapta Mandala briefly, but soon she toO, along with her husband Pak Sasmito, passed away. Bu Kadariyah, the famed prima donna of Krido Mardi, lived on, performing small roles in films and telemovies as well as ketoprak, surviving into the post- Suharto era. But for her generation as whole, the ketoprak world was no longer theirs. The baton had passed to another younger generation.

Among the younger members of Sa pta Mandala was a star husband- and-wife pair, Widayat and Marsidah. As university students in the

early 1960s they had begun performing ketoprak in groups linked with student political organisations. Such activities had brought into ketoprak people of more educated and affluent background than the norm for performers . Widayat had reputedly been very active in the nationalist, Sukarnoist student organisation GMNI (Gerakan Maha- siswa Nasional Indonesia - Indonesian National Student Movement).

Perhaps his impressive skills in onstage political debate were a legacy of that experience. By day Widayat had a position with the radio troupe

RRI and, after a time, moved to work exclusively with RRI' Marsidah remained with Sapta Mandala as the hugely popular, vivacious and loquacious female star of the troupe, while working by day with the

Department of Information, performing humorous skits conveying government information .

Two other members of the troupe were schoolteachers. One, Pak Wahono, related that he had become involved in ketoprak inad- vertendy, as a result of following a pretty actress, now his wife, from

performance to performance. Invited to join in acting, he displayed a fluent delivery and teacherly manner, which quickly earned him the name Pak Guru (teacher). After Pak Rukiman's death, Wahono took

over his position in the troupe, playing the parts of teacher, wise man and sage. The remaining members of Sapta Mandala came from the usual class background of ketoprak performers, often following on the occupation of their parents.

By the mid-1970s four other professional troupes besides Sapta Mandala were performing nighdy in and around Yogyakarta. One was based at the Taman Hiburan Rakyat, the People's Amusement Park, in

the centre of the city. The others, Wringin Dahono, Sinar Mataram and Wargo Mulyo, moved around, spending about two months at a time

34 Javanese Pelformances on an Indonesian Stage

in villages and towns in the Yogyakarta area. Their members inclu~ed some veteran performers who had survived the upheavals of the mld- 1960s and many younger people learning the ropes.

From the late 1960s onwards many amateur and semi-professional groups regrouped or were newly founded , often with encouragement from local government officials. Some groups held regular rehearsals in their kampung neighbourhoods and performed occasionally for events such as weddings. The two amateur radio stations, Reco Buntung and Armasebelas, each had associated ketoprak groups that m ade weeldy broadcasts. Government departments, including the Department of

Social Welfare and the Department of Education, and the local newspaper Kedaulatan Rakyat formed groups among their employees. Many more groups came together only in the months leading up to the major annual occasion for ketoprak performance, the community concert for 17 August, Independence Day. An accurate estimate of the total number is not possible; however, my own observations together

with information from Wijaya and Sucipto (1977) suggest around 200 groups in Yogyakarta and the surrounding villages. I S

New Order officials sought both to replace ketoprak's previous populist/socialist image with a more "progressive" one and to make use of its communicative power for their own ends. At the yearly ketoprak competitions, held first among subdistricts (kecamatan), then at district (kabupaten) level, government representatives spoke of ketoprak as a "mass media", very popular with the people and thus suited for commu- nication of educative information. 19 Participating troupes were instructed to insert in their performances 'messages' endorsing the state ideology

Pancasila, economic development, family planning, transmigration and Dwifongsi ABRJ, the role of the armed forces in civilian life. Seminars and workshops brought ordinary actors together with elite cultural experts and officials, who gave them lectures on improving "dialogue, language and etiquette" and "characterisation, acting, improvisation and stagecraft" to bring their performances into line with contemporary con-

ditions and "the tastes of the majority of society" (Wijaya and Sutjipto, 1977: 62).

