A Delicate Balance Negotiating Isolation and Globalization in the Burmese Performing Arts Catherine Diamond

If you walk on and on, you get to your destination. If you question much, you get your information. If you do not sleep and idle, you preserve your life! (Maung Htin Aung 1959:87) So go the three lines of wisdom offered to the lazy student Maung Pauk Khaing in the well- known eponymous folk tale. A group of impoverished village youngsters, led by their teacher Daw Khin Thida, adapted the tale in 2007 in their first attempt to perform a play. From a well-to-do family that does not understand her philanthropic impulses, Khin Thida, an English teacher by profession, works at her free school in Insein, a suburb of Yangon (Rangoon) infamous for its prison. The shy students practiced first in Burmese for their village audience, and then in English for some foreign donors who were coming to visit the school. Khin Thida has also bought land in Bagan (Pagan) and is building a culture center there, hoping to attract the street children who currently pander to tourists at the site’s immense network of temples.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 I first met Khin Thida in 2005 at NICA (Networking and Initiatives for Culture and the Arts), an independent nonprofit arts center founded in 2003 and run by Singaporean/Malaysian artists Jay Koh and Chu Yuan. With the financial support of Dutch, Japanese, and Singaporean foundations, Koh and Chu, through NICA, offered exhibition space and work studios to local artists. NICA also hosted workshops and residencies for foreign artists, facilitating interaction between Burmese, Southeast Asian, and European artists. In 2005, NICA sponsored an international festival of conceptual and installation art called Borders: withIn withOut that featured 24 artists, many of whom presented works concerned with globalization. For example, in his piece Japanese artist Arai Shin-ichi bathed spectators’ feet in the different foodstuffs sent by the United States to postwar Japan, such as inferior grade flour and Coca-Cola. After describing the eventual “7-Elevenization” of his village, he stood on his head crying, “Viva Globalization!” Vasan Sitthiket of Thailand squatted and drew figures of cars, planes, mobile phones, and televisions in a mound of rice grains, saying that we can live without them. He then put on a black balaclava and stood up to reveal he was wearing a bullet belt filled with squashes and cucumbers—a vegetarian terrorist. Similarly, Burmese Nyo Win Maung expressed his antiglobalization sentiments by tearing a map of the world in a continuous strip, like an orange peel, then wrapping it around to encircle himself. He donned a balaclava and held a gun toward the spectators, reminding everyone that they were still in Myanmar and under the government’s constant vigilance. Despite Nyo Win Maung’s performance, globalization resonates differently in impoverished Myanmar, where possessing a television, mobile phone, and especially a car is far beyond the means of most people. Yangon is one of the few Southeast Asian capitals that is not chock-a- block with McDonald’s, 7-Elevens, KFCs, and Starbucks; the appearance of a single foreign franchise is usually hailed in the local press as a sign of progress. While Burmese have hardly tasted the questionable fruits of global capitalism, they have certainly tasted its bitterness as the country’s natural resources are being sold off at a frenzied rate to supply the booming economies of India, Thailand, and especially China; and less openly to Canada, Japan, Korea, Russia, France, and the United States. The money earned props up the military dictatorship as the people helplessly watch their country being leeched. NICA miraculously managed to carry on for four years free from harassment by a government exceptionally paranoid about any foreign activity and rarely allowing nongovernmental organizations to operate. It was a brave and bold experiment to help Myanmar’s artists over- come their isolation, with the intention that the connections made through NICA’s activities would assist them in receiving invitations to work and exhibit abroad. NICA closed its Yangon headquarters in 2007 and Koh and Chu left Myanmar, but they still assist Burmese artists on an ad hoc basis. The trend of opening up more avenues for international interaction in the arts has continued. The Gitameit Music Center, cofounded by American pianist Kit Young and choral director U Moe Naing in 2003, accomplished for music what NICA implemented for the visual arts. The school provides classes and performance opportunities for dozens of young instrumental- ists and vocalists. Gitameit (meaning “music friendship”) has also set up a nurturing space for experimental performances of poetry, music, and dance. Supporting interactions between older established musicians and young students, foreign and local musicians and composers, as well as among other types of performers, Gitameit is another exceptional haven, appropriately housed Figure 1. (previous page) Ionesco’s Rhinoceros, Theatre of the Disturbed. Yangon, 2007. (Courtesy of The Theatre of the Disturbed)

Catherine Diamond teaches theatre in Taipei, Taiwan, and writes on the contemporary theatre throughout the Southeast Asian region. She also directs Phoenix Theatre, an English-language company. A flamenco dancer, she has recently directed a flamenco dance-drama,The Daughters of Bernarda Alba, in Taipei. CatherineDiamond

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 in the former offices ofThe Mirror, a liberal newspaper shut down when military junta took over in 1988. Inside, there are no private studios and the young musicians practice side-by-side. But despite the cacophony, Gitameit exudes joy, hope, and a positive sense of the future—which is not a prevalent sentiment among most of Myanmar’s young people. In 2005, Gitameit presented Nya La Ka (Night Moon Dance)1 based on three poems by Nyein Way. The collabora- tive performance utilized Figure 2. Maung Pauk Khaing returns to court to answer the Queen’s riddle the talents of musicians and after he receives help from his parents, who heard the answer from a pair of dancers from India, Thailand, crows. Rehearsed by Daw Khin Thida’s students in Insein. Yangon, 2007. Hong Kong, and New York (Photo by Catherine Diamond) as well as local musicians, composers, dancers, and puppeteers. One segment, “Tawaya La” (Forever Moon), was danced by Shweman Chan Tha, one of Myanmar’s beloved and best-known performers. A professional mintha (literally “prince” but meaning the star/manager of a troupe), Shweman Chan Tha is the performer par excellence of the Burmese traditional zat pwe, an all-night variety show featuring song, dance, comedy skits and modern dramas. The son of Shweman U Tin Maung (1918–1969), the most famous mintha of the late 20th-century, Shweman Chan Tha primarily reprises his father’s famous works while managing the company that his father founded. Usually burdened with the responsibility of keeping the 70-odd-member troupe afloat, Shweman Chan Tha had the rare opportunity in “Tawaya La” to experiment in a personally expressive modern style not often seen in Myanmar. In his mid-40s and solidly built, Shweman Chan Tha danced first in silhouette, using the percussive jerkiness of arms and elbows that usually indicate the Burmese dancer’s imitation of marionette movement, but here suggesting the movements of birds’ wings. His costume, too, was derived from the traditional mintha attire—but the gaudy and glittery costume based on the dress of 19th-century princes was pared down to a simple black pasoe (a leg-length piece of cloth wrapped around the waist and tucked through the legs to allow the dancer more freedom of movement) and gong baung headdress. Dancing to the lyrical music of piano, sax, and violin, Shweman Chan Tha changed tempo when the pat waing—the Burmese drum circle—joined in. Comprising 24 suspended drums, each tuned to a different pitch and set in a wood frame around the player, it is the lead instru- ment in a traditional Burmese orchestra. Shweman Chan Tha rolled on the floor, hung off the edge of the stage, and stepped down into the audience, still sustaining the abstract bird motif. This beautiful piece by a veteran performer thoroughly trained in his traditional technique, but not limited by it, leaned toward modern dance and yet retained distinctly Burmese characteris- Burmese Performing Arts tics. Shweman Chan Tha does not get many opportunities to innovate because he must fulfill his audience’s expectations as well as follow the traditional program set by the 40,000-member national Drama Association. Established in its present formation in 1980, the Drama Associa-

1. Where the original language of a performance was Burmese, the Burmese title has been included when available.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 tion not only oversees financial matters such as troupe and performer contracts and the stabiliza- tion of ticket prices, but also monitors the content of the shows as well as individual performer’s behavior onstage. At the end of the program, Shweman Chan Tha returned in his customary mintha costume to accompany Thai dancer Pradit Prasartthong, the director of Makhamporn, one of Thailand’s leading theatre troupes. The two men alternated dancing each others’ classical dances, an exchange that would not seem so unusual unless one knew that hundreds of years of enmity festers between the two countries, stemming principally from the 1767 Burmese conquest and destruction of the ancient Thai capital, Ayutthaya. At that time, the forced transfer of Thai dancers, musicians, and dramatists to the Burmese court had a great influence on the development of Burmese arts. Even today, cultural relations between Myanmar and Thailand remain frosty, with many Thai films still harping on the infamy of the Burmese. Witnessing the rapport between the two dancers was moving for the Burmese audience, which rewarded them with rapturous applause. This détente, however, was not sponsored by either the Burmese or Thai government; it was promoted by Gitameit’s Kit Young and financed by the Asian Arts Council whose headquarters are in New York. Both NICA’s Borders: withIn withOut Festival and Gitameit’s Nya La Ka included a popular new genre. Since the mid-1990s, Yangon’s artists and dramatists have been creating “performance art” by combining visual arts with Figure 3. Japanese Arai Shin-ichi washes a spectator’s feet in ketchup. Borders: acting. These artist/dramatists withIn withOut. Yangon, 2005. (Courtesy of Jay Koh/NICA) take their performances out of the galleries and into the streets, where they are not well understood by ordinary citizens and provoke the ire of authorities. Both groups sense that whatever the artists are doing must be a form of sociopolitical satire. Htein Lin has become among the most well-known for combining his two talents: Around 1996, I was simultaneously both painting and acting in video films. I was in “University Ah Nyeint” [Burmese performance that features a classical dancer and a team of comedians]. Aung Myint, San Minn, Tito, Khin Swe Win, and Ko Myoe were all artists that I met at Inya Gallery, and special to my life as an artist. They said that I should be a performance artist since I was an actor. When I asked what performance art was, Aung Myint explained and showed me performances by other artists. I had found a lot of barriers using brushes and paints, and depicting characters in films. I realized that performance art was a new art for me. And then I experimented with it. (in Ko Thi Aung 2006:54)

Htein Lin’s first experiment wasThe Little Worm in the Ear at the Lawkanat Gallery, based on a fable: Once, there was a big elephant living in a big forest. In its ear there lived a little worm. While traveling, the elephant had to cross a fragile bridge. As it was crossing the bridge, the whole bridge shook. The worm said, “The bridge is shaking because of you and me” (Ko CatherineDiamond

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Thi Aung 2006:54). Only a few people from art circles came to that first performance in 1996 in which he tied up his painting, The Little Worm in the Ear, with a plastic rope and also wrapped himself in plastic. Then he put his barbed wire–wrapped paint brush in a vase. He carried the painting and the vase along one of Yangon’s main thoroughfares to a tea shop, where he sat with friends. When he returned to Lawkanat Gallery, he changed the street performance into a still performance and posed staring at the vase (54). Several of Htein Lin’s first performances were sponsored by the local magazineTharaphu , which also covered the events. Later, he was also sponsored by the cultural wings of foreign embassies, such as the Alliance Française and the Heinrich Böll Foundation. In 2007, Htein Lin moved to London where he now exhibits. Foreign embassies—primarily the French, English, German, Japanese, and American—have been instrumental in promoting “soft” nonpolitical cultural events that allow for greater interaction between Burmese artists and their foreign counterparts. They frequently sponsor small- scale performances—hiring local musicians, dancers, and puppeteers to perform at embassy events—or host exhibitions of local artists’ work. In 2006, some of the embassies began to assist in larger theatre productions. The American Center contributed to the staging of Rent, the largest show staged in English since 1988, directed by Ko Thila Min and New York actor/writer Phillip Howze, who had also collaborated on Romeo and Juliet (2004) with a mostly Burmese cast. The Alliance Française sponsored Theatre of the Disturbed’s director Nyan Lin Htet’s English production of Sartre’s No Exit the same year, as well as his Rhinoceros in 2007. These performances initiated the formation of The People’s Theatre, a group of committed dramatists led by Ko Thila Min who in 2007 opened a local space for community theatre and experimental work. Even within the official institutions, there were signs of change. In the conservative Univer- sity of Culture, Myanmar’s premiere school for the performing arts, students learned traditional Burmese music, dance, puppetry, and classical verse drama, but they had no program in acting and modern spoken drama until 1995 when, with the sponsorship of the United States Embassy, U Ye Htut, the director of the then drama department, invited American drama professor Craig Latrell to give workshops in realistic acting. In 1996, U Ye Htut lost his job and the majority of universities were closed down for four years in response to the large protests by students demanding their own student union and more political freedom. When the University of Culture announced in 2007 that it was going to open a Department of Modern Drama and Film, the news signaled a significant development in actor training and also playwriting, a craft dormant since 1988. But these promising trends were seriously jeopardized during two calami- tous months. On 15 August 2007, and without any prior announcement, the State Peace and Development Council (SPDC), the official name of the military dictatorship, eliminated state subsidies for fuel oil and natural gas, doubling prices so precipitously that many people were left stranded, unable to afford bus fare to get home. As a consequence, food prices also rose. The sudden increase pushed an already destitute populace—roughly 75 percent live below the poverty line— to take to the streets in protest on 19 August. In September, the people of Myanmar were given hope when thousands of young monks poured out of the monasteries chanting the metta sutra, a prayer that sends out the Lord Buddha’s loving kindness to all sentient beings, and holding their begging bowls upside down to signify their refusal to accept alms from the government

when ordinary people could no longer afford to eat.2 The monks were joined by students, who Burmese Performing Arts shouted militant antigovernment slogans, and by some of the country’s important writers and intellectuals.

