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Four South African films will premier at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) to be held from 4-13 September 2008 in Canada, Toronto.

Four South African films will premier at the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) to be held from 4-13 September 2008 in Canada, Toronto.
Among the four local films that will screen at this year’s TIFF are three National Film and Video Foundation (NFVF) funded films, Jesus and the Giant (by Akin Omotoso), Skin (by Anthony Fabian), Sea Point Days (by Francois Verster). In addition to the NFVF funded films to be screened at TIFF is Disgrace (by Steve Jacobs), a film adapted from a book by local Nobel Prize award in Literature winner, J.M. Coetzee.
NFVF has worked with the Co-director and Programmer of TIFF, Cameron Bailey to facilitate entry of South African films into the festival since 2004, when for the first time, TIFF had a special focus on South African film.

About the relationship between TIFF and the NFVF, Ryan Haidarian, NFVF’s Head of Production and Development says, “it has to be the best relationship we have with a festival. Having the co-director of the festival come down to South Africa every year for the past few years on scouting trips shows a tremendous amount of commitment for providing a platform for tales from this part of the world. We are extremely grateful for Cameron Bailey’s commitment to see and help South African cinema grow.”
The NFVF is also supporting director Akin Omotoso and Producer Robbie Thorpe of Jesus and the Giant and Sandra Laing whose life story is adapted on Skin to attend TIFF.

Director and producer Akin Omotoso is very excited about having audiences at TIFF seeing his work. “I am very excited! Toronto is one of the top film festivals in the world and it is an honor to have Jesus and The Giant screened there. This is also all the more exciting because the festival doesn’t usually program shorts”, says Omotoso.

Local Production Company, Moonlighting productions that are co-producers of the first South Africa/ United Kingdom co-production feature film Skin, will be attending TIFF for the film’s world premier. About Moonlighting’s expectations regarding Skin at TIFF, associate producer at Moonlighting, Dylan Voogt says, “We feel that Skin is a really compelling story, one that needs to be told. Although it is a uniquely African story it has certain universal truths that we believe will resonate with international audiences, so we are hopeful that it will be well received.”
Sea Point Days producer, Neil Brandt, says about TIFF that “the festival will provide the ideal international platform to launch the film onto the global festival circuit, and will hopefully be instrumental in bringing it to the attention of international broadcasters”.

The NFVF would like to congratulate all the local films that will be screened at TIFF this year. “It’s phenomenal to have films that we have supported being recognized by a prestigious film festival such as TIFF. The NFVF is consistently excited by the fact that we have had successive award winning films at TIFF with Hotel Rwanda a United Kingdom, South Africa and Italy Co-production which received the top prize under the category, AFG People’s Choice Award in 2004 and Tsotsi a co-production between the United Kingdom production company, UK Film and Television Production Company, MoviWorld from South Africa, the NFVF and IDC, which won the Audience Award at the 2005 TIFF”, says Haidarian.

About SA films at the 2008 Toronto International Film Festival

Jesus and the Giant
This film is set in modern day Johannesburg. Directed by Akin Omotoso and Written by Aryan Kaganof it is shot entirely (save for the last shot of the film) on a digital stills camera. Over 7000 photographs have been stitched together to create movement. The effect gives the film a visceral intensity that relates to it’s theme of violence and redemption. The world around our characters is fractured, broken up, moments are frozen, other’s are faster than the speed of light. Set in the urban intensity of downtown Johannesburg Jesus is a special woman. Her eyes are windows on the world. She has powers she herself doesn’t understand but ultimately she is a warrior for peace. Then one day, her friend Mary arrives at her doorstep beaten. Jesus has to choose whether to continue to nurse Mary or take revenge on the deadly Giant. Director: Akin Omotoso

Skin
Skin, is one of the most bizarre and fascinating true stories to emerge from South Africa: Sandra Laing was a coloured child born in the 1950s to two white Afrikaners, unaware of their black ancestry. The film follows Sandra’s thirty-year journey from rejection to acceptance, betrayal to reconciliation, as she struggles to define her place in a changing world — and triumphs against all odds. Shot in and around Johannesburg at the end of 2007, the film stars Sophie Okonedo as Sandra Laing, Sam Neill as her father Abraham and Alice Krige as her mother Sannie.Director: Anthony Fabian

Sea Point Days
Lying on the coast of Cape Town - South Africa’s most segregated city - there is one public space where everyone does seem to come together: the Sea Point Promenade and Municipal Pools. Set between city and ocean, this beautiful strip of “everymansland” offers a quirky and often entertaining mix of class, race, gender and religion: a place where South Africans of all backgrounds can experience happiness together… But is all as it appears? SEA POINT DAYS presents an unusual and impressionistic record of life at Cape Town’s Sea Point Promenade and municipal pools, using largely cinematic vignettes to explore issues of belonging, integration, nostalgia, happiness and identity in an ex-white South African neighbourhood. Director: Francois Verster

this article first appeared on the website of the nfvf

music is by basement 5, courtesy of cherry bomb
directed by akin omotoso
written & edited by aryan kaganof
cinematography eran tahor
sound design warrick sony

akin omotoso’s short film “jesus and the giant” will be screened before the south african parliament today at 12:30pm. the screening is a measure of the kind of respect the film has been garnering at festival screenings worldwide. the screening is open to the public. bring your id book.

Time and Place Date: Sunday, October 26, 2008
Time: 6:30pm - 9:30pm
Location: 19th Floor Lister Building
Street: 195 Jeppe Street (Entry on Bree Street)
City/Town: Johannesburg, South Africa

Off the Shelf brings you exciting new short films from emerging new
talent and seasoned pros. October’s line-up includes Anzan and the
Visitors by Anton Krueger, The Cure by Ryan Piemer and Jesus and the
Giant by Akin Omotoso. Special on the night is Sylvio, by emerging
Venezuelan filmmaker Santiago Rivero. R20 gets you in. Visit
www.coalstove.co.za for more info.

I thought the film was bold, innovative, highly engaging and packed with meaning. I loved it. As an editor myself i particularly enjoyed the cut, a big job and highly commendable. But what was most striking to me was the soundscape and the freedom of movement that shooting on a stills camera afforded. Great job man!

Khalid shamis

WSOA Film & TV
Associate lecturer
011 717-9743

www.digitalarts.wits.ac.za/artworks
www.youtube.com/WITSFILMandTV

opposites attract/the quiet that storms within

a response to jesus and the giant

jesus - Mandisa Bardill
giant - Sonni Chidiebere Ochuba
mary - Lesego Mabilo
director of photography - eran tahor
sound design - Warrick Sony
make up - Jade Snell
Produced and directed by Akin Omotoso
written and edited by Aryan Kaganof.

