What a night it was… it was
Under the rule of men entirely great, the pun is mightier than the gun. Also the sword. And the caricature unsightlier than the legislature. Pusswedilla’s fifth (and final?) outing with Thank You For Voting: The Antire Solooshen Summit proved that. In spades. Despite its detractors.
Wily, smarmy, devious, egregious, charming (really, one runs out of admiring encomiums) politician Chaminda Pusswedilla plans to host a summit to end all summits – or, rather, resolutions against his beloved homeland, Arsikland. En route, he solicits and secures by hook or by crook the willing or unwilling cooperation of virtually everyone he encounters. Friends, followers, foes. To say nothing of the services of his “blithering idiot” of a “sectary”, the hysterical Cyril Nitharamasuffering. Challenged by the Western powers but befriended by Western leaders and championed by unexpected media ally Robert Westernthinking, Pusswedilla ably demonstrates that his brand of politics is far from being a damp squib. His irresistible charm and irrefutable casuistry combine in an explosive Molotov cocktail of wit, wisdom, and wisecrackery. His Glorious Honourable Excellency (HGHE) makes his enemies rue the day and some of his supporters rue it even more...
Feroze Kamardeen has come a long way from his days as a talented actor who dazzled audiences with his interpretation of Mercutio at the interschool Shakespeare competition in the early 1990s. Neither will theatre buffs be able to easily forget his dramatic and buzzing turn in the absurdist Edward Albee play Zoo Story. After experimenting with wearing two hats in sundry productions, the actor-turneddirector has finally discovered his place in the sun. Politics is clearly his forte, satire a metier he’s doing well with, political satire (or what passes for it in our Blessed Isle) a medium that he is beginning to dabble cleverly in to the evident delight of politically naïve, savvy, blasé, audiences alike. Demonstrably a democrat or republican with a cynical streak, Kamardeen has taken the proverbial bull by its horns and managed to name the elephant in the room... an enterprise at which he is streets ahead of anything else he has done (most lamentably, Animal Farm). Having fumbled with a brace of Dario Fo’s dark plays on the ruthless and ambitious underbelly of politics, he is beginning to emerge as a writer with an agenda – someone who is very devilishly doing something with what he is saying. And about time.
The big picture of the Pusswedilla franchise is that power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Kamardeen & Co. have realised with the rest of us patriots and citizens with a conscience and a spine that great men are nearly always bad men. That this vibrant and energetic theatre troupe are able to drive home the truth that there is no greater heresy than that the office sanctifies the holder of it – with fire, banked down by mirth – is highly commendable. It is a much needed shot in the arm for original Englishlanguage theatre that is gritty; deals with the realpolitik of the regimes we suffer under; and does it with class, style, and energy. Media freedom may be dead or dying, but artistic licence is alive and well in our isle.
There are those who would argue that political satire (or what it passes for) is water off a duck’s back. That it accomplishes nothing. Maybe because this interpretation of a potentially powerful theatrical genre sets out neither to challenge nor change, but simply satirise and caricaturise. We would beg to differ. For in a milieu where most political actors are craven or capon, a production such as this (which is neither afraid nor emasculated) is an end in itself. If by virtue of existing, and perhaps being allowed to exist, it will raise the profile of dissent and the awareness that alternative or antithetical opinions can be expressed with impunity – it is also a means to an end. It is a welcome weapon in our dramaturgical panoply against the fall of night, taking serious business lightly.
In a small but versatile cast that shone, it might be unfair to single out three or four (if you will pardon the mixed maths) performers. The most visible and violently manic outing was by Pasan Ranaweera as the imbecilic Cyril. Comic genius, with superlative out-ofcontrol control! Kicking against the pricks while gyrating to his adoptive master’s tune, Gehan Blok as ‘Westa’ the media mole was equally energetic. But it was Dominic Kellar who bestrode the stage like a colossus for the nearly three-hour duration of a play with large chunks of bilingual text to master and masterfully deliver. He was perfect for the part of a porous, oozing, mercurial, pompous, slimy politico (and we mean it in the nicest possible way). Kellar has come to inhabit the mantle of “Friend of the People, Servant of the Nation, Son of the Village, Brother of Freedom, Father of Democracy” with great brio and aplomb.
The theatrics began outside the auditorium, with a polling booth-type entrance where one ‘voted’ and had one’s ‘ballot’ (ticket) stamped. The shenanigans continued long after the play was over, with Puss posing for pictures with members of the audience. Some modicum of vim and vigour was added to a play that could have lacked vitality, by virtue of several (appropriate enough) song and dance routines being interpolated. The dialogue was witty; the acting flew; and the upshot sparkled.
