Sri Lankan filmmaker Prasanna Vithanage, a pioneer of the third generation of cinema in the island nation, has been a toast of the town with his latest socio-political drama, Paradise, which was presented at the ongoing IFFK in Thiruvananthapuram.
Starring Roshan Mathew and Darshana Rajendran, the film explores the complexities of a Malayali couple’s visit to Sri Lanka. Set against the backdrop of his country’s socio-political crisis, Paradise delves into the stark realities of class division in Sri Lanka.
Prasanna’s career boasts of international recognition and numerous awards. Notably, his fourth feature, Purahanda Kaluwara (Death on a Full-Moon Day), received the Grand Prix award at the Amiens Film Festival in France despite facing an initial ban in his own country. Prasanna is also a jury member of Network for Promotion of Asia-Pacific Cinema.
Excerpts:
How did you balance portraying the intimate struggles of a couple with the larger socio-political context of Sri Lanka’s crisis?
I believe every person faces battles within society and themselves. We live in a world where there are struggles and conflicts with ourselves. It’s my job as a director to capture that. Also, I believe men and women can be understood better in a relationship than as individuals. The storyline includes how we face a crisis. I wanted to capture every shade of it — political, social, and personal.
The film incorporates elements from the Ramayana into a contemporary setting. How did this idea evolve?
Mythology is a big tourism industry. Many Indians visit Sri Lanka on ‘Ramayana tours’. Some are believers, some are non-believers, who come for adventure, to find out what this Ramayana trail is all about. Sri Lanka has showcased places where Sita and Ravana stayed. So, in a way, mythology has become part of modern life.
After my film’s screening, some asked me whether I tried to create a modern Ravana, Rama, or Sita. No. Because, in mythology, the characters are one-sided. They are either heroes or villains. That’s not the case in real life. That’s my point: life is not like mythology, it’s full of grey areas. Life has a lot of shades. So, in a way, it debunks and questions mythology. I used mythology to address the ambivalence while looking at other people.
You have collaborated with some Indian talents, especially from the Malayalam film industry — Roshan Mathew, Dharshana Rajendran, and Rajeev Ravi. How did that happen?
We Sri Lankans grew up watching Malayalam cinema. Ramu Karyat, Aravindan, Adoor Gopalakrishnan, Shaji N Karun, and a lot of other Kerala filmmakers have influenced my work. For example, I believe Adoor’s Elippathayam is among the best films ever made. And Shaji N Karun’s Piravi also had a great impact on me.
I have been coming to IFFK since 1998, sometimes to present my films here, or as a jury member. Of late, there has been a rise of brilliant actors. I can’t name all of them… Fahadh Faasil, Roshan Mathew, Nivin Pauli, Dharshana, Parvathy…. I approached Roshan after watching his performance in Moothon. And I had already worked with Rajeev Ravi on my previous film.
I believe the Lankan culture, including the way we cook food, is similar to that of Kerala. Even in politics; we had a large Left movement in Sri Lanka at one time. There were Left leaders like Anthony Pillai from Kerala. So, I feel closer to Kerala than any other Indian sub-culture.
You mentioned Elipathayam... Adoor has done deeply political films like Mukhamukham as well. Did such films influence you to become a political filmmaker?
I have watched almost all of his films. Also, I was attracted to Left politics. When I say political, I mean even in a marriage or personal relationship, there is politics and power. When you try to fathom the characters or the issues, your subjective viewpoint is not enough. There should be an objective viewpoint as well. I am more interested in the characters, not the situation. I examine how a situation affects characters.
Through human relationships, we move a story. Through human emotions, we speak to the audience. Not through political ideology. Just political ideology is not sufficient to make art. It has to be emotionally represented through the characters.
There are several good films based on the idea. For instance, Krzysztof Kieślowski’s Three Colour Trilogy: Red, White, Blue. He used the colours from the French flag – they represent liberty, fraternity, and freedom. And he made three films questioning whether the ideals are a reality in modern France or Europe.
It’s basically about questioning. My films are character-driven. I follow the tradition of Leo Tolstoy, Fyodor Dostoevsky…. For instance, Tolstoy’s War and Peace is not about war and peace in the literal sense. Rather, it is about Natasha, the family, the realities….
