I have bad news and good news.
The bad news (first) is that
all those begging for tickets Tuesday to the sold-out performance of Birju
Maharaj with Zakir Hussain at the Irvine Barclay Theatre missed an extraordinary
event (presented by Irvine's Arpana Foundation). Sorry to tell you.
But the good news is that those
inside the Barclay were witness to what felt like a once-in-a-lifetime
performance. Unless, that is, magic happens every time Hussain, the virtuoso
tabla musician, and Maharaj, a master-of- masters in kathak dance, share
a stage together. And it felt, too, like that could be the case, such were
the heaps of respect and love that bubbled between these two renowned artists
from India.
As Maharaj said at one point,
as even he marveled at the fiery crackle they had stoked, Maharaj's heart
was in sync with Hussain's.
Like jazz music, the thrills
in Indian dance -- and its ultimate creative expressiveness -- lie in the
improvisation of the artists. The five-part program included dances of
preset choreography and spontaneous encounters. The night's penultimate
fireworks occurred during the second segment of challenges and counter-challenges
between Maharaj and Hussain, who is the reigning master from a dynastic
dance family; they riffed for an invigorating 90 minutes. (The entire program
ended at midnight.)
Standing at a microphone, Maharaj
talked, sang and danced us through the various components of kathak, one
of India's classical dance forms renowned for its elaborate rhythms, which
are articulated with the feet, and for its mimetic story-telling. He transformed
the sounds of nature, from clicking crickets to the crash of ocean waves,
into crisp, flat-footed stomping with rainbow-hued tonal nuances. He would
announce a rhythm through the singsong calling of syllables (known as barhant),
and then dance it, with Hussain matching him, accent for accent, through
perfect harmonies and syncopations. No preparation, only masterly intuition.
Then there was a 16-count melody
played on the sitar by Chandrachur Bhattacharjee, and the duo filled different
phrases with playfully expressive patterns. In one example, Maharaj explained
that Hussain on tabla would depict the sound of a man, while Maharaj --
clapping his toes and instep to the stage -- portrayed a woman.
"She'' was running away from
home; "he'' was in hot pursuit. Then, through percussive noises only, the
two enacted the drama through a kind of call and response. In another instance,
Maharaj depicted a harried hen followed by her scampering chicks.
Maharaj, even in his mid- 60s,
is an agile and delicate dancer. His face is thick, his features large,
as though exercising them for so many years has increased their size. He
reminded me of Yoda -- and I mean absolutely no disrespect in that description.
His cheeks were one minute loose, his mouth slightly open, and then, as
he began a story, he animated an eyebrow or his upper lip with perfect
dexterity.
Hussain produced such a gamut
of sounds and tonal qualities from those two drums that it was hard to
believe it was one man, and one instrument. Highly deferential, Hussain
played with child like joy all over his face. Playing tabla is for him
as natural as breathing, yet the results were breathtaking for us. When
the audience cheered him more loudly, Hussain walked to the back of the
stage and gently guided Maharaj to the front.
After such a display, Maharaj's
choreographed numbers were paler by comparison; these group numbers emphasized
easy-to-follow storytelling, symmetrical formations and technical delicacy.
The company included Maharaj's
son Deepak, a fine dance who also sang beautifully, like his father; a
master female dancer, Saswati Sen; and younger disciples Parna Ghosh and
Mahua Shankar. Utpal Ghoshal played tabla briefly when Hussain took a break.
The ensemble members bowed and touched their master's feet at the final
ovation.
By the second act, Maharaj was
no longer speaking in English, but Hindi mostly; a majority of the crowd
laughed and cooed. Hussain was continuously jousting with the harried folks
in the lighting booth to adjust their microphone levels. It was that kind
of night. Special for its intimacy.
(714) 796-4976 or
lbleiberg@ocregister.com
Where: Irvine Barclay Theatre
When: July 1
Copyright 2001 The Orange County Register