Inspired by Kaganof’s tale, Omotoso’s cinematic reading becomes a visionary plea for sanity/retribution/justice/compassion. I say visionary, because the solution flies in the face of conventional morality while tapping into the very real need in the collective unconscious for effective retribution. Like Jesus in the Bible, this Jesus invokes a justice where the punishment fits the crime. In manifesting this larger than life snippet of despicable reality, Omotoso has created the cinematic equivalent of a Damien Hirst ‘Golden Calf’ set in formaldehyde, yet goes beyond it. The formaldehyde is the plasticity of the cinematic medium (the celluloid) and the living ingredient frozen eternally in time yet moving with time, are the players who converge on this tragedy of violence to embody it with a mythological (if not divine) splendour.

This encounter therefore becomes (dare I say it?) a manifestation of ‘fifth dimensional art’ where the artwork, frozen in time yet simultaneously moving through time, is framed by and manifests the self same concept: the collision of opposites. Violence begets violence is turned inside out: violence demands violence - it is the only lesson that can be (terminally) understood.

This concept, so tragic a reality, has no practical application in reality.

It is far too controversial.

And yet it is no more controversial than the Bible itself.

Visually, Jesus doesn’t look as if she could hurt a fly, Mary’s beauty seems beyond deformation, and the Giant looks sufficiently virile not to have to resort to violence.

As such the drama is projected through an idealised reality extracted from a visceral actuality, where the only solution is the only solution.

It is in this realisation that all opposites converge towards a single coherent focus.

The application of the sum effect of this collision of opposites, distilled through Omotoso’s many years of contemplation/discernment before shooting began, heightens and informs every aspect of this film. This is the essential and existential ingredient - the distillation - that elevates Jesus and the Giant into the artistic phenomenon that it is.

Each frame has been perfectly captured by Eran Tahor (using a stills camera) in crisp clear sharpness and tone that seduces the viewer before he/she realises the import of the revolutionary message. Tahor is intuitively attuned to exactly the correct distance between subject and object creating a volume in the characters that seems to explode outwards. Each character thus becomes larger than life, enhancing the archetypical depth of the players. The images are pristine, without being sanitised thus underlining the ugliness of bullying. As much as the slaughter and dissemination of every part of the cow/bulls done by the street butchers appears gruesome and shocking, it is executed with deftness and precision where no part of the animal goes to waste. This is corroborated with the ‘exactitude’ of the Giants frame of mind with regard to women: he carries no doubt about his inherent misappropriation of values. The Giant’s disassociation is his deformity. His victim, whom he fails to see as a living pulsing human being, is but a thing to be controlled, kept in order: disseminated as a matter of course. Bullying is the tool he uses as a means to this end.

So when Jesus exercises her right to treat the Giant as he treats others, there is no blame to be found. To implement this ‘scale of justice’ Jesus has to find immense internal strength and as such she is able to meet the demand of her archetypal/mythological role: a female warrior who is not imbued with vengeance. No doubt this will have many women cheering in the audience.

In fact the solution becomes the epiphany for transformation and as such the protagonist finds redemption. In the closing sequence where we had previously seen still frame create movement, we now have film creating stillness. Once again ‘opposites melt into summation’ to drive a powerful point home.

The fact that Kaganof has edited the material to such perfection, (the inter slicing of the violence against the victim so intricately interwoven where the perpetrator is receiving his ‘come-uppance”, gives attention to an all too forgotten focus) bares testimony to the completion of a cyclic orchestration that was picked up from the written page by Omotoso’s visionary intellect and transformed back to him.

ps…. and for those who do not know, the fifth dimension is…..

BREATH!!

and whether by accident or design, whether by intention or intuitive connectivity, breath in “Jesus and the Giant’ has become an added dimension:

the technique of presenting the action of this film in animation i.e. through single frame, has meant that the film was recorded without sound, without voice, in silence.

The sheer logistics of getting the actors to voice-over must have proved quite daunting….

- not least of all the synchronisation with sound effect and action -

the female voices are not the voices of the characters themselves…

(Jesus - Moshidi Motshegwa and Helen Asrat

Mary - Bubu Mazibuko)

The sound technician and aural architect, Warrick Sony,

has thus discovered

(through direction from Akin Omotoso/liaison with Kaganof?)

an extremely unusual vocal dynamic in presenting the sound -

breathing life into the animation….

…is at once disassociated, and distanced

below normal audible levels, at times muffled, understated….

…drawing the viewer INTO the drama…..

…yet matching the visuals in tone and crispness….

magnifying its import and intensity

its closeness….proximity….

the collision of opposites…

one feels the sound/breath/life more intently

in the way in which it has been

enveloped by silence….

BREATH forming through silence into shape…..

this review first appeared on helgé janssen’s website

JESUS AND THE GIANT
19mins 2007

This experimental film is set in modern day Johannesburg. Written by Aryan Kaganof and directed by Akin Omotoso it is shot entirely (save for the last shot of the film) on a digital stills camera. Over 7000 photographs have been stitched together to create movement. The effect gives the film a visceral intensity that relates to its theme of violence and redemption. The world around our characters is fractured, broken up, moments are frozen, and others are faster than the speed of light. Set in the urban intensity of downtown Johannesburg Jesus is a special woman. Her eyes are windows on the world. She has powers she herself doesn’t understand but ultimately she is a warrior for peace. Then one day, her friend Mary arrives at her doorstep beaten. Jesus has to choose whether to continue to nurse Mary or take revenge on the deadly Giant.

starring mandisa bardill, sonny chidiebere ochuba and lesego mabilo
produced and directed by akin omotoso
written and edited by aryan kaganof
director of photography eran tahor
sound design warrick sony
makeup jade snell

Aryan

I have no idea what I said to Aryan Kaganof one afternoon as we had drinks at the café ‘Boat’ located at the 44 Stanley Avenue complex in Milpark. I remember we spoke about life and film quite passionately. No matter, whatever it was I said, it convinced him to give me his script called JESUS AND THE GIANT to read. I read it and was immediately blown away by it. It was raw and daring, controversial yet it had something important to say about violence in our society. Having read Kaganof’s script, my first thought was that I wanted whatever short I did next to be in the vein of the story.

It’s Yours

I gave him a call to ask him whether he had shot the film already. He told me it was mine to direct. Since I hadn’t imagined such a scenario it caught me off guard but I was really happy. I knew then that it was going to be a special project and also I felt that I shouldn’t rush into it. We signed a contract that allowed me to do as I pleased with the script and Aryan left me alone. I always kept in touch every now and again via phone or if I bumped into him socially to keep him updated on the film, because I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t serious about his script. He was always very gracious but he left me to my own devices.

