Welcome to the Deep Dive.
We take your intriguing sources and, well,
we dig in to find the gems.
We certainly do.
And today, thanks to one of you, we're diving
into something really special.
Yeah, Chavitu Natakam, a dramatic opera from Kerala.
Exactly.
And our source, this great article,
gives us a real window into it.
So our mission today is to sort of unpack
this blend of East and West in Chavitu Natakam, right,
and figure out what it means culturally.
Precisely.
It's a fascinating intersection.
OK, because when I hear Kerala and dramatic performance,
my mind immediately goes to Kathakali,
you know, the masks, the makeup.
Sure, that's a common association.
Very powerful form.
But then the article compares this
to Western opera, which is--
well, it's surprising.
It feels like two different worlds.
It does initially, but that's the core of Chavitu Natakam.
It really is that fusion.
All right, so break it down for us.
For anyone who hasn't heard of it, what is Chavitu Natakam?
Well, it's essentially a musical dance drama.
It popped up in Kerala, mostly among Christian communities
near those old port areas.
Port areas.
So thinking trade routes, foreign influence.
Exactly.
Places with significant Portuguese connection,
historically.
And the name itself, Chavitu, it actually
means steps or stamping.
Ah, so the footwork is important.
Crucial.
The article emphasizes this blend
of Ghana, which is the music, Narita, the dance,
and Nataka, the drama.
So a real triple threat.
Absolutely.
The performers, they sing their parts.
They act out the story, and they dance
all synchronized to the rhythm.
While singing.
Yeah.
And the main instruments setting that rhythm
are the chendita, that's a big, powerful drum,
and the alaflam, which are cymbals.
Gives it a very distinct sound.
That sounds incredibly complex to perform.
And the article mentioned acrobatics, too.
It did.
That's another layer.
Adds a real dynamism to it.
But what was also interesting is how it connects back--
Back to older traditions.
Right.
It has roots in earlier Kerala folk arts,
like Kooth and Kutiyattam.
And it even follows principles from the Natchisastra.
The Natchisastra.
The ancient text on dramaturgy.
That's the one.
So it's grounded in Indian tradition,
even with the later influences.
OK, so it's both uniquely Keralan
and part of this bigger Indian artistic heritage.
Let's talk more about that east meets west angle.
Kerala's history as a crossroads.
Oh, absolutely central.
You have centuries of interaction there.
Greeks, Romans, traders in the Middle East, China.
A real melting pot.
Definitely.
And then, crucially for Chavatunatakam,
you get the European powers.
Portuguese, Dutch, French, British later on.
But the article highlights the 16th and 17th centuries, right?
With the Portuguese.
Yes.
That seems to be the key period for its formation.
You have educated Christian missionaries arriving,
Jesuits, Augustinians, Dominicans,
often under Portuguese patronage.
And they were influenced by what was
happening in Europe at the time.
Exactly.
Think European Renaissance.
A revival of interest in classical Greek and Roman
culture, drama, art.
So they brought those ideas with them, not just religion.
Correct.
The article mentions they introduced things like the
printing press, European art styles,
Greco-Roman architecture, even Latin organ music.
Wow.
A huge influx.
And crucially, they saw the potential
in the local performance traditions.
Things like Kooth, Kudiatam, Kaliatam.
And they use those existing forms.
Yes, as vehicles to tell biblical stories
or European historical tales.
The big one being the epic of Charlemagne.
Charlemagne.
Really?
In Kerala.
Yep.
Became a major theme.
So the article argues this mixing
indigenous styles, meaning European drama, maybe
early opera ideas, that's what gave birth to Chavitunatakam.
A unique blending, as the article puts it.
That's the phrase.
A synthesis of Indian and European,
Western and Oriental styles.
It makes me think of Gandhara art, that mix
of Greek and Indian styles.
That's a great parallel the article draws, actually.
It helps visualize that kind of fusion.
OK, fascinating historical context.
So let's get into the performance itself,
the key elements.
Music first.
Music is fundamental.
Remember, it's all sung.
No spoken dialogue.
Right.
You mentioned that the actors sing everything live.
Everything.
And the songs composed in what's called Tamil Isai,
the melody tradition, from Tamil music.
Tamil music in Kerala.
Well, yeah.
The article explains that Tamil was quite common in parts
of Kerala, especially coastal and village areas,
up until maybe the late 18th century.
The earliest texts reflect that.
OK, that makes sense.
What are the songs usually about?
Often themes of valor, heroism, fitting those epic stories
like Charlemagne.
There's even a saying mentioned.
Oh, yeah.
That just a four line song from one of these plays
could rejuvenate an old man.
