Misconceived, Misinterpreted, Miscast and a big Mistake
- Chandri Peris
A clear example of character assassination via the deliberate misuse of artistic license!
After seeing a screening of the film RANI, I walked out of the Majestic cinema devoid of any feelings. It was a terrible film. Badly acted, badly directed and badly researched. It was only after I started hearing the many plaudits being voiced by the crass, vulgar, brainless, money oriented, self-satisfied hoi polloi of Colombo that I
decided that I want to state my opinion about two people that many of us loved, respected and knew intimately.
This film was rife with inaccuracies which were not only insulting and upsetting but it reaffirmed that fact that ‘history is always written by the victors’! Even though most of us are aware of the truth and will do our very best to redress the blatant errors in the characterisation and the narrative presented in this film, it remains a sad reality that many Sri Lankans (especially the younger generation) will accept this as factually correct.
Before I proceed to point out the faults in this ghastly film I’d like to admit that there were a few moments that had some redeeming qualities. Firstly, it addressed the very dark time that our country went through. It was a time when ‘disappearances’ were a daily occurrence. Armed thugs often arrived unannounced and kidnapped people who merely voiced their opinions about a regime that held its people to ransom by spreading fear. It also addressed that fact that even serving ministers were not safe from those who held the reigns.
This was the same period during which Richard de Zoysa and I used to run Drama and Movement workshops at the Lionel Wendt Theatre. These workshops were attended by many Colombo based English speaking youngsters who loved the theatre and several Sinhala speaking university students too. Seven of these students disappeared without a trace never to be heard of again in the months before Richard was brutally murdered. The line that Manorani utters over and over again in the film saying ‘I am one of the more fortunate mothers - I got my son’s body back’ is factually true. She used this line even when she addressed the United Nations where she was invited to receive the IPS International Achievement Award for independent journalism posthumously awarded to her son in 1990. That particular statement was the premise on which she built her work with and for The Mother’s Front. The use of the biblical quotation ‘Oh Absalom, my son, my son’ was also published by her in the Daily News on the day of her sons funeral and on this occasion ‘artistic license’ had been used appropriately. The fear and suspense felt by many people who were threatened and killed at night by organised gangs of government backed thugs during those dark days were very clearly conveyed too.
I feel that it is a complete insult that the director of this film Asoka Handagama has taken it upon himself to boldly brandish a series of misconceptions and untruths about the people it is based on. Even if he has a disclaimer stating that his version of events is ‘A fiction based on true events’ it simply cannot be forgiven! It is brazen of him to insult them for his own gain! It is all the more insulting because they are misinterpreted and wrongly depicted. There are many unanswered questions about this film. Would it have been so wrong to stick to the truth and tell the story of this heinous crime as it really was? Was he in fear of revealing the truth and facing the consequences? Were any relatives of Manorani and Richard even consulted? Would someone have influenced the director to change the ending so as to exculpate the person who ordered the murder and shift the blame on to the thugs who decided to carry out the killing themselves? Never in the history of cinema has an artistic license been used to build a blatant lie. Shame on you Asoka Handagama!
Dr Manorani Saravanamuttu was NOT an alcoholic. On the odd social occasion she may have had one drink. This may be after an opening night of a play, at a party or at a gathering of friends and family. Even then it was just a sip or two at the most. There was never any alcohol in her house at any time. She never got disgracefully drunk as depicted in the film!
She never chain smoked. Once again, she may have had the odd cigarette (also socially) after working a ten hour day seeing to her many patients (most of whom she treated free of charge in the most downtrodden areas of Colombo). She would NEVER have got out of her car to purchase a packet of cigarettes from a mudukku either!
She NEVER used the words ‘Fuck’ and ‘Fucking’ ever!
She always wore brightly coloured Nylex sari’s and never wore Indian cotton sari’s. I can vouch for this because if she ever wanted to purchase a sari, she would always ask me to do so for her.
She NEVER called her son ‘putha’! She called him ‘Zoysa’. Richard in turn NEVER called her ‘amma’! He called her ‘Zoysa’. It was an endearment enmeshed in a joke about her absent husband and his absent father – Lucian de Zoysa.
Richard was one of my closest friends. He was one class senior to me in school. Our passion for the theatre drew us together. We acted in many plays together and spent a lot of time with our mutual friends who were also from the theatre fraternity. He was the type of person who had an odd trait in his personality that he always did the unpredictable. In fact, he did the opposite of what you expected him to do just as an ‘up yours’ to anyone who was a friend or associate of his. He would convince people he could sing when he couldn’t. He would pretend he could dance when he was awful at it. Even though his inclinations were clearly homosexual, he often convinced many a girl that he was straight. He could not drive a car. He rode a motorcycle from which he fell off very often. And he never played the guitar nor did he ever attempt to do so.
