Features

Tony Ranasinghe,in full flow

Published

4 years ago

2022/09/16

Thilina Walpola

By Uditha Devapriya

This is the third and final in a series of candid vignettes about Tony Ranasinghe.

Pauline Kael once observed of Marlon Brando that his characters suggested tragic force. Comparable as he would have been to Brando, Gamini Fonseka never epitomised this kind of force: the closest he ever came to embodying it in Parasathumal, as the well-meaning but wayward nobleman who thinks he can do and get away with anything. In that sense Tony Ranasinghe was closer to Brando than he may have realised: the romantic heroes he played clamoured after women they could never have. This was same of the husbands he played too. Filled with jealousy, Ranasinghe’s characters never fulfilled their hopes. And yet they didn’t lack the looks: there was nothing in their appearance that debarred them from their lovers. Due to some issue or the other, however, they remained frustrated.

By the end of the 1970s he had changed completely. Having played the lover for a decade, he had now played the husband for another decade. His profile and outline had altered, considerably: his face had wizened, his frown had sharpened, and his figure, which had once suggested youth if not fragility, now suggested a father-figure. In Ahasin Polawata in 1979, opposite Vasanthi Chathurani, he had played the brother-in-law. Barely a year later he was playing her father in Ganga Addara. The latter role is significant because it marks a turning point in his career: he had evolved, and at a time when the two biggest stars of the screen, Vijaya and Gamini, did all they could to remain young, he had let go.

Even as the lover and husband, Ranasinghe’s characters could barely conceal their rage: in the morning after the accident in Delovak Athara, he shouts at his servant-boy for asking him for the family car. In Maya, he is gentle and pliable at first with the journalist who wants to know about his wife’s and daughter’s murders. The very next moment, he is raising his voice, and screaming at the reporter to get out. In Ganga Addara he is friendly enough with his poor nephew; when he finds out his affair with his daughter, he hollers at him to move away. The thread that runs through all these characters is their lack of refinement and polished elegance: if they feel intimidated, they lose all sense of decorum. They may look dapper and polite, but they are incapable of controlling their anger.

Curiously enough, however, he never found a home in the New Wave that swept across the local cinema in the 1970s. In Walmath wuwo he is out of place as an unemployed graduate, opposing Cyril Wickramage. Not unlike Gamini Fonseka, he never found a part for himself in Dharmasena Pathiraja’s films. Dharmasena Pathiraja’s world is full of outcasts and outsiders, and neither Fonseka nor Ranasinghe found their calling in such roles: that was left to Vijaya Kumaratunga, who epitomised the kind of freewheeling youthful idealism that Ranasinghe had long forsaken. When Ranasinghe did play prominent parts in the films of the new wave directors, it was later, in more cynical roles: as the corrupt inspector in Sisila Gini Gani, the cynical prosecutor in Anantha Rathriya, and the father in Salelu Warama.

In the 1980s Ranasinghe began writing screenplays. Tony was a literary man, a thespian: unlike Gamini Fonseka and Vijaya Kumaratunga, he spent his time in the theatre before entering the cinema. Some of the screenplays he worked on at this time suggest the themes he wanted to explore – many of them have to do with familial relations – and the source material he preferred. Most of these screenplays were adaptations of contemporary Sinhala literature: both Awaragira and Duwata Mawaka Misa, for instance, are based on novels by G. B. Senananayake. These adaptations are interesting if not intriguing because they suggest a deeply literary sensibility. Moreover, adaptations though they are, there is a consistent attempt in them to translate the plot in its entirety to the screen. That is why Awaragira, and Duwata Mawaka Misa, looks and feels long. It bears out what Lester Peries observed of Awaragira: that it could have worked better as a television serial than a film.