2. The gesture was not only symbolic, but pragmatic. Monks depend upon alms for food; when ordinary people do not have enough to feed themselves, monks go hungry too.

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Hailed as the largest popular demonstration since 1988, the elation increased each day as growing numbers of ordinary people entered the protest while the military, in power since 1962, did not make a move. But no one was under any illusion, and a violent crackdown began on 25 September.3 Although Tatmadaw (the military) has played a vital role in filling the vacuum the British colonial government left behind when Myanmar became independent in 1948, the fact that the popular leader and war hero General Aung San and his six cabinet members were assassinated by discontented officers within months of the British departure in 1947 signaled that the military’s position in the new republic was not settled. During the 1950s, Myanmar showed signs of growing prosperity and democratic development, except in the regions where the army continued to fight ethnic minority insurrectionists who wanted to form their own independent states— a condition they thought had been promised by the British. Since independence, the army has taken credit for being the force that has kept the nation intact. Though elections were held in 1960, the generals ousted the winning civilian candidate, and in 1962 General Ne Win took over. Students barricaded Yangon University in protest. Many were killed; the student union building was blown up and the university closed. It was one of the first such demonstrations, setting up the now unfortunately familiar pattern of civilian resistance met with military force and then followed by relentless secret arrest. Ne Win remained openly in power until 1988 when he announced that elections would be held. But first he arrested Aung San Suu Kyi, the National League for Democracy’s (NLD) candidate, and then killed thousands of demonstrators who protested the arrest. Even while she remained under house arrest, Suu Kyi’s party won the 1990 election overwhelmingly. But the generals annulled the election, arrested opponents, and maintained tight control. In 1989, the generals also changed the name of the country from Burma—the English derivation of Bama— the colloquial oral name, to Myanmar (Myanma), its literary and written name. Though the latter had previously been considered in the years leading to independence, it is now associated with the current military government. Both the United States and the United Kingdom have rejected the use of “Myanmar” because they do not recognize the government’s legitimacy. Despite the house arrest and death of Ne Win in 2002 and the power struggles within their ranks, the generals have retained a firm grip on power. They employ an extensive network of spies through the civilian group Union Solidarity and Development Association (USDA),4 which operates as a secret police, and they control the sale of the country’s natural resources— oil, natural gas, tin, tungsten, timber, rubies, jade. At the time of the 1988 coup d’etat, the military was relatively small (about 100,000); if all of the dissenting groups had made a concerted effort at the time, they might have been able

3. The 1989 protest for democratic reforms in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square was also sparked by unprecedented price hikes and, similar to the Chinese People’s Liberation Army massacre of demonstrators, the Burmese soldiers brought in to deal with the demonstrators were carefully selected because the government was unsure of some divisions’ willingness to fire on monks. In China, the government sent in units of privates from the countryside who despised and envied the young city intellectuals of Democracy Square; in Myanmar, it was the elite units who had been fighting ethnic minority insurgents for the past 50 years and whose loyalty to the ruling regime was unquestioned. Still, some of the less committed officers and soldiers refused and chose to make the hazardous journey to refugee camps on the border with Thailand rather than kill monks. Given the number of times since 1962 that unarmed demonstrators have been violently put down, perhaps the only hope Myanmar has left is an insurrection from the lower ranks. Some soldiers now in Thailand have voiced discontent via the internet. 4. After the demonstrations had been halted, the Union Solidarity and Development Association (USDA) held a rally marking the completion of a new constitution that took 14 years to draft. Every family was required to send one person to attend, and although the stadium was filled to capacity, individuals still expressed their disgust by holding the anti-foreign banners they had been handed upside down (Kristalis 2007). CatherineDiamond

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 to overthrow it. But over the past 20 years it has increased to more than 400,000 troops. The military not only controls all state institutions, it has also established townships, schools, hospitals, and recreation centers for the exclusive use of its members. And because state-owned companies are dependent upon military supply orders, today one in ten Burmese is involved in the military’s activities or business. The sangha, the 400,000-member Buddhist clergy, is the only institution of comparable size, and much more highly respected by the populace. But when the monasteries were raided after the 2007 demonstrations, the arrested monks were forced to exchange their robes for civilian clothes so that the military could treat them as ordinary citizens; they were no longer protected by the sanctity of their vows. The military claimed it found caches of weapons in the monasteries to further discredit the monks’ peaceful aims. Moreover, the generals have been careful to cultivate good relations with the senior monks at the top of the sangha hierarchy, many of whom condemned the September 2007 demonstrations. Myanmar’s infamous isolation has been intensified both by the sanctions imposed by Western governments and by the generals’ xenophobic fear of invasion. Their paranoia culminated in the 2005 decision to remove their headquarters from Yangon—the former colonial capital Rangoon— to the newly constructed capital of Naypyidaw (Royal City) in Pyinmana, 200 miles north of Yangon and closer to the troubled states where the army is engaged in putting down rebellions of ethnic minorities. Rumor also has it that the generals, worried about a U.S. attack, have built both extensive underground tunnels and jungle hideaways. The new, absolutely encapsulated capital is populated only by military and displaced civil servants, which further isolates the government from ordinary citizens and entrenches its power against internal dissension. The country’s isolation, however, is not only due to the SPDC’s inward-looking policies. Aung San Suu Kyi has also requested that foreign companies not invest and tourists not visit as their money and presence lends legitimacy to the regime. Yet over time, she has had to soften her position, recognizing that foreigners have a part to play. Her hope that sanctions would force the military to relent has not panned out since they have not been universally observed. In a 1996 interview with novelist Amitav Ghosh, she dismissed the possibility of Asian companies filling in the void left by their Western counterparts. “‘Without Western investment,’ she said, ‘I think you will find that the confidence in the Burmese economy will diminish. It is not going to encourage the Asians to come rushing in. On the contrary’” (in Ghosh 1996:54). She was wrong. Not only are India, Thailand, and China very involved in buying up Myan- mar’s resources, the latter also has numerous infrastructural building projects to expedite its exploitation. The Burmese generals can snub the Western powers and the toothless pleas from the United Nations as long as China maintains its stance not to interfere in Myanmar’s internal affairs. The prevailing dictum that business must proceed as usual and the appearance of normalcy must be preserved at all costs was reinforced during the September 2007 demonstrations when Indian and Chinese companies entered into a bidding war for rights to the develop the Arakan natural gas fields. China won. In his book The River of Lost Footsteps (2006), Thant Myin-U, the grandson of Myanmar’s great statesman, United Nations Secretary General U Thant, advises the West to embark on a policy of selective and informed engagement. Open interaction would at least make the government’s actions more visible and therefore susceptible to outside scrutiny. He advocates a policy of ethical trade and tourism leading to gradual economic reform and the building up of civil institutions. He intimates that Suu Kyi’s stance, however well intentioned, plays too much

into the hands of the generals. Myanmar’s pariah status allows unscrupulous foreign powers to Burmese Performing Arts take advantage without conforming to any of the minimal regulations agreed upon by international organizations. He observes, “The assumption is that Burma’s military government couldn’t survive further isolation when precisely the opposite is true. Much more than any other part of Burmese society, the army will weather another forty years of isolation just fine” (in Lanchester 2006:107). During the September 2007 demonstrations, people desperately tried to alert the rest of the world, putting their lives on the line to send photos and reports out of

Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 the country. Yet the world only responded with threats of sanctions—threats that carried no weight in a country that was already in near total isolation. Some kind of interaction with the outside is necessary to empower the Burmese. It was an utter lack of hope that pushed them over the edge and onto the streets in 2007. And nothing could have revealed the depths of their isolation and ignorance of recent world affairs more poignantly than the cry of one demonstra- tor: “Where are the Americans? Why don’t the Americans save us?” But it was only after the demonstrations were halted that the real war began, with the Kafkaesque raids on individual homes in the middle of the night, in cities darkened both by curfew and the ubiquitous lack of electricity. Once out of the glare of international watchfulness, once the colorful parade of maroon and saffron-robed, shaven-headed youth were no longer being broadcast over television and the internet, the generals carried on under the cover of darkness and an information blackout. Heroic Comedians One of the first people to fall victim to the midnight knock was comedian Maung Thura, known as Zaganar (Tweezers), who was arrested on 25 September, the night before the military launched its attack on the protestors. Along with fellow actors, he openly supported the monks by supplying them with food and other necessities. Zaganar has satirized the government since the 1980s when he first entertained colleagues at the hospital where he was a dentist. Figure 4. The young comedians in Bad Behavior by U Chan Tha play college His routines were so popular boys on a night prowl over at the girls’ dormitory. Yangon, 1997. (Photo by that he gave up dentistry and Catherine Diamond) has been a gadfly pricking the government ever since. He made a name for himself during the Ne Win era, when the once progressive and prosperous country was driven into poverty by the government’s disastrous policy, “The Burmese Path to Socialism.” In 1988, before the massive uprising against the government, Zaganar staged International Convention of Beggars, a particularly strident satire about Ne Win and his cronies, and when it was performed in Yangon, everyone was surprised that he was not immediately thrown in jail.5 In 1990, however, after impersonating General Saw Maung—head of the new junta—at a rally for his mother who was running for office, Zaganar was arrested and imprisoned for four years. Once released, Zaganar was never long out of the news. In April 2006, in an interview with the BBC, he criticized the government’s curtailment of than gyat, the customary comic improvi- sations delivered during the April Water Festival (Thingyun, the Burmese New Years) in which comedians pillory government corruption and ineptitude as well as expose social problems. Zaganar offers a sample joke: George Bush, Hu Jintao, and Than Shwe all visit God. George Bush asks, “When will my country be the most powerful in the world?” “Not in your lifetime,”

