The worthy but poorly publicized annual Ikhwezi Theatre Festival, a developmental programme of original South African plays by community theatre groups opens next week. Festival Director Itumeleng Wa-Lehulere, who has nurtured the festival, is not it seems adequately supported on the marketing front. Like many such initiatives, the concerns are in-house, getting the works staged, running workshops, mentoring the talent, and not it seems on attracting an audience.

Information on the works is as scant as ever, but the M&G would like to bring this festival to your attention.

Ikhwezi is isiXhosa for the planet Venus as the morning star, a guiding light. Wa-Lehulere explains, “The fruits of our work are evident through the success of the young theatre-makers who have already made a name for themselves and the different productions which cut their theatrical teeth here…We cannot deny South Africa the platform which Ikhwezi offers”. This is true enough, though Itsoseng, Dens Wit Me and this year’s The Crossing were already developed elsewhere.
Ikhwezi gave them a crucial leg up, and for many community groups, this is their big break.

In the year after celebrating its first decade, Ikhwezi was in danger of closing down from lack of funds. It was to be downscaled to only six productions this year, but there are now twelve works listed.

There are always notable directors at work; this time – Maurice Podbury directs Vusi Mazibuko’s wonderfully titled A Plague of Heroes, Bo Petersen directs Jonathan Khumbulani Nkala’s The Crossing (the true story of Nkala’s journey from the small dusty village of Kwe Kwe in Zimbabwe to Cape Town; Rob van Vuuren directs Shimmy Isaacs’s Allie Pad Funny Worcester.
There are works in several languages and productions are under 60 minutes. Go to PDF for schedules.

Siener

Siener In Die Suburbs, P.G du Plessis’s landmark Afrikaans play from the early 1970s, which he wrote largely on airplanes and in hotel rooms, brought him his major critical acclaim, despite the work outraging the conservative guardians of the Volk’s image, for its devastatingly realistic portrayal of debased, lower class Afrikaners in all their degradation – domestic violence, family feuds, unwanted pregnancies, drugs, gambling.

It was with great curiosity that one approached the production today; I cannot recall any performance since I was a school kid. Once one has set aside those expectations of shock from the 1970s, and mentally made the shift to today, the play has surprisingly not dated in the slightest. There is nothing in it that makes it specific to that decade. It could be about any number of people and families right now.

Some of the characters are under-utilized; here and there it gets bogged down (though very briefly) in repetitive squabbling between individuals (which although realistic is artistically inadequately handled), but it remains a solid, well-scripted piece.

The student cast cope extremely well, and director Sandra Temmingh has created a tight, coherent ensemble. It is an evening well spent in the theatre. Do support.

Bookings: 021 480 7129 OR lesche.devis@uct.ac.za

Godfrey Johnson

Godfrey Johnson


Tackling another of his muses with his latest one-man revue, The Shadow of Brel, Godfrey Johnson once more replicates the success he enjoyed with Flirting with Coward. Again, accompanying himself on piano, he summons the spirit of the great artist and makes it his own.

Apart from the costume, Brel’s signature white shirt and black necktie, there is no attempt at mimicry. The translations from French are those approved by Brel himself. But the phrasing is all Johnson; where Brel was impassionedly angst-ridden and melodramatic, working himself to frenzy, Johnson can give as successful a take on the song, with chilling detachment. His fresh arrangement of Au suivant (Next) is something inspired.

Don’t get the impression that Johnson is all calm and collected, on the contrary, his Valse a mille temps (translated as ‘Carroussel’) is a centrifuge of emotion that pins you to your seat.

Opening with Amsterdam and closing with Songs for old lovers, this is a well-balanced selection that includes Brel’s best-known works (Mathilde, Jacky, Ne Me Quitte Pas), with a couple of lesser know songs, such as Funeral Tango.

Director/producer Sanjin Muftić has ensured a quality production; Jon Keevy’s lighting does wonders with a handful of lanterns; subtly enhancing the mood, turning black drape into purple velvet.

Tabula Rasa is a new and eccentric venue; a laundry by day, an attic theatre at night. One feels very off-off-off Broadway here, and that is part of its great charm.

Photo: Sean Wilson

Photo: Sean Wilson


The old dichotomy of the wicked city versus the rural paradise became a dangerous myth in South Africa. It abetted the missionaries (‘to evangelize the noble savage and save the fallen township dweller’); helped the white liberals patronize lesser mortals (‘blacks aren’t ready for the sophistication of the city’); and in the mouths of the apartheid planners, was used to justify separate development, urban influx control and to deracinate entire populations. Some traditionalists continue to play upon this same rural idyll.