Changes

The major change I made was changing Jesus from a black man in Aryan’s script to a black woman. And that woman was going to be Mandisa Bardill. I had worked with Mandisa on my previous two shorts ‘The Kiss of Milk’ and ‘Rifle Road’ and I had seen ‘Jesus And The Giant’ as a conclusion to this trilogy on violence. I wanted her to be the through line even though she played different characters.

Casting

Casting The Giant was a no brainer for me. It had to be Sonni Chidiebere Ochuba. He was starting to come into his own as an actor and I really liked his style. I told him at some club that he will play the Giant in my next short. He nodded and smiled. This was of course in 2004 and every time I saw him over the next three years I told him the time was coming. He always smiled. Mary was not so clear to me. Also I changed the beginning to have a run naked through the streets. In Aryan’s script the film started with Mary arriving at Jesus’ flat. It’s there we meet Jesus for the first time. I had read that a basketball player had kicked his wife out naked and bruised one night I thought that horrific image was one to start the movie with. It meant that I needed to find someone that was not only a great actress but that she was brave. I knew it would be tough. I also told myself that because I wanted to do this project right, I would wait. A friend had suggested a dancer for the part. A date was set for the meeting but before that date I met the dancer by chance at a dinner party. She seemed very busy and wasn’t able to commit to the dates we were thinking of at the time. I guess I also wasn’t convinced that she was right for the part. When Mary presented herself I would know. In 2006 I met a waitress at an Ethiopian restaurant and for the first time I felt I had met Mary. She had a striking face and the innocence I felt Mary had and I immediately set up a meeting. Turns out the waitress was an actress/dancer back in Ethiopia so she had some experience. She read the script and liked it but she wouldn’t go naked. She spoke of her family and her husband and her father all of which I totally understood but I had compromised a lot in my past work and that always caused me a lot of grief and I had promised myself that I would never compromise this film. She really fitted into my vision of Mary and the fact that she was Ethiopian was great because one of my first instincts was to shoot the film in Ethiopia. I wanted take it out of Joburg and set it in those old churches in Lalibela. We met several times to see if there was a middle ground. In the end neither of us would budge and we left it at that. I continued the search. At a rehearsal for Paul Grootboom’s play ‘Cards’ I found the actress that would play Mary. We were casting for something else and we were looking at a young Nigerian actor called Hakeem Oyedeji who was also in the play. When I saw Lesego on stage I immediately thought she could play Mary. Her face was mysterious and her eyes spoke of pain. From that play I was able to cast Lesego Mabilo as Mary. Lesego was a new up and coming actress and she was fresh and fearless which was what was needed for this part.

Funding

I knew that making this film demanded absolute freedom. I needed to be able to free myself to make the film I want. That is it would be the kind of film people would have to see first because it would be hard to explain. I felt that once it had been shot I would have to apply for post production funds etc but the initial shooting had to be independent. My first thought was to ask all my friends for R100. I figured at it would cost R100, 000 to shoot the film. Post production I was going to apply to the Hubert Bals fund or the National Film and Video Foundation. I felt I had enough friends in my phone book to reach R100, 000 if I asked everyone for a hundred rand. I went through my phone book. I got to 9,000 rand! Not looking good. So I felt my approach would have to be multi pronged. I knew it would be long and stressful but it was the only way. I lobbied my friends Tunji Omotola and Valentine Alily to begin with. Tunji, being in investment banking, pounced on the project with his usual zeal and before long he was hosting a wine tasting fund raiser for the 27th of December. I dressed up and took a copy of RIFLE ROAD to screen and borrowed some wine from my father for the event. Before we started he had a guy give us R15, 000. This was a great boost. That night another friend Tumi suggested we throw a fund raising party on the 27th of January. I agreed. Because I had started training as an amateur DJ I knew I won’t have to pay a DJ to play that night meaning that I would be able to throw the money back into the film. The date was settled and I was ready to rock and roll. Shakir from Roka then called and said he was moving the date to the 14th which I protested about because the notice was short. At the party we raised R9, 000 at the door. I lobbied family and friends hard and raised in total R80, 000 over nine months! Winning The Standard Bank Young Artist Of The Year Award For Film meant that the Bank was able to contribute some money which was great and they put me in touch with some of their patrons. I sent out eighty two letters to the patrons and only two responded contributing R9000 which was great.

I always had the Hubert Bals in my sights for post production and when the time came to apply I did so with so much confidence you would have thought my family owned Hubert Bals. I was sure that the film was strong enough to get funding. Turns out the Hubert Bals fund doesn’t fund short films! Nowhere on their website, that I could see, does it say this and I was totally crushed! In fact I think I was paralyzed for a week because I had lost my one major sure banker! In the interim I had back up of course but I wasn’t aggressively pursuing it-seeing it more as a safety net to fall into to help some of the shortfall from the Hubert Bals. Mandisa had put me in touch with Wanda and he had suggested throwing another fund raising party but this time more focused and concentrated. He was throwing his party on the 4th of Aug and thought I should come and lobby names and email addresses to people that would be able to support. I hired Mandisa’s cousin, Naima for the night to collect names and addresses. We had a lot of names but when the time came and I threw the fund raising party hardly anyone came. We only raised R3000. All in all the process was long and difficult but necessary. What it taught me was that there are people out there willingly to support and to those ANGEL DONORS I say THANK YOU! To finish off the film I applied to the National Film And Video Foundation and got a grant which made it possible to mix and grade the film.

