Smile of Angkor Show
Living in Siem Reap, Cambodia, it is impossible not to feel a connection to the past.
I want to say a 'deep connection', but its not a matter of depth, its a matter of time.
There is no beginning or ending, so time is an irrelevance.
I could be here in this pent house suite in the palaces of Angkor, high above the city, and while all the modern amenities surrounding me would not be there, the feeling would be the same.
It does not take much imagination to erase the layers of many lifetimes come and gone.
The Smile of Angkor theatre show comprehends this feeling. The Khmer dancers, you can observe on their faces and in their movements, are aware that they are dancing history. The story itself is one of the history of Angkor, but the story is only one aspect of this cultural showcase. The talking Bayon head at the beginning may seem a little cheesy, but it sets the scene of what is a magnificent way to transport the audience to another moment in space.
The first act, of raising Angkor Wat from the depths of the architects' imaginations, captures the exultation of the men who built it. And once it was accomplished, what a wholesome and overflowing feeling that must have been. Then the war comes, fire and flames whipping around the stage, and the pride and dignity of the warriors comes with the knowledge that they are fighting for a place they consider even more holy because their countrymen built it with their bare hands.
The Apsaras, the female dancers, come onto the stage and change the atmosphere from one of masculine pride to one of feminine divinity. Their slow movements so present and deliberate that the viewer is mesmerised by a simple flex of one finger. The purposeful footsteps, the graceful motion of the head, the gaze fixed on something that no one else in the room can see. They are goddesses stood before us.
Apsara dance dates from the beginning of Angkor, when the dancers entranced the court of the kings. They lived at the palace and would perform at the king's pleasure, with grace and exquisite hand gestures. They were all beautiful girls, thought to be supernatural beings. Watching them dance, it is easy to see why. I felt I was witnessing something sacred, that was perhaps not meant to be viewed by the eyes of mere mortals. It was almost too bright to look at.
Images of the Apsara adorn the walls of Angkor, and the costumes that were created for Smile of Angkor are modelled on these depictions. The traditional costumes were made of luxurious silk, and this highly skilled craft continues in Cambodia today. Mulberry berries must grow, silkworms must be nurtured, the delicate thread carefully woven, and the material naturally dyed, in order to fabricate every outfit that graces that stage.
One of the most magnificent costumes is that of the peacock dancers. The peacock dance comes from the Kola ethnic group in Pailin region in the West of Cambodia. The story is told of a magic peacock who goes to preach to the king. The spirited dance celebrates the bird as a symbol of happiness and prosperity. That the tail feathers are held high suggests a courting scene, as the peacock shows his true colours to the peahen.
The scene of the Churning of the Sea of Milk is a most spectacular and excellently choreographed simulation of a famous legend. Gods and demons battle for hundreds of years, churning the sea and bringing to light Amrita, the elixir of life. There is an unbelievable energy of the performance: the visuals of fairies rising from the water in their divine beauty; the bodies flying through the air; and the snake-pole swinging around dramatically. Those men are to be applauded for their stamina and strength!
As the gods finally indulge in their life-giving reward, the stage lighting shines gold upon them. The visual effect is of a place beyond the world, beyond anything us humans are capable of. I felt this too with one of the closing scenes of the giant Bayon head, his serene face smiling upon the world. As his head begins to turn, rows of gods with golden headdresses in silent postures are revealed. The seated dance they enact instils in me an emotion of stillness and peace. We are all watched over by these beings, at all times. Whether we can detect them or not, they will always be there.
The dazzling show ends with the repetition of the word 'fraternally', while the troupe parades around with flags of various countries. The message is a simple one: no matter who you are, where you come from, or which day you entered this world, we are all fraternal. One brotherhood: a timeless, placeless union to which all of us belong.
