“In dance, cultural representation flickers in and out of somatic identity like a high-frequency vibration, dissolving the boundaries of categories such as self/other, nature/culture, body/mind, and private/public. This interconnectedness of bodies and identities creates what I consider the transformative power of live performance, and contemporary dance makes the most of it.”

– Ann Cooper Albright

Appreciation or appropriation? I suppose that is the question a dance writer should ask when seeing a show about culture. Palao, one of the four shows produced by Lune Production in Vietnam, anchors its theme and subject matter in the rich history and culture of the Cham — one of fifty-four ethnic minority groups in Vietnam. When I first heard about the production, I was quite skeptical because I was afraid I would see something that would be cultural bait, a practical tool of Vietnamese tourism, which would utilize the culture of anyone and anything to pander to people who are there only for spectacle. I am glad to say I was very wrong.

More than a month after first seeing it, I can still vividly remember the production’s heavenly images and its spirituality, which are both grounded in representations of historical struggles and celebratory traditions. Movements unfolded in a wide range of tableaux, from vigorous exertion and bursting energy to gentle care and stillness as juxtaposition. The embodiment of each and every performer, whose haunted eyes and haunted cries echoed in the moon-shaped theatre, told a story beyond what words can do. What was intended as a representation has transcended into a beautiful tribute that extends beyond its commercial value.

“[Champa is] a kingdom of many small united tribes in the central [region] of nowadays Vietnam, established in AD 192. Believing in co-existence, the civilization grew towards spirituality and adopted Hinduism. Continuous territorial conflicts with external forces, especially from the north, led to gradual loss of land, until Champa was totally absorbed in 1832. Once great voyagers of the sea, many Cham fled the country to other South East Asian lands.”

The remaining Cham community now lives scattered in different parts of Vietnam. This context, taken directly from the Palao program notes, reminds me of the similar struggle that Native Americans went through and are going through. It strikes me, this time personally, thinking about the violent history buried underneath the land I grew up in. With such a traumatic past that leaves heavy imprints on contemporary life, Palao was created to honor their rich culture while also giving them a chance to confront history, to find catharsis, and to let go.

“In Cham words, ‘palao’ means ‘let go.’ When a large ship is about to leave shore, when young adults leave home on a quest to find their fate, Cham people ‘palao’. This performance, therefore, presents a poignant question of how present-day Cham and Vietnamese deal with their traumatic past, behave towards their own native cultures which have suffered much , and are now fading in light of globalization. Can they ‘palao’ the burden of history, of nationalism, and find their place in the world today?”

In contrast to the complexity of its mission and message, Palao employs minimal production design, leaving emphasis on the performers’ embodied experience and allowing these stories to unfold in a poetic manner. Palao’s visual language is mainly red and white. “White covers from costumes to ambience and represents spiritual purity... Red is in the “fire dance”, in symbolic terracotta pots of various contextual meanings and spiritual values.” To me, I read in the color white a sense of fragility, singularity, and tranquility, while the earthy red exudes a sense of groundedness, community, and intimacy. The terracotta pot, which went through various exuberant journeys, manifests Cham philosophy and its approach to life and death, destruction and creation. In one scene, it took a giant shape and appeared out of the dark. Then, as if it was holding the infinite universe inside, one performer after another jumped out of the vase (there were about eleven or twelve of them). A celebrating ritual ensued, honoring this ‘womb’ sacredness of carrying life with all of its abundance. In another scene, five or six medium pots appeared on stage left, dimly lit under the ethereal blue light. Long white silks started to fly out from the pots up toward the center stage ceiling. The image was clear: the spirits of the dead, having completed their journey on earth, rise and drift toward a new spiritual realm, getting ready for their celestial rite of passage. By the end of this scene, all the white silks are tied together to suspend a tiny dancer mid-air, curdling up like a fetus — the spirits have finished their divine journey and are now ready to be reborn into the world again. I guess this is why I was drawn to this production despite its representational façade — the journey never felt forced like a didactic culture lesson, nor was it too metaphysical for its abstract and surreal imagery. The spectators’ journey was gently guided with a sense of honesty and appreciation. I remembered clearly the moment when the small pot fell and shattered at the end of the show, signaling its finality, an end to a journey, to life, and with it a sense of accepting and forgiving. It was let go by the hands that held it so gently, diving into gravity to pull away from its troubled past, untangle its regret, anger, and sorrow.