Most puzzling is how – and why – Puss has survived the censors? And, more importantly perhaps, the powers that be? And whether the cloud or question mark that hangs over future or further outings is a reflection of some highup disapprobation? We hope not! Here’s relevance at last. A local play by local folks about matters that matter most to us all. If we can’t all (powers included) have a chat, snicker, and good old giggle about it all, we might as well say “Cherry!” like Pusswedilla does... and abdicate!
By Sasanka Nanayakkara
“Handapane handapane” a choir of children paid tribute to the Master’s simple yet immortal melody with devotion and the much awaited concert to commemorate maestro Sunil Santha’s 99th year of birth had begun.
To everyone’s bewilderment, the concert was found to be a fully sponsored one with no ticket sales. It was meant only for invitees. Even the souvenir with myriad of useful material about the Master and his music was distributed free of charge. Many were contemplating the generosity of the sponsors and the daunting task undertaken by the organisers. What a meritorious act.
There were people of all walks of life but the majority were elderly or in their prime, all intellectual music lovers. In the front row was the ardent Sunil Santha fan, Prof Carlo Fonseka, Sinhala scholar, Prof. Winnie Vitharana and Dr. Victor Ratnayake who entered the music scene by singing the lead on Master’s “Thel gala hisa peeran nano” in the sixties. There were distinguished Christian clergy present as well.
The Master’s most notable disciple and the only one to be blessed with not only a trace of that silvery voice but the inimitable style, Ivor Dennis sang Hubert Dissanayake’s “Adara nadiye” and a couple of other famous group-songs with the choir. The choir had style and was nimble with their body movements each time a note meandered. It was indeed a pleasure listening to such greats like “Emba ganga” and “Walakulen besa” penned by that erudite poet Arisen Ahubudu, before the Mahaweli was dammed. It must have been the first time senior citizen Ivor’s sonorous voice was made to echo across the magnificent Nelum Pokuna.
Current industry giants, Amal Perera and Kasun Kalahara both made the familiar songs “Mewan pitisare” and “Suwanda rosa mal” their very own adding their youthful vibe to the heartfelt renderings. Perhaps a piano accordion should have been introduced to balance their powerful raw styles with the flowing cadence and marked mellowness of the originals.
Two beautiful ladies, Indika Upamali and Nelu Adikari wore sarees in contrasting styles to suit their soprano and alto but their duet “Sigiri landakage” from the film Rekawa was simply outstanding. The delivery would have made the great Latha Walpola who sang the original way back, very proud. It is known that the Master composed the melody using the chanting technique of historical loweda sangarawa verses.
The closest to originals were delivered by Jagath Wickramasinge and Keerthi Pasqual in classic “Bovitiya dan” and evergreen “Olu pipeela” respectively. It was heartwarming to listen to their renderings. A queen of the music scene as of now, Deepika Priyadarshani sang one of the Master’s gems, “Nalawi senasenne” in her usual mellifluous voice to steal many a heavy heart. Her pitching was impeccable and so was her grace on the stage.
It was up to the strong man, Ishak Mohideen Beg to sing in his baritone the lilting rhythm of “Kokilayange” which was highly applauded. Though different in styles, his late father and the Master may have recorded music together for Radio Ceylon in those very early times. Popular youngster, Sashika Nissansala covered the famous Rekawa songs of Indrani Wijebandara with authority to cap the evening and towards the end a nonstop session of the Master’s film songs from Rekawa and Sandeshaya were gregariously delivered by all who sang for the riveted listeners to travel back in time. The immortal melodies may have evoked sweet memories in many an elderly mind.
The music was enthralling and held the audience spellbound. The genius in the young conductor Suresh Maliyadda became quite evident as the show progressed and his use of Western instruments like the clarinet which was noticeably woven around by the flowing flute, slide guitar, bass guitar and the folksy mandolin was highly commendable.
In between, musician Nadeeka Guruge delivered an analytical speech of Sunil Santha’s music and its uniqueness with technical assistance from the band and performed the Master’s 1967 solitary English song composed by Shelton Premaratne for the film Romeo & Juliet, “My dreams are roses” with only his own guitar as accompaniment. It was quite remarkable.
At the end the audience stood up for the unofficial National Anthem of Ahubudu’s “Lanka Lanka” which was sung in unison by all vocalists of the night. An exhilarated crowd thus joined in the singing, paying tribute to a major pillar holding the structure of Sri Lankan music together, eminent maestro Sunil Santha. Thus they sang into the moonless night!