Gives you a sense of the energy.
Huh.
I love that.
And the musical style is mainly Tandava.
Mostly, yes.
Tandava is generally seen as the masculine, strong, vigorous
style.
Think Shiva's dance.
It suits the powerful steps and that booming chenda drum.
Makes sense for battle scenes and heroic entries.
Exactly.
But it's not only that.
The article points out there are softer melodies, too,
in the lazya style.
Lazya, that's more graceful.
Right, more fluid, often associated with parvati,
used for scenes of love, sadness, or devotion.
Provides a nice contrast.
OK, so the music sets the tone, drives the story.
Now those shavitu steps, the footwork.
Yes, the stamping feet.
It's absolutely central.
Actors are scamping rhythmically in time with the drums
while singing and acting.
That coordination sounds immense.
It is.
And like the music, it's mainly Tandava in feel-strong,
definite steps.
But there's lazya in there, too.
For the female characters, who are played by men, right?
Traditionally, yes.
So those characters would use the more graceful, flowing,
lazya steps.
How complex does the footwork get?
Pretty intricate.
The article mentions 12 basic steps,
but they're combined into patterns.
Names like kavatham, kalasam, adakalasam, atantha.
OK.
So kavatham is apparently used for the grand entrance
of a king or a hero, maybe at the start of a court scene.
The article compares it to talana in paratancham.
Ah, OK, so a rhythmic flourish.
Exactly.
Kalsams are described as these vigorous steps
right at the end of a song.
Adakalasams are similar, but happen within a song.
Got it, in the tantantha.
That's described as more flowing, lyrical steps
used for the female characters.
Supposedly resembles mohinyatham,
another carillon classical dance known for its grace.
So a real vocabulary of movement.
Definitely.
And the key thing always is keeping perfect time
with the drum beats.
Every movement on stage is tied to that rhythm.
Incredible discipline.
OK, what about the acting, the nacha?
How does that fit in?
Well, nacha, the dramatic representation,
is crucial too.
Actors use their singing and their gestures
to convey the characters' emotions,
the story's twists and turns.
So it's not just about looking good
while dancing and singing.
No, no.
The emotional storytelling is key.
It's described as quite spontaneous,
happening right there with the singing.
They use mudra's hand gestures.
Like in paratanacham or kathakali?
Yes, but apparently used less extensively
or maybe differently than in those forms.
The expression comes through the whole body,
the voice, the face.
And the themes often involve action, fighting.
You mentioned the kalari connection.
Right, the kalari culture.
Kerala's traditional martial arts training
is a big influence.
So yeah, fighting, hunting, battles are common themes.
Like in the Charlemagne play.
Perfect example.
Reclaiming Jerusalem, battles between knights.
These are performed quite realistically.
Realistically, with weapons.
-Apparently so. -Yeah.
Using actual swords, spears.
Historically, the actors got serious physical training
in Kalaris, learning weapon skills.
Wow.
There's that amazing anecdote in the article
about Prince Fareebra's catching a boiled egg
on the tip of his lance during a performance.
Get out.
That's incredible skill.
Shows the level of dexterity they aimed for, doesn't it?
So the martial element is really embedded in the form.
Clearly.
Okay, instruments we know, the enda and alephalem are core.
Anything else?
Those are primary, yes.
But the article says it's quite flexible.
Other instruments get used, even modern ones.
Sometimes fiddle, flute, clarinet, harmonium
have been incorporated.
Interesting.
And the asan, the master, is on stage.
Yes, guiding the performance.
He uses his own symbol to give cues,
keep the rhythm tight for the actors.
So he's like a conductor on stage.
Kind of, yeah.
And there's also a group of background singers.
They stand nearby with the text, sing chorus parts,
and repeat lines sung by the main actors.
Gives the actors a breather, maybe.
Probably helps, yeah.
Lets them prepare for the next bit
of intense singing and dancing.
Creates a sort of call and response feel, too.
It sounds like a very layered soundscape.
Now, visually, the costumes, the makeup,
Ahariya Abhinaya, right?
Right, Ahariya Abhinaya, the visual aspect.
And the costumes are described as a real highlight,
artistic, rich, elaborate.
Fitting for emperors and knights.
Definitely.
Lots of silk, velvet brocades, pearls, sparkly glass bits.
Trying to evoke medieval European royalty and warriors.
And the soldiers.
They often wear costumes based on Greco-Roman uniforms.
And fascinatingly, things like helmets and crowns
were often made by local village artisans.
Ah, so the community is involved in the production itself.
Seems like it.
The article stresses the realism, too.
No masks like Kathakali, no heavy symbolic makeup.