The terracotta pot in its giant shape — a symbol for the infinite universe, a womb carrying life and all of its abundance.

I had the chance to interview some of the artists involved in the production, asking them what gave the production the empathetic power that it has. The common answer I received was that Palao is a journey that is lived and not performed. During the creative process, Palao seems to not to have had a constrained structure at the beginning to dictate how the show was going to form. Dancers, choreographers, musicians, and composers alike contributed to the show and fed off of each other for inspiration and connection. It’s worth noting that the artists come from various backgrounds and experiences, skill levels and styles. One dancer told me that they came from breakdancing and had not been exposed to contemporary dance; others also acknowledged the lack of any formal movement training. This challenge, however, became their strength as one said they didn’t have to investigate the subject matter through the lens of contemporary dance. They only had to look within themselves to understand what they, with all their life experiences and lack there-of, could offer. Palao owes its sense of unity, coherence, and divine sincerity to these vibrant individualities.

“The story that we share on stage is the story of real life, and our expressions do not only belong to us, but they also belong to and encompass our humanity as a whole.”

— a cast member (translated)

This statement, by one of the performers makes me think about the lack of individual ego from everyone involved, beyond the fact that Palao is a show about culture and community. One interesting example is that when I received the interview responses, none of the answers seemed to have any name written alongside — the interviewees didn’t bother claiming credit for their opinions, except for one or two after I specifically asked — a collective of individuals speaking as one and taking responsibility for the group as a whole. Another example is that their program note, which spans six-pages and is filled with Cham stories and illustrations to help us understand the show better, has zero information about producers, choreographers, composers, performers, nor technical crew. No bios, not even their names! It must be more important that the show leaves some sort of impression behind, rather than giving us the names of who we should marvel for their skills and artistry. At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering whether this has to do with the way things are, or whether the production is meant to be commercial and thus, artist credibility is nothing more than trivia. After all, nineteen years of life has made me more than familiar with a nationalist sentiment encouraging repression of individuality. Nonetheless, in the context of this show, the cultivating wholeness of the group also proved to be personally beneficial. Most agreed that this process satisfied them regardless of where they come from or what ethnic group they belong to. Some dancers from the Kinh ethnic group (the majority in Vietnam, the category to which I belong) acknowledged that they didn’t have any information about Cham culture before working on the show, and the learning process has opened their eyes to values and ways-of-being that are more whole and fulfilling. Even those with knowledge about Cham culture felt that working on the production had led them to a more intimate understanding of what Palao had asked them to embody.

“I was born with Cham blood in my veins, but I didn’t have much understanding about its culture and history. It was a setback, having to contribute to such an important creative process, so I have been researching into my own history since I started working for Palao.”

— a cast member, translated.

This interconnectedness between various experiences and backgrounds, and the experience of embodying another culture (or one’s own) remind me of another statement by Albright:

“Cultural identity is not necessarily synonymous with somatic identity. Yet neither is a somatic identity anymore “real” or essential than a social one simply because it is anchored in the body. Rather, the two are interconnected in the process of living that we call experience. Understanding the multiple features of that experience will help us to articulate how the dancing body can at once enact and resist its own representation.”

The transformative power of Palao also lies in its innovative blend of traditional language and contemporary voice. The detailed symbolism of Cham culture has extended itself into the realm of abstraction and expressivity. At this point my brain starts to ask this very important question: does this make Palao any less authentic? I don’t know, but I’m inclined to say that I don’t think so. I guess the question should be: is there even a point of authenticity to begin with? Like other cultures, Cham culture is ever changing and flexible. Whether such-and-such ways of being/representing are authentic or not is none of my concern, except that chauvinists always try to narrow down the experience of a community into a single image they deem acceptable. Palao is more than just an image, it’s a journey of the individuals and the community; it tells history through fiction, explores philosophy through imagery, and celebrates culture through fantasy. Just as the dancing body can enact and resist its own representation at the same time, Palao reiterates Cham culture as dynamic and adaptable while also resisting a cultural singularity defined the past. Palao did all this by bringing in new approaches:

“I believe that the mixing of these languages for the show is very interesting. It’s not at all an obstructive wall but a connecting bridge for us to catch each other’s rhythm, which is important for our creative process. This blending has layered us with more nuance, abstract thinking, and freed our imagination to its emotive power. Throughout history, Cham culture (sea culture) has always been open outward to welcome fresh waves and learning from foreign cultures, exchanging, absorbing, and filtering appropriate materials to enrich our own. Cham Philosophy welcomes innovation. Therefore, the mixing of languages feels very appropriate.”

