‘Samritechak’ transplants the Bard

Any Cambodian dance drama today tells at least two stories. One is whatever is on stage. The other is the amazing fact that it is on stage at all. But in the case of “Samritechak,” danced by a troupe from Cambodia’s Royal University of Fine Arts on Thursday at the Carpenter Center in Long Beach (to be repeated Monday at the Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts), the stories have to be multiplied yet again.

First, it’s a miracle that Cambodian dance survives. Up to 90% of the country’s classical artists, according to estimates, were among the hundreds of thousands exterminated during the “killing fields” years of Pol Pot’s Khmer Rouge -- 1975 to 1979 -- as the regime set out to create a new society and a new human being.

The few dancers remaining after Pol Pot’s overthrow have attempted to revive and preserve their country’s cultural traditions. One of them is Sophiline Cheam Shapiro, who has settled among the 55,000 Cambodian expatriates in Long Beach, the largest population outside the country itself.

With “Samritechak,” Shapiro has set herself an even more ambitious project, however. She has adapted Shakespeare’s “Othello” to her country’s dance tradition, rather than taking a subject from Cambodian myth and epic. She wants to bridge the two cultures and enlarge the traditional repertory, but more importantly, to challenge her country morally as well as artistically.

After killing his wife, Samritechak (which means “the dark prince” in Khmer) does not commit suicide, as Shakespeare’s hero does. Characters in Cambodian drama traditionally are not permitted to die on stage. But Shapiro turns this plot liability to her advantage. Samritechak asks instead to be punished as a way of taking responsibility for his act. Shapiro’s hope is that many of the Khmer Rouge and their supporters will follow suit. Those who are alive, she says, have never acknowledged their guilt.

As a storyteller, Shapiro outdoes such recently seen ballet versions of “Othello” as Lar Lubovitch’s for the American Ballet Theatre. In 90 continuous minutes, she tells more of the story and she tells it more clearly and more powerfully, no matter your cultural background.

The characters and the plot easily make the transition to a new idiom, in part because the story parallels aspects of the final days of Rama and Sita, the hero and heroine of the great Asian/Indian epic “Ramayana,” which itself is often the subject of Cambodian dance.

Samritechak (Othello) is a half-man, half-demon general of a human army. He secretly marries Khanitha Devi (Desdemona), the daughter of a minister who denounces her for the marriage. Their nemesis is the spiteful trickster monkey Virul (Iago).

Shakespeare’s other characters -- Cassio, Emilia, Rodrigo -- are here too, under other names. The action advances through recitative and aria sung by three singers, supported by a traditional ensemble of bamboo xylophones, gongs, cowhide drums and an astonishing reed player who never seems to need a breath.

The dancers, costumed in gorgeous glittering gold, red and black silk court attire, move slowly, hypnotically, their hands and fingers -- sometimes even their toes -- flexed backward and outward. Their stylized movements are liquid, in constant motion, circular and curvilinear but asymmetrical, often titled off a central axis. Group compositions, especially in the early scenes, are proportioned and balanced.

The exception is the monkey, Virul, the only character who wears a mask. This is a virtuosic, tiring role meant partly to provide comic relief. Virul crouches and bounds weightlessly into the air. He turns somersaults, shakes his head, scratches and picks annoying, biting insects off his body. The dancer -- here, the indefatigable Pheng Sarannarin -- must have to spend long hours observing the real animal.

You can see the character’s contempt for humans even in his mask. He plays the others around him for laughs. But his body language always makes his motivations clear. He shakes with anger, for instance, when he is passed over by Samritechak for promotion in favor of Romnea (Cassio).

For their part, Samritechak (Khieu Sotheavy), Khanitha Devi (Sam Sathya) and the others inhabit another world. The classical Cambodian dance idiom was meant to bridge the human and spiritual world, and it shows the characters at first leading seemingly imperturbable lives, oblivious to the existence of evil. Which makes them ripe for the fall.

And fall they do. Samritechak’s final pose is one of kneeling at the side of his wife, magically resurrected to name his punishment. It is a powerful image, powerfully staged. But only those who understand Khmer could get the full impact as the singers intoned his line.

If the applause afterward was any gauge, however, many of the Cambodians in the audience were moved. They had been more actively engaged than Western audiences usually are at a drama, commenting to one another throughout the work. But everyone joined in the approval at the end. Shapiro has built a sturdy, beautiful and illuminating bridge between the two cultures.

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‘Samritechak’

Where: Cerritos Center for the Performing Arts, 12700 Center Court Drive, Cerritos

When: Monday, 8 p.m.

Price: $30-$40

Info: (800) 300-4345