Johnny studied Kerala in his Indian Studies class at school and told us there were three things he just had to see: Kathakali, Kalarippayat and Theyyam. The kids actually made up a chant with those three words and sang it on long drives. (KA-thakali, KA-thakali, Theeeeeeyyy-YAM, Kalarippa-YAT, repeated 9,000 times) All three are art forms derived from religious ritual. Kathakali (and here) is a form of musical theater, Kalarippayat (and here) is a martial art, and Theyyam is a ritual dance.
Johnny was so excited to get to the Kathakali performance on our first night in Kochi that he drove the rest of us nuts with his worry that we'd be late or somehow miss it. He didn't want to walk by the Chinese fishing nets because we might miss the Kathakali. He made everyone hurry up and eat so we wouldn't miss the Kathakali. He didn't want to see any of the dumb stuff at the beach in front of the hotel because we MIGHT MISS THE KATHAKALI!!!
Don't worry. We didn't miss the Kathakali.
Kathakali is usually performed over six or more hours in the courtyards at Hindu temples, timed to end at dawn. We opted for the two and a half-hour demonstration meant for tourists. We love getting all authentic and going native and all that stuff, but ... six hours ... ends at dawn.
Here are the kids outside the Kerala Kathakali Centre. Written on Johnny's face: "Quit with the camera. We're going to miss the Kathakali."
The entire first hour was spent watching the performers put on their make-up. That might sound beyond boring, but it was actually one of the most fascinating hours I've spent in a theater. The performers transform into outlandish representations of their characters, which are usually from Hindu mythology. The show we saw was a truncated version of the Kiratarjuniya story from the Mahabharata. (There's a simple version of the story here.) The face color symbolizes attributes of the characters, so you can guess which actor is going to play which part based on their face paint. Johnny and I had a great time deciphering some of the symbolism in the make-up and guessing how different costumes or face pieces were going to be used.
This performer is creating face pieces using paper. He later glued the pieces to the actors' faces.
Since Kathakali is a religious art form, there were prayers said throughout the actors' preparation period and oil lamps burning before idols. This one is Nataraja, or the Dancing Shiva.
This picture was taken from the balcony over the stage. The paints are all natural dyes that the actors grind down themselves and mix with oil.
I love this picture of Evie watching from the foot of the stage.
All of the actors were men, including the actor who played the role of Parvati, Shiva's wife. He's the one with the green face.
When the actors were finished with their make-up, the musicians gave a short demonstration of their instruments. It was all percussion, with drums and finger cymbals in the lead. LOUD.
The play is narrated by a soloist, who sings the story. None of the actors speak at all during the play. I was so impressed with the narrator. He had a fantastic voice and a lot of stamina. Here he's also playing a small accordion-like instrument.
They also did a demonstration of some of the symbolic dance moves used in Kathakali. The story is told primarily through gesture, including facial expression, and it was incredible to see what kind of movements represented different themes. The man who did the demonstration was outstanding. His movements were crisp and artistic. It wasn't surprising at all to discover later that he played the role of Shiva in his divine form.
After the demonstrations, it was on to the show. The costumes, like the make-up, are symbolic ... and enormous. Here's Arjuna boasting about his amazing bow and arrow skillz.
Take a look at his red eyes. The performers achieve that look by sticking seeds in their eyes for a few minutes before coming out on stage. That's what I call method acting ...
Here come Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati in disguise as a forest-dwelling hunter and his wife.
Shiva and Arjuna get into a fight over whose arrow actually kills a wild boar (a demon in disguise) charging into their path. Parvati tries to break it up, but eventually just has to roll her eyes and step aside as the men fight over bragging rights.
In the end, Arjuna realizes why he can't conquer this guy. He must be a god, as indeed he is. Shiva is so impressed by Arjuna's bravery, though, that he blesses him and awards him with a powerful, divine weapon that comes in handy later in the Mahabharata.
I was a little surprised that, despite all the religious symbolism and ritual, there was a lot of humor thrown into the play and even some references to modern life. At one point in their battle, Shiva knocks Arjuna unconscious. Shiva drops to his knees and starts listening for Arjuna's heartbeat, using one of the long tassels on his costume as a makeshift stethoscope. Parvati's role as the long-suffering wife was pretty funny, too.