The real world slowly comes back to me, and I start to wonder about all the other people in the room. Those who cheered loudly at the acrobat spinning around on her elevated hoop, and her unbelievable flexibility in moving candles around on her hands and feet. Yes, these were the wow moments, but where is the Khmer in that? Who noticed that subtle emotion in the Apsaras' eyes? Or the careful plucking and concentrated mind of the woman playing her traditional instrument? This is the spirit that caught me, that lingers in my memory.
The Smile of Angkor theatre show comprehends this feeling. The Khmer dancers, you can observe on their faces and in their movements, are aware that they are dancing history. The story itself is one of the history of Angkor, but the story is only one aspect of this cultural showcase. The talking Bayon head at the beginning may seem a little cheesy, but it sets the scene of what is a magnificent way to transport the audience to another moment in space.
The first act, of raising Angkor Wat from the depths of the architects' imaginations, captures the exultation of the men who built it. And once it was accomplished, what a wholesome and overflowing feeling that must have been. Then the war comes, fire and flames whipping around the stage, and the pride and dignity of the warriors comes with the knowledge that they are fighting for a place they consider even more holy because their countrymen built it with their bare hands.
The Apsaras, the female dancers, come onto the stage and change the atmosphere from one of masculine pride to one of feminine divinity. Their slow movements so present and deliberate that the viewer is mesmerised by a simple flex of one finger. The purposeful footsteps, the graceful motion of the head, the gaze fixed on something that no one else in the room can see. They are goddesses stood before us.
Apsara dance dates from the beginning of Angkor, when the dancers entranced the court of the kings. They lived at the palace and would perform at the king's pleasure, with grace and exquisite hand gestures. They were all beautiful girls, thought to be supernatural beings. Watching them dance, it is easy to see why. I felt I was witnessing something sacred, that was perhaps not meant to be viewed by the eyes of mere mortals. It was almost too bright to look at.
Images of the Apsara adorn the walls of Angkor, and the costumes that were created for Smile of Angkor are modelled on these depictions. The traditional costumes were made of luxurious silk, and this highly skilled craft continues in Cambodia today. Mulberry berries must grow, silkworms must be nurtured, the delicate thread carefully woven, and the material naturally dyed, in order to fabricate every outfit that graces that stage.
One of the most magnificent costumes is that of the peacock dancers. The peacock dance comes from the Kola ethnic group in Pailin region in the West of Cambodia. The story is told of a magic peacock who goes to preach to the king. The spirited dance celebrates the bird as a symbol of happiness and prosperity. That the tail feathers are held high suggests a courting scene, as the peacock shows his true colours to the peahen.
The scene of the Churning of the Sea of Milk is a most spectacular and excellently choreographed simulation of a famous legend. Gods and demons battle for hundreds of years, churning the sea and bringing to light Amrita, the elixir of life. There is an unbelievable energy of the performance: the visuals of fairies rising from the water in their divine beauty; the bodies flying through the air; and the snake-pole swinging around dramatically. Those men are to be applauded for their stamina and strength!
As the gods finally indulge in their life-giving reward, the stage lighting shines gold upon them. The visual effect is of a place beyond the world, beyond anything us humans are capable of. I felt this too with one of the closing scenes of the giant Bayon head, his serene face smiling upon the world. As his head begins to turn, rows of gods with golden headdresses in silent postures are revealed. The seated dance they enact instils in me an emotion of stillness and peace. We are all watched over by these beings, at all times. Whether we can detect them or not, they will always be there.
The dazzling show ends with the repetition of the word 'fraternally', while the troupe parades around with flags of various countries. The message is a simple one: no matter who you are, where you come from, or which day you entered this world, we are all fraternal. One brotherhood: a timeless, placeless union to which all of us belong.
The real world slowly comes back to me, and I start to wonder about all the other people in the room. Those who cheered loudly at the acrobat spinning around on her elevated hoop, and her unbelievable flexibility in moving candles around on her hands and feet. Yes, these were the wow moments, but where is the Khmer in that? Who noticed that subtle emotion in the Apsaras' eyes? Or the careful plucking and concentrated mind of the woman playing her traditional instrument? This is the spirit that caught me, that lingers in my memory.