— a cast member (translated)

“...the music in the show is no longer Cham music as we first knew it. With technique and experimentation, it is rearranged in different multiple dimensions while being layered with philosophy and religion. That’s why it feels surreal. However, the overall structure of Cham music with its signifiers always stays close and true for any part of the show, lending it a sense of intimacy and honesty.”

— Thanh Lam, Palao vocalist (translated)

It is worth noting that the show was specifically created with foreign audiences and tourists in mind. Inra Jaka, one of the creators of the show, acknowledged that contemporary dance and geographic art and culture, like Palao, has a difficult time approaching general Vietnamese audiences. I will spare you my thoughts on this and just say that I agree with this statement, sadly. However, I also acknowledge my own privilege. Investing in an art education to be able to appreciate shows like Palao is not something an average Vietnamese can gamble on. I feel quite sad that most Vietnamese audiences are not taught to comprehend and appreciate these kinds of beauty, leaving it to foreign audiences to enjoy on this work on their vacations. Also, it’s quite funny and weird to be greeted in English coming to see a show in my own country. They must have mistaken us for tourists.

“If you treat Palao as a living being, then this being is a not a fun being to be with. There will be tourists, who seek entertainment, coming to Palao and [who will be] disappointed, but it is the essence and color of the show. I don’t know what Palao will be if its only value is commercial value.”

Inra Jaka also shared that during the first few performances of its debut, Palao receptions fell into two categories: either people really liked it, or they hated it. This forced them to rethink the structure and rebalance the energy of the show. After five months, audience reception grew more positive, yet this alone couldn’t sustain the production for very long. At writing, the production is scheduled to suspend by the end of October, after already having to cut down the production budget and the number of artists involved, leaving more space to one of its sister show, the A O Show — a circus production which focuses more on virtuosic spectacle laced with some witty caricature. Note that culture is still a selling point for A O Show, emphasizing its commercial value by giving tourists a look into how different Vietnamese are and how our casual behavior is entertaining. Anyhow, Palao’s creative and production team are thinking of different ways to keep the show going. One of their strategies is to cultivate workshops to create artworks deriving from symbolism within the show. Their vision and hope right now is to be able to take Palao on an international tour to approach a wider range of audiences.

“Palao is a metaphor for releasing and letting go in order to revive our humanity. Life needs altruism and mercy; it needs forgiving and sacrificing when confronting a life and death decision. To let go is the highest thing one can do, but Cham philosophy doesn’t stop there. There is another layer to Palao’s meaning: it means to let go of something we don’t need in order to stay. It’s like releasing the anchor so the ship can balance during turbulent winds, with our soul being the anchor, and this chaotic life the winds.”

Dat Nguyen is a choreographer, photographer, filmmaker, and visual artist. He was based in Salt Lake City, Utah until recently returning to his native Vietnam. He received his BFA degree in Dance at Sam Houston State University and earned an MFA degree in Modern Dance with a Screendance Certificate at the University of Utah. Before leaving town, he was a founding member of this May’s inaugural Queer Spectra Festival.

His theatrical works and collaborations have been presented at multiple venues and festivals around the country, including 12 Minute Max, Bailando International Dance Festival, Mudson, Marriott Center for Dance, Jim & Nancy Gaertner Performing Arts Center, and The Great Salt Lake Fringe Festival.

His photography credits include working with notable dance companies and university dance programs, such as Repertory Dance Theatre, Keith Johnson/Dancers, Myriad Dance Company, The BBoy Federation, Nicolay Dance Work, the University of Utah, Brigham Young University, Utah Valley University. His photos have been seen in major publications, including Salt Lake City Weekly, SLUG Magazine, loveDANCEmore, The Utah Review, Front Row Reviewers Utah, and PhotoVouge by Vouge Italia.