‘Song of the North’ @ TITAS/Dance Unbound
—Teresa Marrero
An animated shadow puppet performance of a traditional Persian epic poem, “The Shahnameh” (dated between 977 and 1010 CE) may seem like a slight deviation from the usual TITAS dance offerings. But when asked why, executive director Charles Santos simply replied “Because we can.” He stated in his preshow “Santos Salon” at Moody Performance Hall that this performance was programmed about a year and a half ago. It so happens to be a timely statement about an empowered warrior Persian princess, Manijeh, who falls in love with a neighboring warring prince, Bijan. The storyline has echoes of Romeo and Juliet (1597), although the Persian poem precedes the Shakespearean play by several centuries.
“Shahnameh” literally means “The Book of Kings,” and its writing is attributed to the Persian poet Ferdowsi. It is considered a national epic of greater Iran and is one of the world’s longest epic poems, central to the formation of Persian historical identity. The “Song of the North” is creator/director Hamid Rahmanian’s visual adaptation of the story of Bijan and Menijeh. Rahmanian designed the piece, and co-wrote the script with Melissa Hibbard. This is only a segment of the entire poem.
And what a visual feast this is!
Billed as a cinematic ‘live animation,’ it combines the manual art of shadow play with 500 handmade puppets and digital audio/visual components. There are nine cast members behind the screen manually moving each puppet throughout the 80-minute live performance, and it flows with the precision of a successful rocket launching.
The puppets visually stun with their detailed beauty, and the scenery of palaces, countryside and the eventual pit into which Bijan is cast mesmerize the eye and the imagination. Music and dance scenes offer a dynamic that bedazzles, adding to the beauties of the shadow puppetry. ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0wPV2kDB6o )
The storyline follows Bijan, an Iranian knight, across the river into the forbidden territory of the enemy kingdom of Turan. There Menijeh, daughter of the king, notices Bijan’s prowess as the winner of tournament after tournament. She waits for him to come to her. They ride and hunt (she is an excellent archer) and find an equality in each other (a relatively strong comment on empowered female figures in this traditional society). But, where will these star-crossed lovers live? Bijan must return to his home; as a man of honor he cannot accept living in his potential wife’s territory. Menijeh has other ideas. With her siren’s voice, she lulls Bijan into a deep slumber and brings him to her castle. Once her father, the king, gets wind of this…well, you can imagine the pandemonium.
Without giving too much away, let us say that Menijeh proves herself to be a loyal and loving wife in spite of the terrible fate that befalls her beloved. Unlike the doomed lovers in Shakespeare, these two do find a way—though Menijeh must give up allegiance to her father and her home country.
This is the same price princesses and queens who fall in love with foreign warriors are made to pay in classical Western antiquity . Behold the story of Jason (and the Argonauts of the island of Iolcus) who, while in search of the Golden Fleece, is assisted by Medea, the enchantress daughter of King Colchis. Medea must flee with Jason after the betrayal of her homeland, only to be later abandoned by Jason.
Fortunately, the Greek twist of fate is not present in the Persian tale. The poet Ferdowsi, literary critic Soheila Loveimi has said, “… admires and respects the women who are scarcely seen in other…literary works. Manizheh as a devoted and faithful woman who relinquishes the throne for the sake of her love. Ferdowsi’s…Shahnameh is one of the great literary pieces that rank women with the men in shaping the honorable history of Iran.” ( https://files.eric.ed.gov/fulltext/EJ1097577.pdf )
While this epic story was beautifully told visually, I was left wanting to hear more consistently poetic language than that offered in this piece. Granted, it is understood that translations in general are beasts of their own, but I was jarred in several instances with the contemporary use of a “wow” or other unfitting modern twist of language. I did appreciate the use of ‘make haste’ rather than hurry, though. I wanted to savor the use of English linguistic poetic language to match the brilliance of the visual artistry.
I must admit that while my forté is Spanish and Hispanic language traditions, in which I feel more at home, I found the piece extremely approachable for this non-Persian. Rahmanian did state in the preshow talk that most of his audiences from around the world are non-Persian. How a Persian might perceive and respond to the work is an area of speculation I am not able to enter upon.
Teresa Marrero is Professor of Latin American and Latinx Theater at the University of North Texas.
