It all seemed for a
moment that film director Vasantha Obeysekera and producer Sarath Abeysena had
arrived at the long-awaited premiere of their latest Sinhala movie: Dorakada
Marawa and that too in an unexpected venue: Australia’s famous Monash
University which houses the Alexander Theatre. It was the 1st of June (1997)
which is said to be the official opening of the Southern Hemisphere winter
season.
There was a festive air about that evening when Sri Lankans began filling the cosy theatre to capacity; many of them puzzled though, as regards the title. All the same it was a film by Vasantha Obeysekera and besides, it had been publicised that the subject matter was about a true incident that had taken place in Sri Lanka some years back; and many people were familiar with that story which did hit the headlines in the Sri Lankan Press. Perhaps they desired to experience that drama although time and place had changed.
The lure of the ‘true story’ is a fact of life among many cinemagoers and I suspect most of our crowd were not different. However, it is not the mission of a moviemaker or a novelist to be faithful to what really happened. Artists don’t produce documentaries.
As a matter of fact, in this film what is solid fact is only the culminating event of the motor car accident that took away the lives of the young honeymoon couple. But was it a mere accident? Fragments of evidence suggested "no". Then what really did happen? What precisely were the circumstances that had led to this tragedy? Answers to such questions are shrouded in mystery.
Scriptwriter/director Obeysekera saw artistic opportunities in the unknown and has woven a tense drama of human relationships, projecting it powerfully onto the screen. For the creative filmmaker ‘trueness’ is not important; ‘realisticness’ (‘realism’ has acquired another meaning) certainly is. Dorakada Marawa is so realistically cinematic that those who look for "trueness" would hardly be disappointed. Even with a pre-knowledge of the outcome, the audience is drawn in to participate in an insightful experience.
The young couple, Subhashini (played by Sangeetha Weeraratne and Priyantha (played by Sanath Gunatilleka), attend their homecoming ceremony at the latter’s parental home. At the dead of the night, when all have left or are asleep they suddenly decide to go and visit their new home. Suddenly, the parental household is rudely awakened by the traumatic news that the couple had met with a fatal accident. The car they travelled in had slammed into a Mara tree almost opposite the venue of their honeymoon.
The puzzle regarding the title has been unravelled. But haven’t you also heard it being said in Sinhala folklore that when the bird Kerala sings on the Mara tree it spells doom? The opening moments of the film gives an image of the Mara tree that is foreboding, evil and threatening. In fact right throughout the movie we are entertained with some extremely creative and meaningful image compositions by cameraman Jayanath Gunawardena. Light and shade, proximity to subject, camera angle and other camera-devices have all been skillfully tailored to the task.
Composition, lighting and movement in a cinema are generally the cameraman’s responsibility; yet these are the chief means of expression in a cinema. To transform the idea in the script the director must also be a cameraman of sorts and he must be in a position to work closely with the cameraman. That this has been achieved is evident in the unity of idea and image we see everywhere in Dorakada Marawa. The result is a nice living sequence of idea, image and sound.
We thus see that Dorakada Marawa is a very cinematic cinema deriving its strength from the fuller exploitation of the unique capability of the cinema medium as, perhaps, no other cinema before it has done. However, what really makes the film special in this regard is its employment of two levels of story unfolding, each acting independently of the other.
One level goes from the present to past: the car crash, funeral scene, public/press comments and so forth. The other level or mode flows from past to present in some chronological sequence. The two modes have been sensitively harmonized in the sense that inputs from one help the audience to fill in the gaps of the other. This technique is particularly suited for this type of movie. It constitutes a sharp departure from the traditional A to Z flow of movement in cinema. It enables an intense kind of audience involvement in what goes on. This is another example of the exploitation of the strengths of the medium. For the filmmaker, unlike the novelist or dramatist can juggle with space and time very freely thereby enabling cinema to treat emotions and ideas in revolutionary ways evoking responses more effectively.
What was not developed in the movie script could have been acted out by Sanath Gunatilleka by bringing out a disturbed mental condition during his fatal drive back to the parental home. This would have invested the character Priyantha with more depth.
The character Priyantha exhibited an ambivalent stance toward Subhashini; it meant both being drawn toward her and drawing away from her. Subhashini kindled desire within Priyantha; all the same Priyantha had a millstone of guilt (for ‘letting down’ his family) round his neck. He had also entertained doubts about Subhashini’s character.
However, in playing the role of Priyantha I saw Sanath more in the negative demeanour of trying to draw away from Subhashini and little of the positive side of the equation of ambivalence. I have been longing to see another brilliant performance from Sanath as I saw in Viragaya; but this is not it.
With Dorakada Marawa Sangeetha Weeraratne supremely qualifies for the Best Actress Award this year. As the tormented young Subhashini running away from shame, battling with social prejudice and tenaciously trying to make a success of her new affair with Priyantha, she exhibited every nuance of near- perfect-acting.
I was at the German Cultural Institute on 30 May 1997 when the Institute paid tribute to a German and a number of Sri Lankan poets. I have gone earlier to such evenings, but this one was different: here two cultures were blended and bonded, and the result was a delightful surprise. Among the Sri Lankan poetry in English were also translations from Sinhalese and Tamil. As there is no space to display the wide variety of talent displayed I have selected extracts, sometimes just lines, from various poems out of what touched me most.