The point I am trying to make or imply here is that Ranasinghe’s attitude to adaptations of literary texts and plays reflected his notions about acting. His critique of Marlon Brando’s performance as Mark Antony was essentially that Brando went beyond what he saw as permissible limits: he didn’t act, he “mumbled.” This was his critique of Richard Burton too: “as an actor he stood out in a way few among his generation did,” he told me. “But in later years he collapsed and deteriorated, to a point where, like Brando, he lost all sense of discipline.” In other words, an actor’s talent depends on his fidelity to his craft, just as his performance depends on its fidelity to the source. This attitude colours his screenplays as well: long as they are, they are marked out by their fidelity to the original text. They are, for the lack of a better way of putting it, quite literary in their conception.

An often-underrated aspect to Ranasinghe’s career, as a screenwriter, was his penchant for comedy. Every other person I know here has watched or at least heard of Nonawarune Mahathwarune, but few among them know that Ranasinghe wrote the series. In his tribute to Ranasinghe after his death in 2015, Chandran Rutnam remembered an aborted project for a comedy they had worked on: it was to star Joe Abeywickrema and it would have been set during the Japanese raid on Sri Lanka in World War II. Curiously enough, however, he never played a comic role: his temperament was obviously much too cynical and hardened for him to do so. His looks suggested a man capable of great refinement, but also insatiable anger: a quality he made much use of in one of his finest performances, cast against type, as Dabare the gang leader in H. D. Premaratne’s Saptha Kanya – a role for which he bagged top honours from the Sarasaviya, Swarna Sanka, and OCIC Awards.

In Saptha Kanya Ranasinghe loosens himself so well that when we see Gamini Fonseka in Loku Duwa we are immediately reminded of this earlier performance. He never lets out his anger: he keeps it in, preferring to draw the protagonist into a cat-and-mouse game that the ending refuses to resolve. This was a performance the likes of which Ranasinghe never got again, just as Fonseka never got a role like the one he played in Loku Duwa again. In it he reaches out as far as he can, outside his zone, and does wonders. It goes without saying that like Fonseka’s mudalali, Dabare suggests Ranasinghe’s comic potential: something he had only lightly touched in his earlier incarnation as a lover and a husband. Never again was he to replicate this comic finesse: he ended up playing the wise but often flawed grandfatherly or fatherly figure in subsequent roles, right until his passing away.

Tony Ranasinghe’s career, for me at least, represents the peak of the Sinhalese cinema. A product of a middle-class suburban Catholic family, Ranasinghe emerged in the immediate aftermath of 1956 and Sinhala Only. An admirer of Arisen Ahubudu, he was, not unlike Henry Jayasena and even Gamini Fonseka, well-read and quite literary. His contribution to the Sinhala theatre has not been as appreciated as his work in the cinema, partly because while he made the waves as a member of Sugathapala de Silva’s acting troupe in his early years, his later career in the theatre was as a translator: he never achieved the status that the likes of Dharmasiri Bandaranayake did. Yet these figure in as the most definitive Sinhala translations of the Bard’s plays, faithful as they are to the spirit of the original.

Not surprisingly, it is his acting career that has garnered and continues to garner interest. As a performer he stood away and apart from the trends that made up his day and age: as he himself told me in our interview, he found Method Acting too intellectualised, and he point-blank rejected any notion of acting that emphasised a separation between the cinema and the theatre. For him, no actor could emerge in film without having gone through the stage. Whether or not one agreed with this perspective, it is clear that to the best of his abilities, Ranasinghe stood by the principle underlying it. As an actor, a dramatist, and a screenwriter, he valued fidelity to the source text and material above almost everything else. This was his aesthetic, one he adhered to right until his last days. One can say that the Sinhalese cinema profited much from his elan and his attitude. The Sinhalese theatre, too.

The writer is an international relations analyst, researcher, and columnist who can be reached at udakdev1@gmail.com

All News Advertisement

Features

Retirement age for judges: Innovation and policy

Published

11 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

I. The Constitutional Context

Independence of the judiciary is, without question, an essential element of a functioning democracy. In recognition of this, ample provision is made in the highest law of our country, the Constitution, to engender an environment in which the courts are able to fulfil their public responsibility with total acceptance.

