Midweek Review
Reminiscences of weaving of a cinematic tapestry
The 60th anniversary of the release of Gamperaliya falls today.
by Punya Heendeniya
Over these six decades many accolades have been bestowed upon the shoulder of the creator, and the masterpiece itself, without the touch of the sword. The Gamperaliya family was made up of such substantial names as Martin Wickremasinghe, Lester James Peries, Sumithra Gunawardane, Reggie Siriwardane, Willie Blake, Pandit Amaradewa, Henry Jayasena, Gamini Fonseka, Tissa Abeysekara, Ariyawansa Weerakkody, David Dharmakeerthi, Shanthilekha, Trilicia Gunawardane and not to mention Punya Heendeniya.
It was the first quarter of the 1960s, when my film, Kurulubedda, had just been released and that was the time I realised my mail bag was getting heavier and heavier by day. Kurulubedda made a significant impression on the film buffs as it carried a story woven around true-to-life rural characters. D.R Nanayakkara gave an excellent portrayal of a rather villainous character named Kaithan Bass. The producer of the film was John Amaratunga. The script writer was PKD Senevirathna. Sumithra had some family connections to Amaratunga.
When Cine Lanka production company decided to produce Gamperaliya, a national newspaper conducted a competition to select a girl to play the central character of the story, Nanda. They managed to select a girl. But our director par excellence was not happy about the choice. Sumithra, who was a shareholder of the production company, came into action and contacted Amaratunga and, via him, they invited me to Dr. Peries’ ancestral house in Dehiwala. Willie Blake did a photo shoot of me and LJP introduced Nanda of Gamperaliya to the cine world. I signed the contract.
Those were the days when we did not have cell phones or landlines to most areas. The only way of communication was by post or telegrams. I received a telegram from LJP giving the auspicious date when we were to shoot the first scene. We were to go and get settled down in the sprawling mansion called Kappina Walawwa in Balapitiya. We were requested to bring our own bed linen. The cast and crew went and occupied the mansion, and it became as lively as a bee hive from that day onwards.
Martin Wickremasinghe’s celebrated novel was scripted to be filmed by Reggie Siriwardane. Tissa Abeysekara, the young novice then, oversaw the script. We rehearsed our dialogue with him.
We did not have any religious ceremony before starting work, unlike the other film directors of Indian origin who held prayer platters with burning incense, on the muhurat day, for blessings. The director started shooting in the order of the script.
Lester directing Punya
Sumithra, whose presence in the group made us feel comfortable with her nonchalant demeanour, came to me and said, “Punya, today we do not have a make-up artist, you better do your own make-up”. So, the very first private tuition scene we did was with my make-up, which gave the effect of no make-up!
This simple make-up trend was carried out through the film by Rohana Mudannayaka, who was the soft-spoken genius in that art form. The food supplier to the production family was Benedict, who was the production manager. Our mealtimes were the happiest after the day’s hard work and we rallied round the magnificent dinner table above which was an ancient type of a pankawa (fan) made up of fine linen. The table was laid out with delicacies like bala maalu, rata del curry and rathu haal bath. There we had a carefree chit-chat and discussed the day’s work. Dr Peries’s bonhomie kept the group at ease.
The shooting went on for a couple of months. It was a system where men may come, and men may go but I carried on bearing the brunt of the central character from beginning to the end. Yet, I had a few short breaks. During my short film career there were only two instances of film work that overlapped, and that was Sikuru Tharuwa and Gampraliya. After one such short break I was coming back with my father to the walawwa. We felt as if Jim Reeves had landed from nowhere and the mansion reverberated with sonorous vocals to guitar music. It was none other than Priyanga Pieris of Eranga and Priyanga duo of fame those days. He joined the workforce for a few days. Any other day, we had the songs from Chitrasena’s Karadiya, Hoyiya hoyya for our entertainment.
For this scene, I had to use a hard-to-find antique cup and saucer. For the rehearsal we used an empty condensed milk tin over the saucer. I inadvertently tried to throw both the tin and the saucer away, after which the director quipped: “Punya, you were trying to throw away both Peeris and Belek. referring to himself and Wille Blake.
As an obedient member of the family, Nanda has no freedom to express her feelings towards Piyal. She is restricted by family values and pulled back by the reins of so-called prestigious social systems that were rife during that era. She has to tell Piyal, when asked whether she loved him, mang danne nehe (I do not know), Amma kemathi nam mama kemathiyi (if Mother agrees, I, too, will).
One fine evening after a game of Panchi, Saadha, the family retainer, sweeps the garden and burns a heap of leaves. Nanda, leaning against a pillar of the west-facing the veranda, appears to be in a placid mood, perhaps dreaming of her tuition master. To create her unexpressed cheerful mood the director and Wilie Blake planned a skilful shot of the rays of the setting sun to seep through the smoke, creating an ethereal effect. The family retainer is as strict and caring as the parents are, and advises Nanda, saying: Punchi Nona geta yanna, beepu minissu ethi (please go inside, there may be drunkards)
Mixing of senior and junior artistes
It was the day that we were shooting the Sinhala Avurudu scene with Panchi playing, etc. All the major characters were present. Piyal, Nanda, Anula and the rest. The girl selected by the newspaper competition was there too. Her name was Jayanthi Manikkavadu. Young Thissa was played by Chandana Jayawardena (popularly known as Dr. Chandi Jayawardena in the hospitality industry circles)and the grown up Tissa was Wickrema Bogoda. Anula Karunathilaka played Laisa, whose love interest was grown-up Tissa. Anula K was waiting for the arrival of Wickerama Bogoda. Instead, young Chandana arrived. I realised the mistake and talked to the Director about the mix-up. Only then did they realise the grave disparity, and thanked me immensely for pointing it out. He was the down-to-earth Director par excellence.
