by Nanda Pethiyagoda
I would sum up my assessment of the film in two words: restrained, realistic. And that is giving the script, stars who played the various roles, and the director high praise and pronouncing this film is different and way above very many Sinhala productions. In fact, the previews of two forthcoming local films which preceded the screening of Purahanda Kaluwara (PK) were shocking. In comparison to PK they were obscene by all counts. Of course they will be box office successes, the short skirts, revealing camera shots, hunky men and acrobatic dances a la the Hindi films screened on Swarnavahini, drawing the crowds.

Restraint

Everything about the film Purahanda Kaluwara is restrained, held back, obviating all excess, whether it is filming, acting, or moralizing. Actually there was no moralizing, only depicting one man’s stand regards applying for compensation on account of a soldier’s death. Here too there was no emphasising the fact that the old blind father, not having had the coffin opened and letting people see the body, or at least the face of the dead soldier, refuses to apply for compensation, even when goaded to do so by the Grama Sevaka. No comment is made on the central theme, which is this point, by anyone in the film. Thus the script is restrained. The director too is restrained. He does not drive home his point — the morality of the poor peasant and his stand that he could not benefit from the death of his son, which latter fact he doubted. We are left to decide whether this is a moral stand or foolishness on the part of Wanni Appuhamy, the old man. We take the view that he is far from foolish or in senile decay or overcome with sorrow. No, Joe Abeywickrema, the consummate actor, indicates through his slight facial expressions, his sightless eyes and stance, that he feels it immoral to benefit from his son’s death, more so because there is doubt about his being dead. In fact he hides the application forms in his trunk and keeps it secret from his daughters until the elder girl retrieves it.

The film is about war, but there is complete restraint in depicting it. One only hears gunshots and the old man comments once on it. The couple of soldiers who appear in the film are absolutely necessary to the narrative and very humane — the coffin bearers and the two who bring their regiment’s contribution for the three month’s dane. The script writer cum director — Prasanna Vithanage — could have brought in more of the war to titillate his audience with violence or else to underscore the uselessness of this battle that is being fought, and the fact that only the poor bear the wages of war. Not for this director to resort to cheap display or useless, irrelevant footage to make popular his film, or all encompassing. He has a point to make and makes it, with an incisive mind and brilliant directing hand.

The acting is restrained. There is loud weeping when the coffin is brought home and when the elder sister arrives, but that is realistic. We do mourn loud our dead. These are rural people and so they cry out. But no histrionics. Even the vulture, the Grama Sevaka coming after his loan, is restrained. His greed and use of power is evident but he does not rant, nor does he abuse or threaten. He only coaxes and later forcefully urges the old man to get the compensation and return the money borrowed.

Realism

Purahanda Kaluwara is starkly realistic, deeply truthful about the attitudes and behaviour of a peasant family in the face of war and the sole son of the family being killed in action.

The first striking point and faithful depiction is the dignity of the peasant in the face of tragedy. Wanni Appuhamy is, as we could surmise by his character and dignified bearing throughout the story, devastated by the apparent death of his son. But he holds fast to the hope it is not true. He comments that even those who have eyes did not see the corpse and identify it as brother or brother-in-law. He keeps his thoughts and doubts to himself until goaded to apply for the compensation. The true peasant is stoic and also quietly modest, bearing himself with dignity in sorrow and in joy. At the very end of the film, the rain comes down as the old man collects his water from the edge of the wewa while four boys romp in it. The old man only smiles a half smile but it conveys tons of hope and satisfaction, probably that he was proved right. Maybe we are allowed to interpret the happiness of the old man, the rain and sunshine breaking through, with the overcast moon no more as an evil omen, that the son will return home. Even otherwise, he smiles because he will no longer be pushed to apply for the compensation since there was no body in the coffin, only plantain sucker trunks and stones.

The behaviour of the others on screen too is realistic and their acting imbued with sincerity and realism. The old man’s two daughters go about their daily chores; weep for their dead brother; then one sets about getting a job in a factory much to the disgust of her future husband who accuses her loudly of prostituting herself. The elder girl, with her husband, now prepare for the three month’s dane. They want the old man to place his thumb print on the application form so they could get the compensation to pay for the dane and also complete the house the brother started building for the family. They were not after the money for themselves, and that is true of the real Sri Lankan peasant, the one with dignity and correct values, who still is not cash crazy.

The most commendable fact to me was the aiming at realism in the choice of stars to play the role of the two sisters. Not for Prasanna Vithanage or his co-producer wife, not also for the casting director to get popular stars of the likes of Vasanthi Chathurani, sexy Sangeetha and mournful Yasodha to play the girls. Here were two very simple, not-at-all-pretty girls acting the parts of the sisters. Both are slim, as women in the Wanni are, both have innate dignity and no self-consciousness whatsoever, whether they are mourning a dead brother, reading a letter from him and weeping, or resolutely going about their business with: "If father will not take the money we will manage somehow to give the dane" and "We will earn for ourselves now that the breadwinner is gone".

