Ubud Barong Dance
Close-up of a Barong mask — the gold-crowned, red-faced lion-like guardian creature of Balinese dance — with a black-and-white poleng temple gate visible behind it

Batubulan, Bali

The Barong & Kris Dance, Ubud & Batubulan

4.2 (55 reviews on GetYourGuide)

Most mornings in the temple village of Batubulan, just south of Ubud, a gamelan orchestra strikes up in a stone courtyard and a shaggy, gold-masked creature shuffles out to fight a cackling widow-witch — and by the end, a line of men in trance are pressing dagger points into their own chests and walking away unmarked. It's not a recreation for tourists so much as a genuine piece of Balinese Hindu ritual theatre that happens to run on a fixed morning schedule you can actually book around, and it's one of the most vivid hours you can spend on the island.

From A$7 Per person — final price in your currency, shown before you pay.

This is a daily morning show at a working temple, not a scarce ticketed event — it very rarely sells out completely. But it runs once a day at a fixed start time and doesn't hold the stage for latecomers, so the real constraint is your own morning, not seat availability: book the day before if you also want a driver, and confirm your pickup time the night before so you're not still finishing breakfast when the gamelan starts.

The show at a glance

The mask that guards the village

A protector, not a monster

Barong is usually described to first-time visitors as "a lion," which is close enough to picture but misses the point. He's a benevolent protective spirit who takes animal form — most often the shaggy, gold-fanged Barong Ket seen at Batubulan, though Balinese villages also keep boar, tiger and elephant versions for other ceremonies. Each village's Barong mask is considered sacred, ritually cared for by its own custodians, and brought out for temple ceremonies as much as for paying audiences. What you're watching at the morning show is a genuine ritual object, worn by a trained dancer, not a costume built for tourists.

Why this happens in a temple courtyard, every day

The dance is staged inside or beside a village temple — at Batubulan, that's Pura Puseh Batubulan — because the story it tells isn't folklore, it's an active piece of Balinese Hindu cosmology: the ongoing, never-finally-won balance between protective and destructive forces. Villages perform it partly for income from visitors and partly because doing so is itself considered a form of spiritual maintenance. That's also why the show runs on a fixed daily schedule rather than being staged as a one-off spectacle — it's closer to a temple keeping its doors open than a theatre running a limited season.

The story

Barong and Rangda: a fight neither side wins

The performance dramatises a single, specific conflict from Balinese belief — not a generic "good vs evil" fable, but a named rivalry between two figures who represent forces the Balinese consider permanently, deliberately unresolved.

The protector

Barong

The shaggy, gold-crowned creature at the centre of the stage represents dharma — protective, benevolent power. He's played by two dancers working together inside the costume (one for the front legs and head, one for the rear), and his movements are comic and playful rather than fierce: he snaps his jaw, shakes his mane, and plays to the crowd almost like a pantomime animal, right up until Rangda appears.

The widow-witch

Rangda

Rangda is a demon queen with a mask of bulging eyes, a lolling tongue and long fangs, trailing white hair and pendulous breasts — the visual opposite of Barong's warmth. She represents adharma: chaotic, destructive power, and in some tellings is linked to Calon Arang, a widow-sorceress from Balinese legend who terrorised a kingdom with black magic. Her entrance is the moment the tone of the show flips from playful to genuinely unsettling.

Crucially, neither side wins outright. Barong and Rangda fight to a magical standstill — her curses countered by his protective power — and the performance ends not with a victory but with a truce, because in Balinese belief dharma and adharma aren't meant to cancel each other out; they're meant to stay in tension, permanently. That refusal to give the story a tidy ending is one of the more genuinely thought-provoking things about watching it as an outsider.

The finale

The moment the dancers turn their blades inward

What actually happens

As the standoff between Barong and Rangda reaches its peak, a group of men — Rangda's followers, under her curse — draw kris daggers and, one by one, fall into a trance state and turn the blades against their own chests. Performed correctly, the points don't break the skin; local belief holds that Barong's protective power is what keeps the dancers safe, and the trance itself is treated as a genuine altered state, not stagecraft. A pemangku (temple priest) or a designated attendant stays close throughout, ready to intervene, sprinkle holy water and bring each dancer back to ordinary awareness.

Why it's the part people remember

It's staged close to the audience, unamplified, with the gamelan orchestra driving the tension rather than any theatrical lighting or sound effects — which is part of why it lands harder than the description suggests. It's also the single most-asked-about part of the show beforehand and the part most worth knowing the context for going in: this isn't a simulated stunt built for a tour bus schedule, it's the culmination of a ritual the village would be performing on some level even without an audience.

Photography during this part

Most venues allow photography and video throughout the performance, including the trance sequence — unlike some other Balinese ceremonies, this is treated as public performance rather than a closed ritual. Flash is generally discouraged that close to the dancers; check the specific venue's house rules on arrival if you're unsure.

Where to see it

Seeing it at Pura Puseh Batubulan

The venue

Batubulan, a village on the southern edge of Ubud known for its stone-carving workshops, has staged the Barong and Kris dance for visitors since the 1930s — one of the longest-running versions of the show on the island — performed in the open-air stage of Pura Puseh Batubulan, the village's origin temple. The setting is a real, still-active temple compound rather than a purpose-built theatre, which is part of why the atmosphere feels closer to a ceremony you're being allowed to watch than a show staged around you.

