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276 CHAPTER 9 Durians, Diversity, and Independence The malaysian Theatre Stages its multiethnic heritage Showing him standing in front of the Malaysian flag, singing the national anthem interspersed with Mandarin and Hokkien rap about the Malaysian police, government officials, and Malay-Chinese relations and accompanied by a montage of stereotypical images of the country, Wee Meng Chee’s “Negarakuku” caused an uproar when it appeared on YouTube in July 2007. Perhaps because sensitivities were heightened with the approach of the fiftieth anniversary of Malaysian independence, the satirical music video touched a raw nerve all the way up to prime minister Abdullah Badawi’s office and provoked ministers to call for his arrest under the Seditions Act.1 His song, however , was a paean to his homeland, a plea from an exile to return. Wee made the video while he was a student in Taiwan (there only because of the quota system that favors Malay admission to university and necessitates that many Chinese Malaysians further their studies abroad). The video, which satirized the government’s own fetishization of ethnic communities with scenes of wedding ceremonies, dances, and cuisine to advertise the country’s multiculturalism ,2 received over a million hits, both hostile and supportive. The attention confirmed Wee’s admission that his video was like a durian fruit, spiky on the outside, and stinky or fragrant on the inside. How you feel about the durian depends upon the sensitivities of your own nose. In 2007, while government officials were occupied with orchestrating impressive parades, many of the country’s theatre groups were preparing more introspective “state of the union” performances. Some reflected on the past with a sense of lost opportunities, and critiqued the present for not living up to the first enthusiastic moments of “Merdeka” (Independence) when, on DUriAnS, DiVerSiTy, AnD mAlAySiAn mUlTieThniC heriTAge | 277 August 31, 1957, the word was shouted resoundingly seven times by Tunku Abdul Rahman, the country’s first prime minister. Many theatre companies pointed out that not only did the promise of ethnic harmony remain unfulfilled, but the divisions between races had become even more intractable. Because open discussion of race relations is taboo, the possibility of reducing tension through dialogue remains elusive. Uneven economic development has hardened social divisions that often run along racial lines, and during economic downturns racist sentiments are fanned by politicians. In addition , despite an overall increase in prosperity, there is a nagging sense that a more gracious and generous way of life was sacrificed in the push toward narrowly defined materialist “progress.” The Independence Day celebrations served to remind people as much of what they had lost as what they had gained. The theatres reflect this obsession with race and provide alternative spaces to contemplate “what” and “who” is Malaysian. Not long after the demonstrations protesting the arrest of former finance minister Anwar Ibrahim in 1999, the Actors Studio’s stage became the site of a play featuring its own unique subterranean location in a mall underneath Dataran Merdeka (Independence Square), where the demonstrations had taken place. The Malaysian Decameron (2000), written by filmmaker and critic Amir Muhammad, began with four people escaping the turmoil into the underground mall: two Malay men (an undercover cop and a cynical citizen) and two Chinese women (a rich girl and a passionate demonstrator)—who pass the time telling racy stories, contemporary adaptations of Boccacio’s classic. On the other side of town, another premiere was attracting both media and official attention. Datuk Rahim Razali was preparing Keris Sang Puteri (The Princess Keris) to open the new National Theatre (Panggung Negara). The impressive edifice was built to raise the level of performance in the country and serve as a suitable venue for touring foreign ensembles. Given the largest budget ever awarded a stage musical, Keris, with its cast of over sixty, was intended to test out the new high-tech facilities. The premiere performance, however, was not merely a social and artistic event, but one clearly tied to state politics: it was presented in Bahasa Malaysia (Malay)3 by Malay-only actors. Razali expressed its goals: “We wanted a play that will instill nationalism and patriotism among people. As an inaugural production and in tandem with the recent National Day, we figured this was the right piece.”4 Set in the eighteenth century, when the Malays in the state of Selangor joined forces with their former enemies—the Bugis from Celebes (Sulawesi)—to overcome the Dutch, it featured a princess who sacrificed her...

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