See, a person who doesn’t like your idea will immediately reject it. But if one tells it with truth, passion, through a character, and if one digs deep to bring out the truth, that is true politics. When you talk about politics, you cannot avoid the truth.
Even if they are unpleasant realities…
I believe that even for political filmmaking, objectivity is vital. We may have a political ideology, but we should question ourselves whether we are right — whether one is working for an ideology or searching for the truth.
Being truthful is important. Even Marxists should do that (laughs). Picasso once said that artists create because they don’t agree with the society they live in or the human condition that they live in. That spirit should sustain even if the Marxist party comes to power. Take the Soviet Union, for instance. When artists like Vladimir Mayakovsky became truthful and independent, they went against Stalin’s party line. They were killed or given a hard time. Whatever the price to pay, one has to be truthful.
In short, you are saying filmmakers should not merely propagate an ideology… And, in the Marxist context, this has got relevance in Kerala, where the Left is in power.
Yeah, it has to be like that. Leon Trotsky once said: “Truth is always revolutionary”. I believe that is very important.
Going back to Paradise, the film tracks a couple in the backdrop of Sri Lanka’s financial crisis. How did you arrive at this kind of script? There were two reasons. During the Lankan economic crisis, there were people who were indifferent to politics and inequality. Suddenly, the crisis came home and they were caught unawares.
In the Indian context, too, I have observed how people have become indifferent to poverty on the streets. Let’s take Andheri West or Juhu in Mumbai, where there are posh restaurants. And people have gotten used to ignoring beggars and the poverty around, and walking into them to have the best food. But a crisis can bring all this to a stop. Suddenly, it will hit you. You could be apolitical, you could be indifferent, but you will be ‘caught’ one day.
After the collapse of the Soviet Union and the socialist model, it was widely declared that the class struggle was over. Now, we live in a consumerist society. That thinking is there. In Sri Lanka, no one talks about class struggle, and everybody has become upwardly mobile.
However, the Sri Lankan crisis reminded people that they had been living a lie. But, the people have become apolitical. In Sri Lanka, according to statistics, poor people are becoming poorer and the rich are becoming richer after the economic crisis and the pandemic. But we don’t like to accept it.
Considering the current political landscape, how is the Sri Lankan film industry faring?
Despite censorship and other challenges, my colleagues, such as Asoka Handagama and Vimukthi Jayasundara, and I made films that depicted the impact of the war on the lives and values of ordinary people. However, we faced backlash from the Rajapaksa government.
As an artist, however, I believe seeking validation from society is unnecessary. Some films were banned, but we challenged the decision in court. That’s part of the journey. Unfortunately, even now, there is little support for filmmaking in Sri Lanka. Young filmmakers are discouraged from expressing their observations and critiques of society. The current economic crisis has further exacerbated the difficulties of making films. However, there is resilience within the industry, and that is paramount.
So, the political environment has instilled fear among filmmakers?
The fear was instilled by the Rajapaksa regime, which labelled filmmakers as ‘antisocial’ or ‘foreign-funded’. That created divisions within society. Unfortunately, this is not unique to Sri Lanka; it’s a common phenomenon in South Asia.
Now, how do we overcome this fear? We must confront it head-on. Succumbing to intimidation only serves their purpose. They want to instil fear for our lives, livelihoods, and loved ones. This is a calculated strategy. The only way to break free from fear is to continue doing our work, which is our responsibility as artists.
Well, there seem to be similarities between the situations in Sri Lanka and India. Here, too, there are allegations about voices, like Pansare and Kalburgi, being silenced…
South Asian societies tend to polarise on ethnic and religious lines. This is often driven by political motives – vote banks, survival of establishments…. I adhere to what Indian thinker Jiddu Krishnamurti once said: ‘Anything that divides people, I am against it.’ Nationalism, I believe, is divisive and also breeds violence. I hope you got the answer (smiles).
Having been a regular at film fests, what are your impressions about IFFK? Any suggestions?
The IFFK is renowned for its passionate audience and unwavering commitment to cinema. It’s heartening to see the crowds remain strong even in the age of OTT platforms. The survival of IFFK is crucial. Film festivals serve as vibrant spaces for dialogue, introspection, and critical engagement with cinema. This is something that IFFK has successfully achieved, while other festivals have succumbed to government or corporate control.