5. International Convention of Beggars can be seen on YouTube.com under “Zagana’s Beggars’ National Convention, #1/5-#5/5, or at http://www.burmawiki.com/2008/05/25/Zaganas-beggars-national-convention-political-comedy. CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 answers God, leaving Bush in tears. Hu Jintao asks God, “When will my country be the richest in the world?” “Not in your lifetime,” again answers God, likewise leaving Hu in tears. Then Shwe approaches and asks, “When will my country have sufficient electricity and clean water?” This time God breaks down in tears: “Not in my lifetime” (Rhoads 2007). The new ordinance, which requires than gyat scripts undergo official scrutiny, deprives them of their sting and purpose. As a result of Zaganar’s criticizing the new rules to the foreign media, his productions and public appearances were banned, including all interviews. Yet in June 2006, he cheerfully gave a phone interview to Ko Thet of The Irrawaddy (see Ko Thet 2006), a news magazine based outside Myanmar. Despite the tighter restrictions imposed upon him, he knew that his views and jokes would get around through the underground grapevine that all satirists use to reach their audiences while evading the censors.6 Zaganar was released on 18 October 2007. Live verbal satire, increasingly banned by the authorities, nonetheless circulates in private speech everywhere, and defiant comedians continue to put on shows. They use puns and coded meanings in their jokes, and audiences are alert to the slightest shift in intention. The color red, which refers to blood, is virtually taboo, as are all references to “lady,” the word Aung San Suu Kyi is known by. In “a recent bank advertisement, ‘Ma sú naing hmá, hsin-yèh-meh’ (If you cannot save, will you be poor), can become, with the removal of one dash above the ‘yeh’ (in the Burmese alphabet): ‘Only when Ma Su [an affection- ate name for Suu Kyi] wins, will [the army] step down’” (Edemariam 2007). In the countryside, local officials and impoverished common people alike enjoy listening to satire of the central government, but in the towns where military ears might be listening, such jokes are shared mostly in private. Satirical comedy is widely disseminated on VCDs (video compact discs, a common format all over Asia because it is cheaper than DVDs) that, although also forbidden, manage to evade government control more easily than print media. Even in print, however, cartoonists manage to find their public and avoid censorship.7 Burmese comedians (lu pyet) have long been cultural mediators between the traditional status quo and enforced change, such as occurred in the late 19th century when Britain expelled the last Burmese king and closed down his court. Today, comedians continue to be the voice of the impoverished majority and the vanguard pushing for regime change. The comedians’ barbed jokes—though mild when compared to more open societies—let people know they are not alone in disbelieving the government’s propaganda and give them an opportunity to indulge in cathartic laughter. While several comedians like Zaganar have taken unequivocal stances in opposition to the government, other performing artists find themselves in a quandary, caught between the government that claims to uphold the Burmese cultural heritage but uses its sponsorship of the arts to promote its own political agenda, and the outside world that promises greater liberty and prosperity but threatens to make traditions extinct. Their situation somewhat parallels the positions articulated by Aung San Suu Kyi, who advocates sanctions, and by Thant Myin-U, who espouses interactions with the West. In Myanmar, the situation is opposite that of neighboring Thailand, the much-touristed “Land of Smiles,” where performance artists and dramatists condemn the “Westernization” of their country. Thai performers pillory the West, primarily the United States, as the major force Burmese Performing Arts 6. Zaganar was banned from performing, video making, and filmmaking on 16 May 2006 for his film We Can’t Stand Anymore, a satire on Yangon’s social life. Three of his other videos made in 2006 were also banned: Thee Makhan Nai Taw Bu (Intolerance), Mee Chit (The Lighter), and Shar Shay Kya Thu Mya (The Chatterbox). The banning also hurts the other actors, who not only cannot get paid if the film is not shown, but also are blacklisted (Shah Paung 2006). 7. In the aftermath of demonstrations, the government banned 20 writers and cartoonists, including the 88-year-old Dagon Taryar and cartoonist Aw Pi Kyae (Htet Yarzar 2007).

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 corrupting their traditional values and way of life, even as post–World War II Thai governments, regardless of political leanings, have been consistently pro-Western. In Myanmar, the state-controlled media demonizes the West—and its so-called stooges within the country, including Aung San Suu Kyi. Any internal dissent is immediately labeled “foreign instigated.” The generals instead foster an inward-looking nationalism and have appropriated the traditional Burmese performing arts—especially those associated with the former Burmese court—to promote their own concept of a precolonial national identity and culture. The position of the government vis-à-vis the traditional arts is complex: it maintains the traditional arts and at the same time prevents them from evolving. The court performing arts that flourished after the Burmese conquest of Ayutthaya in the 18th century were abruptly thrown into a new and unknown environment at the end of the 19th century, when the British administrators not only eliminated court patronage but also introduced Western realism. Performers scrambled to reconstitute their positions in relation to the new colonial power. They and their audiences were pulled in two opposing directions—towards modernity as defined by the British; and against it, towards preserving their own pre-British traditions. This tug-of-war continues today as individual performers chart their way between the Scylla of the conservative strain, both in the populace and in the government; and the Charybdis of globalization, specifically the desire not only for the new and novel, but also for prosperity and freedom, the “forbidden fruits” of the foreign. One condition of capitalism is “product choice.” In Myanmar this means that owning products from abroad, which are rare and/or expensive, indicates wealth; as contrasted with being “stuck” with locally made items. In cultural terms, Burmese audiences that cannot afford to purchase foreign cultural products rely on local talent to provide them with a simulacrum of foreign entertainment while at the same time preserving the outward structure of familiar traditions. This is not a new phenomenon. Throughout the 20th century, the Burmese stage has served as a means of inserting new concepts into traditional forms—the “new wine in old bottles” formula. Performers have been important conduits of new ideas, yet never risk alienating their audiences whose pleasure is their first obligation. No one was more successful at helping his audience accept a new concept than U Po Sein (1880–1952), the best-known mintha of the 20th century, whose innovations are still considered the standard of excellence today. U Po Sein always explained his innovations to the audience, or even asked spectators’ opinions about a novelty he wanted to introduce. Both he and his audience understood that his goal was to please them and at the same time provide the highest level of artistry. By communicating directly with them, he cultivated a strong personal rapport and acceptance for his new developments: While dancing, he would talk to an audience about the story of a zat (play) about the religious precepts, or about incidents in his own life, and then, ending the dance, would turn his narration into a song. When his second and third sons [. . .] had been born, he had announced their arrival from the stage in this way. (Sein and Withey 1965:79–80) Shweman Chan Tha, who appeared at Gitameit, has also cultivated a personal rapport that, combined with perpetuating his father Shweman U Tin Muang’s artistic legacy, has helped him maintain the family troupe when others have folded. But unlike U Po Sein and his own father, Shweman Chan Tha is rarely able to introduce anything new. Outright censorship of texts, as well as the increasing number of bureaucratic steps required to get the permits (not to mention the fees that have to be paid at each step) discourage innovation. Frustrated with the limitations imposed on them, performers give up any attempt at offering new kinds of entertainment. Standards fall and artists depend more and more on “reruns.” As a result, Shweman Chan Tha is forced to present repetitions of his father’s original works and imitations of shows and figures in the mass media, a format that attracts fewer members of the educated, urban middle-class. As a paragon of traditional dance-and-music theatre, Shweman Chan Tha is one of the few Burmese performers who has been able to go abroad and participate in international workshops. But inside his own country, he rarely has the opportunity to perform the type of experiment he CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 presented at Gitameit in “Tawaya La.” Much as Shweman Chan Tha upholds the traditions of formal artistry, comedians like Zaganar, God- zilla, King Kong, and the Thee Lay Thee troupe fulfill their traditional roles as jesters remonstrating with authority, serving as contemporary spokesmen for those otherwise unrepresented. Their mockery empowers the powerless and puts Myanmar’s ills in an international context. Their witticisms are au courant and wildly inventive, even in the face of the government’s efforts to silence them. The public Figure 5. Daw Ma Ma Naing performs with the master U Pan Aye, who was respects talented mintha such formerly a narrator in one of the last great marionette troupes led by Shwebo as Shweman Chan Tha for U Tin Muang. She manipulates the minthamee while he controls the mintha maintaining a beloved tradi- marionette. Mandalay, 1998. (Photo by Catherine Diamond) tion, and the brave comedians for insisting on the truth and using their voices as a conduit between Myanmar and the outside world. Both kinds of performers are widely supported by the Burmese diaspora as well. While the direct artistic encounters between Burmese and foreign artists at NICA, Gitameit, and a few galleries and embassies represent a rare kind of cultural interaction, the majority of Burmese view foreign cultures mediated either by the live performances of Burmese entertainers who adapt them to Burmese tastes, or via the commercial comedies and melodramas disseminated on cheap VCDs. Made by Burmese performers and directors, these VCDs have largely replaced live stage productions of spoken drama. Though pirated discs of foreign films, soft- ware, and video games are also available in the larger towns, they appeal mostly to students and intellectuals and have less impact on the general populace. A VCD of a Korean soap opera might outsell a local film approved by the government, but a speedily disseminated VCD of a Zaganar satiric film or show is an instant hit. There is no danger of copyright violation because Myanmar as a pariah state ignores all such international conventions. The rampant copying, however, sometimes hurts local artists when unauthorized copies of live performances or films are distributed concurrently with the originals. So, while the creators might not receive much remuneration, their works get around. Since 2003, digital technology has also allowed Burmese filmmakers to inexpensively produce and disseminate locally made films, although the process is still hampered by the narrow limits of what they are allowed to film. The problems plaguing Burmese cinema shed some light on the restrictions placed on stage performance. Film actors complain that the speed with which they are expected to produce prevents them from doing quality work. They blame the greed of the producers who insist that films be churned out quickly; others opine that shoddy acting persists because there are no proper training schools. Speaking under anonymity, some actors expressed their frustrations: Burmese Performing Arts All the roles and characters we have performed are repetitive [. . .] The storylines allowed by the censorship board are always the same. There is no creative acting [. . .] We are not allowed to show physical intimacy between lovers, as Korean and other Asian countries’ movies do. So we cannot present the necessary scenes of a romantic drama. (in Min Zin 2004)

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 While some performers are content to churn out commercial shows, those who would like to create more diverse or artistic works find the environment particularly stifling. Burmese stage dramatists face difficulties competing with foreign films and satellite television while at the same time conforming to censorship requirements and traditional performance conventions. However, by making use of extemporaneous references to local people and conditions—either real or those appearing in other media—they integrate the local and foreign for their audiences. The government tries to prevent filmmakers and dramatists from exploring their creative poten- tial, but in fact artists are spurred on to seek ever more creative ways around the obstacles. To counter their influence, the government supplies the public with a regular diet of anodyne entertainment. It allows a few nightclubs to offer youth mildly “decadent” Western music and sponsors outdoor shows with comedians whose sexual patter is tame enough that it won’t provoke political controversy. In the midst of endemic poverty, official oppression, foreign mass media, digital technology, the internet, the mutually exclusive call of Aung San Suu Kyi for boycotts and Thant Myint-U for selective engagement, the intertwined push-and-pull of economics and politics play upon the performing arts. On one hand, the country’s isolation leaves people with a lack of alterna- tives, ensuring the preservation of live traditional and popular genres. At the same time, cut off from new sources of inspiration, the arts lose their vibrancy. Many of the dramatic performances are in a time warp, looking very much as they did in the 1970s. On the other hand, globalization and the penetration of foreign mass media is both expanding and diluting the national character of the performing arts. But the dichotomy is not absolute as the boundaries are porous, and the hybrid theatrical genres still manage to be flexible and accommodating. Some individuals, especially comedians like Zaganar, have seized the times and thrive on satire, while other performers are finding the conflicting demands to please their audiences, preserve their art, and comply with censors’ shifting and arbitrary rules too difficult (and too expensive) to manage, and quit.

Figure 6. Mintha U Chan Tha dances at his zat pwe performance, clutching the bills that fans have thrust into his hands during the dance. The comedians stand around onstage, ready to assist the mintha

CatherineDiamond in any way. Yangon, 1997. (Photo by Catherine Diamond)

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Thriving or Surviving? A radical shift in the Burmese performing arts occurred at the end of the 19th century with the destruction of the court in Mandalay, the exile of the last Burmese king, and the coloniza- tion by the British. The later adjustments that happened during the Japanese occupation, the early years of independence, Ne Win’s dictatorship, and the junta currently holding power are all extensions of the major Figure 7. Mintha U Chan Tha dances at his zat pwe performance upheaval at the turn of the while his minthamee and comedians wait and watch. Yangon, previous century. 1997. (Photo by Catherine Diamond) During the 19th and early 20th centuries, virtually every foreign visitor commented upon the Burmese affection for their theatre. Burmaphile Shway Yoe (Sir James George Scott), who saw many Burmese performances, makes an extraordinary claim for a theatre-loving Englishman: “There is no nation on the face of the earth so fond of theatrical representations as the Burmese [. . .] It would be wrong to say that there is no other amusement in the country, but it is indisputable that every other amusement ends up with a dramatic performance” (1963:286). From one perspective, the Burmese performing arts continue to be extremely active. Three of the Burmese traditional theatre genres maintain a relatively high profile, either on the domestic or international circuit: Yokethay thabin (marionette theatre), anyein pwe (variety show with male comedians, a female classical dancer/singer, and a small music ensemble), and zat pwe (larger vaudeville performance that includes traditional song, modern pop, classical dance, comedy sketches, traditional verse dramas, and modern melodramas). During the dry season, free outdoor anyein pwe are a familiar sight in many neighborhoods. When the universities are open, students partake in amateur dramatics in anyein groups that have become a long- standing tradition. The week-long annual National Performing Arts Competition held in November is a phenomenal display of round-the-clock contests for solo musicians, singers, and dancers, and draws artists from all over the country.8 The provinces also send large marionette and live dramatic ensembles to compete (Diamond 2003:526–27). The two State Schools of Music and Dance, in Yangon and Mandalay, are full of aspiring young performers, and many of the country’s best students are trained more comprehensively at the University of Culture. Traditional music and dance are constantly performed on national television. The all-night zat pwe are attended in great numbers because they occur in conjunction with annual pagoda festivals, which draw large crowds from the surrounding countryside. The zat pwe troupes are contracted for four or five nights by each pagoda administration and move from one to the next, performing almost continuously from November to May. Only the once-sovereign marionette shows are less in evidence as puppeteers make a living primarily in tourist venues, although they also give an occasional show at a pagoda festival.9 Burmese Performing Arts

8. Since its inception in 1993, the annual Performing Arts Competition has been held in the Chinese-built National Theatre in Yangon. But in 2006, it moved to the new capital of Naypyidaw, vastly reducing the number of ordinary spectators who could attend since the capital is off-limits except to members of the armed forces and their families. 9. The Kyaik Khaut pagoda festival in Thanlyin near Yangon is one of the few that hosts an annual all-night puppet show.