Rose Auslander’s work written in German was read by Dr. Stefan Dreyer, Director of the German Cultural Institute. Her work was translated and read in English by Anne Ranasinghe.
We will be reunited in the lake you as water I as lotus blossom You will support me I shall drink you
My fatherland is dead They have buried it In fire I live In my motherland Of words
Rose Auslander- translated by Anne Ranasinghe
I remember the sun over these fields Lie a fisherman netting In green water, shocking everything with its Scathing radiance....
-Alfreda de Silva
Last night I had a dream Lord Buddha was shot dead by the police - guardians of the law. His body lay drenched in blood on the step of the Jaffna Library
M.A. Nuhman, Translated from Tamil by S. Pathmanathan
That morning Jayawathi broke the water pot. Evening. Gentlemen came to say that Big son Jayapala died in Jaffna. The landmine burst.
-Sita Kulatunga
The thunder rolls.... Lightning flashes.... In fear I curl up... As small as can be
-Miriam de Saram
The light in your window Used to lift up my heart ................................... But now the curtains are drawn And your room is dark I shiver with the cold
-Kamala Wijeratne
Yes! We are strife we are terror, refugees, Beggars at bus stations, begging bowl nation - fifteen million smiles, we are beaches surf hushpering to frondtressed palms
-Ashley Halpe
I speak not with the language of those who know all the answers ....................... Eternal fugitive from a native landscape I carry with me the marks of all my sojourns the tension between past and present
-Anne Ranasinghe
Out of our prisons we emerge to find uncertain paths hitherto unexplored terrain but where?
-Jean Arasanayagam
"Gramophone Era of Sri Lanka" a seminar and exhibition organised by the Department of Cultural Affairs, Oriental Music Panel of the Arts Council of Sri Lanka and Visira Kala Sangamaya will be held under the patronage of Minister of Cultural and Religious Affairs Lakshman Jayakody and Deputy Minister of Cultural and Religious Affairs Dr. A.V. Suraweera. A seminar and Gramophone Era Concert will begin on the June 30, 1997 at 2.00 pm at the John de Silva Memorial Theatre, Colombo 7.
The exhibition will be from July 1 from 9.30 a.m. to July 3, 1997, daily up to 6.00 p.m. at the National Art Gallery, Colombo 7.
Great literary works of renowned Lankan scholars lie often forgotten in unpublished manuscripts scattered around the country. The literary works of a well known lawyer and poet of the 19th century James de Alwis was also confined to such a fate until Dr. K.D. Paranavithana, a former archivist went around collecting his works to be edited and published.
The book titled ‘James de Alwis; Prabanda Saha Lipi’ contains a large collection of letters he wrote to his friends. As an eminent lawyer, his contemporaries were either intellectuals, scholars and well known figures in the country who belonged to the higher echelons of society.
A product of typical missionary colonial education, James de Alwis received the generous help of then Governor, Stewart Mackenzie (1837-1841) to obtain a job at a time his family was faced with numerous difficulties. Starting off as a translator at the Colombo District Court James de Alwis was ashamed at his lack of proficiency in the Sinhala language, when on the first day of work he failed to translate the speech delivered by the Judge. Unnerved, but determined he went onto acquire a sound knowledge of not only Sinhala but also Pali and Sanskrit.
James de Alwis and his associates who were engrossed in ‘poetical’ correspondence were living along the Southern coastal belt from Bentota to Tangalle. Their correspondence limited to a few lines, were sent for many reasons, pointed out Dr. Paranavithana. From borrowing medicine, a book, some fruit to an invitation to a meal, a complaint to an official, announcing the death of a friend, giving or seeking advice a joke or a nasty hint, all these were skillfully conveyed in a few lines. The interesting part of this correspondence was that even the receivers address was written in poetic language. As a lawyer James de Alwis had the habit of giving legal advice especially to monks in verse.
Inspired by William Cowper’s ‘A Reflection on Death’, Alexander Pope’s ‘On Criticism’, and Oliver Goldsmith’s ‘On Woman’ James de Alwis composed Sinhala versions of these immortal poems. His vivid poetic description of the route along Colombo and Matara had been inspired by Goldsmith’s ‘The Traveller’.
A petty dispute between two persons over three coconut trees and the amount of money wasted to settle the dispute and the futile result reminded him of Cowper’s poem. ‘Cause Won’ which describes the futile argument two travellers had over a dog. This led him to write a similar poem, pointed out Dr. Paranavithana.
A devout Catholic, he took the initiative to compose poems based an Biblical stories. The story where two women fight for a baby has been localised and made into a Sinhala poem. A story in the Ummagga Jathakaya was similarly changed into poetic verse, thereby trying to draw a parallel between popular stories of two world recognised religions.
The collection of Sinhala poems and letters by James de Alwis are indeed interesting with humour, sarcasm, advice and knowledge for our times. The book also reveals a great deal about the sociocultural life in the mid 19th century.
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