The Process

I spent three years meditating on the film because I wanted to grow not just as a person but as a filmmaker. I wanted it to as good a film as it could be and I wanted to be sure that I was in the right space creatively to do it. I had rushed my feature film GOD IS AFRICAN and I had rushed to some extent my next short RIFLE ROAD. I wasn’t rushing this. I knew from the beginning that I wanted Eran Tahor to shoot it. Eran has a sensitivity that I like and he and I come from the same film of thought. I gave Eran the script to read and afterwards I told him that we would take a long time before we start shooting. He was okay with that. We had our first meeting at Seattle Coffee in Hyde Park where we spoke ideas. I told him about my images of Fire, Water and the fact that I wanted the film to be cinematic in the true sense of the word. I wanted to make an emotional powerful film that was epic in stature. 12mins but epic! He agreed and we spoke about what that meant. We wanted to shoot 35mm so there would be no half stepping. After that meeting, I would let the film slip to the back of my conscious and got on with the rest of my life but the film was never far from my mind. In Barbados in the summer of 2005 I took the script and wanted to start storyboarding and brainstorming ideas. I only got as far as the first page during the holiday. I poured the internet for stories, different stories about Jesus and Mary. Found lots of interesting things but nothing that gave me a hook. When I knew that I was doing the story there were a couple of things I knew I wanted to reference. I knew that I wanted to reference the old Yoruba myth about creation. Olodomare (God) sends his eldest son Oranmiyan to create the world and on the way he stops by a pub and gets drunk from plamwime and his brother Oduduwa who had overheard Olodomare’s instructions created the world instead. The idea that someone has a mission and they dilly dally for me was important. In Aryan’s script Jesus sets out with a clear focus. I wanted more ambiguity that she is isn’t sure of her mission and that it is a struggle. She wouldn’t go to a bar but she would walk the city and we won’t be sure why until later. I also wanted to heavily reference Ethiopia because of the Bible links. My first thought was to shoot the film in Ethiopia but around the time they started dropping bombs on Somalia I thought that won’t be a good idea. I wanted the tea cups to be small glasses like they do in Ethiopia. I wanted to see if I could work the Coffee Ceremony into the script but I couldn’t find a place and all of this was important for me because in the past I would just put that in but my key focus was only doing what was right for the story-that was it. The story had to come first. I had grown to admire films that were not only very story driven but extremely well told. No shot wasted, no line said that wasn’t important. For me the waffling of GOD IS AFRICAN was to be in the past. This was the future and I was determined to be the coach of my filmmaking game and be a strict coach. I also knew that while the film was set in Johannesburg I wanted it to resonate to the continent. I wanted in it’s simplicity to speak to a greater world. One of my first thought was to make it a movie with no dialogue, but some of Aryan’s dialogue was so beautifully written that I wanted to retain some of it not all. I thought of mixing language so Jesus would speak English, Mary Ethiopian or whatever language the actress spoke and The Giant would speak Pidgin English. I wanted the story to marinate in my body so I braced myself to embark on a journey I wasn’t familiar with. Being patient! As the years ticked on I knew that once I felt the impulse to make the film it would be too all consuming and I won’t be able to ignore it.
After the Toronto Film Festival in September 2006 I started feeling ready. My documentary had shown there and I left Toronto with a renewed spirit and vigor for the creative process. So I started going through pictures on the net to start getting a visual picture. A more concrete picture. Over the December holidays I just spent hours on the net pouring over pictures and articles linked to the imagery and story I wanted to tell.

The Fund Raising Party

For that party Eran and I thought it would be a good idea to project off the wall some images from the not yet shot film. Sort of like a promo. Also to give people a visual reference when they ask “What are we raising funds for?” we would point to the wall. So we took Mandisa out and went and shot some stills. We took them to graphics man extraordinaire, hereinafter referred to as The Editor, to prepare a collage that we could project on the wall. He put together a wicked 2min promo with text and stills which looked great on the wall. I had invited Aryan to the party so he could see what we were doing. As the party progressed, more people asked about the images and the main question posed was whether we would shoot the shot with stills. I thought it might be interesting but didn’t attach much importance.

Digital Stills

After the party I wanted to raise more money. I felt that what The Editor had done was great but maybe we needed to bring Mary and The Giant in so that the two minute promo told a story on its own. The good thing about it was that it would give Lesego an opportunity to practice the first scene. It would give us an opportunity to also see how far we could push that scene. We had to be up at 4a.m because the makeup would take about an hour and we had to shoot as the sun rose because we had no permission to shoot in Melville talk less of having a naked bleeding woman running down the street. It was a very tense shoot because up the road from where we were shooting was the police station. I kept on joking to everyone the day before to keep their phones on in case they had to come bail us out. Thankfully for us (but maybe not in terms of a great story!) we got all the shots we needed. The Editor then put this all together in a kickass promo which I was going to use to sell the film. I was waiting to hear back from one of the Corporations an Auntie of mine was approaching. The more the Corporation delayed the more we had discussions about shooting on stills but nothing concrete. In the meantime I watched the Chris Marker’s 1962 short La Jetee and it blew me away. It was shot with stills and was amazing. Then the Corporation disappointed us by not coming through. I felt that we would have to wait some more. Maybe another year? The thought of shooting on stills was still there and La Jetee had inspired me. Then we had BC (who I admire and respect) over for dinner and showed him the 2min promo. He practically insisted we shoot it on stills! That was all I needed to hear.

The Last Temptation

I really enjoyed ‘The Last Temptation of Christ’ so I checked it up on IMDB. In the Trivia section, it claims that Willem Dafoe who plays Jesus Christ couldn’t see for three days because he got too many eye drops to dilate the pupils of his eyes in bright sunlight to achieve a superhuman effect. I thought the eye drops was a good idea and tried it on Mandisa during one of the scenes. She didn’t become any more superhuman than she already is. It taught me a couple of things. Martin Scorsese definitely knows what he is doing and I don’t. Plus is it possible that IMDB could be just messing with my head?

Music

I obsessed about music for this film. My main idea as that I wanted a score that haunted me like Nicolas Ray’s ‘King Of Kings’. I wanted something that would pack an emotionally punch and long after you have watched Jesus And The Giant, the music as well as the images would stay with you for a long time. I first started listening to a lot of Ethiopian music and fell in love with that. I would have the CD’s in my car for weeks and just let the music take me to the movie. Initially I had imagined that if I had cast the Ethiopian girl I had wanted for Mary, she could sing for the soundtrack. Somewhere in our interview I thought I had heard her say that she could sing. Turns out she could dance but not sing. I then felt the thing to do would be to get an Ethiopian choir, but I wasn’t quite convinced. I decided to let it come to me. After one of my meetings with Eran, I mentioned my search for music and he said I should listen to the ‘Stabat Mater’. He described it as the best music ever written. The Stabat Mater was a 13th Century Hymn that describes the sorrow of Mary at the cross. I went straight to Hyde Park and at the ‘Look And Listen’ asked whether they had a copy. They did and I listened and was blown away. It also took me to places that I can’t describe. During the shoot I thought Mandisa could sing something for the soundtrack and I gave her the Stabat Mater and asked her to give her interpretation of it. She combined with Hlubi and they produced one of the most beautiful pieces I have ever heard and it was then I knew that the film would kick. Much later in the process I related the story to Aryan and he then told me that he had played the Stabat Mater to Eran and Jade one night. It was them, the music and a fireplace. It’s funny that it had come full circle.

