Profoundly South African

It’s a balmy evening in Cape Town and a crowd is dribbling into formation on Loop Street; early arrivers staking claims to the scattered tables of Alliance Française (while its humble kitchen dispatches slivers of quiche to those in the know). Red lights warm a stage draped in an ethnic rug; a still-life with wood and strings. Steve Newman, Errol Dyers and Hilton Schilder are shooting the breeze in the wings, their toils having culminated in the body of music they’re about to stamp on the unconsciousness of those present for the launch of their album.

This extraordinary combination of Cape Town musicians evokes the spirit that brought Al Di Meola, John McLaughlin and Paco de Lucía together for Friday Night in San Francisco. However, unlike the virtuosic Jazz-Flamenco trio of the early 80s, Newman, Dyers and Schilder have concretised a theory for their union, appearing as All in One and gathering their recorded material under the same name. Moreover, while prescribed structure and precise execution makes Friday Night beautiful, All in One channels its power in the process of playing and finds its voice when separate contributions become indistinguishable from the new compound that’s formed; when the trio becomes what they call themselves.

Taking the stage, Newman, Dyers and Schilder exude the tempered confidence of seasoned craftsmen. That this is a profoundly South African cast, there is not doubt, but there’s also a shamanistic air that hangs about them. This could be attributed to the psychedelic drawings that adorn the stage; perhaps the white robe over leather chaps of their creator, Schilder (replete with eyeliner and Mohican). Perhaps it’s Newman’s ponytail, resembling a seafaring rope, or Dyers’ beanie, which gives him the weathered look of a cosmic fisherman. Despite appearances, that these men are at least conjurers is confirmed when the music begins.

The two sets are characterised by sonic tapestries that reference Flamenco Rumba, Gypsy Swing, Tango, Maskanda and Goema. In addition to Newman’s selection of exquisitely crafted guitars, instruments featured include curiosities like the rain stick, the mouth bow and the melodica (and even the manner in which the three wean sounds from their tools is novel). Each performer also commits a solo offering to the show, which sees Newman stroking inlays on the face of his guitar to produce the sound of a kalimba. Dyers brings a dirge to the table while Schilder’s piece, albeit acoustic, carries the aesthetics of Prog Rock.

All in One provides an engaging performance and All in One (Swett Shoppe Records) is an dazzling album. The combination of styles, instruments and influences tethered to a raw improvisational approach has produced something that bespeaks the true nature of Ubuntu. When diverse sounds unite, the result is something more than the sum of its parts. It’s a motherless sound because its origins are blurred. They may be the old guard but this is a new sound for Cape Town.

Clicks:

• All in One MySpace Page
• Community: All in One Facebook Page
• Alliance Française Cape Town: Cultural Events Page
  

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Cape Town’s Alliance Française hosted the inaugural gathering of Future Shorts South Africa last night. The UK-based short film label was established in 2003 in the interests of celebrating the form and raising its status. Future Shorts operates in over 50 cities in 15 countries and channels local material to an international hub in London where it’s compiled, distributed and screened elsewhere. As such, the platform treats audiences to independent work from around the globe while providing homegrown filmmakers with the potential to reach wider audiences.

The evening’s programme consisted of eight short films obtained via the Future Shorts network (a showcase representing the US, the UK and France that consisted of work produced between 1989 and 2007). Highlights included Gaelle Denis’s “City Paradise” (UK, 2003), a whimsical take on London through the eyes of a foreign resident, as well as Jamie Rafn’s reflection on the schizophrenic nature of romantic relationships entitled “She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not” (UK, 2004).

Following a short interval, three South African productions were screened in collaboration with Shortcut Wednesday. The work consisted of a stop-frame styled music video by Terry Westby-Nunn (the Simon van Gend Band’s “Minor Revelation”). This was followed by the recently completed “Epitaph” by Rowan Pybus, an installment in a series of poetic pieces that combine the art work of Faith 47 and the music of Inge Beckmann. The screening then closed with Dave Cotton’s low-fi “Hannibal Goes on Holiday,” a story of friendship, betrayal, forgiveness, guilt (and zombies) featuring plastic dolls in the leading roles.