OFFICIAL AGENDAS, POPULAR TASTES, LOCAL CONDITIONS

For the most part actors accepted these measures . They dutifully incorporated propaganda messages into competition performances and

Yogyakarta in the 19705 35

listened silently to lectures on aspects of theatrical production they had been practising routinely for decades. Some topics , particularly those involving correct Javanese-language expression, could give rise to lively debate. However, there was only one occasion when I heard actors publicly express resistance to a government-promoted model ofketoprak practice. A Department of Education and Culture workshop held in the Kulon Progo regency of Yogyakarta in 1978 highlighted the theme of outmoded, stereotyped characterisation requiring revision in accordance with modern concepts of dramatic realism and psychological development. The main figures in the well-known lakon Roro Mendut were pinpointed as examples and excerpts from the story were staged so as to present alternate character portrayals. The noble official Wiroguno, usually pictured as a doddering, vindictive geriatric, was portrayed here

as middle-aged but strong and active, in keeping with his position as a military commander. Roro Mendut, Wiroguno's intended concubine, and Pronocitro her commoner lover, were portrayed as less than innocent,

veterans of a number of previous love affairs. Moreover, Wiroguno killed Pronocitro in a fair fight rather than, as in routine performances, cruelly torturing his unarmed opponent before stabbing him.

Several members of the audience found this portrayal unacceptable.

In the session for commentary after the presentations, they rejected the idea that Roro Mendut, as a long established and well-known ketoprak lakon, could be presented in a way that deviated so fundamentally from its standard understanding. This was not just an experiment with char-

acter presentation but a radical reshaping of the lakon as a whole. On the grounds of continuity of cultural tradition and aesthetic form, they rejected this new interpretation. In fact their objection may have been

more political than aesthetic. As mentioned earlier, in pre-1965 times the Roro Mendut lakon had been performed so as to convey critique of feudal power and support of populist sentiment. Even in the N ew Order era that legacy lingered on. 20 Such considerations had arguably

influenced the authorities in their choice of story for character illustration and reinterpretation. They were attempting to undermine the populist resonance of the story by presenting the image of the aristocratic official

more positively, while tarnishing the innocence of village heroes. This was clearly how many actors perceived what was happening, but they could not confront their powerful masters by combating this interpreta- tion on political grounds. Instead they expressed resistance on the safer

grounds of aesthetics and tradition. The fact that they risked speaking up at all was perhaps a measure of their depth of feeling. Otherwise,

36 Javanese Performances on an Indonesian Stage

whatever grumbling comments that m ay have been made in response to such sessions took place away from the public arena, out of earshot

of the authorities. Such earnest modernizing instruction appeared to have a relatively

minor impact on routine ketoprak performances. Commercial groups, constantly on tour, their meagre livelihoods crucially dependent on at- tracting viewers, tailored their performances above all to perceptions of what audience wanted. Asked to specify the key elements of ketoprak, actors and directors in these troupes replied succinctly: perang, cinta, fucu (fighting, romance and humour), all of which make a perform- ance sell. Certainly these ingredients were much in evidence in their shows: long, acrobatic battle sequences, combining traditional Indo-

nesian martial arts moves with new techniques adopted from kungfu movies; intimate love scenes, with the handsome male lead serenading the glamorous, richly costumed female star to whoops of delight and encouragement from the crowd; extended sessions of verbal banter and

slapstick horseplay between pairs of odd-looking clowns, one hugely fat, the other skinny and short, or one toothless, the other bandy-legged.

Other means of attracting audiences were spectacle and novelty, supplied by elaborate stage effects and strategic choice of story. Flashing lights and exploding fireworks emphasized the violence of battle and heralded dramatic, unexpected events. Variety was provided by the stories chosen each night from ketoprak's vast repertoire of tales, set in specific

geographic locales with matching costume styles. Bare torsos, elaborate headdresses and jewelled accessories like those of court dance drama (wayang won~ characterised Javanese stories of the fourteenth-century Majapahit kingdom or earlier; contemporary formal Javanese dress was used for tales from more recent history; satin pants, fezes and turbans marked Middle Eastern stories; and pig tails and high-collared jackets Chinese stories. 21 Another strategy for sustaining audience interest was

to present a single story over a number of nights in serial form (seri), ending each night's action on a note of such tingling suspense that audience members were drawn back irresistibly the following night to see what would happen next.

Of a different nature was the kind of ketoprak performed in the open, on a temporarily erected public stage before a huge, densely packed crowd to mark a special occasion. This could be a group of professional

or semi-professional actors engaged by a family to celebrate an event such as a wedding or circumcision, or a professional troupe hired by a government body on the occasion of a state holiday. Community

Yogyakarta in the J 970s 37

events, particularly celebration of Independence Day, provided the opportunity for performances by local amateurs. The usual choice for such performances was a well-known Javanese historical or legendary tale, for which costumes were easy to find and which provided a large number of roles for the many people eager to take part. Such shows were expected to last most of the night, providing generous, extended entertainment. Tight dramatic structure was not a priority - as king and courtiers debated affairs of state, clowns carried out their banter

and slapstick turns, and sweethearts sang and pledged their love, hour

after hour after hour.