The Editor

The shoot was spread out over a couple of days so that we would always have enough time to look at what we were doing, see what was working and what wasn’t and then fix and tweak as we went along. The most important part of this was the editing of the film. The Editor was moving to Cape Town and had a few days, 10 days to be exact, to edit the film or take it up to a rough cut. We agreed that this was what he would do and we agreed on the money he would be paid. I started getting worried when I watched what he did. There was no passion in it at all. He wasn’t focused on the story, he wasn’t focused on the images. It was a mess. And I was really disappointed.

Picking Up The Pieces

After I told The Editor I wasn’t happy with what he had done I needed a timeout. Usually what that means for me is to forget about the project. Usually starts with basketball. I escape to the courts. So for one weekend I forgot there was something called JESUS AND THE GIANT. On Monday I decided to approach the Video Lab and see whether they had some people that could work on a project like this. After discussions with Robbie we agreed that this was an opportunity to start again. Relook at the project. I thought of a few people I could approach. The problem of course was that because The Editor, Eran and I had been intimately involved in the film it was going to be difficult to find someone to come in and be at the same level we were at. In fact Eran had some doubts about replacing The Editor. For me it was a no brainer. The man hadn’t delivered and he was moving to Cape Town. I didn’t want the agony of traveling two hours to Cape Town and then being totally disappointed and then coming back to Joburg depressed. The Editor was out. Even if we had to wait for months I wasn’t going to rush into this. I was going to take my time and find the right person. I spoke briefly to Mic Mann but we could never get together because of schedule conflicts. I met with Tracey at the Video lab and while they were excited they didn’t want to edit it. They thought we could come back when we were ready to online. The good thing about meeting with Tracey was that she sent me some links to YouTube which had films shot on stills. This was an eye opener because for the first time I didn’t feel alone. I could see what others had done and were doing. This was great! In the meantime I thought I should meet up with Aryan and talk to him about some of my frustrations. At that moment he sent me an email saying he had heard that I was searching for an editor and would I consider him? I hadn’t thought about that but I felt that it was an interesting proposition. Of course I would have to have a serious conversation with him first. At the time I had to leave for the Grahamstown Festival to showcase my work as part of the conditions for winning The Young Artist Award, so we decided to meet when I got back.

Aryan Kaganof Again

This time the conversation was very different. In the beginning he had given me his script three years ago and now three years later we were sitting discussing the film only this time it was mine and I had to be sure that he would be editing my film and not trying to make his film. In Grahamstown one film critic had been a bit skeptical about the union in fact he found it hard to believe that Aryan had kept his distance over the years as I developed the script and now he wasn’t sure how it was going to work with Aryan editing. There was a part of me that was worried but I wasn’t too worried because he had shown me great faith during the first three years. I felt that he wouldn’t suddenly change and want to control the film. However, experience had taught me to be cautious. Also the spirit in which we discussed the initial contract was so straightforward that somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it would be fine. We sat and talked. I spoke about my concerns and he answered much like I expected. The minute he had given up his script he had given it up. All he wanted was to make sure that the film I wanted to make was realized because he had heard about how pissed I was about The Editor. We drew up a contract and he got to work. I slept very well that night because I knew that no matter what happened there was no question about Aryan’s commitment and passion and also his craft. The film was going to be alright.

Reshoot

From the earlier shoot there were a couple of things we didn’t get. For instance when we were shooting at Teddy’s place we blew the electricity so we couldn’t get the shot of Jesus and The Giant through the kettle as it boils or her reaction to the kettle boiling when she has beaten him up. So that was a pickup. Also we didn’t shoot the end of the film on 35mm. The last shot of the film is on 35mm and that stock was being sponsored by producer Tendeka. He was graciously giving us some left over stock from the ‘Jerusalema’ shoot. We didn’t get to it because I wanted time to think about it and didn’t want to rush. Then I was never really happy with the walking shots in town. I liked some of them but others I hated. I felt we were missing another layer and we decided to shoot in Rockey Street. Also I wanted to get some more gritty imagery of the city. So Eran and I started walking up Empire Street with the camera and shot as we walked. We walked past the Nelson Mandela Bridge still shooting and then we discovered a taxi rank and we shot in there and it was amazing! Suddenly the film started coming to life for me. Later that day in Rockey Street just walking with Eran and Mandisa and the security guards of course, was almost a religious experience for me because it gave the film soul. It was what we had been missing. For the first time on this shoot I felt I was a filmmaker.

I hated the first shot of the film when Jesus is introduced because the sky was grey and I wanted clouds so I wanted to reshoot it. I was never really happy with how we shot Lesego running because it was in the early days so I wanted the possibility of reshooting that. Of course during the winter, shooting that scene with Lesego was out of the question. Eran had to travel to Cape Town to shoot a drama so he was only back in September which was good for me cause it gave Aryan and I time with the edit to craft and mould the picture and also so that we would discover what we needed additionally to pick up or to reshoot.
In earlier discussions with him I thought I would reshoot the entire beginning but as he worked on he found a way around the beginning which worked for me.

Single Frame

The edit has been challenging for Aryan. It is forcing him to work in a very different style and he has found it challenging and exhilarating. For me it has been a joy working with him because we both care about the story. Every discussion we have is passionate and inspiring. In a way The Editor not delivering was the best thing to happen to me.

Warrick Sony

I had always fantasized about making a film with no sound and creating the sound from scratch. In fact in my earlier dreams about the film I thought of shooting on 16mm without sound and creating it later. In a way that aspect has played itself out here because there is no sound when shooting with stills. From the jump Robbie suggested Warrick Sony. I was intrigued. I had never met Warrick but since Robbie was convinced that this was his thing I knew he had to be right. I phoned Warrick cause he lives in Cape Town and we had a great opening chat. He was coming up to Joburg the next week and he said we could get together then. We then met the three of us Warrick, Aryan and I and watched some of stuff and just spoke about possibilities. It was very exciting and he was very excited. He had collaborated with Aryan in the past on SMS SUGAR MAN so they were familiar with each other. He was on board which was exciting. The process would be that Aryan would cut and send down stuff to him and then he would add the music and send back up to us. After the December holidays Warrick had a gap in his schedule that allowed us to set a date. Originally I had wanted Warrick and Yoav working at the same time. Yoav doing the grade and Warrick doing the sound however that changed because it was likely that we would change some things in the picture and that would create an out of sync problem so it was decided that after Yoav, Warrick was up next. He had already laid down some sound samples from previous cuts but nothing final and the Monday before he was to start fully we had a screening of the film for him, Robbie and Kgomotso. When I flew down to Cape Town we spoke about the process. He would strip the film of the music and slowly build the tone and feel and if we needed music we would add it later. This worked extremely well. When I heard the opening drone over the rising sun I knew we were in business!

