Drama returns to Kandy with thought-provoking performance
Homegrown theatre returned to Kandy this past weekend after a lapse of several years with the staging of ‘Once Upon a Family’ by the Sri Theatre Company. Written and directed by Aslam Marikar who was also part of the talented cast of adults and young school leavers, the production was a welcome event for Kandy’s parched drama fans. Those expecting a bit of fluff to take away the sting of the stifled aragalaya and the ordeals of queuing overnight for fuel, would have been disappointed. But what the audience that turned up (reduced by transport problems but enthusiastic nevertheless) got was a thought-provoking performance, brilliantly cast and solidly acted.
The director used the elegant (and only) set very cleverly to narrate the entire story through the interactions of the Sulaiman family with the various protaganists of the dual storylines: one of the internal struggle within the family, and the other the external struggle of the JVP during the regime of President Premadasa. The story opens with Sulaiman (Anaz Haniffa) sitting in darkness awaiting the arrival of his wife Inaya from a private hospital where their eldest son is on life-support after being shot during a robbery while he was driving home. We discover, a little belatedly, that he is a Kandy-based extremely wealthy businessman (yes, there were a few even then), who has come to the notice of the ruling Sinhalese politicians one of whom, the Personal Assistant to the President (Warnakulasuriya), is attempting to persuade Sulaiman to sell a company in which he has a controlling interest.
From there, we find out that Abdul the elder son was shot by Ashroff the younger son (the lack of outrage on the part of the family for this dastardly deed was a bit puzzling to me); that the PA to Sulaiman who is also his nephew is in love with the daughter of the house (she reciprocates with enthusiasm); that Sulaiman suspects the sarong-clad butler of leaking family secrets to enemies; and that Sulaiman has conspired in a bit of fake media worthy of modern day bot-factories to cover up the dastardly deed of the second son.
Into the eventful sitting room, barges the JVP (with a superbly played ‘Commandant’ delivering a lecture in Sinhala to Sulaiman on his unethical conduct), a fake army group to grab the eldest son for ‘questioning’ on his return home from hospital, and the second son with faithful comic sidekick in tow to apprise his father in a letter of the reason he shot his older sibling. Abdul’s fate (Bhagya Senadeera), we learn through a news item read by the stoic father, and Ashroff (Hemal Muscreen) sets out to avenge the wrongs done to his family. The curtain falls on Inaya clinging to her husband for comfort but railing at him for the tragedy that has befallen them all.
To audiences that survived a pandemic by binge-watching old and new murder mysteries there are quite a few plot holes. The set, while unusual in its double layered structure, rather lacked the grandeur required for the audience to grasp that the family was more than simply well-off. But these shortcomings faded thanks to some brilliant acting: Sulaiman came across as a Sri Lankan ‘Godfather,’ and although not quite in the stature of Brando, he simmers rather than seethes, plotting Godfather-like to keep the women of the family out of the fray. The other characters were played with verve and passion, and the music by Jonathan George provided excellent support for the story. Aslam Marikar’s portrayal of the family retainer had overtones of the great Jayalath Manoratne, and it is also the first time that many have seen his talent as an actor, being better known for his direction (most recently for the winning adaptation of Romeo and Juliet by Trinity College, Kandy at the Inter Schools Shakespeare Competition in 2019). Inaya is played brilliantly as a fussy, scatty, character by Fazmina Imamudeen (herself a director of superb productions at school level), but she digs deep to portray the agony of a mother who sees her family disintegrate without ever knowing the real reason why. Sarah (Tiara Beneragama) the daughter supports the development of the various storylines effectively, as do the two brothers. The young supporting cast reappear severally as the JVP members, the fake army contingent, and the aragalaya type demonstrators.
But the standout performance was that of Warnakulasuriya (Tobias Viswabaratha) initially a bumbling stereo-typical politician adding a comic element but revealed by degrees as a dangerous and scheming adversary, who had planned a lifetime for the downfall of Sulaiman for the harm done to his own family: a portrayal with many layers to unpack.
A somewhat hackneyed tale, one may have thought, but it unexpectedly brought out parallels with the developing situation in Sri Lanka, and was a stark reminder that those who are pillars of society today may have got there by rather more unscrupulous means than they would like to admit. Even more admirable was Aslam’s bold decision to set the story within a traditional Muslim family and to portray the patriarch engaging in the prohibited practice of consuming alcohol (even in a medicinal way); Inaya also constantly calls upon the Almighty to validate her strictures on her children. All of this is authentic rather than offputting or offensive, and I must admit refreshing, as the rare original production does not usually dare to be so politically incorrect.
With excellent acting and solid direction, the production is worthy of a much bigger audience, and I hope that the Sri Theatre Company will do so before too long. Most of all the commitment of the cast and crew in putting on this performance, despite transport difficulties and rehearsals in the dark, is salutary, and was greatly appreciated by those present.