*** During the 1970s Yogyakarta had a sense of energy and expanding activity, to which ketoprak contributed significantly. Commercial per- formances were generally well attended and amateur activities thrived. Actors and directors of necessity adjusted to ketoprak's new situation under the patronage and surveillance of the New Order state. They attended 'upgradings' and seminars, participated in competitions and included propaganda messages about family planning and the dual role of the military amid the banter of the clowns at routine shows. Earlier times of political mobilization and populist ideals were not

forgotten . Among ketoprak fans as well as actors, performances by the great pre-1965 troupe Krido Mardi remained a vivid memory. "They were the best ever," one of my village neighbours confided, "the groups now are nowhere near as good." The star performers of Krido

Mardi, like others with perceived communist connections, lived lives of ongoing stigma and hardship. III health, poverty and the burden of constant humiliation probably combined in causing their early deaths.

For actors as a whole, the fact that ketoprak had at last revived after its cessation in the traumatic post-1965 years, giving them the chance to work again, was all-important. To maintain their jobs they had little

choice but to go along with what troupe regulations and government officials required. Most were underclass 'little people' , like those who had performed ketoprak from the beginning, whose social experience was one of constant dependence on employers and patrons. Some

may have mistrusted their military masters and resented the superior comments of aristocratic cultural officials, but they would hardly have expected the freedom to express independent political views, nor dared

to resist the ideological system imposed by powerful patrons.

38 Javanese Pelformances on an Indonesian Stage

Performances staged routinely as commercial shows and for com- munity entertainment continued to follow established patterns, reflecting the social and theatrical influences that had shaped ketoprak's develop- ment and giving expression to the experiences and attitudes of actors and viewers. Yet these familiar shows also contained novel elements, suggesting the responses of ordinary citizens to their changing social environment. To see how this process worked, and how reactions to new influences blended with ongoing social reference, it is necessary to look more closely at the way performances were constructed. The

next chapter shows how individual stories were played out through a framework of stage conventions characteristic of ketoprak as a theatre form and suggests how those conventions reflected aspects of the world

beyond the stage.

2

Theatre Conventions and Social Meanings

At the upgradings , seminars and competitions of the 1970s, defining the main features of ketoprak form was an issue of some contention. 'Progressive' bureaucrats and educationalists promoted their vision of

ketoprak as modern drama, characterised by linear plots and psycho- logical realism, while experts in traditional music and classical dance applied aesthetic concepts from older art forms. Active practitioners of

ketoprak explicitly denied any fixed body of dramatic rules like those governing other forms of Javanese theatre such as wayang and classical dance, which are marked by stylised patterns of speech and characteri- sation (pathokan). Instead, they described ketoprak as 'natural' (wajar) .

Its speech style was seen as direct and straightforward, as opposed to the elaborate language of wayang, its reference ' realistic' (reaListis) rather than symbolic. I Its very lack of fixed form demanded considerable skill

from actors, who could not simply follow fixed patterns but had to be capable of continuous improvisation.

Such comments are highly revealing of ketoprak's self-image and

the way it was shaped by influences from various directions. Ketoprak as a Yogyakarta-based form was identified with the hegemonic image ofYogyakarta culture as Lugu, meaning 'straightforward' or 'unaffected' , as opposed to the showier, sophisticated cultural style of the rival court

city of Solo. By distancing ketoprak from the intricate patterns of court art and asserting its directness and spontaneity, the actors may have been asserting a pride in the plain strength of the 'little man', reflecting

the populist, socialist ideology that had previously been strong among ketoprak troupes then. Talk of realism and spontaneity was reinforced with statements about ketoprak's reference to actual historical events,

39

294

sinetron

slametan

stamboel

sumpah palapa

tayuban

teater

TIM warok wayang kulitlwayang wayang wong

wong cilik

GLossary

mOVIe produced for television, usually in

serialised form

ritual gathering marking sign ificant events

in family and communi ty life

hybrid Malay/Middle Eastern/European

theatre form very popular in Indonesia in

late 19th and early 20th centuries

oath supposedly sworn by Gajah Mada,

prime minister of the fourteenth- to

fifteenth-century kingdom of Majapahit,

that he would not eat the palapa fruit

until the whole of the Malay-Indonesian

archipelago was unified

dance party in which male guests dance

with female professional dancer/singer

theatre derived from the model of European

drama, using written script

Taman Ismail Marzuki, Jakarta Arts Centre

rural strong man

shadow puppet theatre

dance drama with the same repertoire and

characters as wayang kulit

common er, lower-class/underclass person.