It aims for a more direct historical representation
through costume.
So visually spectacular, aiming for a kind
of historical opulence.
What about the stories they're telling?
The texts, the chuvadi?
Right, the chuvadi.
Originally, these were written on palm leaves.
Wow, old school.
Yeah, using scripts like Tamil or older forms
like Vatisuthu or Granthakshara, later copied on the paper,
often in Malayalam script.
And the early ones, like Charlemagne,
are considered quite literary.
Yes, the article mentions Charlemagne, Barazines, Genova
as having real literary merit.
Likely from that 16th, 17th century period.
And later texts started mixing Tamil and Malayalam.
Seems so.
Apparently, around 46 different plays have been found, roughly.
But there are issues with different versions.
Pirated works?
Yeah, because the masters, the assins,
guarded the manuscripts really closely.
So you get variations, maybe unauthorized copies.
Like four different versions of Charlemagne exist.
That makes preserving the original tricky.
Who actually wrote these early plays?
Mostly anonymous, it seems.
Often credited to names like Chekthachan, Servant of Jesus,
or Mariyathachan, Servant of Mary.
Which points back to the missionaries again.
Strongly suggests missionary involvement in the creation.
Yeah.
Blending their stories with the local performance
styles they encountered.
And we talked about the Tamil language
being common back then.
But it's a challenge now for Malayalam speakers.
It is.
That's one of the issues today.
So there are efforts to translate the texts,
make them accessible.
And also introduce new stories, Indian themes.
Exactly.
And make them a repertoire beyond the traditional European
or biblical narratives.
OK, let's circle back to Charlemagne.
It sounds like the defining play.
It really seems to be.
The article calls it the first and most elaborate.
Originally took 15 days to perform, with like 80 actors.
15 days?
Good grief.
Yeah.
Huge scale.
Praise for its poetry, heroic scope, drama,
strong characters.
Based on Italian classics, especially
Arioster's Orlando Furioso.
Right, the epic poem.
So it's about Charlemagne becoming
Holy Roman Emperor, defending Europe,
his 12 knights, the paladins, including Roland.
Roland, or Orlando.
Exactly.
And interestingly, the play often
focuses so much on Roland's heroism
that he sometimes overshadows Charlemagne himself.
Like Arjuna in the Mahaparada, the article says.
Yeah, that's the comparison made.
A key hero within the larger epic.
The play even has five parts, starting with Chinnaroldum,
little Roland, about his birth and youth.
Amazing how these stories traveled and transformed.
So who teaches this?
The Asan.
Yes, the Anav-Yura-Asan.
A hugely respected figure in the village.
And they needed incredible expertise.
What kind of skills?
Everything.
Footwork, music, literature, acting, gymnastics, even
weapons training.
A true master of all aspects.
Must be hard to find people like that today.
That's one of the challenges mentioned, yes.
The training itself was traditionally in the Kalaris,
using the Gerukula system.
Living with the master.
Often, yeah.
Very immersive.
Involved preliminary tests, a formal admission ceremony
with offerings, and absolute obedience was demanded.
Sounds intense.
What did the training cover?
Starts with about six months, just
on the steps, basic and complex patterns.
Then initial weapons training, sword, and lands.
And serious physical conditioning.
Historically, yes.
Oil massages, exercises for strength, flexibility.
The Asan would then cast the play,
choosing roles based on ability.
And certain families often got key roles.
Seems that way, yeah.
Important families might play the king, minister,
commandant.
The minister role was apparently highly sought after.
Interesting.
And the rehearsal process.
Chalayatim.
Right.
The Asan recites the songs, explains the meaning,
demonstrates the moves, and the students repeat.
This could take one to three years for a single play.
Years.
Incredible dedication.
Where did they perform?
The stage setup.
Traditionally, outdoors.
In the village maidan, or common ground,
they build a long, raised wooden stage.
Maybe 40, 50 meters long, but not very wide.
And decorated structures at each end,
representing palaces for the opposing sides in the story.
And lighting.
No curtains?
No curtain, usually.
A traditional bell metal lamp lit before a cross.
Doors at the ends for entrance exits.
Maybe a small window for the background musicians.
Lighting was often oil-soaked cloth torches.
Atmosphere.
Must have been.
And setting it all up, funding it
as a community effort, performances
were free, big festification.
Sounds like a major event for the whole village.
What about the performance day itself?
Busy day for the Asan.
Church service with students, getting blessings,
overseeing costume prep.
Then in the evening, the chenda drum
starts making announcements.
Building anticipation.
Right up to the 9 PM start.
Then there's a whole opening ceremony.
