Given to Dance. 1985. Produced and directed by Ron Hess. 57 minutes, color.

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availability and price information contact the Film Divi-sion, South Asian Studies, 1216 Van
Hise Hall, 1220 Linden Dr., University of Wiscon-sin, Madison, WI 53706 (608/262-9690).
RICHARDS CHECHNER New York University In Orissa, the province of India south of
Bengal, many vivid performances remain in- tact: Mayurbhanj Chhau, Jatra, and Gita-
Govinda songs and dances are only a few examples of the rich Oriyan performing tradition.
Some forms have, however, passed: most notably the singing and dancing of the maharis or
deva-dasis-literally, "servants of God"-women in the service ofJagannath, an Oriyan manifes-
tation of Krishna whose great wooden murti or image resides in the temple at Puri. As Hari
Priya Mahari says at the start of this memorable film: "We danced only inside the temple, as
service to God.... Whatever others say, I say the devadasis were the first to dance
forJagannath." Hari Priya speaks in Oriyan-as do her compatriots; Hess translates with
subtitles so the viewer-listener is given the feel of the orig-inal. The camera plays on these
old dancers' hands, which still move delicately, as if form-ing some of the mudras of the
dance. Sassi Ma-hari, Kokila Mahari, and Sparsomani Mahari are other women who were/are
devadasis. In Given to Dance they talk about their early lives, their training, their
performances in the tem-ple. We see them in their 1983 circumstances. But we also glimpse
them as they were-not only through archival footage but also because their memories are
clear and their dances are forever written in their bodies. With relatively little prompting
these women sing and dance. But for all this the dance fragments of 1983 are broken, dim
mirrors of what the maharis were. The devadasi system was discontinued because influential
"modern Indians" (along with British colonial administrators and church people) felt that the
devadasis were prostitutes, an issue dealt with tenderly in Given to Dance. The maharis talk
about their sexual lives. Kokila narrates the myth of how devadasis came to be what they
were. As she speaks, Hess scrolls the translation of her words up over the whole screen-a
mistake I think be-cause it distances the viewer from Kokila. Her story ends this way: "Lord
Jagannath said, 'You should ornament yourself.' 'But men will be attracted to me.' And He
said, 'If they are, so be it. My servants will touch your body.' 'If they touch my body I will no
longer sleep be-neath your bed. I will perform the worship and leave.' This is a great mystery.
Hear it." The maharisH ess shows us are the remnants of what was, old women who today are
trying the best they can to make ends meet. One rents out rooms and gives dancing lessons.
Watching them and listening, one feels the dignity of their calling, the intensity of their faith,
the power of their dancing. And always one senses their extraordinary clarity, cour- age, and
faith. Interviewing the maharisis Madhavi Mud-gal, a modern Odissi dancer. The underlying
story of Given to Dance is the emergence of Odissi-a recognized classical dance with a status
in India roughly equivalent to that of Bharatanatyam. In the film we are shown three kinds of
Orissan dancing: fragments of the old mahari-devadasi dance as demonstrated by surviving
maharis and as represented in a very short film clip from the 1950s of Kokila's daughter, "one
of the last [girls] trained as a mahari"; the gotipua or boys' dances upon which the
contemporary Odissi style is based; and Odissi as performed by Madhavi. The relationship
among the three kinds of dances is very complex and Given to Dance is able only to outline
it. Temple dancing was taught by maharis to young girls who were either dedicated to the
temple or the daughter of a mahari. If a mahari had a son he probably became a drummer in
temple service. The ma-haris danced for Jagannath in the temple's in-ner sanctum, and for the
maharaja in his role as patron of the temple. The common people enjoyed Odissi dancing
either as it was per-formed in the temple by the mahariso r outside the temple as it was
performed by young boys dressed as women, gotipuas. Hess shows us a troupe of gotipua
dancers in performance. He also shows temple sculptings indicating that the roots of Odissi
go back many centuries. The greatest living master of Odissi is Kel-ucharan Mohapatra, a
former gotipua. We see him not only talking about Odissi but also teaching it to a class that
consists of both In-dian and foreign students. And we learn of his own background not only
as a gotipua but as a comic actor in Orissa's Western-style theater. We begin to glimpse the
complex interweave of indigenous and foreign influences that con-stitute the contemporary
Odissi style. In Given to Dance the story of three kinds of dancing is framed by several
scenes of the great Cart Festival of Puri. In July each year the thousand-pound wood image
ofJagannath is taken from the temple and paraded down the main street of Puri to a small
shrine where He and his sister Subhara and brother Bal-abhadra remain for seven days. The
maharis participated in the Cart Festival and other ceremonies throughout the year. Hess
juxta-poses intimate shots of the maharis talking or Madhavi dancing with panoramic views
of the thousands surging through Puri's streets as the great carts crash forward. But the scene
that moves me the most-and which places the maharisp ast and present cir-cumstances so
succinctly-comes about one-third of the way through the movie. Cameras and recording
equipment are not allowed in the temple. Kokilla, 63 years old in 1983, tells us that she
learned her dances and songs from her "adopted mothers and sisters." She was nine when she
started her worship. "But now it's stopped. I alone do the nightly ritual. I sing in the temple
every night. And I pray that God will keep his temple gates open for me un-til my own
doorway is closed." As we hear her singing we see her pull her red shawl closely over her
head, walk up the temple steps, through the crowds, and into the inner precincts. The camera
searches for her among the crush of people, and we glimpse her red color-auspicious to
Indians-now and again. Then she is gone. Given to Dance is highly recommended both for
those who know little about India and for those who know a great deal. It is among the finest
films of its kind. The camera work is ex-cellent, the color good, the narration clear and
extremely informative.