Magnet Theatre’s beautiful work ingcwaba lendoda lise cankwe ndlela (the grave of the man is next to the road), mostly avoids such traps. Hell and paradise are in people, not simply place; the journey, the search for identity is the nexus here. Pain and suffering, love and longing, arise from the relationships between characters as much as dislocating circumstances that continue to bedevil life for many economic migrants.

To give up the journey, to no longer wish ukuba sekhaya (to feel at home), this is what it means to be lost. There is an isiXhosa saying, ‘akukho ndlela ingayi ekhaya’ (there is no road that does not lead home).

A loop of video footage shot by Sanjin Muftic on the N2, along which countless young, black South Africans journey between Cape Town and their roots in the Eastern Cape, forms the background for this pulsating, richly textured, multimedia production.

Director Mandla Mbothwe employs a plethora of theatrical devices – traditional story-telling techniques, Magnet theatre’s hallmark physical theatre, music by Nolufefe Mtshabe, dance choreographed by Maxwell Xolani Rani, and accompanying percussion by Themba Pondi. But what strikes one most is the beautiful, poetic isiXhosa text (with limited and often unsynchronised English translations projected) and Mbothwe’s transcendent use of props as poetic tropes. In this lyrical work, rich in symbolism, shoes become telephones.

The ebullient cast is awash with superb performances across the board, with Thando Doni, Faniswa Yisa, Nandipha Mnyuka and Thumeka Mzayiya particularly heartfelt.

Mbothwe and co are certainly on a road to great things.

Infecting the City started today. It’s an event not to be missed.

The stewardship around arts festivals in South Africa has tended to be inward-looking, seeing them as primarily opportunities for ‘creative industries’ as it is collectively bastardized in government-speak. Economic stakeholders, such as government, sponsors, local business and the town fathers, see festivals as bait. An extant theatre audience welcomes such events as specially laid-on smorgasbords. As for audience development and outreach, these are viewed less as a core motivation, but more often as a means to assuage political imperatives such as public sponsorship and democratic propriety.

Challenging these notions is Infecting the City (ITC), the provocative and somewhat disconcertingly named arts festival that takes place annually in Cape Town.

ITC arose from the transformation of the former Spier Performing Arts Festival. The Spier festival used to be staged in a conventional amphitheatre on the Spier wine farm, featuring opera, drama and music. The Africa Centre, which creates several platforms for exploring contemporary Pan-African arts, decided to move the festival into the heart of the city.

Performances are free, held during the daytime in public spaces within walking distance of each other, scheduled to allow patrons to move from one performance to the next. Curious bystanders join festival-goers; bemused office workers crowd against the windows of their tower blocks; unsuspecting pedestrians find themselves in the middle of an artistic intervention. For those of us who saw last year’s performance in the Adderley Street fountains, the memory of that visual display still flickers in our minds whenever we pass there, in the same way that one can’t help but recall Christo’s wrapping whenever one sees the Reichstag in Berlin.

Infecting the City is curated by theatre director and playwright Brett Bailey. His ambition is to have high artistic expertise confront a social issue current in the public discourse, and to explore it in a space shared with the broader community – anywhere but in a theatre or a gallery.

This year’s theme is Human Rite, punning as it does both on human rights and rites as ritual. According to Bailey, “Cape Town is a beautiful City brimming with cultural diversity and about to explode with the euphoria of the World Cup. Yet it is also a city marked by inequality, violence and division; deeply scarred by human rights violations.”

Cape Town is “defined by the marginalisation of many people, and the suppression of their stories and their memories”. If you were in any doubt, the mere suggestion that the festival would commence with an animal sacrifice created a stream of praise from some sectors and a torrent of abuse from others. I suspect Bailey was playing a hoax this time, but the enfant terrible, even if he happens to be vegetarian, has offended before.

The flagship works arise from collaborations co-ordinated by the festival. The artists, are drawn from different creative disciplines and several continents. The collaborative process is through a residency during which the artists are immersed in an intensive orientation course.

Meet Market, a reference to the sale of slaves on Church Square, involves our own Andrew Buckland, Greek choreographer Athina Vahla, Amsterdam-based conceptual artist Ibrahim Quraishi, and performance artist Lerato Shadi.

Quiet Emergency, which takes place on Thibault Square, is a weeklong experiment involving street children, sex workers, security guards, street cleaners and performing artists Anthea Moys, Harare-based Gilbert Douglas, and Australian director Margie Mackay.

