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Film Review:
Sankara The miracle painting
Jayantha Anandappa - (Australia)
In his triumphant maiden cinematic creation Sankara, director
Prasanna Jayakody has given us a beautiful interpretation of the
inherent and the inevitable contradiction between Buddhism and art and
how a seemingly trivial mundane intrusion could lead to thwart one's
quest to achieve spiritual perfection.
 To illustrate this conflict Jayakody had cast a delicate storyline
centred on the trials and tribulations of an artistically gifted young
thera.
The director had added an infinitely subtle dimension to the conflict
equating it to one that is essentially a discord between the mind and
the heart. To me this is the most endearing and fascinating aspect of
this rare work.
The film opens with a beautiful shot of the young thera - Ananda
(played superbly by Thumindhu Dodantenne) walking through a vast expanse
of a luxuriant sugarcane plantation to arrive at a remote temple.
His mission is to restore the temple's ancient ageing frescoes. The
frescoes, full of sexualised female images depict various stages of the
Thelapaththa Jathaka tale - a parable that tell us the moral that one
with lofty ambition should not be swayed by passion.
Ananda starts restoring the frescoes in earnest and lovingly. Being
an artist and a monk, at the outset he does not seem to be perturbed so
much by the female images that he has to gaze at whilst engaging in the
task of restoration.
Prototype
It is the emergence of the prototype the coquettish village lass (Sachini
Ayendra), whom he confronts as a result of a fortuitous discovery of her
hairpin in the temple premises that causes to shake his mind.
The young monk's serenity is disturbed and the poor soul is perturbed
and distracted to such an extent that even the light clink of her
bangles or her fleeting countenance sighted through a cracked gap of a
window pane, alone are enough to cause him concern.
The young artist in his mind woos the pretty girl. He tails her in
his mind seeking her acquaintance which includes a tryst in the
sugarcane plantation where the girl works, obviously toiling hard for
sustenance.
This part is depicted superbly by his secular altar ego, played by
Nilupa Heenkendaarachchi. Use of an actor as the altar ego to portray
one's thoughts must be surely a first in the Sinhala cinema.
Paintings are eventually restored, only to be vandalised prolonging
the young priest's stay and thus the temptation. He completes
rehabilitation of the paintings for the second time.
The film reaches its climax with the devastating effect the girl had
on him being symbolised by a violent tempest to which Ananda is exposed.
With the storm subsiding, the film ends beautifully with the camera
capturing every little detail of restored frescoes with remarkable
vividness with music reaching ethereal proportions.
The final scene presents an iconic shot of the landscape, typical of
the whole movie, symbolising that the temptation the young monk had to
endure is a natural passing distraction (perhaps like ripples in still
water) and that his mission in search of spiritual purity will still
have to continue unabated amidst the mundane intrusions. Ananda may have
to weather many a tempest in his journey in seeking spiritual
perfection.
Flimsy
Based on his own flimsy and what can be described as an allegorical
tale, with the help of Palitha Perera (camera) and Nadeeka Guruge
(music), Jayakody has woven his beautiful cinematic masterpiece which no
doubt can be enjoyed by all serious filmgoers across the globe.
Though essentially based on a Buddhist parable, Jayakody had created
a work with universal appeal which can be understood by any one with
little or no understanding of Buddhist scripture. This is a major
achievement of the work.
Jayakody's highly refined eloquent finished product can be aptly
compared to a beautiful painting - a painting that is perfectly balanced
and adorned with striking and contrasting colours.
Whilst this painting unfolds in front of our eyes frame by frame at
leisured pace for our gazing, the lyrical austere soundtrack is played
as if to serve as poetry for the painting.
The non-obtrusive soundtrack alternates between nature's sounds and
whisperings followed by periods of hush silence, some very fine
background music and minimal or virtually non existing dialogues-all
seemed to have one purpose-to be recited over the painting.
I have not yet seen Vimukthi Jayasundera's highly acclaimed Sulanga
Enu Pinisa, but based on what we see in Sankara, though it may seem
premature, I think it would be a fair assessment to say that Jayakody is
comparable or even superior to the other two modern masters of the craft
Prasanna Vithanage and Asoka Handagama as a cinema artist.
It is disheartening to hear that this film was not a huge success
financially, but certainly it is an unqualified artistic triumph, and a
major landmark in our cinema.
It is not surprising that Sankara won the prestigious Silver Pyramid
at the last Cairo Film Festival. Personally to me, it was a great
privilege to watch Sankara in the big screen in Sydney recently.
Lot of credit should go to the producers Somaratne Dissanayake and
Renuka Balasuriya for coming forward to finance this work despite the
risk of looming financial failure and at a time Jayakody was struggling
to find a producer and hanging on to his script for almost a decade. |