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Despite the activity, professional performers are engaged in a day-to-day struggle, not only for their own financial survival but for the survival of their arts as well. The division administra- tions that are required by the government to send theatre and marionette ensembles to the National Performing Arts Competition find themselves saddled with large expenditures, and the prize money that goes only to a lucky few reimburses only a fraction of the costs. Moreover, many of the divisions do not have a sufficient number of quality artists and must hire them from the Mandalay and Yangon Universities of Culture, adding to the expense.10 The pupils at the State Schools of Music and Dance come mostly from impoverished house- holds. Their parents send them to learn music and dance because instead of having to pay for their education, the pupils receive a small stipend while they train. Also, from 1996 to 2000, many of the students who attended the University of Culture did so because it was the only university left open after the government shut down all the others following student protests. In the 21st century, the zat pwe and anyein pwe are in another period of transition. The former more and more resembles a pop concert, with its plays deriving from television and films; the latter has been revived by Zaganar and other contemporary satirists, but the central figure of the female dancer has been reduced or eliminated by the now dominant male comedians. While the new anyein pwe appeal to all sectors of society, troupes who are less willing to risk jail terms and are presenting the traditional format are having difficulty attracting audiences. Moreover, the educated middle-class is no longer as interested in a zat pwe that has lost its status as the site for cutting edge new dramas. Its performances are now mostly popular with poorer sectors, although many people still cannot afford the cost of a ticket (roughly US$1.00) and spend their few coins at karaoke VCD booths instead.11 Weddings and funerals that formerly required the services of live performers now often make do with VCDs—a cheaper replacement that only a few years ago was considered the height of stinginess and vulgarity. Many of the most famous zat troupes have ceased operating because of the increasingly restrictive censorship. Many well-known anyein troupes that once functioned as platforms for new songs, spoken dramas, and nationalist sentiments are now derivative— relying on old tunes and safe jokes. Although dance and music still have excellent exponents, drama has declined since its last “golden age” in the 1970s. What modern drama there is can only be seen at zat pwe because plays since the 1980s are no longer performed independently. Scripts are written by members of the zat troupe because most companies cannot afford to commission professional literary writers. The troupes and artists that have managed to form an umbilicus with the outside world have found a particular means to survive, while many other troupes, despite their immense popularity pre-1988, have folded either because they do not speak a foreign language and therefore have no foreign access, live too far from the economic and cultural centers, or have refused to adopt new gimmicks from mass media that they feel lower the quality of their work. Packaging classical arts for tourist dinner revues has been one means of survival for many musicians, dancers, and puppeteers, and for the superficial characteristics of their arts. However, the dependence

10. Myanmar has seven states and seven divisions; the majority of residents in the states are from ethnic minorities, while in the divisions the Burmese population dominates. Since only Burmese arts are included in the competition, the divisions of Mandalay and Yangon tend to win. 11. “Since 1988, thousands of video parlors have sprung up in the villages throughout Burma. Many of the machines run off batteries since the villages do not have electricity. The owner charges three to five kyat per person and an audience of one hundred or so cram into a small hut to watch. Hundreds of low budget videos are shot in Burma each year” (Allott 1993:21). Monique Skidmore explains the appeal: “There are several standard story lines around which endless permuta- tions and inversions are created. Most frequent of all is the rags-to-riches, Cinderella-style story […] For the price of a few cents Burmese can imagine themselves as Cinderellas. They are able to imagine that the endless waiting for their lives to be transformed, has, for a few hours at least, finally occurred” (2004:186–87). CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Figure 8. A dancer performs the Marionette Dance alongside a marionette to demonstrate the jerky movements derived from the puppet at Htwe Oo Myanmar Puppet Troupe in downtown Yangon, 2007. (Photo by Catherine Diamond)

of anyein and zat performance on verbal understanding prevents such packaging for outsiders. Instead, anyein and zat performers use the loose heterogeneous format of the genres to incorporate foreign music and images, and international references to give their audiences a sense of interaction with the outside world. Yokethay Thabin As a genre, yokethay thabin (marionette theatre) has suffered the most, even though it is artifi- cially sustained by the government and tourism. Puppetry, the most favored entertainment in the 19th-century Mandalay court, declined with the demise of the Konbaung dynasty (1752– 1885). In the 19th century, marionettes were especially esteemed for their artistry of precisely mimicking human movement and gesture. Later puppets were designed to specialize in dance and the intricacy of their movements was imitated by human dancers who were praised in relation to how well they resembled the puppets. The marionettes were accorded privileges such as performing on a stage higher than the seated audience, which included the king and nobility, and they were allowed greater freedom both to interact—male and female puppets could dance close together while live performers could not—and to speak, using highly poetic language to inform the king of wrongdoings that no person dared to tell. Burmese puppeteers were divided

into two distinct groups—the puppet manipulators (kyo-swair), and the more respected puppet Burmese Performing Arts narrators (thancho kaing), whose versatility in mimicry, vocal range, imaginative storytelling, and especially improvisational skills (sar-choe-thi) were the mainstay of the genre’s popularity (U Ye Htut 1996:57). The puppet manipulator, however skillful, was of secondary importance. Today, the narrative has been curtailed by the lack of trained vocalists and censorship. The opportunity to present the customary all-night shows has disappeared because government restrictions pro- hibit the improvised dialogue that imbues the performances with current references. With the

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 new emphasis on impressing tourists, the vocal skills and narrative repertory that attracted the Burmese audience has almost disappeared. During the colonial period, the introduction of British technological innovations and theatrical conventions favoring realism altered the aesthetic criteria governing all Burmese performance, and especially alienated puppeteers from their cultural roots. Compelled to modernize, the marionette troupes made valiant efforts to keep abreast of the demand for novelty by adapting plots and stage techniques from the live theatre that was ascendant under British rule.12 Moreover, a rivalry arose pitting the former capital Mandalay, the center of the best of traditional Burmese artistry, against the new British capital, Rangoon, where artists initially considered second rate rose in prominence as popular trendsetters. The traditional Burmese puppet stage was elevated about three feet, and was exceedingly long, shallow, and stark. Only a plain white backdrop and a few symbolic props were used. The manipulations illustrated the tale being narrated; female impersonators and clown vocalists were the most popular performers. After the British annexation of the country, and in imitation of European-style spoken drama, puppeteers began introducing painted backdrops, electric lighting and sound effects. The marionettes were redesigned to accomplish technical feats such as shooting a pistol or lighting a candle. As more puppets danced with umbrellas, rode on horses, appeared as magicians separating into three parts, and as jugglers juggling glass balls, virtuosic manipulation became more important than verbal narration. As with Vietnamese water puppets, Burmese marionettes are now safe, nonpolitical cultural representations of the country, packaged as easy-to-understand performances for international consumption. At the beginning of the 21st century, two puppeteers are a strong presence—U Ye Dway in Yangon, who no longer gives regular performances but continues to perform on an ad hoc basis; and Ma Ma Naing, the cofounder of Mandalay Marionettes, which gives nightly tourist performances. Ma Ma Naing, though a puppet manipulator, is primarily a manager, while the troupe’s artistic leader is U Pan Aye, originally a member of Shwebo U Tin Maung’s (d.1976) stellar troupe of Mandalay.13 U Ye Dway and Ma Ma Naing perpetuate their art through support from foreign visitors and institutions—both speak fluent English and have toured their puppets internationally—as well as via connections with influential people in the government. However, there are no regular performances inside Myanmar except those staged for tourists. Troupes scarcely exist except as loosely connected networks of artists that remain dormant during most of the year, although they are still sometimes commissioned to perform at a pagoda festival. Otherwise, they come together to compete in the Performing Arts Competition, for which they all present the same set text of a well-known story scripted by the Ministry of Culture. This performance only allows for variety in mise-en-scène and manipulation; it does not allow for improvised verbal virtuosity. The two leading puppeteers have very different backgrounds and involvement with the art. U Ye Dway founded the Dagon Aung Marionette Company in 1967 (Dagon is an early name for Yangon) after being inspired by visiting Czech puppeteers. Primarily the writer and manager of the troupe, he is known as an innovator praised for his tasteful introduction of modern themes, techniques, and new puppets such as a Turkish belly dancer, a professor, and an organ grinder. His troupe successfully integrated foreign technology with new storytelling (“K” [Khin Zaw]

12. Ma Ma Naing contends that the Burmese only developed marionettes because they were considered the most lifelike of puppet forms (2005). Drama scholar U Ye Htut suggests the exclusive use of marionettes may reflect the influence of Ceylon (Sri Lanka), where the Theravada Buddhism practiced in Myanmar also originated (2007). 13. In January 2007, the marionette troupe Htwe Oo Myanmar opened up a new tourist venue in Yangon to give daily shows of the same format as the others. It features the famous puppeteer Sein Tun Kyi, in his 70s and of the same generation as U Ye Dway and U Pan Aye. The troupe performed at a 2007 pagoda festival in Yangon but the performance consisted of puppet dances accompanied by taped music and with no narrative. CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 1981:14). Culture writer Ma Thanegi says the appearance of the troupe under the guidance of a young intellectual was like the last flickering flame of a dying art: It performed successfully for nine years all over Burma, traveling in seven loaded trucks [. . .] and usually was sponsored so that the public could watch free. He incorporated many of the innovations also brought into the live theatre, including a split-level stage that allowed background scenes to be projected from behind the stage onto the backdrop. (1994:96) One of U Ye Dway’s innovations was the development of a puppet opera (not to be confused with Western opera), a short musical play popular on the live stage, usually based on either a jataka (folk stories recounting the Buddha’s many rebirths), a precolonial historical event, or a Buddhist morality tale.14 His Mite Naung-hta (The Terrible Penance), performed throughout the early 1970s, depicted a mother who requests her son earn merit by fasting and promises to reward him with a good meal afterwards. After his fast and meditation, he wants to travel, but his mother objects. Determined to leave, he shoves her out of his way. The ship he boards then sinks, but he survives and lands first on an island of beautiful women, then on another with even more beautiful women. At a third island he sees a man sitting in meditation, with flowers coming out of his head. He wants to take the man’s place and when he is finally allowed to do so, he discovers that he is in hell and the “flowers” are actually blades cutting his head with blood spurting out. He was first rewarded for obeying his mother’s wishes and then punished for disregarding them (U Ye Dway 2002). The covert meaning of the piece is that the son represents the military that initially helped free the country (the mother) from colonialism and Japanese occupation but later pursued its own quest for power. The story of King Thibaw, the last ruling Burmese king (r. 1878–1885), spawned many stage and puppet plays.15 Since 1988, however, dramatists have been wary of performing the king’s story because the government is sensitive about the portrayal of any deposed ruler. U Ye Dway’s 1970s puppet version showed King Thibaw forced to leave his country in a humble bullock cart bound for India where he remained for the rest of his life. The image of the humiliated monarch driven out of his land is branded on the Burmese communal consciousness. In U Ye Dway’s production, battle scenes were done with novel puppet guns and cannons that actually fired. He himself performed the British Colonel Sladen negotiating in English with the Burmese Prime Minister. When the king is informed of his forced exile, the puppet sings a ngo chin, the “pathetic song” of woe, the aesthetic climax of a traditional drama.16 As the king leaves the palace, a Burmese general follows behind on horseback and shoots off a final salute before he,