The Cut

I always knew going in that I won’t have any idea how the film would turn out. I only knew that it was going to be tough because of the medium we shot it in. Lots of decisions would have to be made as we ourselves began to understand this beast that we had shot. The first thing of course that we could learn from The Editor’s cut was timing and pace. Because in a single frame the challenge is that it has no pace, we determine it. The first couple of sessions included looking at some scenes isolated and also to determine the style. I always liked the jagged style and encouraged Aryan to go with that. He wanted to be sure that he heads off in the right direction. Once he knew I was cool with the jagged style he felt more comfortable. A lot of our decisions were based on re structuring the film. The script had said one thing, I had filmed one thing and now we had to put the film together with the material we had. The editing process was given 5 months. I was happy with this because it meant that we could go back and forth and not rush into things. What transpired over these five months would be difficult to explain without being melodramatic.

Aryan and Akin

Our industry is stressful. You never know whether people are being genuine or not. I am always interested in the search for people that are all about the work. My love of basketball informs my love of the process of filmmaking. In basketball in a pickup game you select players that have the ability to make you win. The rules on the court are that the winning team stays on so if you don’t want to be sitting the whole afternoon you pick the right team. It has nothing to do with ego - it’s about winning. What Aryan and I shared during those five months was for me the equivalent of a well played pick up game. Sharing, laughing, arguing, intense debates about film and lots of ginger tea. Even as I write this I smile remembering that room. Life, when it’s sweet, it’s sweet. And that time of our life was sweet.

Jesus And The Giant premieres at The 2008 Toronto Film Festival in September.

South Africa 2008 – 12 minutes
Director: Akin Omotoso
Producer: Akin Omotoso, Robbie Thorpe, Kgomotso Matsunyane
Script: Aryan Kaganof
Photography: Eran Tahor
Music & sound design: Warrick Sony
Editor: Aryan Kaganof
Cast: Mandisa Bardill, Sonni Chidiebere Ochuba, Lesego Mabilo

A raped and beaten woman called Mary arrives at Jesus’ door. Her attacker is her lover, the Giant. Jesus believes in peace but realizes that something has to be done. Grabbing a bass ball bat she goes to see the Giant. He is polite and full of concern for Mary. He explains to Jesus that to maintain dominance, women have to be beaten by their men. Abandoning peace for a moment, Jesus wallops the Giant so hard that he will never stand up again. A new balance in place, she can return to a being of peace. An unlikely collaboration of Aryan Kaganof (script and editing) – prolific high priest of transgression and Akin Omotoso (director) – Nigerian-born soap star, producer, director (God is African) and intellectual. Together they bring a mutual abhorrence of rape, handled before by both of them in Nice to Meet You, Please don’t Rape Me (Kaganof) and The Kiss of Milk (Omotoso) and a Jungian playfulness with archetypal characters. Jesus is transformed into a black woman – like her historical counterpart she brings peace but in this scripture she can only do so by violence. Mary, the virgin raped by Father God, here the Giant, is a catalyst for the confrontation between the Princess of Peace and the Angry Old Codger with a Coke Habit who she overcomes. Shot entirely on a digital stills camera (except for the final shot), 7000 stills are stitched together in a montage that is as audacious as the concept.

text: trevor steele-taylor

I bumped into a Nigerian film maker friend of mine called Rin Mola, the other day. It was great to see him. Hadn’t seen him in a while. I had to congratulate him on the release of his movie. He had made it against the odds. The film, The Beautiful Ones Are Born had done well internationally and Rin Mola had to fend off requests for the movie because everyone always asked “when is it being released in this country”. Now it was on circuit for all to see. I had seen it. Rounded up my film gang and went to the Zone to check it out. The film has its problems and I had indicated this to Rin Mola when he first mentioned the project to me but he didn’t listen. Anyway, despite the problems, to my surprise I enjoyed the film. The issues its raised about African youth, the humour and its urban rough feel. I could knock it technically but that would be quite short-sighted. Everyone starts somewhere. Talk to Rin Mola after his tenth film-anyone seen El mariachi? He didn’t seem too excited. I questioned him about this. I was like, man you are living the dream of every wannabe film maker-your movie has been released, there’s a soundtrack-I mean how can you be depressed. He told me a tale which I feel I have to share. As a budding filmmaker I feel people should know the story so avoid it ever happening again.
Rin Mola told me about how the company that was supposed to represent him had tricked him. They had made him believe they had money but had none. Very stupid I told him. You should have consulted a lawyer. He said, he was blinded by trust. Still stupid I said. Then I asked but isn’t the guy who runs that company a Nigerian? Not only Nigerian, he’s from our tribe! I said, and he is playing you like this? Rin Mola shook his head in disgust. He was very worried that this company would not fulfil its obligations to the film. They had tried to lie to him about a grant from the government calling it a loan, they had borrowed money from him and even told him to his face that the movie wasn’t “his fucking movie”. Claiming in public they saved his film yet they hadn’t even finished paying the editor. He had never seen such a display of megalomania. I remarked to him that I had found it strange that the guy’s name had appeared twice on the poster. Rin Mola said he was engaging his lawyers to try and get his film back. He didn’t want a situation where his film was making money years down the line and the guys at the company would claim that they were still paying their costs-meanwhile he was a struggling film maker. I assure him, I didn’t think that would happen but he had to protect his interests. Rin Mola was in tears by now and I really felt sorry for him. Someone came up to him and said “Great movie” and walked away. He told me he couldn’t really enjoy the success because he was still fighting the company. I was running late and I had to leave. As much as I wanted to listen to his sob story I had to go. I asked: “in a nutshell what are you telling me?”
“Beware those that come with smiles. Beware those who come in the name of black brotherhood but are no different from the sharks they want to replace. Beware those in the fancy cars that call themselves producers. Beware those who can switch face so quickly and have lost all their morals in the pursuit of a quick buck. Keep a lawyer close. Beware those who are the enemies of promise”