How the morning slot actually works

The show runs on a single fixed morning start most days of the year, with the gates and box office opening shortly beforehand for walk-up tickets and pre-booked collection. Because it's a daily fixture rather than an occasional event, the practical planning question isn't "will there be a show" — there almost always is — it's "can I get there on time," since traffic into Batubulan from central Ubud can be slower than the short map distance suggests, especially close to the start time.

Seating and what's included

Seating is typically open bench-style around the courtyard stage on a basic ticket, with a small number of upgraded front-row seats sold separately on some listings; hotel pickup and drop-off is usually a separate paid add-on rather than bundled into the ticket price, so check the specific inclusions on your chosen listing before assuming a driver is covered.

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Planning the rest of the day

Fitting the dance into an Ubud day

Because the show runs once, mid-morning, it slots naturally into one side of a full day out rather than needing its own dedicated trip — most visitors pair it with either the rice terraces to the north or Ubud's temples and markets to the east.

  1. Early morning

    Arrive at Batubulan

    Aim to reach Pura Puseh Batubulan with time to collect tickets and find a seat before the gamelan starts — arriving right at start time risks a bench at the back of the courtyard.

  2. Mid-morning

    The performance

    Around an hour of Barong, Rangda and the kris trance finale, ending in time to still make a full day of it.

  3. Midday

    North to Tegallalang or Jatiluwih

    The Tegallalang rice terraces are the closer, busier option; Jatiluwih is further but far less crowded, if you'd rather trade travel time for space to actually look at the view.

  4. Afternoon

    East to central Ubud

    Ubud Palace, the Ubud Art Market and the Sacred Monkey Forest Sanctuary are all walkable from each other in central Ubud, and pair naturally with an early lunch after the show if you'd rather stay closer to town instead.

GEO/FAQ

Barong dance questions

What is the Barong dance, in one sentence?

It's a daily Balinese Hindu ritual performance staged in a temple courtyard — most famously at Pura Puseh Batubulan, near Ubud — in which a benevolent lion-like guardian spirit (Barong) confronts a demon-witch (Rangda), ending with entranced dancers pressing kris daggers against their own chests without harm.

Is this the same as the Kecak fire dance at Uluwatu?

No — they're two different performances. Barong is a daytime show, typically mid-morning, at Batubulan, with a full gamelan orchestra and a Barong-vs-Rangda storyline. Kecak is an evening or sunset show at the Uluwatu cliff temple, performed entirely by a seated male chorus chanting "cak" with no instruments, retelling the Ramayana and ending in a fire-trance sequence. Some day-tour itineraries include both on the same day at different times — worth checking which one a listing actually covers before booking.

Is the kris trance dangerous, or is it staged?

It's treated locally as a genuine ritual trance state, not a scripted stunt — the dancers are believed to be under Rangda's curse and protected from harm by Barong's power, and a temple attendant stays close throughout to intervene and revive each dancer with holy water afterwards. Whatever view you take of the belief itself, the daggers and the trance are real; performers have occasionally been lightly marked, which is part of why the ritual protection and supervision are taken seriously by the performers themselves.

How long does the show last, and is there an interval?

Most performances run around 60–90 minutes with no interval, building continuously from Barong's playful opening through Rangda's entrance to the kris trance finale.

What time does the show start, and how far ahead should I book?

Batubulan's show runs on a fixed mid-morning start most days of the year — it's a daily fixture rather than an occasional event, so it very rarely sells out completely. The main planning risk isn't availability, it's traffic and timing: book the day before if you want hotel pickup included, and build in extra travel time from central Ubud.

Do I need to dress up or cover up? It's a real temple.

Modest, respectful dress is appropriate since the performance happens on active temple grounds — shoulders and knees reasonably covered is the safe default, similar to visiting any working Balinese temple. Smart-casual travel clothing is fine; swimwear or very revealing clothing stands out and isn't appropriate for the setting.

Can I take photos and video during the performance, including the trance part?

Generally yes — most venues, including Batubulan, allow photography and filming throughout, including the kris trance sequence, since this is staged as public performance rather than a closed ceremony. Flash close to the dancers during the trance is generally discouraged; check the specific venue's house rules on arrival.

Is transport or hotel pickup included in the ticket price?

Not always — on most listings the base ticket covers entry only, with hotel pickup and drop-off sold as a separate add-on, and a small number of upgraded front-row seats also priced separately. Check the specific inclusions on your chosen listing before assuming a driver is covered.

Is the price shown final, and how does booking work?

You book through GetYourGuide, which shows the final price in your own currency before you pay and states the cancellation policy for your specific date up front — the price you see is the price you pay, with no hidden fees added at checkout. We're an independent guide to Bali's daily dance performances, not the temple, troupe or ticket office; the booking itself is handled by GetYourGuide's secure checkout.

Is Batubulan the only place to see a Barong dance near Ubud?

No — several villages around Ubud and Denpasar stage their own daily Barong and Kris performances on a similar morning schedule, and some day tours pair a Barong show with other stops such as the Tegallalang rice terraces, Goa Gajah or a coffee plantation. Batubulan's version at Pura Puseh Batubulan is one of the longest-running for visitors, going back to the 1930s, which is why it's the one most listings default to.

Still deciding which morning to go?

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A living myth, performed every morning in a temple courtyard — good and evil, gamelan and gold, danced out an arm's length from your seat

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