Artist Beezy Bailey is courting parochial outrage with his Dancing Jesus – two life-sized bronze sculptures of the Christ figure. Without the cross, Jesus appears to be dancing. One is in high heels. Dancer Karabo Maithufi (recently seen as Shimbleshanks in Cats) in a loin cloth and wearing a crown of thorns, will tap dance between the sculptures.

The Treacle Theatre group have spent weeks researching the history of place names in the city. They will conduct alternative tours and intriguing experiments to investigate our current wave of name changes.

The Delville Wood Memorial in the Company Gardens and the Golden Acre shopping centre, will be ‘interrupted’ by Imperfections, a dance work exploring the ghosts that inhabit or surround these sites.

The Free Flight Dance Company present Windows Into a World on Pier Place, dancing interpretations of the biographies of several people living with HIV.

Keep an eye out too for the A Collective, a ‘flash mob of 27 silent, eye-catching artists’ dressed in grey, who will be out to subtly subvert city routine.

For the duration of the festival, the public may bring personal mementos to build a temporary physical and visual blog called The Wishing Wall, while the eco-conscious public art group, Such Initiative, will create a mandala from sand and natural materials collected from sites of human rights violations.

During the week, Kelly Wainwright will invite members of the public to be photographed jumping on a queen-sized bed in the city centre. Previous jumpers have included Desmond Tutu and fishermen in Kalk Bay Harbour.

No one seems quite sure what to expect from Chinese performance artist Hua Jiming. In 2001, he crawled on the Great Wall of China with his partner and son. He will apparently mask himself in newspapers from Cape Town and Beijing and take to our streets.

The festival promises a riot of public art on the streets that goes well beyond parades, jugglers and stilt walkers.

For more information on the festival see: www.infectingthecity.com

Joe Barber 5
David Isaacs and Oscar Petersen, the immensely popular Joe Barber boys (they have over 10 000 Facebook fans), return for their fifth show in 10 years. They quite correctly point out that some of us have grown grey temples watching them. The theme for their latest show – School Cuts – is about school reunions and reminiscences (their generation are in the vicinity of their 25th homecoming).

This time around, there seems to be more of Isaacs and Petersen as themselves than as their characters ¬– the beloved and localised commedia dell’arte style creations – Boeta Joe and Boeta Gamat, Gamat’s wife, Washiela, and the picaresque Outjies.

These folk heroes deliver their vernacular humour thick and fast. The material is funny, as are their shrewd observations, but crucially they are terrifically comical simply in the way they tell a yarn or throw away a line. They are far funnier than many of the stand-up comics currently doing the circuit. They have a theatricality and an alphabet of dramatic performance at their fingertips that lifts them a cut above the rest. A highlight includes a beautifully choreographed scene miming relay-running at the interschool athletics.

Directed by Heinrich Reisenhofer and with music by Jitsvinger, this show caps their last two, and marks in several ways a return to what made their invention so great in the first place.

It is apparent from Homegroan, his latest show, that Cape Town stand-up comedian Kurt Schoonraad has certainly benefitted from working under the direction of Rob van Vuuren. His caricatures are sharper and better observed; his range is wider, and his physicality more convincing (and funnier).

The material itself is mostly new (since Spiders and Mayonnaise), but the routine is in the usual vein. Schoonraad concentrates on the coloured community and on the audience recognising themselves in his gentle self-satire. (When in doubt, tell a hair joke.) His strongest rapport with the audience however is when he is himself, vulnerable and truthful.

Having developed his grasp of comic situation, the problem now is that many of his sketches seem to dissipate prematurely. One scenario, an alien abduction, ends just as it might become interesting. Schoonraad needs to be more imaginative in pushing the boundaries and building upon a joke. Too much material remains just that – a one-liner.

There are some chuckle-worthy observations of the comic in the commonplace. This is inoffensive, Everyman’s comedy to delight the suburban sentiment.

Tinarie van Wyk Loots (Cleopatra) and Andre Weideman (Antony)

Tinarie van Wyk Loots (Cleopatra) and Andre Weideman (Antony)

Clinton Brown (an eunuch) Tinarie van Wyk Loots (Cleopatra) Andre Weideman (Antony)

Clinton Brown (an eunuch) Tinarie van Wyk Loots (Cleopatra) Andre Weideman (Antony)

Maynardville’s beautiful outdoor venue – a picnic followed by what is on a balance a perfectly acceptable production, although it doesn’t quite achieve what the director appears to have desired, makes this worth the excursion.