I believe in God
I believe in film
I believe in Basketball
I believe in the healing power of laughter
I believe in family
I believe in women
I believe in honesty no matter how brutal
I believe in intelligent people
I believe in Africa
I believe no matter how difficult in the human race
I believe in working on my weaknesses
I believe the end of Raoul Peck’s film ‘Lumumba’ has one of the best endings of a film ever
I believe the end of Bryan Singer’s film ‘The Usual Suspects’ has the other
I believe the beginning of Djibril Diop Mambety’s film ‘Hyenas’ has one of the best beginnings of a film ever
I believe President Thomas Sankara was one of the greatest leaders this continent ever lost
I believe in Literature
I believe every time I leave the African continent I am entering hostile territory
I believe in this quote from Ntare Mwine play ‘Biro’. It goes: ‘my father gave me the name Mwerinde ebiro. It means beware of time because it has the answers.’
I believe in kissing. Lots of kissing.
I believe like Bob Marley ‘one good thing about music/when it hits you feel no pain’
I believe in the theory of ‘having access to things’ as opposed to ‘ownership of things’
I believe in hot chocolate
I believe our local film industry should do more co productions with African countries
I believe most films on the truth commission lie
I believe there should be a tax on foreign films in our cinemas like it’s done overseas in certain countries
I believe that Michael Jordan is the greatest athlete ever
I believe that Ali was the Greatest
I believe the World Cup in 2010 will be a success
I believe that South Africa won’t win the cup however
I believe that Nigeria will win-cause the cup must remain on the continent
I believe Cameroon was robbed in the 1990 World Cup quarter finals
I believe Roberto Baggio owes Nigeria something for World Cup 1994. Something! I just don’t know what.
I believe in T.O.M. Pictures
I believe the SABC and MNET should cover FESPACO like they cover the Oscars
I believe in winning the Golden Stallion of Yenenga at FESPACO before the Oscar
I believe the Oscar is pretty cool too
I believe in rum and coke
I believe in peanuts and coke
I believe in smarties and coke at the movies instead of popcorn
I believe in love at first sight
I believe in people with passion
I believe that Brenda Fassie was serious when she told me she would hire me as her garden boy
I believe Craig Freimond’s film ‘Gums and Noses’ should have been released on the big screen
I believe most people that start a sentence with ‘I don’t usually do this…’ usually do
I believe producers that benefited from the matchbox system during Apartheid should pay some money back
I believe Abderrahmane Sissako is one of the classiest directors I have met
I believe in a different kind of black
I believe Tanya Farber should say what she really thinks when she reviews South African films
I believe in the South African filmmakers around me
I believe in Nollywood
I believe certain companies should have started transformation a long time ago
I believe if a foreign star helps get your film made so be it
I believe if you don’t like Morgan Freeman playing Mandela, go make your own film
I believe in hip hop
I believe that if you embrace freedom of speech embrace the key word ‘freedom’
I believe in Fela Anikulapo Kuti when he says ‘Teacher don’t teach me nonsense’
I believe that I know nothing and I love the fact that I know nothing.
I believe in myself

Sometimes the superficiality of our industry distresses me and I wonder if like the men in GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS I am trapped in a cycle I can’t escape from because of the passion it breeds in me. The spectacle of the people on the outside that can’t get in. I am in and yet I feel like a stranger. I feel like a stranger in my own living room or should is say room. Maybe it’s just Cannes. Maybe I am growing up. Maybe it’s the turbulence on the plane as I jot down these thoughts. The meeting with Alex was at once sobering, exciting and yet not fulfilling. A feeling of wanting to chat more but the constraints of time, place making it impossible. The festival welcomes you and spits you out once it’s done with you. Who are you? Nothing. Yet within that frustration your accomplishments stand out. People are proud of your achievements. I can’t stop myself from speaking in the third person. The burden for me is always the desire to better myself. To not get too close to the sun for fear that the max might melt on my wings and I would fall hard to the ground. What if that is an illusion. The fear that this isn’t all going to last. Sembene Ousman to Clint Eastwood are making their best films now. I am going to be thirty one. They are forty years older than I am. There are no shortcuts to that forty years. I have to walk that road and discover new things.

It’s the discovery and the possibilities of the journey that excite me. Everything I learn an addition to my suitcase, everything I forget, an omission in my judgement. I have to go back and get it. The people on the way, the smiles, the laughter, the discussions. And all I am armed with are my beliefs. To be honest, to represent the truth, to be honest to myself. To make peace with myself. Also to be a better person. My greatest fear is that I become a member of the crowd. A disgruntled filmmaker. I am sure I not heading down that course but who ever is? Rudolph, the producer of DRUM asked. “How long are you going to be around?”

Long.

It was a warm day in Toronto when I sat in a packed theatre to watch Ramadan Suleman’s second film Zulu Love Letter. In the audience were various members of the South African industry and next to me a prominent actor. Ramadan introduced his film very well “I am going to take you on a journey to South Africa, when we return we will talk”. Great, I thought, short and sweet.

The film began. The actor, after about ten minutes, started whispering to me about how bad he thought it was. I asked him to please shut up so I could watch the film. It did irritate me that he had already started making his judgements based on ten minutes. And throughout the film I have to report he shifted and turned, sucked in his breath, hissed and kept whispering in my ear. On one level I found him funny because I didn’t know what film he was watching. The film he was watching must have been painful because the movie I was watching, the love letter I was receiving I was enjoying.

It was refreshing to see a film about the Truth and Reconciliation Commission because most films about the Truth Commission lie. The lens is in the wrong place, focusing on the people that didn’t experience the struggle. I have always felt that the lens of the camera should be focused on the ones living with the aftermath of apartheid. In Ramadan’s Love Letter I saw images I felt had been missing from the cinematic debate of the TRC. I saw theories that I had often wondered about realised on screen.

The film travelled to Venice, picked up amongst others an award for Best Actress at FESPACO and the Special jury Prize at the Durban Film Festival. All the while I was waiting to see and hear what people back home in South Africa would say about the film.

Back home in an interview with the Sunday Times, Colin Moss in speaking about the new Darrell Roodt film that he is in says, “It’s a nice change. For so long we’ve made these art movies about politics that no one wants to see, but the first thing we have got to do to have a successful local industry is to put bums on seats and make money”.

Now Colin is entitled to his opinion and I agree with certain aspects of his statement. I am all for bums on seats. Show me a director or a producer that isn’t. His first statement however gets bandied about so much that it starts to become truth. And since we are dealing with truth in Zulu let’s examine other so-called ‘truths’ in our industry.

“There are no black writers, directors, producers, cameramen, sound men, grips etc”. One of the saddest ‘truths’ about our new democracy is the dumbing down of the nation. The idea that ‘being deep’ is a problem. I have sat at endless dinner parties, watched debates, listened to debates on SAFM about the South African film industry to last a lifetime and the one thing that always gets my goat up is when someone says “No more political films”.