Notes

Introduction

3

The term wong cilik or ' little people', 'commoners' historically indicated the lower end of a divide between ordinary people and the aristocracy (priyayi). In recent times, occupation and place of residence, along with income, have been the chief markers of membership of this social gro up - small farmers and farm labourers, urban workers , street-stall owners and pedicab drivers, for example, regard themselves and are thought of by others as wong cilik. Yet no absolute divide separates 'traditional/indigenous' from 'modern/ Western' performance in this regard. Popularised variants of traditional court dance drama and other regional performance are staged in public theatres as commercial entertainment; modern, Indonesian-language plays or modern music/dance presentations often celebrate occasions (religious events, school an niversaries, national days) organised by a specific social group. Goenawan Mohamad observed several decades ago that the audiences for modern performing arts, like those of traditional, regional theatre genres, are not composed of an anonymous 'general public' but very distinct social group ings with a particular interest in the form in question (Goenawan Mohamad, 1980). "Cultures," writes Victor Turner "are better compared through their rituals, theaters, tales, ballads, epics, operas than through their habits. For the former are the ways in which they try to articulate their meanings ... " (Turner, personal communication, as quoted by Edward Bruner, 1986: 13). Ward Keeler's art icle in this vo lume, "Wayang Kulit in the Political Margin", argues persuasively against attempts to apply to wayang misplaced expectations of political cri tique and activism. However, involvement of a diffuse kind in the ebb and flow of local "politics" broadly understood, is clearly a longstanding aspect of wayang's operation.

Chapter 1

See Sullivan (1992: 20-30) and Setiawan (1998: 59-65) for discussion of the complexities of the term kampung, including its frequently quoted

295

296

2

3

6

Notes to pp. 19-22

but not always accurare des ignation as a rural-sryle setrlemenr wirhin an urban area.

Theodor Pigeaud cires ketoprak as one of a number of new dramatic forms rhar began ro appear in Javanese villages rowards the end of rhe ninereen th cenrury. Presumably changes in rural life - greater geographical and social mobiliry and wider cultural exposure - stimulated a process whereby certain fam ili ar, orally transmitted folktales were converted into dramaric shows. Pigeaud lamenrs rhe facr that as keroprak and ludruk developed inro fully fledged srage enrertainmenrs, other new shows faded inro minor significance (Pigeaud, 1938: 63). The rext in question, Wijaya and Surjipro (1977), written by officials of the Departmenr of Educarion and Culture, was part of a wider project of documenration, analysis and 'upgrading' of keroprak undertaken by New Order bureaucrats, beginning in the early 1970s. It made reference ro a documenrary film of rhe hisrory of keroprak recenrly made by the Departmenr of Education and Culture and summarized the findings

of a 1974 seminar reviewing the hisrory and other aspects of the form. The book, although part of this process, nevertheless portrays warmly and posirively the populist character of keroprak in its original, village form - its sponraneiry, humour and lively dialogue in low level ngoko Javanese. The first named author, Wijaya, was a great ketoprak enrhusiast and experienced practitioner, to whom I am indebted for many lively, expansive talks.

Probosuprodjo reported that hi s sisters made him a beautiful satin costume for the role, mainly so that they would be allowed to watch the show, for it was normally nor considered proper for young girls to attend performances.

The figures mentioned above, Probosoeprodjo and Atmosuripto, as sons of an official of the Jogonegaraan house, could be regarded as minor aristocrats.