After the performance, Johnny gave some of the facial expressions a try ...
... and Samuel inspected the kolams ...
It was a great evening, and Johnny slept well knowing that he could cross off one of his three must-sees.
Coming up: We peek into a few old spice warehouses ...
Johnny was so excited to get to the Kathakali performance on our first night in Kochi that he drove the rest of us nuts with his worry that we'd be late or somehow miss it. He didn't want to walk by the Chinese fishing nets because we might miss the Kathakali. He made everyone hurry up and eat so we wouldn't miss the Kathakali. He didn't want to see any of the dumb stuff at the beach in front of the hotel because we MIGHT MISS THE KATHAKALI!!!
Don't worry. We didn't miss the Kathakali.
Kathakali is usually performed over six or more hours in the courtyards at Hindu temples, timed to end at dawn. We opted for the two and a half-hour demonstration meant for tourists. We love getting all authentic and going native and all that stuff, but ... six hours ... ends at dawn.
Here are the kids outside the Kerala Kathakali Centre. Written on Johnny's face: "Quit with the camera. We're going to miss the Kathakali."
The entire first hour was spent watching the performers put on their make-up. That might sound beyond boring, but it was actually one of the most fascinating hours I've spent in a theater. The performers transform into outlandish representations of their characters, which are usually from Hindu mythology. The show we saw was a truncated version of the Kiratarjuniya story from the Mahabharata. (There's a simple version of the story here.) The face color symbolizes attributes of the characters, so you can guess which actor is going to play which part based on their face paint. Johnny and I had a great time deciphering some of the symbolism in the make-up and guessing how different costumes or face pieces were going to be used.
This performer is creating face pieces using paper. He later glued the pieces to the actors' faces.
Since Kathakali is a religious art form, there were prayers said throughout the actors' preparation period and oil lamps burning before idols. This one is Nataraja, or the Dancing Shiva.
This picture was taken from the balcony over the stage. The paints are all natural dyes that the actors grind down themselves and mix with oil.
I love this picture of Evie watching from the foot of the stage.
All of the actors were men, including the actor who played the role of Parvati, Shiva's wife. He's the one with the green face.
When the actors were finished with their make-up, the musicians gave a short demonstration of their instruments. It was all percussion, with drums and finger cymbals in the lead. LOUD.
The play is narrated by a soloist, who sings the story. None of the actors speak at all during the play. I was so impressed with the narrator. He had a fantastic voice and a lot of stamina. Here he's also playing a small accordion-like instrument.
They also did a demonstration of some of the symbolic dance moves used in Kathakali. The story is told primarily through gesture, including facial expression, and it was incredible to see what kind of movements represented different themes. The man who did the demonstration was outstanding. His movements were crisp and artistic. It wasn't surprising at all to discover later that he played the role of Shiva in his divine form.
After the demonstrations, it was on to the show. The costumes, like the make-up, are symbolic ... and enormous. Here's Arjuna boasting about his amazing bow and arrow skillz.
Take a look at his red eyes. The performers achieve that look by sticking seeds in their eyes for a few minutes before coming out on stage. That's what I call method acting ...
Here come Lord Shiva and Goddess Parvati in disguise as a forest-dwelling hunter and his wife.
Shiva and Arjuna get into a fight over whose arrow actually kills a wild boar (a demon in disguise) charging into their path. Parvati tries to break it up, but eventually just has to roll her eyes and step aside as the men fight over bragging rights.
In the end, Arjuna realizes why he can't conquer this guy. He must be a god, as indeed he is. Shiva is so impressed by Arjuna's bravery, though, that he blesses him and awards him with a powerful, divine weapon that comes in handy later in the Mahabharata.
I was a little surprised that, despite all the religious symbolism and ritual, there was a lot of humor thrown into the play and even some references to modern life. At one point in their battle, Shiva knocks Arjuna unconscious. Shiva drops to his knees and starts listening for Arjuna's heartbeat, using one of the long tassels on his costume as a makeshift stethoscope. Parvati's role as the long-suffering wife was pretty funny, too.
After the performance, Johnny gave some of the facial expressions a try ...
... and Samuel inspected the kolams ...
It was a great evening, and Johnny slept well knowing that he could cross off one of his three must-sees.
Coming up: We peek into a few old spice warehouses ...
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