As part of this protective apparatus, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal are assured of security of tenure by the provision that “they shall not be removed except by an order of the President made after an address of Parliament supported by a majority of the total number of members of Parliament, (including those not present), has been presented to the President for such removal on the ground of proved misbehaviour or incapacity”[Article 107(2)]. Since this assurance holds good for the entirety of tenure, it follows that the age of retirement should be defined with certainty. This is done by the Constitution itself by the provision that “the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court shall be 65 years and of judges of the Court of Appeal shall be 63 years”[Article 107(5)].

II. A Proposal for Reform

This provision has been in force ever since the commencement of the Constitution. Significant public interest, therefore, has been aroused by the lead story in a newspaper, Anidda of 13 March, that the government is proposing to extend the term of office of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal by a period of two years.

This proposal, if indeed it reflects the thinking of the government, is deeply disturbing from the standpoint of policy, and gives rise to grave consequences. The courts operating at the apex of the judicial structure are called upon to do justice between citizens and also between the state and members of the public. It is an indispensable principle governing the administration of justice that not the slightest shadow of doubt should arise in the public mind regarding the absolute objectivity and impartiality with which the courts approach this task.

What is proposed, if the newspaper report is authentic, is to confer on judges of two particular courts, the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, a substantial benefit or advantage in the form of extension of their years of service. The question is whether the implications of this initiative are healthy for the administration of justice.

III. Governing Considerations of Policy

What is at stake is a principle intuitively identified as a pillar of justice.

Reflecting firm convictions, the legal antecedents reiterate the established position with remarkable emphasis. The classical exposition of the seminal standard is, of course, the pronouncement by Lord Hewart: “It is not merely of some importance, but is of fundamental importance that justice should not only be done, but should manifestly and undoubtedly be seen to be done”. (Rex v. Sussex Justices, ex parte McCarthy). The underlying principle is that perception is no less important than reality. The mere appearance of partiality has been held to vitiate proceedings: Dissanayake v. Kaleel. In particular, reasonableness of apprehension in the mind of the parties to litigation is critical: Ranjit Thakur v. Union of India, a reasonable likelihood of bias being necessarily fatal (Manak Lal v. Prem Chaud Singhvi).

The overriding factor is unshaken public confidence in the judiciary: State of West Bengal v. Shivananda Pathak. The decision must be “demonstrably” (Saleem Marsoof J.) fair. The Bar Association of Sri Lanka has rightly declared: “The authority of the judiciary ultimately depends on the trust reposed in it by the people, which is sustained only when justice is administered in a visibly fair manner”.

Credibility is paramount in this regard. “Justice has to be seen to be believed” (J.B. Morton). Legality of the outcome is not decisive; process is of equal consequence. Judicial decisions, then, must withstand public scrutiny, not merely legal technicality: Mark Fernando J. in the Jana Ghosha case. Conceived as continuing vitality of natural justice principles, these are integral to justice itself: Samarawickrema J. in Fernando v. Attorney General. Institutional integrity depends on eliminating even the appearance of partiality (Mandal Vikas Nigam Ltd. v. Girja Shankar Pant), and “open justice is the cornerstone of our judicial system”: (Sahara India Real Estate Corporation Ltd. v. SEBI).

IV. Practical Constraints

Apart from these compelling considerations of policy, there are practical aspects which call for serious consideration. The effect of the proposal is that, among all judges operating at different levels in the judicature of Sri Lanka, judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal only, to the exclusion of all other judges, are singled out as the beneficiaries of the proposal. An inevitable result is that High Court and District Judges and Magistrates will find their avenues of promotion seriously impeded by the unexpected lengthening of the periods of service of currently serving judges in the two apex courts. Consequently, they will be required to retire at a point of time appreciably earlier than they had anticipated to relinquish judicial office because the prospect of promotion to higher courts, entailing higher age limits for retirement, is precipitately withdrawn. Some degree of demotivation, arising from denial of legitimate expectation, is therefore to be expected.

A possible response to this obvious problem is a decision to make the two-year extension applicable to all judicial officers, rather than confining it to judges of the two highest courts. This would solve the problem of disillusionment at lower levels of the judiciary, but other issues, clearly serious in their impact, will naturally arise.