Mangkukusuman played the wayang stories Sumbadra Larung, Pergiwa, Pergiwati and Kangsa Adu Jago; Tejakusuman performed orher wayang lakon, including Cipta Ning; Ngadikusuman specialised in the legend of D amar Wulan, ser in the fourteenrh-cenrury Javanese empire of M ajapahit; and Suryodiningratan performed stories with an Arabian background. Pak Pardi described with pride the grand gamelan acco mpanimenr of

performances by the Mangkukusuman group, augmenred by special palace instrumenrs such as trumpets. This and the skill of the dancers, most of whom were the prince's sons, distinguished the group from those of the other houses and led ro an invitation to perform ar the Ambarrukmo summer palace for Sui ran Hamengkubuwana VIII.

I asked Pak Kusumobroto of the Tejadiningrat royal house, who gave this accounr of palace practice, what rendah implied, if it meant kasar (rough

10

11

12

13

14

15

Notes to pp. 23-28 297

and uncivilised)? No, not kasal', he replied, ordinair (vu lgar, common). The preceding accounr is based on talks with Pak Kusumobroto and Tejadingrar ar the Tejakusuman complex in May 1978, also with Pak Probosoeprodjo at his office and Pak Pardi backstage at Sapta Mandala performances in rhe same year. Ibu Sugiyem recalled that as a young teenager, she was permitted by her parenrs to join Budi Langen Winodya along with two girlfriends, only because it was all-female. When the rroupe wenr on rour, her brorher would visit each location to check thar accommodation arrangemenrs were appropriarely secure and circumspect. By 1977 Ibu Sugiyem was a widow in her late sixties, a venerable and highly respected member of the state radio group RRI . As she arrived at the RRI studios by becak (pedicab), immaculately attired in traditional Javanese dress, accompanied by a young niece for company, ir seemed clear her parenrs' efforts had been rewarded. Through a long and highly successful career in the tumultuous world of keroprak performance, she had remained every inch a lady. Wijaya and Sutjipro (I977: 25) cire as an example the occasion of a presentation of the lakon Roro Mendut at the Kepatihan aristocratic residence in 1936. Hersri remembers in particular the acror Sasmito in heroic roles such as the nationalist leader Bung Tomo in Pertempuran Surabaya (The Struggle for Surabaya) about the November 1945 batrle to defend the ciry from conquest by British allied forces (Hersri Setiawan, personal communica- tion, 1987) . James Brandon cires BAKOKSI's reported membership figures in 1963-64 as 40 professional troupes and 760 amareur groups (Brandon, 1967: 215). Anorher area in which Hersri found himself providing support to ketoprak troupes concerned their monerary obligarions ro rhe Communisr Parry. The Parry demanded contriburions from irs members, ofren a large proportion of their earnings. Educared, inrellectual members could bargain wirh officials, bur rradirional artisrs, ketoprak players and puppereers, rhe ' lirtle people' insrilled wirh awe for aurhoriry, did not dare to prorest. When Hersri visired touring troupes, he often became rhe inrermediary in dealing wirh local represenrarives of rhe Parry, negoriaring how much rhe troupe would have ro pay. Saya ingin mendudukkan kesenian rakyat pada tempatnya .. .. Jangan itu dianggap kelas kambing, dianaktirikan (Hersri Seriawan, personal com- munication, 1987). Hersri recounrs, moreover, that the disdain expressed towards ketoprak by the elite was less than genuine. He rode his bike one night around the streets where his rich class mates lived with their families in big gedongan houses and heard their radios tuned to ketoprak. He concluded that these people were hypocrites, disparaging in public a people's enrertainmenr they actually enjoyed, so as ro keep upa fac;:ade of cultural superioriry.

298 Notes to pp. 30--40

16

17

18

19

20

2 1

T hose imprisoned incl uded Pak Sasmi to and Bu Rukiah, Pak Rukiman, Pak Pardi and Ibu Kadariyah .

A central principle of N ew O rder politi cal ph ilosophy was azas kekeluargaan (family principle), the no tion of the state as a fa m ily. State po li cy decreed

that "the fam ily ho usehold is the smallest unit of a nation" and that the

nation m ust be bu ilt up of st rong fa milies (Suryakus uma 2004: 194) . To encourage stable m onogamous marriage, regulatio ns were int roduced

curbing polygam y and divorce among civil servants, w h ile the ideal of the

two-child nuclear family was relentlessly promoted through birth COntrol propaganda.

W ijaya and Sucip to (1 977: 43) cite a figure of 99 for th ree of the five ~is tricts (kabupaten) of the Yogyakarta area in 1974, no t including the city Itself, and speculate that the to tal fi gure would have been much higher.

