From Jail to Jungle is the latest phase of a continuing dialog between Nam June Paik and Charlotte Moorman that has been going on for 13 years and hundreds of performances, in all weathers and circumstances, and in several corners of the globe. Composer and cellist, but these are only titles that hardly begin to describe their activities, whether they are working in concert or independently, as anyone of the hundreds who know them can attest. It is the essence of their working relationship, however, that Nam June write the score and Charlotte perform it, even if it gets her into trouble.
From Jail to Jungle was a three-hour performance and video presentation, that took place in front of surprisingly large audience at Carnegie Hall on the 10th anniversary of Charlotte’s arrest and conviction of indecent exposure, stemming from her performance of Opera Sextronique, the score of which required her to play her cello while wearing only a brief costume of Nam June’s design.
The first portion of the performance was entitled “The People of the State of New York against Charlotte Moorman” and was a dramatization of that event ten years ago, based on the transcript of the trial, and including as many of the original participants as could be gathered together, plus taped performances by participants who were unable to attend, with the remaining roles being filled by actors of varying abilities.
The performance began with excerpts of Opera Sextronique. Charlotte appeared wearing Nam June’s electric bikini, and played her cello in the dark, accompanied by Philip Corner on the piano. Suddenly, about 20 men jumped out of the audience, mounted the stage, and dragged her away: all the while telling us to be calm, that they were just arresting the lady.
Then they proceeded to the trial and conviction, duller proceedings at all events. I remember that the media at the time focused on Charlotte, the topless cellist, rather than on Nam June, who score she was intrepidly performing. It must have been an extremely disagreeable experience, and one can only be thankful that they both retained their humor and perspective, enabling them to continue to work together and even to celebrate the event in this fashion. Actually, there was a sense of culmination to this performance, as though some demon had been laid to rest in some final way, and with it some old ways of working together and some obsolescent goals.
The second half of the program was Guadalcanal: Requiem, a videotape. It, too, dealt with events that occurred in the past and served to amplify the intervening experience. It marked a beginning rather than a culmination, though, and suggested new directions and a new vision for Paik and Moorman.
Guadalcanal is an island in the British Solomons, just east of New Guinea. In 1942 is was the scene of a desperate battle in which tens of thousands died in only a few weeks of fighting.
Thirty-five years later, along come Nam June and Charlotte, incredibly enough, to Guadalcanal, this island cemetery where the dead went unburied and piles of skulls and helmets abound to this day. Old airplane fuselages, rusty tanks with big bullet holes, old artillery shells, big piles of twisted metal junk down by the beach, foxholes and bunkers — they’ve sort of left it the way it was the day after the battle and now it’s all grown over. The Solomon Islanders have used bits and pieces of it, of course, and Henderson Field has been expanded into a modern airport.
An articulate old ex-marine tells his story, “Boy, was I scared.” Bits of old footage bring the battle back to life. The guns boom again, planes fall out of the sky, ships sink, the marines land, desperate men in helmets with hardly a glance to spare for the camera. Old Solomon Islanders relate their experiences, and old Japanese men come to tend their monuments and shrines and to carefully delineate with white nylon tape those patches of the jungle where their comrades bodies lie thickest — on Bloody Ridge, and along the Bloody River.
Among all this, Charlotte plays her cello. She plays it with palm fronds and bits of old stuff. She plays it by the monument of Bloody Ridge, on Beach Red, on top of a burned-out tank, on the highest point of the island, which the Japanese never gave up until the last day. She crawls, in uniform and carrying her cello on her back like a weapon, slowly along the beach. Nam June passes her, trudging slowly in the opposite direction. She plays her cello half in and half out of the water, like a body washed ashore.
They brought the TV Bra along, and the Solomon Islanders, who have no TV (and hardly any bras) were duly amused. But Nam June and Charlotte are off looking for new cellos now, and new ways to play them.
DG/end