Public service structures, to be equitable and effective, must be founded on principles of non-discrimination in respect of service conditions and related matters. Arbitrary or invidious treatment is destructive of this purpose. In determining the age of retirement of judges of the Supreme Court and the Court of Appeal, some attention has been properly paid to balance and consistency. The age of retirement of a Supreme Court judge is on par with that applicable to university professors and academic staff in the higher education system. They all retire at 65 years. Members of the public service, generally, retire at 60. Medical specialists retire at 63, with the possibility of extension in special circumstances to 65. The age of retirement for High Court Judges is 61, and for Magistrates and District Judges 60. It may be noted that the policy change in 2022 aimed at specifically addressing the issue of uniformity and compatibility.

If, then, an attempt is made to carve out an ad hoc principle strictly limited to judicial officers, not admitting of a self-evident rationale, the question would inevitably arise whether this is fair by other categories of the public service and whether the latter would not entertain a justifiable sense of grievance.

This is not merely a moral or ethical issue relating to motivation and fulfillment within the public service, but it could potentially give rise to critical legal issues. It is certainly arguable that the proposed course of action represents an infringement of the postulate of equality of treatment, and non-discrimination, enshrined in Article 12(1) of the Constitution.

There would, as well, be the awkward situation that this issue, almost certain to be raised, would then have to be adjudicated upon by the Supreme Court, itself the direct and exclusive beneficiary of the impugned measure.

V. Piecemeal Amendment or an Overall Approach?

If innovation on these lines is contemplated, would it not be desirable to take up the issue as part of the new Constitution, which the government has pledged to formulate and enact, rather than as a piecemeal amendment at this moment to the existing Constitution? After all, Chapter XV, dealing with the Judiciary, contains provisions interlinked with other salient features of the Constitution, and an integrated approach would seem preferable.

VI. Conclusion

In sum, then, it is submitted that the proposed change is injurious to the institutional integrity of the judiciary and to the prestige and stature of judges, and that it should not be implemented without full consideration of all the issues involved.

By Professor G. L. Peiris
D. Phil. (Oxford), Ph. D. (Sri Lanka);
Former Minister of Justice, Constitutional Affairs and National Integration;
Quondam Visiting Fellow of the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge and London;
Former Vice-Chancellor and Emeritus Professor of Law of the University of Colombo.

Features

Ranked 134th in Happiness: Rethinking Sri Lanka’s development through happiness, youth wellbeing and resilience

Published

11 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

In recent years, Sri Lanka has experienced a succession of overlapping challenges that have tested its resilience. Cyclone Ditwah struck Sri Lanka in November last year, significantly disrupting the normal lives of its citizens. The infrastructure damage is much more serious than the tsunami. According to World Bank reports and preliminary estimates, the losses amounted to approximately US$ 4.1 billion, nearly 4 per cent of the country’s Gross Domestic Product. Before taking a break from that, the emerging crisis in the Middle East has once again raised concerns about potential economic repercussions. In particular, those already affected by disasters such as Cyclone Ditwah risk falling “from the frying pan into the fire,” facing multiple hardships simultaneously. Currently, we see fuel prices rising, four-day workweeks, a higher cost of living, increased pressure on household incomes, and a reduction in the overall standard of living for ordinary citizens. It would certainly affect people’s happiness. As human beings, we naturally aspire to live happy and fulfilling lives. At a time when the world is increasingly talking about happiness and wellbeing, the World Happiness Report provides a useful way of looking at how countries are doing. The World Happiness Report discusses global well-being and offers strategies to improve it. The report is produced annually with contributions from the University of Oxford’s Wellbeing Research Centre, Gallup, the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network, and other stakeholders. There are many variables taken into consideration for the index, including the core measure (Cantril Ladder) and six explanatory variables (GDP per Capita ,Social Support,Healthy Life Expectancy,Freedom to Make Life Choices,Generosity,Perceptions of Corruption), with a final comparison.

