Theatrical meditation on nature of art

By Shelagh Goonewardene 

It is a clever and stimulating device however, to link the two plays in order to draw attention to the changes, time and events have wrought on the relationship between the Sinhalese and Tamils. 

As a character in the play says: "Jaffna has exploded and scattered and spread all over, from London to New York, to Paris, to Sydney, to Copenhagen, Melbourne and Toronto, but in spirit it is all still Jaffna, I suppose. In the old days when a man came from Jaffna to Colombo, he came from Kankesanthuruai, Kondavil or Jaffna railway station to Maradana or Fort railway station and then by rickshaw to Wellawatte. Today he still comes from Jaffna, but in broken up time, by boat to Madras as a refugee, then by air to London, Paris or Toronto and again by air to Katunayake. The size of Sri Lanka has grown, as big as you want to imagine it. Pathmanathan still comes from Jaffna, wherever else he has been to in the meantime."

So enter Pathmanathan at the climax of Act 1, a terrorist in the guise of a bridegroom-to-be procured through the Internet for a conventional arranged marriage, dramatically outlined in the doorway and carrying two suitcases to which he appears inordinately attached. 

The complexity of the plot of which he is the vital ingredient has already been set out in long expository conversations between Chandran, a Colombo Tamil businessman, who is an arms dealer on behalf of the government, and his wife Saro, a retired Professor of English Literature. They have arranged a marriage for their adopted daughter Maya to a certain Pathmanathan who lives in Canada and is due to arrive for the marriage to take place when the play opens. Maya is a writer who observes everything with a characteristic detachment and is intent on transcribing the raw material taken from life into the artistic form of the novel she is writing. The play explores her character and feelings and those of Pathmanathan in the context of the main theme of the play - the nature of life and art, of reality and fiction, applied to the subject of the Tamil-Sinhala conflict with emphasis on its current phase of development. 

Chandran and Saro faithfully reflect the beliefs and attitudes of the middle class of their generation, and while they provoke some laughter they also generate a sense of deja vu. We know these characters only too well - their background, their prejudices, their thoughts and feelings and predictable lines of action. 

In refreshing contrast, we have Maya who sees everything with a clear eye for new possibilities and a kind of candid wisdom, and 'Paths' who is the instrument of a cause, but also a human being who recalls playing Oscar Wilde's Lady Bracknell as a 12-year-old in a school play with an engaging touch of pride and barely concealed nostalgia. The scenes between these two are much more interesting and enlivening than those between the older pair as they are in a sense more malleable and not easily classified. They stand on the cusp of a generational as well as ideological divide. 

Maya is one of the most interesting characters that MacIntyre has so far created. She is free of a blinkered approach to the question of ethnicity because of her personal history. An orphan, found as an abandoned baby too young to speak at the Talawakelle railway station after the race riots of 1977, she is unidentifiable as either Sinhalese or Tamil. This gives her the freedom to be simply herself and her choice of a writer's vocation is an extension of that freedom. 'Paths' matches her. A terrorist whose real name has long been buried beneath a succession of code names drawn from a history of international terrorism, he too is an orphan in a sense. In Maya's developing fiction he is both terrorist and anti-terrorist, an identity he discloses and an identity taken from the real Pathmanathan which she grafts on to him. It is a paradox that has subtle implications - does not every terrorist have the potential to be anti-terrorist? 

The playwright's strong focus on ideas and concepts which constantly appear and recede as a consequence of this interplay between reality and fiction, certainty and ambiguity, makes this very much a dialogue play where what is said requires total attention in order to discern the levels of meaning. The action in the play comes at the very end in a sequence which is comic fantasy, relieving and lightening the dramatic intensity built up by the concentration on dialogue. At the climax an explosion is heard, but in keeping with the theme of life, or reality contrasting with a different kind of reality which is art, it is not clear who caused it or what its consequences are. We are left with an awareness of ambiguity which is the norm for the novelist, or by implication, the theatre artist. 

