Artists and the “General” at Taman Budaya Padang (Cultural Park West Sumatra Province): A Reflection on Loyalty and Power

A Note Left Behind from a Theater Performance

By Sastri Bakry

Indonesian-English Translator: Leni Marlina

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When Fauzul El Nurca invited me to watch his latest production, Sang Jenderal (The General), I was quietly overjoyed. My memory drifted back to earlier decades when the small theater at Taman Budaya Padang (Cultural Park West Sumatra Province) was a familiar refuge, a place where plays were staged with fervor and artistry. Fauzul, a veteran of the stage, is a name I have long associated with those moments.

Before leaving for the performance, my seven-year-old grandson Alle asked me with innocent curiosity, “Grandma, what is theater?” I tried to explain, contrasting it with cinema: in theater, one sees actors not on a screen but before the eyes—tangible, alive, within reach. I considered bringing Alle along, but reconsidered. A restless child in the sweltering heat of the hall would only distract, and indeed, the air conditioning was broken—or perhaps turned off deliberately.

Arrival and Opening

I arrived punctually and was warmly greeted by fellow artists, old and young, over cups of coffee and tea. Soon after, the lights dimmed, and the play began. Sang Jenderal, a Studio Sangka Duo production, opened with narration and a short film that sketched the imagination of the General and his soldiers. It was an unusual choice for theater—an addition that would certainly have sparked more questions from Alle had he been with me. Thankfully, the film was only a prelude, for the essence of theater lay ahead.

The stage was simple, the lighting austere. Yet behind this modest presentation was a team at work: Fauzul himself as director, narrator, and actor; Dadang Leona as stage manager; Jon Wahid on artistic design; Hasnawi Hasan with music; and Efrizal Ye, Bambang Art, and Tusriadi handling lighting.

Themes of Loyalty and Power

At its core, the play was not simply a performance but a social critique—a mirror held up to questions of loyalty, obedience, and the nature of power. The story followed the General and his subordinate, Likolah Patuik. The General appeared authoritative and imposing, yet strangely impotent. In contrast, Patuik embodied near-blind devotion, declaring that nothing brought him greater joy than standing by his commander’s side.

But as the narrative unfolded, it became clear that his loyalty was not absolute. He possessed principles and boundaries that even a superior could not breach. This tension between authority and conscience formed the heart of the play.

The production also offered a pointed critique of hierarchical power. The General was portrayed as an emblem of absolute authority, commanding unquestioning obedience. Yet beneath his authority lay secrets, vulnerabilities, and contradictions—reminding us that power is never as absolute as it appears.

Fauzul’s Performance

As both actor and narrator, Fauzul carried the performance with presence and stamina. His voice and movements drew the audience into the story’s orbit. But his triple role—General, Patuik, and storyteller—sometimes blurred. He occasionally slipped between characters, confusing the flow. This weakness was perhaps inevitable in a monologue with multiple personas, but it risked unsettling the coherence of the narrative.

Still, certain scenes resonated with striking clarity. The General—depicted as lifeless, like a statue or a corpse—stood as a metaphor for leaders deadened to the suffering of the people. A soldier punished for saving a victim of mob violence reflected the absurdity of authority without conscience. The pink love letters ferried by Patuik, later addressed to the General’s wife, seemed to hollow out the General’s past.

At moments, Patuik confronted the General boldly, even standing with hands on his hips as his superior bowed his head in helplessness. One line in particular lingered:
“If you were to place poison in my food, do you think I would dare dismiss you?”

It was a chilling moment, a revelation of the General’s hidden vulnerability, perhaps the key to Patuik’s paradoxical freedom.

Audience Reflections

Seated beside critic Syarifuddin Arifin, the senior Indonesian poet from West Sumatra, I asked for his impressions. He praised Fauzul’s stamina and stage presence, noting how rare it is to sustain a monologue of over thirty minutes without pause. Yet he also pointed out moments of improvisation that felt unmoored from the script—raw, even bare.

Another critic, Endut Ahdiat, was more pointed. He observed that Fauzul seemed less than fully in command of his own text, perhaps due to limited rehearsal. He noted slips in character: at times the narrator limped like Patuik, while Patuik suddenly straightened with the narrator’s upright stance. The monotonous lighting forced Fauzul to squint under its glare, while the subdued music left scenes underpowered.

David, head of Taman Budaya (West Sumatra Cultural Centre) framed the performance as more than art: it was a work of social critique. He expressed gratitude to the team for their commitment in delivering a bold and meaningful production.

Closing Thoughts

In the end, Sang Jenderal was sustained by Fauzul’s sheer endurance and creative will. For nearly forty minutes he carried the play through heat and exhaustion in a hall without cooling, perspiring yet determined. By his own admission, it was not his best performance—less assured, less patient, less like himself. But such honesty only deepens respect for his persistence.

Theater, after all, is not only about perfection but also about courage: the courage to stand before others, to question, to critique, to reflect. For that, Fauzul’s consistency in creating deserves recognition. Bravo, Fauzul.

Seniman dan “Jenderal” di Taman Budaya Padang: Sebuah Refleksi tentang Kesetiaan dan Kekuasaan