As we all know Richard’s claim to fame was as an actor. What this film omits to state is that Manorani was an actress too. Her former husband Lucian de Zoysa (who wrote some of the most celebrated English plays based to the history of Sri Lanka – The Brazen Palace, The Fortress in the Sky etc) wrote many parts for her. She acted opposite him in many a Shakesperean role including Ophelia, Lady Macbeth and Desdemona. An year before Richard was murdered he acted opposite his mother in ‘The Libation Bearers’ which was produced by the British Council. With all this information being public knowledge, why does the character of Manorani in the film dismiss all knowledge of theatre and the relevance of drama to politics?
The aunty Manorani I knew was an astoundingly beautiful woman whose face was full of grace and her wonderful smile radiated kindness. The only clear example of her beauty and the extraordinary bone structure of her face, would be to compare it to the mask of Nefertiti which can be seen at the Berlin Neues Museum. On the other hand, Swarna Mallawarachi has a hard/sharp bone structure that some may find attractive. Kindness is not a quality that she exudes. A great actress she maybe but on this occasion she disgraces the character she portrays. On the rare occasion when Manorani smoked it was an act of sheer elegance and class (rather like Lauren Bacall in the movie ‘Casabalanca’). To watch Swarna sucking on a cigarette was like watching an amateur smoker trying to reignite a wet suruttu!
To what extent did Swarna research the character she longed to portray? Shouldn’t any actor or actress worth their salt, research the character that they are responsible from brining to life on the screen? Could she not have taken some guidance about Manorani’s demeanour from the clear and precise documentary film made by Nimal Mendis? If she so desperately wanted to portray a drunken, chain-smoking, foul-mouthed harridan, could she not have got Edward Albee’s ‘Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf’ translated and brought to the screen? Who decided to portray this great woman as a drunken, chain-smoking, whore? Handagama or Swarna? Whomever the blame lies with, the film remains a travesty.
One of the most pathetic and disgusting scenes is the one in which Manorani gets drunk and dances with her son and his friend whilst swigging whisky. Is assassinating a character so disgracefully the proper use of artistic license?
The fact that this film has managed to get itself released at a time when the country is being led by a JVP government may be coincidental. Or is it? Are they trying to say that Richard was a JVP supporter to gather further support for their agenda. I can very definitely say that he didn’t know whom or what he supported at any time. He had a tendency to frequently jump ship in a way that he is seen to be a supporter of the underdog whoever that may be at any particular time. He was an enigma who did not know himself.
To suggest that Richard was killed because of his homosexuality is also distracting from the fact that it was a politically ordered murder.
On the characterisation of Manorani in this film - Does getting drunk on whisky, chain smoking and sleeping around represent the privileged in the eyes of the common JVP supporter? Is the director trying to say that people of the calibre and class of Dr Manorani Saravanamuttu only realised the trials and tribulations of the common man after she was confronted with the murder of her own son? If so, it is pandering to the lumpenproletariat at the highest level.
Even though Mangala Samaraweera and Mahinda Rajapakse latched on to Manorani’s personal tragedy and encouraged her to start The Mother’s Front movement, they only used it as a political tool for their own personal advancement. Manorani’s pioneering work for The Mother’s Front led her to visit various remote villages in Sri Lanka offering to be the voice for the voiceless women, many of whom had lost their husbands and sons.
Mangala and I were good friends, so I can say very confidently that he would not have had the audacity to refer to Manorani as ‘darling’! Once again that remark alone seems to be the director’s tasteless way of inferring to the fact that Mangala was ‘gay’. How tactless can one get?
There were also other minor details about the film that were factually incorrect. Manorani and Richard lived in a very small flat in Welikadawatte during the time of his kidnapping and murder. They did not live in a grand house as depicted in the film.
When Ranasinghe Premadasa visited Manorani to offer his sympathies, she did not face him with aggression. She met him with the customary grace and dignity she was always known for. During this fraught encounter she spoke frankly to him about the trauma of having a son murdered by the authorities. Witnesses say that he could not look her directly in the eye.
In conclusion, I would like to say that this film is a desecration of the memory of a beautiful, graceful, highly educated and dignified woman who was loved and respected by many.
Why is it that many of us standby and let victors rewrite history to suit their own purpose? In this instance, I am not only referring to the many politicians portrayed in the film who seem to be getting away with murder but also to the director of a film that depicts a true heroine in an unfavourable light. Artistic license becomes a huge responsibility in the hands of a director who has the power to influence popular opinion about our country’s history and the characters who played a vital part in it. It is a tragedy indeed that this film distorts the truth and paints a misleading picture of a great woman and deliberately backs down from pointing the finger at the true villains.