Symbols clash, chorus sings prayers, invoking blessings,
thanking the guru, the author.
A proper ritual opening.
Definitely.
Then they sing a summary of the story, the prelude.
Or virudhamula.
This alone could last an hour.
An hour-long summary.
Wow.
Compared to a Greek prologue.
Or the non-- in Sanskrit drama.
Yeah.
Really sets the stage before the main action.
What happens after the prelude?
Couple preliminary scenes.
First, the Thuthi yoga.
Two boys in soldier costumes enter, salute the audience,
respect the Asan, give gift to the costume master.
OK.
Then, Thadaya Dhanseri.
Maybe half a dozen young women doing graceful Lasha steps,
singing prayers, resembles Mohini Atam.
So setting a mood, introducing performers.
And then there's the kathiyan, the jester.
Yes.
He comes on between scenes, provides comic relief,
makes fun, maybe mimics the main actors,
acts as a sort of stagehand too.
And helps the audience follow the story.
Crucially, yes.
He talks with the Anavi, the master, comments on the action,
explains things, a bridge between the play
and the audience.
Very clever device.
Can you describe a typical scene, like a durbar?
Sure.
A durbar or court scene.
The chorus might announce the emperor.
He enters with soldiers, singing his big entrance song,
soldiers doing steps.
Then the minister makes his dramatic entrance,
reports on the kingdom, maybe with soldiers
doing graceful Atantamu.
Creates a sense of grandeur and the war scenes.
Big spectacles, duels, group fights,
sometimes involving dozens of actors.
Ministers usually lead the fights,
not the kings themselves.
Interesting detail.
Lots of shield clanging, challenges,
a specific war cry song, Yudhatharu,
and extended fighting sequences.
Sounds exhausting.
And love scenes too.
Mentioned briefly, yes.
As variety.
Then the whole thing wraps up around dawn with the mongolam.
The closing scene.
Right.
All actors line up, sing a final prayer for the happy ending,
and march off.
Performance over.
What an epic undertaking, night after night for some plays.
It's quite something.
But the article ends on a more somber note,
doesn't it, about its current state?
Unfortunately, yes.
It talks about a real decline, even degeneration.
Why?
What are the problems?
It's a combination of things, really.
Lack of patronage, financial support,
masters passing away, and techniques being forgotten,
texts being unprinted, corrupted over time.
Then there are misguided attempts to modernize it
that lose the essence.
Preliminary scenes getting cut, educated folks maybe not
engaging with it as much.
Socioeconomic issues for performers, too.
Yes, challenges for actors and aizons,
plus competition from movies, TV, other entertainment.
And that language barrier with the old Tamil text
is a real issue.
That's a lot of pressure on a traditional art form.
It sounds quite fragile.
It does seem that way from the article's perspective.
But it doesn't end entirely on a down note.
No.
There are suggestions for improvement.
Yes, quite a few constructive ideas.
Things like holding seminars to bring everyone involved
together, artists, scholars, patrons,
starting a dedicated Chavitunadakam festival.
Showcase the art form.
Exactly.
Forming a study group for proper research,
finding and printing authentic texts,
discouraging harmful modernizations.
Financial support.
Definitely.
Providing grants to groups and teachers.
Also, introducing new plays in Malayalam,
using Indian themes to connect with current audiences.
And training.
A big one.
Establishing a central training school, maybe near Cochin
or even at the Kerala Kalamandalam, the big arts
university.
That makes sense.
Centralize the knowledge.
And generally encouraging government and cultural bodies
to get involved, provide sustained support.
It sounds like a solid plan.
If the will and resources are there,
it really deserves to be preserved and promoted,
doesn't it?
Absolutely.
It's such a unique piece of cultural history, that blend
of influences.
It deserves recognition alongside forms
like Kathakali, both in India and internationally.
It really does.
For me, the big takeaway, the aha moment,
was just realizing how deep and complex
that cultural exchange in Kerala was.
And seeing it embodied so vividly in this art form.
The detail is incredible.
Yeah.
And for me, it's thinking about the resilience needed
to maintain such traditions.
It highlights the importance of actively valuing and supporting
these unique artistic expressions,
especially those that bridge different histories.
That's a powerful point.
And it makes you think, doesn't it?
You, listening right now, think about how cultures mix
and mingle today through globalization.
What new art forms are emerging now
that future generations might look back
on as fascinating fusions?
A great question to ponder.
Indeed.
Well, thank you for joining us on this deep dive
into the amazing world of Chivitunatakam.
A real pleasure.
And if you have a source you think we should explore,
please send it our way.
We're always ready for the next deep dive.