Present at the screening, Cotton participated in a Q&A that focused on his concern for storytelling and his mantra that “content is king.” Cotton encouraged budding filmmakers to simply produce work rather than be hindered by the the trappings of high production, stating that imperfections often provide the fresh quality absent in works that are over-produced. Cotton stated that the journey to becoming a filmmaker is an evolutionary process that starts with scripts being turned into tangible works rather than being left to gather dust under a bed. Plans are currently underway for Future Shorts South Africa’s second installment.

Clicks:

• Community: Future Shorts South Africa Facebook Group
• Photograph: Sara Gouveia

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They may cut in on you or even run off the road but the minibus taxi, the ubiquitous emblem of South African transport, is no less than a profoundly South African icon. In fact, minibus taxis are moving monuments to South Africa’s entrepreneurial spirit. Deregulation wrenched transport from government hands in the late 80s and unleashed a minibus tsunami that surged through the Madiba Years and now sees privateers pocketing the fares of over 60% of South Africa’s commuters. In a country characterised by great diversity, a ride in a minibus taxi may just be the national experience that most of us have in common.

Taxi Jam is what happens when you mix a minibus commute with music and slap it onto a new media platform. The smallest gig in town, it’s a website that features performances by South African artists shot in the back of taxis. If new media is about mobility, Taxi Jam is creating content that mimics the way we consume it. The site showcases seamless slices of musical art that have shed the shackles of high production and been posited into the realm of the mundane. The effect is strangely paradoxical: a private performance in an intimate location that everybody with an Internet connection is invited to experience.

There’s also something of an unplugged ethic informing Taxi Jam. The empty minibus is a democratic stage and performers have only their charm and raw talent to draw on. As such, Taxi Jam provides the opportunity to see different artists in the same naked context. Such is the platform that new dimensions of the musicians are revealed and familiar songs are bathed in compelling unfamiliarity. As the camera pans away from a performance, catching glimpses of motorists and pedestrians through the taxi windows, we’re reminded that that life goes on when music happens. Bands aren’t just totems that live out our fantasies on stage and in music videos but rather a part of everyday life. Taxi Jam proves that artists inhabit the same stinky spaces that we do.

The best thing about Taxi Jam is that the project is born out of an uncomplicated interest in music and a desire to provide an alternate platform for recognised as well as fresh talent in all shapes and styles. Taxi Jam producers, cousins Richard and Simon Wall, describe the project as a labour of love and tip their hats to London’s pioneering Black Cab Sessions. They’ve unpacked the project in Cape Town but are interested in collaborating with production teams as far and wide as Joburg and Dubai. “We’ll shoot artists, musicians, poets, performers and anyone who blows us away,” says Simon, “Anyone can hop on board.”

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There is a raw and maverick quality to the short film Alive in Joburg. Ever seen a prawn Poleepkwa in a bio-suit toss a casspir at a pair of pestering soldiers? Not only did the 2005 project showcase some slick computer-generated imagery but it also put a curious spin on the theme of discrimination by dropping found-footage from the Apartheid era into a story about intolerance towards stranded aliens. South Africa’s subsequent Xenophobic attacks bathed the piece in a glow of surreality and made it even more clever than it was originally meant to be. The compelling stylistic amalgam earned director Neill Blomkamp a string of jobs to promote the release of Halo 3 which in turn and got him earmarked to direct a feature based on the Halo franchise. When the project fell through, Peter Jackson came to the rescue by offering to produce a feature-length re-working of Alive in Joburg. Jackson stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out US$30 million in loose change. Blomkamp went to the kasi and came back with District 9.

