Smag
For all the complaints one hears from some Afrikaans theatre practitioners, Afrikaans theatre has probably never been healthier. Unfettered by the censorship and conservatism of the past and equally free of the pressure to rebel, Afrikaans dramatists are eagerly exploring their boundaries. In this new dispensation, they appear at least less ideologically encumbered than their English counterparts who have fallen to what Mike van Graan has called the “theatre of conformity” or the overtly commercial.

Afrikaans theatre has blind spots of its own and can be insular. But this is a charge one could hardly raise against the prolific and dynamic creative team of Vleis, Rys & Aartappels – South Africa’s leading Afrikaans theatre company.

Established in 2001 by talented writer and determined producer Saartjie Botha together with ingenious, veteran theatre director Marthinus Basson and new blood Jaco Bouwer, they now have no less than 56 productions and theatre projects under their belt.

Their oeuvre of the past two years is currently on show in a unique festival at the Baxter Sanlam Studio (see Listings for details). Attention to design, solid scripting, thorough-paced direction and virtuoso performances characterise the work. The keystone production is ’n Lang dagreis na die nag (Andre Brink’s translation of Eugene O’Neill’s Long Days’ Journey into Night) featuring Marius Weyers and Antoinette Kellermann.

It is well worth attending as many of these fully staged productions as possible, especially if you too have tired of on the one hand commercial pandering and on the other hand half-realised work with shoddy production values, amateur acting and premature script development, ubiquitously on offer in our local English language theatre.

The company’s name ‘Meat, Rice & Potatoes’ might indicate a staple diet, but this particular troupe has courageously got their act together and are presenting a rare feast for the theatre lover.

BooitjieOubaas
Athol Fugard’s latest play is about the irresistible compulsion to tell one’s story in order to obtain release. The same compulsion seems to have taken hold of Fugard for he has blandly adapted a short story from his collection Karoo and Other Stories for the stage. It is the story of a certain Booitijie Barends he knew in his beloved Karoo town of Nieu Bethesda.
‘Booitjie’ is an uncommon (even bizarre) spelling of the diminutive ‘boykie’ or ‘boytjie’. In the play, Booitjie explains that “because I was small I ended up ‘booitjie’ and now no one calls me by my real name”.
Set in the 1950s, the ‘non-white’ Barends (Christo Davids) is nurse and carer for the farm’s oubaas (Marius Weyers) now debilitated by a stroke. In typical Fugardian imagery, it is as if the patriarch is “a big bloekomboom” struck by lightning.
Early on, the two men enjoy a moment of bonhomie, an intimacy rarely found across the racial strictures of that time. But the oubaas needs more: to confess his terrible secrets. As he says, “You don’t need God to judge you and send you to hell. You can do it to yourself.” Unlike Soekie Fortuin (Mary Daniels), the day nurse, who is far more candid about how things stand, the compassionate Barends has “learned to understand” the oubaas.
In the end, the two men are able to put aside the apartheid appellations of ‘booitjie’ and ‘oubaas’ introducing themselves as Gerhardus Daniel Lottering Strydom and Adam Barends. With understanding comes equality of respect and acceptance.
Despite the compelling clarity in the writing, it would have been far better for Fugard to dramatise the story with a full cast, rather than only dramatize the story telling. The vision and horizons for our theatre keep shrinking. Yet having the story related in this manner mitigates the melodrama – miscarriage and paralysis, plotting murder and family suicide, an illegitimate pregnancy through incestuous adultery are among Strydom’s secrets.
The only truly dramatic conceit – which many patrons didn’t understand – is the gentle transition Weyers makes until we are hearing the oubaas as Barends does – not the slurred murmurings in the opening scene caused by the left-brain stroke.
It is a function of theatre to give the audience a catharsis; it is a misconception of drama to try to make a play out of pontificating about this necessity.

Begeerte

When Eugene O’Neill wrote Desire Under the Elms (1924) – the story of a father and son pitted against each other, and the neurotic love between a young bride and her step-son that culminates in infanticide – he looked to the Greek legends of Medea and Oedipus. His character’s self-destructive, murderous passions and naïve declarations of undying love are today the stuff of melodrama rather than the ‘unflinching realism’ of rural life they were perceived as portraying to the New Yorkers of the 1920s. The play is still far less performed than say his Long Day’s Journey Into Night, as the kind of amour fou it depicts has been generally supplanted by a more cynical, if sensible approach to the vagaries of the human heart.

But along comes Nerina Ferreira’s seamless adaptation and masterful translation into accessible, yet poetic Afrikaans. She has (among various prudent changes) replaced the entire action of the first three and half scenes with a single monologue; she has reduced the cast of five and bit parts to only three; and she has transposed the setting from 1850s New England to a bleak remote platteland plaas where soliloquy and relentless melodramatic action seems natural amongst the stony ground and its isolated, obsessing characters. The melodrama is suddenly believable.

However, it seems the ossified Old Testament patriarch – embodied in Ephraim Cabot (Marius Weyers) – has been unseated both on and off stage in democratic South Africa. When he bursts into prayer immediately after coitus with “God forgive me”, belly laughs followed at his verkrampte double standards. Yet the archetype is still compelling.

Jan Ellis is outstanding as the smouldering caged male animal Eben, with all the sexual energy of a Brando, even if somewhat inauthentically costumed in trendy jeans and white vest that strengthens the reference. It is good to see this fine actor back on the Cape Town stage after a considerable absense.

Anna-Mart van der Merwe, one of our keurigste actresses is an inspired choice as the backveld Abbie. She has been praised for her wonderful make-over as a ‘slut’, presumably because she seduces both father and son. But this is of course a radically male chauvinist construction and a hopeless misreading of both O’Neill and van der Merwe’s performance. She is a passionate woman in terrible circumstances, who is prepared to do anything, including sacrificing her only chance at material gain, for nothing but love. Van der Merwe succeeds in a similar way Sophia Loren did in her Hollywood debut in the same role in Delbert Mann’s 1957-film version. Incidentally, Anthony Perkins – who played opposite her as Eben – gave one of his best film performances, before he became typecast.

Janice Honeyman’s direction is stark and uninhibited. On opening (and I was told on the preview nights as well) the audience became nervous and coy. Whereas hick middle America was scandalised by the moral outrages of O’Niell’s ‘morbid plumbing’, our apparently sophisticated urbanites of today received the nudity and sexual explicitness of Begeerte with immature giggles.

It is an excellent production – thanks to strong performances and Ferreira’s exceptional dramaturgy. As a result O’Niell’s work has been given a renewed lease and Begeerte has the feel of a play belonging to the bekroonde Afrikaans canon.