14. “The Burmese word ‘awpara,’ a corrupt form of the word ‘opera,’ is an entertainment that precedes a zat, of singing and dancing, a short side play called ‘vaudeville’ in the USA and ‘variety’ in England and not a Western-style opera” (Mu Mu Wain 1970:n.p.). 15. Myanmar was annexed as an extension of the British administration in India, where its policy was to prop up local rajas. The removal of a king and the utter destruction of his court was a drastic action rarely taken in Britain’s colonial history. 16. In the traditional Burmese theatre, the comedian’s jokes were balanced by the other popular artistic highlight, the ngo chin, or pathetic song that the characters in a tragic drama sing at the climax of their misery, usually when they are going into exile or facing death. The performers showed off their ability to create great emotion through

singing without the assistance of realistic stage effects. Once eagerly awaited by the audience, and considered an Burmese Performing Arts important test of the performer’s mettle, it has now virtually disappeared because the zat gyi verse drama in which it appeared is rarely performed. This expression of deep sadness once allowed the audience an outlet for its sorrows, but Maung Htin Aung criticizes such scenes for their excessive sentimentality and sensationalism; “When a queen is executed, she has to be slowly beaten. When a hero is put to death, he has to be trodden on by elephants [. . . ;] the agony has to be long drawn out and unusual in order to increase the desired effect” (1937:128). While older people still remember the ngo chin with fondness, young people express no interest in it. While melodramas employ both comedy and pathos, the comedian’s sardonic laughter prevails.

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 too, sings a ngo chin. He then enjoins all the ethnic groups inside Myanmar to rise together to expel the British.17 This emphasis on national unity was a frequent theme in the 1970s. U Ye Dway also had a puppet of Bogyoke Aung San—the first president and national hero—delivering a speech in the 1940s about national unity as puppets rep- resenting the different ethnic groups danced and sang “Let the Union Live Forever.” U Ye Figure 9. Ravana (center) attempts to lift the magic bow in order to win Sita’s Dway said he was taking a risk hand in a Ramayana production in the annual Performing Arts Competition having a puppet impersonate in the Chinese-built National Theatre. Yangon, 2002. (Photo by Catherine a contemporary national hero Diamond) while allowing it to speak directly to the audience. Noth- ing like it has been done since. U Ye Dway applied to present the play again under the current government, and his request was denied (U Ye Dway 2002). U Ye Dway’s troupe disbanded in 1976, but he continued to employ puppeteers/puppet makers for tourist performances at his home, under the name of the Golden Gong Marionette Club. Though U Ye Dway specialized in innovation, his tourist show presented only traditional sequences such as the Himawunta (Himalaya) forest sequence that begins with the creation of the world and the creatures of the forest; dances performed by the natkadaw (votaress of the nat deity, also translated as “nat wife”), belus (ogres), monkeys, horse, and zawgyi (sorcerer/alche- mist); and then presenting the figures of the court—pageboys, mintha, and minthamee (princess). The second half of the program offered a condensed scene from the Ramayana or one of the jatakas—now standard among puppeteers performing for tourists. Finally, in 2000, U Ye Dway closed his home theatre. At present, he only creates on commission, usually by a foreign agency such as the British Embassy or the Alliance Française for which he produced Bluebeard (2004) in French with Western-style marionettes and musical accompaniment (U Ye Dway 2005). The formula of presenting a basic introduction to classical characters, however, has served very well for the Mandalay Marionettes, which offers an almost identical program—with the important exception that it is accompanied by a live saing waing, or drum circle orchestra. Its continued success may also be due in part to its location—next to the large Sedona Hotel, plainly visible at the corner of the palatial moat dominating central Mandalay. Cofounded in 1986 by Ma Ma Naing, the daughter of U Thein Naing (author of Burmese Puppet Theatre; 1966), and Naing Yee Mar, who learned puppetry through the research of puppet anatomy specialist Dr. Tin Maung Kyi, the troupe presents daily tourist performances in its own perma- nent venue, which has an adjacent souvenir shop. Both women are manipulators, not narrators, and while traditional troupes excluded all female participation, the front-line activity of the two women has encouraged a greater number of girls to get involved with puppetry, though they remain silent during performances.18

17. Union Day, 12 February, was celebrated in Yangon in the National Theatre with famous singers performing nationalist songs, performances of the unique Burmese piano (played to resemble xylophone music), and dances by ethnic minorities forcibly bussed in from their states. Since 2006, the show has been held in Naypyidaw. 18. Noel F. Singer mentions some female puppet manipulators, most notably Shwebo U Tin Maung’s daughter, but

CatherineDiamond no female vocalists (1992:80).

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 The Mandalay Marionettes occasionally perform for locals, using some of the earnings from the tourist shows to put on an all-night performance at the Mahamuni pagoda in Mandalay. Mandalay Marionettes was formed not to innovate but to protect and preserve elements of what is now considered the “classical” tradition. It does not perform modern plays but occasionally incorporates contemporary or foreign themes when it is commissioned by NGOs, such as in its 1999 collaboration with CARE to present the AIDS prevention play Shame and Caution Leads to Safety. The play was set in the fictitious historical country of Waitherli where, in the time of Gotama Buddha, the princes rotated kingship on a weekly basis. They all fell in love with a minister’s daughter, whose father solved the problem by making her an Amba’parli, “an orna- ment of the country,” to be shared amongst them. Another country, envying Waitherli’s peace and prosperity, imitated the practice and sold all the royal women into prostitution, which led to moral decay. A young tattooed gambler and drunk then has sex and takes drugs during the full moon festival and finds himself dying of a mysterious disease. As he is dying, a saint appears and explains that the disease is a result of his shamelessness, and that in the next life he will be reborn as an idiot. The performance was widely attended according to Ma Ma Naing (2005). Performance scholar Kathy Foley sites tourist-sponsored performance, the training at the University of Culture, and the inclusion of puppetry in the National Performing Arts Compe- tition as evidence of a marionette revival (2001:78–79). The three-hour performance of a set text given in the formal conditions of the competition, however, cannot compare with the improvisatory skill it takes to put on an all-night show. While participating in tourist performances that endlessly repeat the same format may help young manipulators hone their skills, it does nothing for the development of stories that will capture the imagination of the local public. Although new technical innovations are occasionally introduced, all puppeteers eschew anything remotely political. Their art is already so marginalized that they have lost the incentive to make the little wooden bodies mouthpieces of protest. They know they would no longer have the immunity that they once enjoyed in the Mandalay court or even in the turbulent times leading up to 1988. Anyein Pwe: Dance-Comedy Combo A pwe is a “show” given at a celebration or ceremony: births, funerals, house-warmings, novice initiation ceremonies for young monks, deaths of beloved monks, propitiation of nats (37 local deities), coming-of-age ceremonies such as ear-piercing for girls, and business openings. Spon- sored by the celebrants, the performance is free.19 Anyein (gently) “was once a slow dance performed by palace women [. . .]. After the British exiled the last Burmese king in 1885, court dancers had to find work among the public. Among them was singer-comic U Chit Hpwe (1873–1944) who, with his dancer wife, Ma Sein Thone (1885–1939), formed the first anyein troupe around 1900” (Ma Thanegi 2006a:36). Pretty young dancers teamed up with comedians to create an unusual hybrid style of courtly elegance and rough humor to appeal to wealthy merchants who were emerging as an important economic class under the British (Singer 1995:62). Accompanied by a few musicians led by the pattala (xylophone) player, the anyein dancers became the leading trendsetters for young women: “In 1924, Myanmar Nyun U Chit Maung opened an anyein theatre and the dancers came to performances riding on bicycles, dressed in uniform blazers and htameins [female longyi] with the troupe name emblazoned on them”

(Daw Yin Yin [Saw Mai Nyin] 1991:33). Musical composers vied to create songs for the most Burmese Performing Arts popular singer/dancers, and there was fierce competition among troupes for primacy in both stage appearances and disc recordings. Songs were tailored to the individual dancer’s talents and then published with her picture on the cover of the sheet music. In the 1970s, the anyein stage was used as a political platform for nationalist songs; the singers gave an unaccompanied

19. Paying for admission was introduced by the British and now applies to the larger zat pwe. Yokethay thabin and anyein pwe are still usually sponsored and shown free of charge.

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 preamble explaining the song before singing it (33). Now, political subjects are either avoided by government-sponsored troupes or flagrantly satirized by a few daring male comedians. In both cases, the primacy of the female performer is much diminished. Songs are rarely written for them personally, and the women no longer become famous as recording artists. With the focus shifting to the male comedians, the women tend to dance more than sing, and when they do sing they reprise old songs, movie songs, and recorded songs, claiming that it is too expensive to engage a composer. An anyein performance begins with a recitation and explanation of ancient verses. This is followed by a pari kamma, a formalized speech in which the troupe members introduce themselves and give thanks to the patron of the show. Usually two to four comedians warm up the audience with jokes and a good deal of physical Punch-and-Judy slapstick. They use a light tin plate that makes a satisfying loud bash as they bop each other on various parts of the body. Then they invite the dancer to perform, using poetic phrases to praise her beauty and talent. She sings and dances, and when she rests, sitting on folded legs with her back to the audience, the comedians tease the male spectators about being her lover (U Ye Htut 1997:62). Although always part of an anyein performance, salacious jokes are more and more dominant, usually in lieu of political witticisms. The jokes are often at the dancer’s expense, obligat- ing her to take up the challenge and defend herself with equally forthright language. Older fans of the genre consider the anyein dancer déclassé when she responds in kind to the dirty jokes and sexual innuendo dished out by the comedians. When she retorts, becoming in effect a female comedian, there is tension onstage as the two vie for playing time. Recently, the anyein dancer also finds herself being upstaged by transvestite pwe, in which male soloists in sexy, glamorous costumes bump and grind as they lip-sync popular tunes. Called a cha, or “the dry ones,” they are unconstrained by taboos restricting women and are not required to be singers. Transvestite performers imitate pop singers televised from all over Asia. In Mandalay, two anyein troupes played influential roles in the city’s cultural and political history. In its heyday, La Min Ta Yar (The Hundred Moon Concert Troupe) was the most famous anyein troupe in Upper Myanmar, but now Maung Myat Hmine, the troupe’s writer and manager, lives with his dancer wife in much diminished circumstances. They performed throughout the 1970s during the brief and difficult period of Burmese socialism. Though there were plenty of problems for writers at the time, they were still allowed to critique and comment on the social upheavals. After 1988 all such activity ceased. They stopped performing and no one wanted to take over the company. Maung Myat Hmine wrote the operas and plays, while the comedians composed and improvised their own material. None of his scripts were published because at the time they were not considered to have any enduring literary merit; they were given to the actors and have now disappeared. Maung Myat Hmine cites the lack of storage space and decay, but also it was obviously safer to dispose of politically critical scripts. In 1973, Maung Myat Hmine wrote Dancer of the Ganges, in which he introduced concepts of democracy to the general public; he was one of the first Burmese playwrights to do so. The plot concerns the son of a feudalistic king who wanders in search of knowledge and falls in love with a dancing girl in a democratically run village. Feeling threatened, the king sends soldiers to abduct the girl, but she says there is no need for violence. She is happy to talk to the king about democratic principles. A journalist later wrote that the girl foreshadowed the return of Aung San Suu Kyi (Maung Myat Hmine 2005). After 1988, it became too difficult to discuss ideologies openly. Many comedians who once satirized Burmese society became afraid, and the curfew in place from 1988 to 1992 put an end to the all-night shows. Looking back, Maung Myat Hmine could not resist recalling one of his favorite jokes told before restrictions were put in place: A fisherman catches an immense fish and takes it to his wife to cook. She tells him to throw it back because she has no oil to cook it in. He goes to the river but cannot bring himself to throw it back in. He returns with it and again she says, “Take it back, there is no charcoal to light a fire.” He is about to throw it back but returns CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 once more and she says, “No salt.” When he finally throws the fish into the water, it shouts, “Hurrah! Long live General Ne Win!” (Maung Myat Hmine 2005). Though there are several troupes patronized by ministries or divisions of the military that appear on television, in the 21st century the anyein troupe of greatest international repute is the Moustache Brothers, who have been forbidden to perform openly in their native tongue. They can only give shows in English for tourists at their home. The Moustache Brothers Anyein Troupe became widely known when two of the three comedian brothers, Par Par Lay and Lu Zaw, were imprisoned in 1996 for telling anti-government jokes at a NLD rally at which Aung San Suu Kyi was present.20 The comedians might not have obtained an early release if their brother Lu Maw—the only one of them who speaks fluent English—had not been able to Figure 10. The wives of the three Moustache Brothers are dancers. keep up regular shows, harangu- Here, one dances dressed not in the typical costume of the anyein ing his foreign audiences about dancer but as the Page Boy. The stockings and slippers were his brothers’ plight. Realizing introduced by U Po Sein, where previously the dancers were that being victims of the regime barefoot. Mandalay, 1998. (Photo by Catherine Diamond) added cachet to their show, Lu Maw did not spare visitors his political diatribe. His approach paid off; “Tourists are our Trojan horses. Through tourists the world can learn of our plight” (Associated Press 2006). Although his self-promotion might be a bit off-putting to some, his communications with the outside world via the Lonely Planet Guides and BBC broadcasts protect his family and make their show a “must” for visitors to Mandalay. This family troupe, in which the wives are dancers and the brothers are comedians, has, like Mandalay Marionettes, fashioned an introductory performance that can be given night after night with little variation. Lu Maw’s jokes in English about local politics would cause trouble if told in Burmese. For example: A general seeing a doctor for a headache is told he has to pay 200 FECs (Foreign Exchange Currency that foreigners upon entry used to have to accept in exchange for US$200.00) for an operation. The doctor opens up his head and discovers it is Burmese Performing Arts empty. On the other hand, his joke about Lucifer sending a sex trafficker to Heaven because