Technically a product of New Zealand and the United States, District 9 is set in South Africa in the late twentieth century and features live action shot on location in the townships of Johannesburg. What makes it different to other international productions that exploit South African themes and stories (i.e. Invictus) is that it is directed by someone who grew up in South Africa and features South Africans in the lead roles. The fact that Blomkamp is an ex-South African is significant insomuch as he uses the long arm of science fiction as a tool to engage the Apartheid experience. What else but Blomkamp’s displacement from life in South Africa as well as his need as an immigrant to resolve his South African identity could result in such a schizophrenic rendering of the social and political environment he grew up in?

District 9 has exposure to the SABC of the 1980s written all over it. The mock news footage in the film speaks of white South Africa’s mediated experience of the realities of township life and reminds us that our contemporary understanding of Apartheid “unrest” is predominantly televisual. We tend to forget that township tours in the 80s were restricted to gun-wielding security forces, meaning that life in the slums was imaginary for those who had never been there. The mystery of life in urban squalor has since spawned a genre of films that brings the experience of township life into existence for the international bourgeoisie. While “slumsploitation” has been delivered in racy packages likes City of God, Tsotsi and Slumdog Millionaire, District 9 is by far the most radical township fantasy the world has ever seen.

In a nutshell, District 9 uses a documentary framework (i.e. Carte Blache) to tell the story of a man’s strange biological metamorphosis (i.e. The Fly) and how it facilitates solidarity with a homesick alien (i.e. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial). Wikus van de Merwe (Sharlto Copley) is reminiscent of fictional Afrikaans forebears like the quirky, pathos-driven characters of Leon Schuster and the stammering biologist played by Marius Weyers in South Africa’s most famous contribution to world cinema to date. In fact, District 9 is probably the most profoundly South African film since The Gods Must Be Crazy. Both films use political incorrectness to mock prejudice and both are hinged on captivating premises. However, after an inspired opening sequence that satirises modern life, The Gods Must Be Crazy descends into slapstick banality (albeit great entertainment). Similarly, everything conceptually brilliant about District 9 is told in the six minutes of Alive in Joburg. The allegorical spear at the centre of the feature does deliver some sharp thrusts but it can’t support the narrative it’s yolked to and promptly self-destructs. Nevertheless, we do get to see guns that turn people into pasta sauce (which is what most people came for in the first place).

Clicks:

• Right-Wing Propaganda
• Related PSA Post: Fear of Zen
• Something Worth Thinking About: Speciesism

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The evolution of democracy is hinged on people’s ability to shake the cage and when it comes sticking it to the zookeepers, few are as elegantly insubordinate as Jonathan Shapiro.

Political cartoonist for the Mail & Guardian and Sunday Times, Zapiro has been in the game for over twenty years. It was during Nelson Mandela’s presidency that he injected himself into the national consciousness with flattering depictions of Madiba. In recent years, however, he has found a nemesis in the form of Jacob Zuma, creating iconic renderings of the President of the ANC with a showerhead protruding from his oddly-shaped cranium.

Last year, Zapiro collaborated on a television concept that has transformed his caricatures into puppets for a mock current affairs show entitled Z News. The idea was given legs at the SABC but has since been mysteriously paralyzed. Some suggest that the show’s uncertain future stems from attempts to censor its political content while others say that it simply lacks broad appeal. Nevertheless, fragments of a pilot episode have generated viral interest on the Internet. Queue Thabo Mbeki performing “I Will Survive” in drag on Idols!

Z News describes itself as “the most fun you can have with latex with your clothes on.” Although it is populated with profoundly South African characters like Godzille, it is by no means an original idea. Britain’s Spitting Image is its key ancestor and, given the fact that the godfather of the genre has spawned so many similar shows internationally, it’s hard to imagine that South Africa’s biggest audiences aren’t ready to exercise their right to mock political authority.

Clicks:

• Feedback: Tell Zapiro What You Think
• Spitting Image: Never Met a Nice South African

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