kagablog

It can It be no coincidence that the filmmakers with a South African background who are active in Holland - Ian Kerkhof, Saskia Vredeveld, and shortly Daniel Daran - willingly deal with sadomasochistic themes, or at least include violent elements in their relationship films. Kerkhof, who won the Golden Calf in 1992 with KYODAI MAKES THE BIG TIME and graduates this year from the Dutch Film Academy, once said that it was impossible to grow up in South Africa without constantly being conscious of the violence in the relations between people. According to statistics uncovered by Kerkhof somebody is raped every 83 seconds in his country of birth.

For the first time since he came to Holland eleven years ago, Kerkhof shot a film in South Africa - during the april elections. To be precise, in Yeoville, a relatively well-to-do and progressive suburb of Johannesburg. CONFESSIONS OF A YEOVILLE RAPIST (nice to meet you, please don’t rape me!), produced as part of the “Lolamoviola” series of VPRO tv films, is the portrait of a “psychotic culture”, in the land of braaivleis, rugby, sunny skies and rape.

Kerkhof cherishes few illusions about the entry of a democratic South Africa into the western civilization. He fears that the seventeenth century norms which are features of interpersonal relationships in the sick society will simply now be given the chance to export themselves.

To clarify this train of thought the director chose for an associative, theatrical form. Three actors (a black, a jew and a representative of the anglo-saxon culture) pour a stream of verbal obscenities over each other. The paradox of their performance is the tender undertone, as if they are desperately searching for another form of masculinity than the “machismo” that is forced upon them. This is apparent in the repetitive singing of the mantra “Nice to meet you, please don’t rape me” as well as in the images of cameraman Joost van Gelder which are flowing and composed with feeling for beauty in ugliness.

The problem for the outsider who is not initiated into this cruel world is that the barrier is too high. CONFESSIONS OF A YEOVILLE RAPIST conjures such an apalling glimpse into the depths of an unlivable hell, and then in a stylised form which hardly allows one room to breathe, that I have great difficulty imagining anyone who would voluntarily reach the end of the film. The uncompromising and claustrophobic formal approach that has become Kerkhof’s trademark, here reaches its hardest core to date. It is without doubt a key film in terms of a better understanding of Kerkhof’s obesessions, but I could never watch it again.

HANS BEEREKAMP
NRC HANDELSBLAD wed 1/6/94