He Still Comes From Jaffna has obviously had a long genesis in the creative imagination of the playwright. It conveys MacIntyre's characteristically sharp observation of the Sri Lankan middle class and makes its points with comic effect while the underlying seriousness of his intention is undiminished. 

Taken together with his play Rasanayagam's Last Riot, He Still Comes From Jaffna traces the emotional and intellectual trajectories of the subject material, but while the former was a deeply emotional work, the latter is more cerebral and open-ended. Rasanayagam's Last Riot is perhaps more concerned with the business of life and death, of reality, whereas He Still Comes From Jaffna is a theatrical meditation on the nature of art. The play was first performed at the Lighthouse Theatre, Macquarie University, Sydney on February 26. 
Bookshelf

Guiding a film critic

Bookshelf

Outlining some thoughts on the fundamentals of criticism, Dr. Lester James Peries makes these observations in an introduction to Chitrapata Vicharayata Pera Vadanak (A Foreword to Film Review) by E. M. G. Edirisinghe, an experienced critic of Sinhala cinema and theatre and keen student of the arts.

Dr. Peries pinpoints three essential qualities, which a critic of the arts should have. First, he should have a comprehensive and thorough knowledge of the subject - its history, its evolution and the work of the practitioners of the art. Second, he should have a keen analytical sense, insight and knowledge of the artist's body of work. Third, he should be impartial as it is humanly possible to be. He should not be influenced by his own personal, entrenched views - be they moral, political or even aesthetic. If he is biased his critical judgement will be purely a personal statement, he cautions.

Dr. Peries' comments form an ideal backdrop to Edirisinghe's work which is a close examination of what is expected of a critic and how he should set about it. In a background piece on the Sinhala cinema, he discusses its ups and downs through the past five decades. 

Discussing the impact of television on cinema, he reminds us how in America, the film audience dropped from 90 million a week in 1948 to 23 million by 1983 in spite of a 30% increase in the population. This was because of the varied programmes (educational, entertainment and news) telecast over a multitude of channels 24 hours a day. In Sri Lanka, TV programmes like Charlie's Angels, Hawaii Five-O, X-files and Diff'rent Strokes and teledramas like 'Yashoravaya', 'Dimuthu Muthu', 'Dada Bima', 'Dandubasnamanaya', 'Kopi Kade' and 'Doo Daruwo' set the standards for audiences. 

The writer firmly believes that there is a need to formulate short-term and long-term strategies to produce films, which can improve the taste of the filmgoer and compete in the international market. 

Ranat 

Corrupt sounds erode rich language

By Dilrukshi Handunnetti 

Author of "Pothe Gura" (which he later produced as a children's playlet), "Sindu Hodiya", "Pandu Watha", "Punchi Sindu", "Den Dingak Natamu Ithin" and "Subesi Muthuhara", he says that he specifically wrote "Niveradi Uchcharana Widhi"(Proper Pronunciation Techniques), his latest book because he was disturbed by the misuse of Sinhala.

John Milton said when the language in common use in any country becomes irregular and depraved, it is followed by the ruin and degradation of the nation itself. He was right, quips this writer.

What ails Sinhala is that mispronunciation has already killed its meaning- its very essence and "Niveradi Uchcharana Widhi" is a guide to usage with emphasis on pronunciation.

" Most of all, those in the media should use the language properly. It is they who communicate the language, and the bane actually started there," he explains.

Regrettably, it is they who flout language rules the most. Earlier, language skills testing was an essential component. "They corrected themselves after these tests and subsequently went back for further training," Mr. Piyasena said, emphasising the need to perfect the language before becoming a communicator.

Yet today the fast pace does not permit extensive training - and newscasters face the cameras within days or sit before a mike within a few hours.

"Naturally, there's no professionalism and this is in stark contrast, as English newsreaders demonstrate their aptitude," he said.

This is why, Mr. Piyasena feels silent reading is insufficient. While elocution is available for English language users to develop their skills, there is no such facility for those learning Sinhala.

