“A Letter of Fire” is a captivating and visually stunning cinematic masterpiece that delves into the intricacies of a family’s unusually close-knit relationships. Directed by Asoka Handagama, this Sri Lankan film solidifies his position as a truly innovative and contemporary Asian filmmaker. The movie boldly merges Eastern and Western storytelling traditions, incorporating elements of TV soap operas and experimental theater. While it may not always adhere to conventional narrative structures, the film presents a delightful mix of irony and excess that keeps audiences engaged. Although its non-realistic acting and storyline may not appeal to all viewers, it has the potential to garner support from critics who appreciate boundary-pushing cinema.
Similar to Handagama’s previous festival favorite, “Flying With One Wing,” which depicted the life of a woman living in disguise as a man, “A Letter of Fire” showcases explicit scenes and unexpected nudity. Its audacious approach is likely to spark controversy within the domestic market and raise eyebrows internationally.
The narrative revolves around a retired judge (Ravindra Randeniya) and his flamboyant young wife (Piyumi Samaraweera), who is also a renowned magistrate. They reside in a grand colonial mansion alongside their 12-year-old son (Isham Samzudeen) and a maid (Jayani Senanayake) who shares the husband’s bed. The mother’s unusually close relationship with her son begins to appear troubling as they bathe together, with the child ogling his mother’s ample breasts. In an ecstatic monologue celebrating motherhood, she reveals that she has refrained from sleeping with her husband ever since the birth of their son, believing that a child is an extension of a woman and should take precedence in her life.
One fateful day, the son, spoiled and naive, accidentally kills a prominent prostitute. In order to protect him from legal consequences, the mother hides him in the modest abode of a security guard (Saumya Liyanage) at the Museum of Asian Civilizations. As the police draw nearer, the mother’s composure unravels, and she confides her terrible secrets to the terrified guard in an unforgettable scene set within the museum.
At the midway point of the 141-minute film, the momentum begins to wane as the theme of the distressed mother becomes repetitive, akin to a musical refrain. Samaraweera’s character gradually reveals the family’s deep-seated secrets, breathing life back into the story. The film culminates in an electrifying pas-de-deux between the magistrate-mother and the museum guard, leading to a tragically over-the-top and Faulkneresque finale.
Samaraweera delivers a stellar performance as the film’s lead, supported by a cast of finely drawn characters who are more symbolic than realistic, mirroring the film’s tongue-in-cheek dialogue. Randeniya shines as the distinguished gray-haired father, whose traumatic family history has rendered him impotent, while Liyanage portrays a spontaneous working-class man unable to cope with the mythic female sexual power unleashed by the mother.
The technical aspects of the film add depth to its ambiguous meanings. Cinematographer Channa Deshapriya’s textured lensing and imaginative compositions are a visual feast, blending seamlessly with the sound and music to evoke sudden shifts in tone and irony. Sunil Wijerathna’s museum sets, featuring a statue.
