Bali, Hi!

Manhattan showgoers, who generally like their musicals loud, fast, brassy and flashing with luscious showgirls, were skeptical about the Bali Dancers: the female star was going on 13, and they doubted that the gamelan (orchestra) could play Bali Ha'i or any other pop tune. But the first curious audiences spread the word: it was a wonderful show.

Before the curtain parted, a young Javanese woman announced, in careful but cheerful English, each of the nine numbers. She said such reassuring things as: "This dance has no symbolic meaning. It's just a dance." The single setting showed a moonlit temple courtyard crowded with men in colored turbans, sitting comfortably behind gilded consoles, beating on xylophone-like strips of metal with wooden hammers. In the rear hung three huge, deep-humming brass gongs. At the foot of the temple steps, two men sat and fluttered butterfly fingers against tubular drums. The music of a Balinese gamelan can clang steel-hard or chime gold-soft, Manhattanites discovered --and the rhythm was as exact and exciting as a drum solo by Gene Krupa.

Child's Play. The little-girl dancers, their childish bodies sheathed in golden cloth, moved slowly about the stage, hips back, knees bent and slightly parted, darting their slant eyes, their arms and fingers flowing through a cascade of graceful and sophisticated gestures, all with a slight smile of incredible self-possession. The oldest was 13. The male dancers were much older. In one all-male number, 30 men sat in a circle on the floor, shaking their shoulders in unison, and began a syncopated whisper that worked up into something like a football cheer, while a clown leapt and postured in their midst. In the grand finale a benevolent dragon routed a wicked witch to the deep delight of both dancers and audience.

Star of the show is Ni Gusti Raka, twelve. Her big moment comes in the classical Legong, in which she dances in an intricate trio for about five minutes, suddenly breaks off (at home in Bali, this part of the dance might last an hour), trots offstage like any twelve-year-old, and returns with a pair of golden wings to portray the Bird of Evil Omen.

Curtain Calls & Candy Bars. At first the dancers were confused by the applause (in Bali, there is no clapping). But Ni

Gusti Raka and the others soon learned to like their curtain calls. They are also getting used to the U.S. They brought along their own cooks to make sure they would have plenty of homestyle rice and curry; but they have now decided that candy bars and ice cream are also pretty good. They have been to the Radio City Music Hall ("a lot of legs, but no dancing"). And Clown Serog, 58, is getting a longtime wish: a set of false teeth.

The tour was the idea of Britain's John Coast. He was a P.W. in southeast Asia during the war, later married a Javanese girl and settled in Bali to write (Recruit to Revolution) and to organize a troupe of dancers. His wife Supianti is assistant producer, costume designer and "mother" to the cast's nine girls. They will take the troupe from Boston to Washington late this month and from Cleveland to Los Angeles later this year. As for Manhattan, it has bought up tickets so fast that the Balinese have agreed to come back for two additional weeks.

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