He explains how Buddhist teachings emphasise the 'meaning' of the words, which are derived from the distinct pronunciation. Words have rich meanings only when pronounced properly and used in the correct context. "Sinhala students are deprived of all these aspects of knowledge"

In 'Niveradi Uchcharana Widhi" he teaches that accentuated letters (mahaprana) should be so pronounced.

Education should be so fashioned giving priority to the mother tongue. The system is so flawed that only a small percentage know proper Sinhala, he says.

"Literacy actually means proper use of language. How many know the Sinhala alphabet though everyone has the English alphabet at their fingertips?" 

Policy and syllabus makers think in English. In the '50s when there was a proposal to introduce each letter of the alphabet through words (similar to the Radiant Way in English), it was scoffed at.

"My 'Sindu Hodiya' was my humble contribution, though some experts claimed that alphabets need not to be studied so meticulously.

"It was a simple exercise to give knowledge in a fun way," he added.

A pioneer is recognised

'Towards an Alternate Theatre' was the theme this year and Gamini was invited to deliver the keynote address evaluating its trends in world drama. The programme organised by the Sinhala Drama Panel of the Arts Council and the Tower Hall Theatre Foundation ended with a few street dramas being staged.

Gamini made street theatre so popular that a countless groups engaged in this art form. He himself says there are around 60 such groups, but he's worried. "Street theatre can descend to the most elementary, the most naive, the most crude levels. Its propaganda push is a perilous dimension," he wrote recently in a study on post-colonial Sinhala theatre. 

He described it as "an awfully difficult art" that has to be learnt by application, experience, constant and varied exposure. "The art subsumes ideology. 

At best it develops subtlety, suggestion, complexity. There are lots of skills, strategies, disciplines to be mastered. What's happening now is a rampage of appropriations - without the learning, without the skill, discipline, without the creative ingenuity, without the sustained commitment and spontaneity, without the ideological distillation that make it a serious art."

Quite apart from his contribution to alternate theatre, Gamini has been a serious student of both Sinhala theatre and cinema. He has already contributed a lot by way of indepth studies on various aspects.

Gamini well deserved the recognition he got at a time when the importance of experiments in theatre is being appreciated throughout the world.

Qualify for festival

Thumindu Dodsantenna's Arundathi, Sunil Chandrasiri's Bheema Bhumi, Buddhika Damayantha's Bansi Merila -Ne, Bandula Jayawardena's Swarnamali, Dharmasiri Bandaranayake's Trojan Kanthawo and K. B. Herath's Vasudeva are the six selected dramas.

June 1-6 have been set apart for the Festival.

Meanwhile, short dramas are being evaluated for final selections.

Remembering George Keyt 

The George Keyt Foundation is presenting the reproductions in association with the Devar Surya Sena Centre at 10, Alwis Place, Colombo 3.

Sri Lanka on APPAN Board

The inaugural meeting, held in Seoul, was attended by Ranjit Dharmakeerti, Director-General, Tower Hall Theatre Foundation. It was pointed out at the meeting that due to the low priority given to culturally significant activities in Asia in the past and across the board introduction of western performing arts in many Asian countries, several rich and rare cultural traditions and forms have already disappeared.
A taste of Sinhala (15)

A taste of sinhala (15)

So they say

By Prof. J.B. Disanayaka

A Sinhalese also has a way of saying something and getting away with it, that is, without bearing the responsibility for its truth value. To do that, he has only to add the particle "lu" at the end of any phrase or sentence. 

Of a girl, a Sinhalese may say many things, such as: kella lassanay (the girl is pretty); kella dostara kenek (the girl is a doctor) and kella heta enava (the girl is coming tomorrow). 

However, if he is not too sure of what he says, but says so only because he has heard it, then he can tag "lu" to the end of the sentence thus: kella lassanay-lu (the girl is pretty, they say); kella dostara kenek-lu (I hear that the girl is a doctor) and kella heta enava-lu (the girl is coming tomorrow, so have I heard).

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