Asanka Sayakkara’s ‘Ayya malo’ (whshd uf<daa ’) is a stage drama that I had both the opportunity and fortune to witness recently at the Faculty of Technology auditorium, University of Sri Jayewardenepura. 

As a political parody, it is a stimulating experience that ought to be enjoyed sitting in the theater; something that ought not to be narrated in any other way or form. But I must comment on Asanka Sayakkara’s sarcastic twist on the concept of Utopia, a word that the actors take upon themselves to verbally repeat on roll-although everything that takes place on stage says otherwise. 

While overt attempts to promote the illusion of a perfect system are showcased, the lack of independent thought or freedom, the mass propaganda at play and the underlying fear, violence and corruption suggest that this State is, in fact, in constant dilemma. What caught my attention the most was a particular technique that Sayakkara has used to maximise this havoc and bring the audience a step closer to living it. Throughout the play, from beginning to end, the actors constantly break character, making the line between reality and illusion quite hazy for the audience. They forget lines, bring the wrong props on stage, mix costumes and talk amongst each other as actors and not as the characters they portray. These constant disruptions prevent the audience from entirely immersing themselves in the illusion of a play and creates in them a feeling of unease and discomfort, all necessary in producing the epiphany that Sayakkara seems eager to generate. 

He adds to this catastrophic blend, a handful of mismatches in time, which takes the play a step further in creating a state of confusion in the audience. The actors get the timings of lines and songs wrong and one protagonist, “lokuaiya”, who is supposed to be a lifeless dead body, wakes up (both in character and out of character) and talks with the mortician as himself and as the character he portrays. While this act of giving voice to the dead undoubtedly showcases the power that this character single handedly possesses before and after his death, the way Sayakkara chooses to represent it adds to the numerous disruptions on stage. It ought to be noted that the representation as well as its supposedly intended meaning both come together in showing that everything in the drama takes place in a Dystopia, contrary to what the actors claim.

The fourth wall is another concept that he has incorporated, which, though present at times, disappears when the performers acknowledge and talk with the audience, mirroring very rare exceptions found in the Greek theater where illusion is deliberately breached for comedic purposes. Rather than intending to induce humour, I believe that this transgression may be to inform on a rather serious note about the decaying system that they are in, while the humorous undertone nevertheless prevails in every aspect of the production to support the satirical drama that it is.

With such an infusion of elements which I understand to be quite a clever choice, Sayakkara builds a compelling social commentary, a political satire and a powerful criticism of the State and its citizens. This potent creative blend helps him to repeatedly bring the audience back to reality, which is perhaps a wakeup call he is trying to send to his viewers and a practice which he likely wants them to continue applying once stepping outside the theater.