According to the recently published World Happiness Report 2026, Sri Lanka ranks 134th out of 147 nations. As per the report, this is the first time that Sri Lanka has suffered such a decline. Sri Lanka currently trails behind most of its South Asian neighbours in the happiness index. The World Happiness Report 2026 attributes Sri Lanka’s low ranking (134th) to a combination of persistent economic struggles, social challenges, and modern pressures on younger generations. The 2026 report specifically noted that excessive social media use is a growing factor contributing to declining life satisfaction among young people globally, including in Sri Lanka. This calls for greater vigilance and careful reflection. These concerns should be examined alongside key observations, particularly in the context of education reforms in Sri Lanka, which must look beyond their immediate scope and engage more meaningfully with the country’s future.

In recent years, a series of events has triggered political upheaval in countries such as Nepal, characterised by widespread protests, government collapse, and the emergence of interim administration. Most reports and news outlets described this as “Gen Z protests.” First, we need to understand what Generation Z is and its key attributes. Born between 1997 and 2012, Generation Z represents the first truly “digital native” generation—raised not just with the internet, but immersed in it. Their lives revolve around digital ecosystems: TikTok sets cultural trends, Instagram fuels discovery, YouTube delivers learning, and WhatsApp sustains peer communities. This constant, feed-driven engagement shapes not only how they consume content but how they think, act, and spend. Tech-savvy and socially aware, Gen Z holds brands to a higher standard. For them, authenticity, transparency, and accountability—especially on environmental and ethical issues—aren’t marketing tools; they’re baseline expectations. We can also observe instances of them becoming unnecessarily arrogant in making quick decisions and becoming tools of some harmful anti-social ideological groups. However, we must understand that any generation should have proper education about certain aspects of the normal world, such as respecting others, listening to others, and living well. More interestingly, a global survey by the McKinsey Health Institute, covering 42,083 people across 26 countries, finds that Gen Z reports poorer mental health than older cohorts and is more likely to perceive social media as harmful.

Youth health behaviour in Sri Lanka reveals growing concerns in mental health and wellbeing. Around 18% of youth (here, school-going adolescents aged 13-17) experience depression, 22.4% feel lonely, and 11.9% struggle with sleep due to worry, with issues rising alongside digital exposure. Suicide-related risks are significant, with notable proportions reporting thoughts, plans, and attempts, particularly among females. Bullying remains a significant concern, particularly among males, with cyberbullying emerging as a notable issue. At the same time, substance use is increasing, including tobacco, smokeless tobacco, and e-cigarettes. These trends highlight the urgent need for targeted interventions to support youth mental health, resilience, and healthier behavioural outcomes in Sri Lanka. We need to create a forum in Sri Lanka to keep young people informed about this. Sri Lanka can designate a date (like April 25th) as a National Youth Empowerment Day to strengthen youth mental health and suicide prevention efforts. This should be supported by a comprehensive, multi-sectoral strategy aligned with basic global guidelines. Key priorities include school-based emotional learning, counselling services, and mental health training for teachers and parents. Strengthening data systems, reducing access to harmful means, and promoting responsible media reporting are essential. Empowering families and communities through awareness and digital tools will ensure this day becomes a meaningful national call to action.

As discussed earlier, Sri Lanka must carefully understand and respond to the challenges arising from its ongoing changes. Sri Lanka should establish an immediate task force comprising responsible stakeholders to engage in discussions on ongoing concerns. Recognising that it is not a comprehensive solution, the World Happiness Index can nevertheless act as an important indicator in guiding a paradigm shift in how we approach education and economic development. For a country seeking to reposition itself globally, Sri Lanka must adopt stronger, more effective strategies across multiple sectors. Building a resilient and prosperous future requires sound policymaking and clear strategic direction.

(The writer is a Professor in Management Studies at the Open University of Sri Lanka. You can reach Professor Abeysekera via nabey@ou.ac.lk)

by Prof. Nalin Abeysekera

Features

Hidden diversity in Sri Lanka’s killifish revealed: New study reshapes understanding of island’s freshwater biodiversity

Published

11 hours ago

2026/04/6

Thilina Walpola

Aplocheilus parvus

A groundbreaking new study led by an international team of scientists, including Sri Lankan researcher Tharindu Ranasinghe, has uncovered striking genetic distinctions in two closely related killifish species—reshaping long-standing assumptions about freshwater biodiversity shared between Sri Lanka and India.

