(May 13, Colombo, Sri Lanka Guardian) A retrospect of Henry Jayasena’s plays was presented last Thursday at the Elphinstone. A pleasant change from the Lumbini where, as I recall, all but "Hunuwataye Katava" were first staged in the 1960s. Far more spacious and much better equipped though the Elphinstone is, the matinee show drew less than 400 people, most of them school boys. The actors, though, did their thing as if they were playing to a full house. Clearly, professionalism is developing there.
The show began and ended with excerpts from "Hunuvataye", with scenes from "Kuveni", "Apata Puthe", "Janelaya", and "Thavath Udaesanak" inbetween. They were all well presented by a cast of young actors and brought back like a sweet wind memories of a golden age of Sinhala theatre. Azdek did well too though nobody could play that role as Henry did—as I cannot conceive of anybody carrying Subha Saha Yasa as Simon Navagattegama did.
The use made of dance-steps and drum, the rise and fall of the lines vocalised showed how pervasive Saratchchandra’s influence had been in transfering the conventions of the nadagam to "the modern stage". "Janelaya", however, was excruciatingly "right". Far more true than skits such as the BBC’s "Yes Minister". Henry’s way with words from several strata or locations has yeilded just the right expression for the subject. That is, no mean achievement in itself and when employed with precision in a structured presentation of a story on stage, leads to a "whole" statement. Henry Jayasena, in his plays and other productions, has sought to capture what he knew and to trim it into something for the instruction and entertainment of others. As this retrospective showed, he did it very well.
Hunuvataye’s place in our theatre is unique—it represented the joyous marriage of the Sinhala and English language theatre, with Bertolt Brecht hovering over it. Ernest Macintyre, Haig Karunaratne, the Serasinghes and the Jayasenas were behind it all and behind each other.
As John Osborne observed, "Theatre is theatre and has death at the heart of it, like life itself Movies not only survive, but their cultural sense goes into the general memory of history in a way that no theatrical experience can match". When I read those words I thought of Chitrasena, the most dominant presence by far of Lankan theatre. I do not expect to see again a master such as he in any of the roles he played on stage, nor a dancer who could achieve his power, his god-like grace or his humility. Perhaps there are some lucky young people who have the spark in them and will not permit their gifts to be smothered by corrupt "leaders" hungry for the gifts that "globalisation" pours into their private bank accounts. Such talent as lies dormant now, or inadequately developed, must be sought out, brought out and nourished, and the Chitrasena-Vajira Foundation is well situated to provide a Shantiniketan where he honed his own genius, in our traditional arts for students from all over the world.
It is in that context that I appreciated this retrospect of Henry Jayasena’s plays. I mentioned to Chitrasena as he lay in bed in the hospital that I had been to the Elphistone. He lifted his eyebrows, his eyes shone, he was saying plainly to me that he wished he had been there.
Saratchchandra’s works have not suffered neglect. They continue to be presented by younger people. So do Dayananda Gunawardena’s; the work of R. R. Samarakoon is alive and well. Perhaps the Arts Council, the Punchi Theatre or the Chitrasena Kalayathanaya, will some day soon re-present the work of that other gifted artiste of forty-fifty years ago—Gunasena Galappaththi.
- Sri Lanka Guardian
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