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WITH STRINGS ATTACHED
Puppetry fan Maria Visconti visits Burma to discover a magical art with far more meaning than that of simple entertainment
If you were picking your way through the woods on a balmy Burmese evening and heard the notes from a harp accompanied by a harmonious voice rising from the dark, floating towards the fragrant canopy overhead – you’d be intrigued, maybe even frightened. If, suddenly, you were to happen upon a small clearing with a group of tiny beings dancing inside a ring of flickering oil lamps… you might be astonished. And if you were back in the 15th century, when there was no knowledge of animatronics, film or TV, you’d be downright dumbstruck.
This is said to be the way puppetry started in Burma (Myanmar). Ingenious puppeteers would choose a natural grove with a low-lying canopy from where platforms precariously perched on branches served as a hideaway so puppeteers could manipulate their marionettes unseen by the audience.
Smack in the middle of important trade routes between India and the Far East, Burma was exposed to trends travelling eastward from the sub-continent and Indonesia. Puppetry was adopted and adapted with a passion. The puppets were not only mesmerising, they were educational and entertaining. Raised bamboo stages replaced canopy contraptions, becoming the norm for better visibility and the comfort of both puppeteers and audiences. Backdrops got ever more elaborate, depicting the mythical jungles within which heroes invariable became lost, or heavenly realms populated by equally heavenly beings. Stories told the life of Buddha, sung by the hidden performers.
U Aye Thwin has been making souvenir puppets all his life. He runs the family business from a low-lit shop on the Mandalay to Sagaing Road, where his relatives make the traditional Burmese wall hangings. “Visitors always buy puppets to take home,” he says. “They are almost a symbol of Burma.” New and antique traditional dance costumes are to be found here too.
In a society where the natural and supernatural easily overlap, the belief is that you never walk alone, but are instead surrounded by invisible spirits, or nats. Puppets belong in a third sphere, placed between humans and spirits. Dancers aspire to perform like puppets, and puppets are judged by how close they move like human
dancers. There is a traditional number involving a puppet – identifiable as a heavenly being – and a human dancer together on the same stage. The human is a very petite young woman who appears to be manipulated by strings from above by a puppeteer (pictured on page 80). While she dances, the heavenly being watches attentively. When the girl’s strings no longer pull her, she collapses on the stage. At this point the nat takes tentative steps to imitate the human dance. Human and marionette continue to dance in turn, copying each other’s moves. The spectacle wholly captures the audience’s attention, as the refined dancing techniques of both the performers on stage and the puppeteers behind the screen are remarkable. It is believed that during a performance like this, the vocalist, the puppeteer, the human dancer and the puppet all merge into the spirit of Lamaing Shin Mat, the ancient female tree spirit and protector of puppetry.
At the height of its popularity, between 1820 and 1885, puppet theatre was considered superior to live theatre because of the many different skills involved in staging a production. Court performances were lavish and shows for commoners attracted crowds. People were so entranced by the performances that, at times, a villainous character would suffer at the hands of a member of the audience. Many a time, a man would come forward and rip apart the puppet in an effort to deliver a favourite heroine from her tormentor.
In the Royal Court, puppets were even allowed to perform on a raised stage above the nobles’ heads – something that human dancers and entertainers were never allowed to do.
For centuries, local puppet-makers adhered to strict codes determining what timber was to be employed in the making of each individual character. Once the required wood was obtained, puppets were carved, complete with sex organs. U Tin Maung Kyi, a retired physician who lives in Mandalay and makes puppets, blames deforestation for today’s scarcity of Burma’s yamanay wood.
“I have used ceramic instead and even some plastic piping in the construction of Zaw-Gyi (the Alchemist),” he told me during a workshop. When he tried to use puppets to alert the public to the dangers of AIDS, the government told him to adhere to traditional themes.
There are 28 easily identifiable characters in a set of
puppets, including those that are mythological, animal and human. Costumes and colouring of the face make them staple characters, which audiences recognise and either love or hate. Only human hair was used for high-ranking puppets. Tresses are traditionally let down during moments of distress; a gesture always supported by heart-rending songs and a sure way to bring an audience to tears.
Ma Ma Naing, co-founder of the Mandalay Marionettes, said of their US performances: “In New York, Burmese audience members had tears on their faces. They miss their country and like to remember.”
She and Naing Yee Marr ‘discovered’ two puppet players, 70-year-old U Pan Aye and U Mya Thwin, 82. The former puppeteer, now 78, has recently performed in Japan. He said he was honoured to be able to bring his art to other lands and that his only regret was, “the Burmese applause is not as big as the foreign applause”.
There has always been an aura of respect surrounding marionettes. To this day, characters that are natural enemies are never stored together. Animal characters are carried prominently so the villagers can see them when a troupe arrives at a new destination. At puppeteers’ homes, puppets are referred to as ‘the bread-winners’. Singers and the orchestra supporting the production are an intrinsic part of the troupe. In the early days, drums, wooden clappers and cymbals were the only instruments. Today the ensemble reveals doubleheaded drums, brass gongs, large circular gongs, oboes and metallic bells. The Burmese harp, a 13-stringed boat-shaped harp, is central to many songs.
The future of puppetry in Burma is bravely fought for by a dedicated group of old puppeteers which, in the face of modern movie and TV entertainment, is bent on keeping the tradition alive. Local youth don’t even understand the courtly, refined language of the puppets; strangely enough, it is the continued interest of foreign visitors that ensures the survival of this fine art.
It is not hard to understand their fascination; attending a Burmese puppetry performance is like entering a new dimension, where magic really works.
MEET THE MARIONETTES
REGULAR PUPPET SHOWS are held in Yangon, Mandalay and Bagan. Enquire at your hotel for a timetable.
THE MANDALAY MARIONETTES give daily performances from
8.30pm. www.mandalaymarionettes.com
THE MANDALAY HILLS RESORT has a nightly BBQ and puppet show, and an English narrator. www.mandalayhillresorthotel.com
AT PHO LA PYAE HANDICRAFTS workshop, on the Mandalay to Sagaing Road, find richly dressed hand puppets and elaborate two-dimensional sequin embroidery. Tel +95 (0)2 70619
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