Published recently in Zootaxa, the research brings together leading ichthyologists such as Hiranya Sudasinghe, Madhava Meegaskumbura, Neelesh Dahanukar and Rajeev Raghavan, alongside other regional experts, highlighting a growing South Asian collaboration in biodiversity science.

For decades, scientists debated whether Aplocheilus blockii and Aplocheilus parvus were in fact the same species. But the new genetic analysis confirms they are “distinct, reciprocally monophyletic sister species,” providing long-awaited clarity to their taxonomic identity.

Speaking to The Island, Ranasinghe said the findings underscore the hidden complexity of Sri Lanka’s freshwater ecosystems.

“What appears superficially similar can be genetically very different,” he noted. “Our study shows that even widespread, common-looking species can hold deep evolutionary histories that we are only now beginning to understand.”

A tale of two fishes

The study reveals that Aplocheilus blockii is restricted to peninsular India, while Aplocheilus parvus occurs both in southern India and across Sri Lanka’s lowland wetlands.

Despite their close relationship, the two species show clear genetic separation, with a measurable “genetic gap” distinguishing them. Subtle physical differences—such as the pattern of iridescent scales—also help scientists tell them apart.

Co-author Sudasinghe, who has led several landmark studies on Sri Lankan freshwater fishes, noted that such integrative approaches combining genetics and morphology are redefining taxonomy in the region.

Echoes of ancient land bridges

The findings also shed light on the ancient biogeographic links between Sri Lanka and India.

Scientists believe that during periods of low sea levels in the past, the two landmasses were connected by the now-submerged Palk Isthmus, allowing freshwater species to move between them.

Later, rising seas severed this connection, isolating populations and driving genetic divergence.

“These fishes likely dispersed between India and Sri Lanka when the land bridge existed,” Ranasinghe said. “Subsequent isolation has resulted in the patterns of genetic structure we see today.”

Meegaskumbura emphasised that such patterns are increasingly being observed across multiple freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka, pointing to a shared evolutionary history shaped by geography and climate.

A deeper genetic divide

One of the study’s most striking findings is that Sri Lankan populations of A. parvus are genetically distinct from those in India, with no shared haplotypes between the two regions.

Dahanukar explained that this level of differentiation, despite relatively recent geological separation, highlights how quickly freshwater species can diverge when isolated.

Meanwhile, Raghavan pointed out that these findings reinforce the importance of conserving habitats across both countries, as each region harbours unique genetic diversity.

Implications for conservation

The study carries important implications for conservation, particularly in a country like Sri Lanka where freshwater ecosystems are under increasing pressure from development, pollution, and climate change.

Ranasinghe stressed that understanding genetic diversity is key to protecting species effectively.

“If we treat all populations as identical, we risk losing unique genetic lineages,” he warned. “Conservation planning must recognise these hidden differences.”

Sri Lanka is already recognised as a global biodiversity hotspot, but studies like this suggest that its biological richness may be even greater than previously thought.

A broader scientific shift

The research also contributes to a growing body of work by scientists such as Sudasinghe and Meegaskumbura, challenging traditional assumptions about species distributions in the region.

Earlier studies often assumed that many freshwater fish species were shared uniformly between India and Sri Lanka. However, modern genetic tools are revealing a far more complex picture—one shaped by ancient geography, climatic shifts, and evolutionary processes.

“We are moving from a simplistic view of biodiversity to a much more nuanced understanding,” Ranasinghe said. “And Sri Lanka is proving to be a fascinating natural laboratory for this kind of research.”

Looking ahead

The researchers emphasise that much remains to be explored, with several freshwater fish groups in Sri Lanka still poorly understood at the genetic level.

For Sri Lanka, the message is clear: beneath its rivers, tanks, and wetlands lies a largely untapped reservoir of evolutionary history.

As Ranasinghe puts it:

“Every stream could hold a story of millions of years in the making. We are only just beginning to read them.”

By Ifham Nizam