20. One of the jokes he told was a pun on the Burmese words “hit” and “right,” telling of an anti-government activist who when shot by a general refuses to die. “You’ve been hit, die,” orders the general. “Why should I die,” he responds, “if I’m right?” (Stuart 2006).

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 he does not want him hanging around his own wives is told for local appreciation. Jokes abound about doctors’ clinics that, giving patients placebo injections for SARS or avian flu (or some other disease-of-the-moment), charge them increasingly high fees—as the government first fans and then profits by people’s fears (Lu Maw 2005). Jokes circulate privately in the cafes in the neighborhood where many performers gather; though few make it onto the public stage, many are now posted online. Both the family’s artistic and economic survival depends on Lu Maw’s links with the outside world, connections that Maung Myat Hmine and his wife, who speak no English, were not able to make. Although both groups were censored, the Moustache Brothers turned a disadvantage into a marketable commodity, exploiting the regime’s unpopularity with foreign visitors. Today, the Hundred Moon Concert lives only in memory. The Moustache Brothers cannot perform for their community, but they are well-known figures and are constantly visited by other performers, who come by to chat and exchange jokes. On 25 September 2007, Par Par Lay was rearrested after taking part in the 10,000-strong protests in Mandalay; the Mandalay protests were not shown on international news as much as the ones in Yangon. Although the military used less force in breaking up the Mandalay demonstrations, it was equally thorough in rounding up people from their homes. Thus once again, Lu Maw presented his brother’s case to nightly audiences of tourists, saying that the family still did not know where he was and could not bring him the food and other necessities that prison- ers rely on families to supply (Kristalis 2007). Par Par Lay was released on 30 October 2007. Pya Zat Aside from some of their long satires, anyein troupes no longer present plays; the zat pwe variety shows are now the only productions that offer pya zat, modern melodramatic scripted plays. Playwriting has an erratic history in Myanmar, and the 19th century is considered the apex of the literary verse play. In Burmese Drama (1937), Maung Htin Aung writes about the two famous playwrights of the Konbaung court, U Pon Nya (1807–1866) and U Khin U (1819–1853), and laments the decline of playwriting from that period onward. He suggests that development of a modern Burmese theatre has been prob- lematic for two main reasons: (1) the privileged position given to music and dance over drama; and (2) the lack of communica- tion and cooperation between the scholars who have knowledge Figure 11. Mintha Wai Yan Oo prepares to go on stage for his first of Western-style theatre and the appearance in the all-night zat performance. Mandalay, 2005. commercial actor/managers who (Photo by Catherine Diamond) dominate the performance scene CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 (1937:139). While the few plays currently produced each year are conceived for performance rather than publication, drama was a popular written genre at the beginning of the 20th century. The real beginnings of a written literature for the ordinary people in Burma are to be found in the drama and in the tradition of popular festivals at which plays and puppet shows were performed. These traditional celebrations had probably prepared the ground and made easier the rapid growth and popularity of the stage plays, the pya zat “show play” which began to appear in the middle of the 19th century. (Allott 1964:30) For a brief period, spoken dramas were published in large numbers: In 1872, Vijaya by U Pon Nya was the first stage play to be printed, and in 1874 Burmese stage versions of Jataka #421 and Vessantar #547 were printed. The press owners realized that there was a large demand for these printed plays and for the next ten or twelve years a stream of them issued from the presses [. . .] Thaton Yazawin, a drama by Saya Yaw, was published in 1877 and in a few days sold 15,000 copies. [. . .] They were extraordinarily successful at reproducing the atmosphere of the theatre, and this was in fact the author’s main purpose because it is unlikely that they were written for use by dramatic companies. They were written quickly, to be read immediately, and were never regarded as great literature. (Mu Mu Wain 1970)21 Despite the fact that the British introduced Western realism, European plays did not greatly affect Burmese theatre.22 The only complete Shakespeare play translated into Burmese is King Lear. But neither Lear nor the published adaptations of Romeo and Juliet and Othello were ever performed. French writers did not fare much better. The first attempt to render a French play into Burmese was Thakin Ba Thaung’s adaptation of Moliere’s A Doctor In Spite of Himself (Saya Wun Ba Be; 1928). Cultural commentator Zawgyi (pen name of U Thein Han, 1914–1978) translated two Moliere comedies, The Forced Marriage (1933) and A Bourgeois Gentleman (1935). Comparing Moliere to the Burmese classical satirist U Pon Nya, Zawgyi thought that his compatriots would appreciate his art of ridiculing, laughter being used as a weapon against social ills and pretensions, and that for the enrichment of Burmese literature itself it was necessary to widen its scope by looking at foreign cultures. (Bernot 1999:114)

Zawgyi’s translation of A Bourgeois Gentleman was a popular text, but the production in the 1950s by the famous mintha Shweman U Tin Maung was not successful. The 1940s brought patriotic dramas that expressed a longing for independence to the fore. In 1942, Zawgyi offered The Flag of Victory, encouraging people to endure the confusion of supporting first the Japanese and then the Allies, the erstwhile colonists. Maung Htin’s two plays, What Is Most Important? and The Mother of the Hero, both published in 1944, were land- marks in the struggle to end colonialism (Esche 2003:26–27). In the 1950s, the most internationally well-known Burmese playwright was former Prime Minister U Nu (1907–1995) whose Pyi Thu Aung Than (The People Win Through; 1951) was a critique of communism and was performed at the Pasadena Playhouse in 1957 (Ma Thanegi 2006b:72).

21. Allott claims that another play was the first to be published: “Mahajataka, jataka #539, by U Kho was published in August 1875. This play may well have been prepared for a theatrical company and printed only as an afterthought.

In the following month there appeared the first edition of Kumara (the name of a prince) by U Pok Ni, [. . .] and Burmese Performing Arts in November the Orang-outang Brother and Sister (Lu-wun Maung Nhama) by U Ku. These plays mark the real beginning of popular literature in Burma” (1964:33). 22. A play written by a palace woman, Thakhin Min Mi, showed the transition from the formal drama of the court to what was later presented on the public stage: “One could feel that she was creating new trends in dramatic literature, paving the way for ‘revolutionary’ playwrights. As though she were peeping into the future, impelled by her intuition, she created amazing modernized ngo chin and dialogue, a sudden leap into the future” (Mu Mu Wain 1970:n.p.).

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Between 1970 and 1988 theatrical activity flourished, and original plays and performances contributed to Myanmar’s postcolonial national reconstruction by being staunchly patriotic while critiquing the government and exposing social problems. Commercial troupes composed scripts from U Nyein Min’s adaptations of Pushkin, Chekhov, and de Maupassant short stories rather than from translations of their plays. The most important dramatist of the period was “Myodaw” Maung Yin Aung, whose plays were performed in Mandalay’s 2,000-seat Capital Theatre. (“Capital” was affixed to his name because he gained his repute in the theatre of the same name, referring to the old capital—Mandalay.) The Capital Theatre was the main venue for plays featuring Western stage conventions such as remaining in character while onstage, and special effects that included making the bare branches of a tree suddenly blossom or real rain fall onstage. Though the Capital Theatre closed in 1988, many of Maung Yin Aung’s plays were made into films and continue to appear on television. He adapted Mya Than Tint’s best- selling novel, Da Taung Go Kyaw Yway Mee Pin Le Ko Pyat (Surmounting the Mountain of Swords, Crossing a Sea of Fire; 1973) a Marxist parable whose plot resembles J.M. Barrie’s The Admirable Crichton (1902). The play was made into a film in 1997: Four men are shipwrecked and stranded on an island off the coast of Myeik Archipelago. The villain is the wealthy owner of the boat who has been smuggling machine parts from across the Thai-Myanmar border for the black market. The second man is a budding poet, a member of the intelligentsia who has gone in search of his nephew. In spite of his book-learning, he is helpless when face-to-face with their present plight. The third is a student who has run away from home and found euphoria in drugs. The fourth is the laborer—Than Gyang—who makes a fire and feeds the others oysters, fish, and vegeta- bles, which he procures with courage and resourcefulness. (Than Htut and Thaw Kaung 1999:108) Today, Maung Yin Aung writes only screenplays. He sharply criticizes Burmese theatre and film practitioners, who, he says, have little interest in artistic standards and only want to make money. He notes that stage directors showed more respect for the integrity of his work than film directors who take whatever liberties they please with the script (Maung Yin Aung 2005). Though most zat troupes cannot afford new scripts from famous writers, Chit Oo Nyo— Yangon novelist/playwright and director of the Sandar Oo Dance Theatre in the late 1970s— wrote the historical play Shingyi Madura in 2007 for Hpo Chit, a popular young mintha. The play is a tale based on a fictitious member of the Ari—a powerful tribe that practiced Tibetan Tantricism and enforced the custom of droit de seigneur. When Madura, the play’s hero, objects to the practice and strives to protect the woman he secretly loves, he is expelled from his community. Later, in a battle between the Burmese King Anawratha (1044–1077) and the Ari, Madura sides with the king, whose victory leads to the triumph of civilization over barbarism, the mass acceptance of Theravada Buddhism, and the rise of the Bagan Empire (1044–1287) (Chit Oo Nyo 2007). Chit Oo Nyo, a widely traveled English-speaking writer and former editor of Theatre Magazine (1983–1988), is frequently called upon to write for Myanmar’s many literary magazines, but says requests for plays are rare.23 Scripts are usually composed within the zat troupes, either by the troupe leader or a colleague. Shweman Chan Tha, primarily a singer and dancer, has written and starred in his own melodramas. The Blood that Cannot Be Spoken (2007) depicts a wife who in a second marriage contrives to have her daughter from a previous marriage marry her new husband’s son. Then it is revealed that the boy was adopted and turns out to be her own son whom she thought drowned in a boating accident. The play breaks no new ground; revealed incestuous identities have long been a device in Burmese theatre. While the dramas of Maung Myat Hmine and Myodaw Maung Yin Aung are clearly sociopolitical, most pya zat performed after 1988 are