Prasanna Vithanage wanted to make a realistic film and he did it, harnessing good male talent too. There is no need to commend Joe on his role; he won international acclaim and an award. Linton Semage as the younger girl’s betrothed and Mahendra Perera with hair sleekly combed and always in white though a crooked Grama Sevaka, were perfect. Not once did any of the actors obtrude on the viewer. The cleverness of Vithanage’s direction and the stars‘ acting was that they somewhat alienated the viewer so s/he had her/his mind working. It is difficult to tell an absorbing story and yet not have the audience totally immersing themselves in the story on screen, with suspension of thinking powers and judgemental acumen. But here one was able to sit apart from what was unfolding on screen to judge, muse over and react to.

Themes and messages

Prasanna Vithanage had a message to convey. Any work of creative art has to project a universal truth, otherwise it becomes a mere production of ephemeral value. People may have diverse views on the theme/s. What I gathered may be less than the total of what Vithanage had in mind, or instinctively portrayed as he went along with his production.

To me the major theme was the honesty of the true peasant, the man with his feet planted firmly in the soil of the land. Not for Wanni Appuhamy to take money from the government when he is not sure his son is dead. A man of today, even a peasant, would take the money and then hope the son would come back. But not this old man with his dignity, simplicity and honesty. Maybe the old man had heard that trunks and stones were packed into empty coffins and delivered to homes of those missing in action, and so his rejection of the funeral imposed by the army on him and his family. Let them do the last rites, let the girls weep and wail, let them bury the coffin but I will not mourn, neither protest since it is useless against the word of the army which says my son is dead, seemed to be his attitude. He also shied away from benefiting from death.

Sub themes were the dishonesty of the more educated government official as against the brick layer, the hard working farmer and the old man, of course.

Another was that goaded, even the most complacent would rise to act, often going against his grain but needing to prove something. The old man was retired, comfortable in his retirement, comfortable even in his blindness. But when requested to do the dishonourable, the dishonest act of claiming compensation for a man who could well be still alive, to claim money without being certain the claim was honest, he revolted and did the unthinkable to set his mind at rest, once and for all. He dug the recent grave. It was then that his intended son-in-law said: " Alright I’ll show you" and all gathered there saw the duplicity of the powers that be. Even the oily Grama Sevaka was ashamed.

Why the furore?

This brings us to the banning of the film and controversy over it. What on earth was objectionable, what on god’s earth was detrimental to the security of the land, to the integrity of the armed forces or whatever? We saw nothing in the film that even remotely called for censure. Unless of course the censors or the Minister of whatever does not approve of true cinematic art and craft; unless the ‘off with it’ pronouncer only approves of buxom beauts making eyes and pursing lips and titillating all and sundry.

The army is shown to fill coffins with this and that if a soldier is missing in action and deliver the coffin with due respect and solemnity to the home of the deceased. Funerals are of such importance in this country of ours, so also the danes, hence a burial or cremation is a must, even if it were a sham. The army is respectful of customs and traditions of the Sinhalese. No missing in action notice like those in other countries would do in Sri Lanka. So here the army is shown to be good and sympathetic to those who have sacrificed a family member. If one were to think that the matter of the stuffing of the coffins would deter young men from joining the army, they had better get their heads examined!

Of course if Vithanage showed the soldier returning home after being pronounced dead, and buried, it would create an entirely different effect. Then censorship would be in order to cover up deficiencies in the administrative arm of the army. But here there was no indication that the soldier would return. His regiment mates came to the home some time after the funeral to hand over money collected by them for the three months dane.

No gimmicks

The camera filmed scenes straightforwardly, if you know what I mean. It did linger on a herd of cattle looking straight into the camera, on the cracked earth and muddy wewa water and Dry Zone vegetation. But these were essential to create background.

What was most striking was the total absence of music in the entire film. No music even when the credit titles were flashed on screen. They were in English on one side with a darkened view of a small weva and hill, centre-staged. Instead of music pansil and Buddhist gathas were chanted, with stunning effect.

Slip-up

Inconceivable how the meticulous director made the faux pas of having the daughter seeing her father trying to open up the grave — he’d only dug a couple of sods — runs to fetch the men of the family and when they arrive the man has dug right down to coffin level!

I may be nit-picking, but this slip was noticed by others. It could easily have been avoided by a slight change in action.

I also felt the interposing shots of the moon with black clouds concealing it came across as a stultified and overworked symbol. If the moon shots came after the camera panned on the old man’s face; if the shots came after he looked skywards, it would have been better.

But these are minor minuses. Here is a film made to tell a story with no embellishment or screaming messages or political diatribes. It is a comment and a quiet piece of commendable artistic creation.