In 1977 the bupati of Bantul spoke in this vein, using the English term,

in his speech at th e finals of the Bantul district ketoprak competition that I attended.

For example, the story was performed with an explicitly populist , anti-

authority m essage at a PD I electoral rally that I attended in 197 1 (H atley, 1988: 18).

Stories from the M ajapah it era and earlier, termed gedhog, involved bare to rsos, full o r knee-length pants d raped w ith batik clo ths (kain) , anklets, bracelets and elaborate headdresses. Kejawen lako n (from jawa, 'Javanese') set in the later M ataram dynasty employed batik skirts, high-collared

jackets (surjan) and moulded batik headdresses (blangkon) for men; batik skirts and blo uses (kebaya) o r strapless bodices (kemben) fo r wo men. M esiran style (from Mesir, ' Egypt'), wi th long satin trousers for both men and women , boleros, tunics, cloaks and turbans, was used for Middle Eastern tales.

Chapter 2

What this description indicates is ketoprak participants' ow n perception

of their fo rm com pared with o ther theatre gen res. O utside observers,

particularly those unfamiliar with Javanese theatre conventions, are likely

to perceive ketoprak acting as highly stylised rather than ' realistic' .

T hree o r four of the total of about ten scenes are circled to indicate that

they sh ould be introduced by a musical composition (gendhing) , suggestive of a specific atmosphere, in place of the all-purpose acco mpaniment used

elsewhere. The ch oice of appropriate m usical exp ress ion for the designated

ambience is left to the gamelan leader. When no particular designation is given , the gamelan plays a standard pattern such as srepegan and the loud repetitious percussive piece sampak in the fight scenes.

J

9

10

I I

12

Notes to pp. 41- 69 299

In p ractice only b ig commercial troupes have the resources to fit O ut their actors in th is way, amateur groups having to settle fo r much more modest costuming, but all agree on the principle. The h ierarch ical speech levels of Javanese language are all-impo rtant in exp ressing and acknowledging status in social interaction . For a masterful descriptio n of these p rocesses at work, see Keeler (1 987: 28- 38). Some pairs fi ght with wooden poles, in a style said to have come into ketoprak through the participation of C hinese actors and entrepreneurs in the 1920s; o thers use weapons such as choppers or a m etal ball on a chain , whirled menacingly at one's opponen t. In professional troupes, many of the young actors who perform the parts of soldiers (bala) spend their days practising acrobatic routines and, w hen they can affo rd it, attending silat and kungfu movies in o rder to pick up new tricks. Amateurs, m eanwhile, are said to be sometimes so eager to play the parts of bala in privately sponsored kampung and village shows that they pay their own expenses - costume hi re, refreshments, transport - instead of receiving a payment fo r their services. A well-known Yogyakarta acto r, impress ively eloquent and charm ing onstage b ur slight and boyish , ideally suited fo r the part of Arjuna o r Panji in classical dance d rama, was explicitly criticised by his fe llow players for

h is lack of fighting skill and the fac t that jisiknya kurang (he is physically undersized) .

T he Siswo Budoyo troupe, for example, had a very famous pair of clowns - one slight, sprightly and rubber-faced w ith a C haplinesque moustache; the o ther ro tund, moon-faced and more stolid. T he formulaic greetings exchanged at the commencement of a ketoprak palace scene, fo r example, d raw on stock phrases from court aud iences in

wayang kulit. G iving a glimpse into ordinary ci tizens' experience of such m obilisation ,

a kampung neighbour described the early 1960s as jaman rapat (the era of meetings). In Umar Kayam's sh ort story Bawuk, set in the 1960s, non-Javanese students are deliberately cast as kings and nobles in Javanese plays . T he incongrui ty and awkwardness of their speech and dem eanour in these roles sati rises the figures they are representing (Kayam , 1975). At a performance I saw in the 1970s the clown servants ridiculed thei r master mo re overtly. W hen the talented but arrogant and unpopular leader

of the group entered the stage, in glittering brocade jacket , multiple jewelled necklaces and bright pink lipstick, one clown commented to the o ther, " Priyayi kudu diajeni". This statem ent wo uld normally be understood as "priyayis must be respected". Bur choosing the al ternate meanin g of ajeni, "to value, give a p rice to", the servants proceeded to assess their m aster's

mo netary worth , walking around him, finge ring h is fin ery and suggesting