On another occasion, we were to shoot the scene where Nanda gets the fatal letter from Karolis to say that Jinadasa had died. Dr. Peries talked to me and asked, “Punya, how would you react to a situation like this, getting such sad news?” I said, “I will go straight to my room and to my bed”. He arranged the scene accordingly. Such was his cooperation with artistes.
The two Weddings
Nanda’s first wedding is carried out in a traditional way according to the wishes of the Kaisaruwatte family. Muhandiram is clad in his ceremonial regalia with all the decorations, Nanda as the bride in French Lame redda and kabakurutta (blouse) with all the family jewellery. Jinadasa is in a tweed redi-coat and looks dashingly handsome. Gamini Fonseka gave a memorable performance. But according to the family tale Nanda is not in a good mood with this arranged marriage.
The Poruwa ceremony was conducted by a real Magul Kapuva. As we proceeded with the delicate rituals of the wedding, one by one, from various camera angles, long shots, mid-shots and close ups, the Kapuva had to sanctify the couple’s tied fingers many times by pouring the sacred water over them. I heard him murmur: Magul valatath giya, mehema magulakata nam kavdaavath gihin nehe (I have been to so many weddings, never have been to a wedding like this).
Nanda’s second wedding
Time had flown. Now, the down-trodden Mahagedara (ancestral home) family, not having any news about Jinadasa, believes Karolis’s letter in which he says that had died in miserable conditions in the Badulla Hospital.
The nouveau riche Piyal, having amassed wealth in the city, starts visiting the Mahagedara. He would have been the happiest to hear about Jinadasa’s demise. True to the words of the first private tuition lesson, he is of the belief that if someone has money, they could even marry a princess. On these visits he tries to win over Nanda’s heart with words wrapped in fancy plumage. But she is of the belief that she is still married to Jinadasa, and evades his persuasive approaches.
On one such occasion Piyal, dressed in showy full-suit, calms his jittery nerves to make the indecent proposal to Nanda to come and live with him, later to get married when Jinadasa’s demise was confirmed.
Nanda, being a woman of substance, who observes pathivatha (fidelity), flatly rejects his offer with a burning glance, as if to say, “Who do you think I am?”. But Piyal maintains a stern determination in his Sisyphean task of winning her over.
As time goes by, Piyal frequents his visits to see her. Matara Hamine, Anula and Thissa discuss their impending marriage. Piyal organises a trip to offer Naamal at Paragoda temple and the family and friends join in on a bullock cart trip, a happy occasion where all the expenses of the trip are borne by affluent Piyal. On their break to replenish themselves with tea and kurumba, Nanda strays out to the distance from the crowd, yet under the scrutiny of Piyal, where she imagines, she sees someone like Jinadasa walking down from the chena fire. Was it a hallucination? But that man looked very like Jinadasa.
This encounter manages to unload the ballast of Piyal’s advances for the moment and sends her mind adrift. This scene was created by our creative genius LJP which was praised and admired by Martin Wickremsinge as one of the most meaningful scenes.
Nanda’s second wedding is a grand occasion in keeping with Piyal’s opulence. The band plays “He is a jolly good fellow” and all are happy. Nanda does not have the long face she had at the marriage with Jinadasa. She is joking with Piyal’s friends.
The day we shot this wedding scene, Martin Wickremasinghe turned up with his wife. LJP had a fine idea, and asked me to go to him and request him to appear as the Registrar of Marriages. For such things LJP and Sumithra always approached me. So, I went and said, “Sir, why don’t you appear as the Registrar and we all will be happy to have you”. He gave a loud laugh and said “No, no, no, I do not know acting”. That was the end of it.
Later, I regretted that I had not requested LJP to play the role of the Registrar. If he had agreed, it would have been a cameo reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock.
Gamperaliya family
We went on shooting for a fairly long time. Sometimes we acted as the make-up artist or background prop artist. I remember the day we shot the scene where Nanda confesses to Matara Hamine that Piyal’s love letters were Almaariya assata visikaraa, (thrown inside the almirah) and then burns the love letters in front of the mother. That day our Art Director, the famous mural artist Ariyawansa Weerakkody, was not present. The doors of the almirah looked bland to me without any marquetry. I took a piece of paper and a pair of scissors and cut some floral patterns and fixed them into the doors of the almirah. It gave the effect of ivory marquetry, which the Director approved of.
While working, I had the habit of drinking a cup of malted milk for sustenance. Dear Shanthi Lekha played a real mother to me, that day and brought me my cup. (Not what Piyal sent!). The unfortunate lady had had a fall on the way. She came to me and said Gemba polove gehuva vaage maava vetuna, eth mama malted milk aka bera gattha.” (I fell like a frog being smashed on the floor, but I did not spill the milk.) Such was our camaraderie!
I thought of reminiscing about these few minute details of behind-the-scenes as we celebrate the diamond anniversary of the release of Gamperaliya, a film so close to my heart. I can’t use the word “celebrate”, because I am alone, and all the other major decorative pillars of this mighty edifice are no more. At this moment, I remember with affection the author and all the members of the cast and crew who gave their impressive cooperation to complete this chef-d oeuvre which brought international fame to our country.
My deep reverence goes to Dr Lester James Peries for giving me the chance to be Nanda.
My affectionate regards to dear Sumithra, for being a sister to me throughout my short career.
My sadness about Henry Jayasena, for not winning the best actor award for playing Piyal’s character.
My homage to my father for giving me protection.
Who knows whether this octogenarian dame will be around to talk about the weaving of this cultural tapestry? Hence, I have penned these few anecdotes hopefully for the delight of the readers and fans.