Malinda Words: Jackson Anthony is a book and will be read

['The Morning Inspection' is the title of a column I wrote for the Daily News from 2009 to 2011, one article a day, Monday through Saturday. This is the 239th article in the new series that began in December 2022. Links to previous articles are given below]

He’s no more. No more curtain calls. The stage is empty. The movie is over. The credits roll. Jackson Anthony will no longer entertain except through archival reels. He won’t smile. His life’s work as a filmmaker, actor, television personality and so on will be talked about. Some will praise. Others may not. Some, indeed, would vilify as they have before the accident that rendered him unconscious and during the long, long, long months when he was without thought or voice to defend himself.

Those who were opposed to Jackson’s political preferences took issue with him. That’s legitimate. He seldom got into arguments over politics. He did his things, others did theirs. Many of his detractors, it must be mentioned, were no saints when one considers their political choices, the positions they took and the benefits that accrued accordingly. It doesn’t make Jackson a saint either and it must be said that among those who took issue with him were people who had no known political affiliation. He never argued with them either, at least not in the public domain.

There were noises made when he was in hospital, on life support, and according to certain reports had been certified ‘brain-dead.’ People raised the issue of privilege. They asked whether doctors would accord the same privileges to a lesser known or rather unknown person in the same situation. Given economic constraints and serious shortages, these were legitimate concerns.

It is hard for anyone to say ‘pull the plug’ if the particular person was first asked ‘what would you recommend if it was your father, husband or son or even a close friend?’ People hope and pray for miracles.

There were none, clearly, for Jackson.

Film critics will have their say. There were weak moments in all the films I saw, but Agnidahaya, Guerrilla Marketing and Ghara Sarpa were compelling enough. Jackson, playing the main role in each of them, was a powerful cinematic presence. That is in part attributable to the skills of the director, Jayantha Chandrasiri. His portrayal of the character Hitler in ‘Address Nae’ was excellent. In that instance, the fact that he wrote the screenplay would have helped. And yet, there was a striking similarity in the way he portrayed the characters in Agnidahaya (Punchi Rala), Guerilla Marketing (Gregory Mahadikaram), Address Nae (Hitler) and Gharasarpa (Kalu Kumaraya).

He was different as Peduru in Dharmasiri Bandaranayake’s ‘Bava Duka’ and ‘Bava Karma.’ More nuanced and certainly less predictable. Those who have seen all the films he acted in would be better positioned to offer a comprehensive assessment of Jackson the Actor. He was certainly among the top in his generation, especially in theatre, from Bera Handa to Dhawala Bheeshana. He will also be remembered as an accomplished dancer and singer.

He was versatile. When his biography is eventually written, the biographer would no doubt take account of his many ‘professions’ which include director, producer, singer, screenwriter, television host, novelist, columnist and lyricist. He was no historian but he was clearly a keen student of history. Some would argue that he was being mischievous and even quite subversive in ‘Maha Sinhale Wansakathawa.’

One thing is clear. Jackson put his heart and soul into everything he did. A colossus, in this sense. He stood tall. He smiled. Even when he was roundly vilified.

Those in film, television and theatre would know what kind of professional he was. My encounters were limited to answering some language-related questions pertaining to his scripts, especially ‘Address Nae’ and in the yet to be released ‘Sambula.’

In both instances, Jackson got me to work on the English subtitles. I imposed only one condition: he had to present so I could immediately get him to clarify anything that seemed unclear. The first, ‘Address Nae’ was done in a studio in Polhengoda. ‘Sambula,’ at my place. We worked. We took unplanned breaks to talk about literature, films, politics, philosophy and random matters about the human condition. I asked the questions, for the most part. Jackson answered. Sometimes the exchanges were serious, sometimes we laughed together.

He was a colossus. And he was humble. That’s all I know of Jackson Anthony.

Social media was full of invective over his situation. Today, those voices have largely gone silent. Some of those who ranted and raved are now expressing sympathy to his wife, daughter and sons. Some say ‘rest in peace,’ and others wish him ‘nivan suva’ or the supreme bliss of nibbana, for although he was of the Christian faith, he also celebrated Buddhism. He loved Sri Lanka. He loved the culture, the civilizational ethos, the heritage and history, all of which he celebrated as per his understanding of these things. There was no malice in any of it.

The final curtain call is done. Credits have rolled to conclusion.

The End.

It is the beginning of reading Jackson Anthony. That’s the thing: he lived a life that is worth reading. Not many do.

10 October 2023

Jackson Anthony is a book and will be read

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