Father Talking Dog Speaks
Animation by Hannah Langford Berman
There were two things I learned growing up that I never forgot. The first was a magic trick using a piece of string that seemingly passed through solid objects—which I still perform on rare occasions when I have a willing subject. The second was using my hands to cast a shadow puppet on the wall. One of the easiest to create, and my favorite, is a dog—see illustration above.
Throughout its 2000 year history, shadow puppetry or shadow theatre has been a part of the cultures of a variety of Asian countries, especially China, India and Indonesia. In China, during the reign of Emperor Wudi (140-86 BC) a shadow theatre was created to allow Wudi to commune with a beloved concubine who died. Imagine his delight in being able to see the shadowy form of his deceased love moving as she once did, and hear, through the vocal skill of some extraordinary puppeteer, her voice speaking to him from behind the paper screen. There are no boundaries for shadow theatre. including those of death. It is an art that is connected to both the mystical and mysterious, and has the power to transmute death into life.
In his 1978 novel, The Year of Living Dangerously, author Christopher Koch employs the use of an Indonesian wayang shadow play portraying the Buddhist legend of Prince Arjuna and Princess Skrikandi, which serves as a ghostly background to his narrative about the attempted 1965 Communist led coup against President Sukarno.
Shadow puppets became important to me on long ago winter nights, when my son and I would project our hand shadows of dogs on the wall and act out short improvisational plays. I was Father Talking Dog, and he was Baby Talking Dog.
“Help me, Father Talking Dog,” he would squeal in sync with the movement of his dog’s mouth.
“Where are you Baby Talking Dog?” I would growl back, And another talking dog adventure would begin.
The little plays we once performed echoed the deepest ties between us, and lasted throughout his college years, and then into his first job and beyond. He signed his letters, and eventually, his emails, with, “Love, BTD”. It was our secret code signaling that all was well with our father-son bond.
I haven’t been Father Talking Dog since my son’s death at the age of 28, nearly 20 years ago. Of course I believe in magic, but I can’t bring myself to cast a dog’s shadow against an empty wall in the hope that somehow, the shadow play will begin with the words:
“Help me, Father Talking Dog.”
“Where are you, Baby Talking Dog? I’ve missed you.”
—Stephen Newton