As Barrack Obama seems fatefully bent to prove, we can no longer it seems believe in heroic leaders. The best we can do these days is sigh with resignation that someone not sinister or at best less competent is (for a while at least) not the figurehead of our world or country. It is with this in mind that Marthinus Basson’s production of Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra strikes one as a thoroughly modern reading of the play. The eponymous couple and their rival are more ruinously self-centred and less ennobled than ever.

His mellifluous voice lends dignity, but André Weideman’s Antony is otherwise a slouching and frequently boorish soldier; Tinarie van Wyk Loots’s brattish Cleopatra pretends at any rate to be enthralled by him pawing her; while Andrew Laubscher’s petulant Octavius Caesar overplays the hissy-fits and undercuts Shakespeare’s carefully laid antithesis of rule by the mind and not the passions. Despite his shrillness, his Caesar is at times quaintly menacing.

Instead, the supporting cast, particularly Lionel Newton as Enobarbus (one should also mention for her solid performance Juliet Jenkin as Charmain) takes the foreground. It is not quite what we have come to expect from a Marthinus Basson production, but then Basson has uncharacteristically chosen to abandon high concept, and “to explore the spaces between the fault-lines of the epic sweep and drama”. This is one of Shakespeare’s more difficult works. Its past success has usually been in playing up its Hollywood values.

The risky downside is that the play cannot be entirely freed from its melodrama and with it our preconditioned expectations, unless the cast can give studied character portrayals and the director aim for intimacy. Newton comes closest, but overall the performances, although competent, are too middling. Yet there are moments when the production more than rises to the challenge: for instance a radical reinterpretation of Act 3 Scene 6, having Caesar show heartless cruelty to his sister. Here Basson’s modern reading and his staging comes together brilliantly.

Basson has neat choreographic ideas, and the set with upright red lightsticks for Rome and golden rays for Egypt is effective. Neat too is the introduction of live snakes, handled by a soothsayer with an accent as slippery, and mesmerizing the audience. The young ensemble have grown facial hair, and this helps them with their soldierly appearance. Basson also has fun with costumes; Cleopatra’s ceremonial dress makes her resemble a large golden insect; her war helmet transforms her into some macrocephalic alien from Star Trek.
Go see.

 Picture: Mark Freeborough

Picture: Mark Freeborough


Cricket, that arcane English grammar school game that has taken root in the ex-colonies, makes fertile ground for a comedy of new South African manners. Combining his two previous successful shows, Slips and Second Slips, Nicholas Ellenbogen achieves a handsome hat-trick with the current Slips.

The title puns the fielding position behind the batsman on the offside and faux pas, the main comic vehicle for Ellenbogen’s gentle satire on “untransformed” southern suburb whites, who seldom socialise outside their circle and whose ideas about African culture are at best modest. Meet Anthony ‘Lasher’ Dawkins(Ellenbogen), a retired mathematics master at Bishops, who has two debenture seats in the members’ stand at Newlands. When Dotty, his wife of 40 years, passes away, Dawkins has his boundaries pushed and is almost stumped when her seat is occupied by an ebullient Zulu polygamist, Eric ‘Wisdom’ Tshabalala (Nhlanhla Mkhwanazi).

Ellenbogen is as dependable as ever. The comedy is thoughtful and humane, and the cast deliver the lines with infectious enthusiasm.

Alan Committie
It is the funny season and comedy is dominating most of our theatres. You cannot do better than taking yourself off to see comedian Alan Committie, back in full force with his latest one-man show Fully Committied!.

The conceit this time is a delightful spoof on those grim, often idiotic, PowerPoint presentations that business and government people subject one another to. We have pie charts dividing up the subject matter of the show into percentages, and graphs indexing our enjoyment against our need to pee.

With wry commentary Committie also shares a slide presentation of his childhood. Particularly rewarding is his analysis of Dan Brown’s alleged authorial skills.

The theme is commitment in its various forms during our lives. Among the myriad of subjects covered are marriage, health, 2010, our technological revolution, and global warming. Why, he asks, is it lamely called ‘warming’, which sounds quite comforting, as opposed to imminent global ‘incineration’?

Committie has a talent for showing the funny side of the ordinary, for pointing out the absurd comedy of every day life. The jokes are witty and mostly well above the belt.

I was allowed to see the performance when it was still in previews, and Committie was already in very fine form with his new material. The show is cheerfully designed and once again well directed by the reliable Christopher Weare.