23. Like U Ye Dway, Chit Oo Nyo is a judge at the annual Performing Arts Competition. CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 not. However, although many zat performers are not as adamant as their anyein brethren about attacking the government, there is still a temptation to inject a note of defiance. Developing subtle analogies that can deceive the censor but reach the audience can lead to misunderstand- ings; everyone searches for meanings that are sometimes not there, or at least not intended. Zat Pwe Zat pwe, the Burmese all-night variety show, has long intermixed the foreign and the local, incorporating foreign stories, songs, and dances and giving them a local patina and relevance. The hybridity and flexibility of the genre supports adaptation and evolution. Performing on large wood and bamboo temporary stages, zat troupes are usually commissioned to perform for three to five nights at a pagoda festival before moving to the next festival. Therefore the troupe must prepare a week-long repertory with a different show every night. The success of a zat troupe rests ultimately on the mintha, who is responsible for every aspect of the show, from hiring the performers and determining its content to exploiting his own singing, dancing, and acting skills. Because the mintha is on stage almost the entire night, his physical appearance, talent, training, stamina, charisma, and savvy are what hold the troupe together and attract the audience. He and his band of young men are clearly the favorites of the female spectators, who reward them with cash, flowers, slippers, and sprays of perfume throughout the performance. Zat performance takes place amid the pwe zaydan, the festive ambiance of food stalls, games of skill and chance, gambling, video booths, amusement rides, and demonstrations of skill such as chinlon competitions.24 Banners featuring the mintha’s name and photograph attract spectators to buy a ticket for a place on a mat, with fans paying extra to sit close to the stage or even go backstage to visit the mintha. Although troupes must follow a basic format prescribed by the official Drama Association, they are allowed a certain leeway regarding the time devoted to each section: 1. Opening music played by the saing waing, the traditional drum circle orchestra, which starts several hours before the beginning of the show to attract the attention of the community. A prayer to the Buddha is followed by the ritual dances of the natkadaw (nat votaress) and apyodaw (maids-of-honor). 2. Panama—“traditional” songs, mostly from the 1940s and 1950s, sung by performers of both sexes in formal Burmese dress, with little movement or facial expression. 3. “Sit down” stage show—the mintha with his auxiliary mintha, who are also musicians/ dancers/comedians, sit in a row downstage and intimately serenade the audience with both traditional and modern “copy songs”—foreign rock tunes with Burmese lyrics, a practice that began in the 1970s. Only the men perform. 4. Opera—this varies in each troupe, but tends to be a musical set in the precolonial Burmese past in contrast to the modern or contemporary pya zat. 5. Stage Show—usually beginning around midnight, a mini pop music concert of solo renditions of copy songs and local songs. Usually the mintha stars, imitating famous pop singers, though the comedians/backup band musicians sometimes accompany the mintha with solo choreographed dances. Young men dominate, but a few women are included in duets or as backup chorus. 6. Pya zat—a full-length modern or contemporary melodrama that reflects the mintha’s interests and exploits his particular acting talents. Burmese Performing Arts 7. Comedy skits, both set and improvised, presented throughout the night or filling in whenever the mintha needs to rest or change costume.

24. Chinlon, the Burmese version of a game played throughout Southeast Asia, uses a wicker ball that players try to keep off the ground with every part of their bodies except for the hands.

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 8. Myaing Hta Hna Pa Thwar—the royal duet dance in which the mintha, in one gorgeous costume after another, dances with one or more of the minthamee, presenting his most spectacular dance steps and acrobatics. 9. Zat gyi—classical play based on a jataka, presented in courtly verse. Formerly the climax of the evening, it is now often omitted because of the time taken up by the “stage show.” The zat pwe in the larger towns are closely monitored by the members of the Drama Association, many of whom belong to strong family clans who have performed for genera- tions, although zat pwe performers tend to self-censor to protect themselves and each other. Generally, the Drama Association is conservative because elder members carry more weight than younger ones. The Association tries to limit the duration of the pop concert and keep the classical drama included in the program, but in order to attract younger spectators, it has to compromise and allow more pop music and modern drama in contemporary dress. Although the zat pwe troupes are itinerant, increasingly they are restricted to smaller areas. Performers from Upper Myanmar and Lower Myanmar do not perform in each other’s territories. Some politically suspect mintha, like Moe Minn, are held on very short leashes so their fans come long distances to see them. Mandalay, as the former capital, was the seat of precolonial culture, but Yangon zat performers rose in ascendancy during colonial times because they introduced innovations from abroad. At the turn of the 21st century, however, some of the large family troupes in Yangon, struggling to preserve the signature works that made them famous 50 and more years ago, failed to adapt to current circumstances. Many middle-aged mintha, men in their forties, are retiring, claiming that not only is the physical strain of performing all night too difficult, but also that the constrained conditions do not allow them to innovate in ways they would like to. Having already turned over the pop music sections to their younger relatives, these veterans realize they cannot be idols for the younger generation. Both in Yangon and in Mandalay, younger mintha are emerging as new stars. Although some are from performing families, the majority are now also formally trained in either the State Figure 12. The “Broadway of Mandalay,” intersection where zat minthas and Schools of Music and Dance managers set up office to audition performers and attract sponsors. Mandalay, or the University of Culture. 2005. (Photo by Catherine Diamond) In Mandalay, on the block of 80th and 41st Streets that Lu Maw likes to call “the Broadway of Mandalay,” is a line of stalls where mintha-managers advertise their upcoming shows and recruit performers for the new season. In both cities, competition among troupes is fierce. The determining factor is whether or not a troupe satisfies the desire of their audiences for both tradition and modernity. The mintha has to be accomplished in traditional song and dance, and double as a pop star. In Yangon, Shweman Chan Tha and his nephews maintain his father’s troupe, Shweman Thabin, and command a loyal following, but he is trying to transfer more of the performance to his younger relatives so that the CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Figure 13. Mintha Moe Minn leading his comedian/singers in the “stage show” pop concert section of his zat pwe. Yangon, 1997. (Photo by Catherine Diamond)

show does not depend so exclusively on his talents (Shweman Chan Tha 2007). Also still strongly holding forth is the dynamic Moe Minn, the iconoclast mintha who, during the 1988 demonstrations, confronted the government and was exiled to Singapore for two years. He specializes in the modern, leaving the traditional to his brothers. Moe Minn is one of the few mintha who takes an openly provocative stance toward the government, though he is held in check by his influential family members. His father was elected to head the Drama Association in 2007. Still dominating his “stage show” as the lead singer, Moe Minn finishes the set with a defiant anti- war song that, accompanied by video clips of famous battle scenes including Pearl Harbor and the Enola Gay dropping the atom bomb, tangentially targets the Burmese military (Diamond 2000:237–44). One famous company that failed to keep abreast of current developments was U Po Sein’s large family troupe, Sein Maha Thabin. Formerly managed by his grandson, U Ye Sein, it closed in 1993. U Ye Sein wrote some of the troupe’s melodramas and historical plays, including one of the formerly popular staples, Pa Daw Mu (The Last King of Myanmar; 1985), which reprised the expulsion of King Thibaw. U Ye Sein says that even though the audience knew the ending, it was still emotionally engaged throughout. Similar to U Ye Dway’s puppet version, U Ye Sein Burmese Performing Arts himself played Colonel Sladen in English. In the early 1990s, the play was banned because any government’s fall in the play was equated with critique of the present regime. U Ye Sein believes that the higher authorities themselves are not so concerned about such plays, but that the lower- level censors, afraid of losing their jobs, take preemptive action. U Ye Sein maintains that his troupe folded because many of the performers the family felt compelled to retain were too old to perform at a high technical level or unable to adopt new ways

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 of performing. The troupe also had decided not to follow the trend of incorporating the stage show that has now become de rigueur. Since its demise, U Ye Sein has been filming VCD dramas. Shot on site, they can be made in a few days for only 500,000 kyats (in 2005 about US$650) and are very profitable. VCDs are sold and distributed throughout the country, and are usually shown in communal shacks or on long-distance buses (U Ye Sein 2005). Mandalay Thein Zaw, another famous mintha (located in Yangon despite the moniker, which comes from the site of his original success) who formerly attempted to upgrade the literary level of the zat pwe with his poetry, folded his troupe in 2004. He felt that what he was permitted to perform was too limited and stale. He also found the all-night performances too tiring. He put out a popular VCD, Shwe Pwint Hlwar (Golden Floral Leaf; 2004), setting his poems to music, and opened the Azada Art Gallery, which he hopes to turn into a cultural center. Nonetheless, he continues to think about performing again: “Maybe instead of poems I should try writing an [Western style] opera” (Khin Nyein Aye Than 2004). In Mandalay, where the troupes do not boast such stars, the community patronizes graduates from the State School of Music and Dance. Wai Yen Oo (in his twenties) and Nyein Wai (in his thirties) are two young mintha successfully negotiating a difficult profession.25 Wai Yan Oo twice won the national gold prize for dance, but he is not a particularly good actor. Depending on his colleague Nan Wai to write all the scripts, Wai Yen Oo appears as the hero in the gangster and romantic melodramas opposite Nan Wai, who usually plays the villain. In an opera that Nan Wai wrote based on an event in precolonial times, the author starred as a prince of the ethnic Shan minority. Worried about the encroachments by the British army, the Shan prince appeals to the Burmese king in Mandalay to let him lead his army against them. But the king pays little heed to the Shan barbarian. When the British attack, the King in a panic calls for the Shan prince, who refuses to come and instead gives a long discourse on the arrogance of rulers who fail to act in a timely manner. The play, ostensibly against the British, is easily read as a criticism of the Myanmar government’s muddled policies and its brutal oppression of the ethnic minorities. In 2006, Wai Yen Oo performed the lead in a pya zat modeled on American gangster films but with a local twist of fatalism and punishment for past sins. The gangster, turned repentant, manages to hunt down his nemesis, but in the ensuing brawl he accidentally shoots his own blind mother. Unlike the classical verse plays that feature interactions between humans and deities ending with a happy reconciliation—even if it requires magically restoring the dead to life—the modern pya zat often end pitifully with accidental or noble deaths. The dramatic tension relies on the pathos of the protagonist’s predicament, which he cannot surmount. The heavy emotions of pya zat are relieved with intermittent clowning; tears and laughter are offered rather than supernaturally wrought restorations. Wai Yan Oo stars in his two-hour stage show, accompanied by a rock band and alternating songs with other soloists, who are also actors and comedians. Much of their repertory is made up of copy songs. Each time a singer comes onstage for a solo, he wears a new outfit of contemporary clothes. Since Burmese are required to wear their traditional longyi in everyday life, one of the attractions of the pop concert is its fashion show—featuring Burmese (rather than Westerners) in contemporary Western dress, sometimes with the price tag still dangling. The mintha has to have a voice and charisma exceeding that of the other performers. At a pagoda festival performance in 2005, the one person who came close to rivaling Wai Yan Oo was his 20-year-old brother, Oo Yan Pyu, who sang a rap song, speaking not of oppression in

25. Important young mintha in the Yangon area are Tekkaho Ko Zay from the University of Culture; Hanza Moe Win, the younger brother of Moe Minn; Pantyar Tin Ko Win, a nephew of Moe Win; and Hpo Chit. All of them appeared at the Kyaik Khaut pagoda festival at Thanlyin in January 2007. CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 the ghetto, but of poverty and despair in the countryside.26 The chanted couplets were haunting, and his song did not produce the usual excited emulation among the typically boisterous young men in the audience; instead, there was eerily hushed attention. Mintha Nyein Wai leaves the stage show to younger men and instead concentrates on his roles in the serious dramas, which are longer, more developed, and more thought- fully produced than most pya zat today. He has gone to the expense of buying clip-on Figure 14. Mintha Wai Yan Oo’s brother Oo Yan Pyu (foreground, second from microphones so that the actors right) raps with the other singer/comedians. Mandalay, 2005. (Photo by can move freely about the Catherine Diamond) stage, rather than congregate under a hanging microphone as they do in most troupes. As a result, they remain in character, unlike the traditional convention that allows actors “to relax” when not speaking. Nyein Wai’s actors have also succeeded in presenting some excellent cohesive ensemble acting because he requires the female minthamee to give strong active performances as complements to his own. In earlier times, the unrivaled U Po Sein relied heavily on the talents of his female (and female impersonator) partners. The zat minthamee had to be well-versed in 19th century literature and were required to perform 12 roles including that of the ogress whose character is summed up with the line: “If a man is ugly, I’ll eat him. If he’s handsome I’ll make love with him” (Pe Than 1993:24). In the current male-dominated zat pwe, the minthamee have been marginalized as passive decorative extras. In a short domestic farce, Nyein Wai demonstrated the kind of admissible social satire common in zat pwe. He played a boyfriend who imitates Myanmar’s highest paid film actor, Yarzar Ne Win, both in fashion and mannerisms.27 Emulating the actor as he appeared in a recent film, Nyein Wai was dressed in a dark blue satin shirt, sunglasses, with a belt around his longyi that was twisted up through his legs to create bizarre pantaloons. In the play, he slaps his chest and gesticulates wildly, making a bad impression on the girl’s father, who threatens to marry her off to Lu Maw, the English-speaking Moustache Brother who lives only a few blocks away from the temporary stage. The threat brings shrieks of laughter from the audience. In the middle of their quarrel, their transvestite neighbor enters, dancing and lip-synching a song. In a parody of the transvestite pwe, the transvestite is singing that she needs a man but a banana stalk will do when the CD suddenly cuts off and she is left mouthing and gyrating in Burmese Performing Arts

26. Rap and hip-hop are very popular in Myanmar, although they are frowned upon by the authorities. In 2006, when 15-year-old rapper Bon Von emerged among the top 20 in the BBC contest “The Next Big Thing,” pride in his accomplishment temporarily quashed all criticisms (Ma Thanegi 2007). 27. Yarzar Ne Win is frequently imitated onstage with reference to his flamboyant clothing and eccentric behavior (see Myanmar Times 2004).

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 silence. She then confides to the daughter that she is being courted by Par Par Lay, the elder Moustache Brother who, she says, looks a bit like a monkey because of his drooping moustache. After they depart, a thief pursued by a policeman steals in and hides in a rolled up mat. Hearing the clamor, the women dash in, and when the policeman threatens them with his shotgun, they point out that he is aiming it at himself. He smartly twirls it around, cadet fashion, only to have it point at himself again. He tries several times failing to get it right, until he finally puts it on the ground, walks around it, and picks it up correctly—a bit of shtick that the audience appreci- ates. After the policeman leaves, the girls decide to pray to a nat (local deity) to help solve their romance troubles and they set out an offering of bananas. The hungry thief pops out of his hiding place to eat the bananas, and mistaking him for the nat, the startled girls shriek and run away. Such silliness is performed in comic interludes separating the musical and dramatic portions, as well as during the improvisational patter of the comedians, who take over the stage whenever necessary. In the same night’s performance in 2005, Nyein Wai next demonstrated the range of his acting abilities by appearing in a melodrama set in the British colonial period. He played an English colonel, dressed in a white uniform, sporting sunglasses and a ranger’s hat, the kind worn by the Tatmadaw (the Burmese military). When the colonel attacks a fort, the defending Burmese governor is killed, leaving his daughter an orphan. At a party, where members of the victorious British military mingle with Western-dressed Burmese elite, the British stagger around, drinking copiously and proposing ballroom dancing with the ladies—both of which are an anathema to the conservative Burmese. The polite colonel encounters the orphan and they fall in love. They both sense the relationship is doomed; he does not know why until the girl pulls a knife on him, saying she will avenge her father’s death, but then plunges the blade into her own chest to die in his arms. Nyein Wai’s representation of the British colonel was unusually sympathetic. During much of the play, the colonel is plagued with keeping his boorish troops in line and trying to show the proper respect to the Burmese. Events in Burmese history are often used in plays to show the consequences of bad kingship and how internal dissension weakens a state against its external enemies, but it is rare to see a serious drama depicting a British officer in such an individualized and idealized manner. Not only is the SPDC vehement in its efforts to erase the colonial legacy—such as in renaming the country and moving the capital—but it has spared no ink in condemning Aung San Suu Kyi’s marriage to a British academic. The generals at every opportunity portray her as having betrayed her Burmese roots, claiming that she is not only a stooge of the British and Americans, but in fact, is no longer truly Burmese, and as stipulated in the new constitution, unable to run for office. Unlike most zat pwe today, in which the classical drama is eliminated because the stage show takes up so much time, Nyain Wai’s troupe presented a zat gyi featuring the minthagyi, an older mintha, in the lead role. He delivered a lengthy verse prologue about a man who must go on a meaningful journey on the day of his death. A chorus of minthamee played his family and friends. Unfortunately, the play came on so late that dawn had already broken and the magical atmosphere of the night had evaporated. The bedraggled ensemble followed the elderly “Every- man,” wandering lost in the desolation of the empty theatre where only a few sleeping children remained. External Influences: Contact with the Outside Unlike the Mandalay Marionette puppet shows and the Moustache Brothers’ anyein troupe, tourism does not play any role in sustaining the zat pwe. Its style, length, and language-based performance all militate against it being packaged for short-term visitors or having much appeal abroad. Instead, it maintains its popularity among indigenous audiences by replaying old favorites and adapting foreign songs, dances, and plays—and by relying heavily on integrating mass media icons into local popular culture. The zat melodramas have included plots based on CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 German Christmas tales, French romances, American mafia films, and Chinese kung fu movies. To further fulfill its function as a conduit of modernity, the zat pwe has incorporated the stage show, a substitute for pop concerts which, when allowed, are too expensive for most Burmese. Unlike the practice of popular hybrid theatres in neighboring Thailand and Laos, the Burmese stage show depends less on dancing girls in skimpy costumes and instead focuses on the hip look of the young men, offering impoverished youth a glamorous image of themselves and vicarious celebrity. While female fans cram onto the high-priced mats near the stage in order to bestow the mintha with gifts, the young men on the sidelines are often unruly, dancing more unre- strainedly than the professionals onstage are allowed to dance. Brawls not infrequently break out, and as people jump up out of the way in the crowded space, the action onstage temporarily halts while community guardians subdue the combatants. Burmese adolescents, like youth everywhere, lay claim to their own musical styles to define their generation; and through mass media, this group identification now spans the globe. The songs, along with the oversized mass- produced clothes and hip-hop gestures, are their tenuous connection to the outside world. The heavily amplified music—made harsh by antiquated sound systems—also no doubt appeals because it is an anathema to figures of authority that see the “vulgar” provocative movements and aggressive stridency of the stage show—though very mild by Western standards—as “un- Burmese.” Thus, the very quality that repulses the conservatives makes it attractive to disaf- fected youth. Conclusion Immediately in the wake of the September 2007 crackdown, anyein troupes Say Young Sone (The Colorful) and Thee Lay Thee (four comedians with “Thee” in their names) performed All You Respected Heroes in Burma in Yangon, despite warnings by the authorities. Though they signed documents stipulating that they would not perform political jokes, the show is one long political harangue, pulling no punches as it pokes fun at both UN envoy Ibrahim Gambari and the Burmese Minister of Information, whom the comedians dub “Comical Ali” (Shah Paung 2007). The banned VCD of the performance sold throughout the country and can be seen on YouTube. The group then began a two-month international tour, performing for the Burmese diaspora, with comedian Godzilla quipping: “After this performance in Bangkok, we’re going to perform in other countries, including Singapore, [South] Korea, the United States, Canada, and Germany. After that, we’re going to perform in Moscow.” A big laugh sweeps over the audience. In Burma, prison is referred to as “Moscow.” (Kyaw Zwa Moe 2008) In December 2007, despite the social upheaval going on around them, the Gitameit music students produced their own musical, Dream Melody. Combining elements of anyein and pya zat, the play begins with Thakya Min, the King of the Nats, who hears the singing of the Gitameit Chorus and sends his amanuensis, Madali, to earth to investigate. Along with Madali, the audience discovers the troubles besetting the school but also learns how the students, through their musical activities, gain self-confidence, trust in other people, and possession of their own imaginations (Young 2007). Initially scheduled for November 2007, the Festival of Contemporary Theatre & Perfor- mance Art (Myanmar): “iUi#01—Process of Initiating, Updating & Integrating” took place in February 2008. Hosted by the Alliance Française and the Theatre of the Disturbed run by Nyan Burmese Performing Arts Lin Htet—a Burmese dramatist who now lives in Paris—it was Myanmar’s first international theatre festival. Rey Buono, a director of many productions in Malaysia and Singapore, con- ducted a workshop of Beckett’s Act Without Words II (1956) with 15 novice actors. In the play, the two characters take bites out of a carrot, which the students decided symbolized luck and wealth; they named their revision Our Carrots to express the divide between the “haves” and “have nots.” Struck by the students’ unusual level of trust and willingness to take risks, Buono describes how

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one exercise that started off as a “group laugh was spontaneously transformed into intense sobbing” (Buono 2008). The students also included a wedding that turns into the groom’s funeral in their performance, which was one of 20 shown in the final public presentation. Nyan Lin Htet directed Beckett’s Rockabye, U Ye Dway presented a marionette show, and Manuel Lutgenhorst and Ralph Coterill from Thailand performed a version of “The Pied Piper.” Before the festival ended, the government announced that it would hold national elections in 2010, once again raising tentative hopes as well as shrugs of indifference. It is deeply troubling to witness a people exhibiting such yearning for freedom even as they scarcely hope to see any improvement during their lifetimes. The most distressing aspect is that as Buddhists, most of the Burmese people embrace nonviolence in their opposition to the military. They are again and again brutally put down, testing the limits of nonviolent resistance when facing a force with no conscience. With each demonstration, their spirits are revived only to be dashed. Hopelessness has driven many people abroad; it has also made most of them devoutly religious, putting their hope for a better life in the next one. Suffering the economic effects of global exploitation and yet exhibiting a few signs of global marketing, the country, caught between military oppression and religious devotion, feels medieval. The current struggle of Burmese performing arts is not merely an engagement with modernity but an attempt to negotiate the radically restrictive political and economic conditions imposed by a government that paradoxically gives lip service to modernity while demonizing all of its foreign manifestations. Similarly, the government upholds traditional arts as authentic representations of Burmese culture, but by being “preserved,” the arts are losing their ability CatherineDiamond

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Downloaded from http://www.mitpressjournals.org/doi/pdf/10.1162/dram.2009.53.1.93 by guest on 02 October 2021 Figure 16. Beckett’s Rockabye adapted and directed by Nyan Lin Htet of Theatre of the Disturbed at the Festival of Contemporary Theatre & Performance Art (Myanmar): “iUi#01—Process of Initiating, Updating & Integrating.” Yangon, 2008. (Courtesy of The Theatre of the Disturbed)

to sustain their contemporaneity—the freedom to incorporate all aspects of social life—that makes them popular. Burmese performing artists nonetheless not only manage to transmit expressions of discontent, but also bring outside trends to their audiences. While the flexibility of the anyein and zat pwe allow them to incorporate modernity, the ambivalence toward traditional dance and music and their role in Myanmar’s future was aptly illustrated at an impromptu performance in Thanlyin near Yangon in 2005. Local performers gathered where my translator taught English, and after the class the students were invited to remain to watch the festivities. Three musicians (two drummers and a nhe [oboe] player), two singers, and two dancers dressed in formal but modest costumes began their performance that included the Water Festival song and dance (which almost everyone dances at the April Water Festival). The young female dancer then performed a series of virtuosic solo pieces based on characters from The Ramayana: an ogre, prince, monkey, and princess. The variations in her movements depicting each character, and her mask-like expressions were admirably distinct. Despite the liveliness of the presentation, the students of English surreptitiously left the room. By the end of the dancer’s performance, all the students were gone. However, several older people, upon hearing the music, gathered and began to dance or sing until a rather free-for-all Dionysian gusto took over, with everyone spontaneously enjoying the unexpected opportunity to revel. The young dancer had never been formally trained at an institution, nor had she studied Burmese Performing Arts with an older exponent of the dance—she had taught herself, learning the moves from watching government-sponsored television. Her ardent determination to acquire dance skills contrasts with the disinterest of the English students. Her performance demonstrates both the difficulties the performing arts face from the allure of globalization and the deep-rooted love even the poorest Burmese feel for their culture’s unique arts.

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