Let me go out on a limb here as a director and writer in the industry. There is nothing wrong with political films; in fact I will say what others have said before me “all films are political”. The young film school kid that tells me “I don’t watch political films” I am quick to point out that that very choice is political. I am open to have a debate about whether the films are boring or not but to have them shoved under the carpet is not the answer. Because of the nature of the industry and the funding, we haven’t had an opportunity to make vast amounts of work, so what tends to be seen are the political films, but this landscape in itself is changing as I write this.

Amongst these ‘political films’ are Gums and Noses, Dollars and White Pipes, Max and Mona, Crazy Monkey, Twist, U Carmen eKhayletsha, The Flyer, Faith’s Corner, Conversations On A Sunday Afternoon, Tsotsi, Hijack Stories and others. And I haven’t even mentioned old Leon. If the knock on the political films is that they don’t make money well my feeling is if someone is giving you money for a film you should find ways of paying back the money. But don’t stop people from funding the films they want to fund. Mapantsula is a great film, politics or no politics. Other films have touched on politics with varying degrees of success both from a filmic point of view and the audience but that does not mean that there isn’t a market for them.

I find sometimes in our country certain people always want things to be clear-cut. You are either this or that. If you act on a soap opera you can’t act on a drama because the audience will get confused. If you start a new drama you have to cast unknowns because no one wants to see the same faces. As if acting is a one-stop shop department only. You hear it every time a project starts we need new black writers but nothing in plan for the ones that worked on the last project, where is the growth?

If political films don’t work we must make commercial films. As if anyone knows what that is. Hollywood, the master of commercial films doesn’t even get it right. I meet students or people who say we are tired of politics bring something else to which I say my suggestion is make films. And try to make them well. Period. Don’t subscribe or speak an opinion as if it’s truth. A good friend of mine always says ‘people forget that there is such a thing as taste’. We have different tastes and if your taste isn’t for the political watch something else. Which people don’t want to see political films, I ask Colin. I meet people on the street who are crying for films that have political content only. I think people want to see good films and films that speak of the continent. Comedy or tragedy. I agree that maybe as a film telling nation the structure of story, character, plot needs to be developed to produce polished works but to say that we were making art films on politics no one wanted to see is a lie. Film is the TRUTH. People want to see the truth.

And this brings me back to Ramadan Suleman. The man has a lot to say. He has opinions and he is clear about the message he intends bringing. Zulu Love Letter is the truth because it doesn’t compromise the ugliness and the pain of the country. If the saying change is pain means anything it reflects in Zulu. The mother that can’t communicate with her daughter who is deaf as a result of beatings she received during her pregnancy from the apartheid police. The comrades that walk the streets without purpose as played by Hugh Masebenza. The film speaks a truth. The policeman that refuses to testify before the TRC was one of my favourite scenes. It struck a chord with me because I remember reading about guys that didn’t want to testify. Yet this image might have been prevalent in documentaries but I never saw it to my satisfaction in fiction filmmaking. The subtle intimidation the black police officer uses to warn the woman of pursuing their case to the TRC. The resounding message at the end of the film that there are many dead souls wondering the land, many unreturned heroes and heroines, many families waiting for the return of their loved ones. Waiting for some sign of life. In the midst of this chaos what kind of film would represent this. The film is raw. It’s an open wound that has flies settling in because this is the reality. The pulse might still be rainbow but the nation hasn’t found the pot of gold.

The surreal elements in the movie also lend to this mood of the country. A country where people still fight transformation, a country where people are eager to forget and panic when the conversation shifts to pre 1994, a country that has to create a logo called ‘proudly South African’, a country where everyone is afraid to hurt the other, a country where dinner tales aren’t complete with one or two hijack stories and a country where the second economy reigns supreme. It’s a country in change. And change is Pain. And the beauty in my country of Zulu Love Letter is in the red dust of forgiveness it raises another point of view. A raw language, making it impossible to ignore no matter what they say.

There’s a Rwandan saying. It goes like this:

God visits other places during the daytime but at night rests in Rwanda.

Going to Rwanda is like the old joke. “Instead of saying ‘Honey please pass the butter’, I said ‘You bitch! You ruined my life!’”. In Rwanda you want to ask “Where were you during the genocide?” instead you say “Please pass the honey”.

Landing
Landing in Rwanda was surreal. I looked out the plane window and my eyes were greeted with the green. Green green green. Then a voice reminded me that this was the land of a thousand hills and those dips I was viewing from the plane were a sight to behold. At Passport control, the guy in front of me was treated well. Laughs and smiles. I started feeling that Rwandan hospitality I knew nothing about. Then I remembered Strini Pillay’s words. Strini told me Rwandans treat white people very well but black people terribly. Laughs and smiles in front of me was white. So when I stepped up I approached with a smile. He returned my smile and within seconds I forgot about Strini and was in Kigali. John the driver from the production had picked me up and was taking me to the set. After the quick meeting I was whisked off to Hotel Des Mille Collines a.k.a Hotel Rwanda. On the way I was taking in the city landscape, the water fountains at the roundabouts, the valleys receding into the skyline. I remembered images from Raoul Peck’s Sometimes In April.

Hotel Rwanda
After the nap and a shower I went to dinner. The sight of goat meat on the menu got me excited and I ordered it. Mistake. Not the most appetizing. I decided to hit the night. The guy at reception said it was safe. Paul Kagame is on record saying Kigali is safer than Johannesburg. War torn DRC is safer than Johannesburg. I walked left and found nothing but pitch darkness. I walked right - pitch darkness. The city was asleep. I went back to the hotel. I asked a lady in the corridor what the time was. She supplied me with the correct time and then offered to come and keep me company. I said politely declined. Later on we nicknamed the girls ‘Angie’, because that’s how they introduced themselves. One of the other actors was buying some cloth at the hotel lobby and had asked if there was anything else he could buy and Angie had replied ‘Me?’ I went to sleep to the news of Hamas asking The International Community to intervene to stop the Israeli’s. Being in that hotel, knowing the history of the genocide I thought it was ironic and thought Hamas should know what kind of the guest The International Community is. A no show.

Searching For Paul Kagame
Morning found me at breakfast with two other actors in the film, John and Kenneth. John is from Kenya and had a brief appearance in The Constant Gardner. Kenneth, or Pepe as he insists on being called, acted in Yesterday, the Oscar nominated South African Film.

A quick word on Pepe. When I met Kenneth he introduced himself as Kenneth. When John kept referring to him as Pepe as we waited in the lobby I wondered what the? I discovered that Pepe is his African name and he doesn’t want to be called Kenneth. Nuff said!

We took to the streets. The mission was twofold. John had to pick up a tape and I was looking for audio recordings and videos of Paul Kagame. The internet has been useless, just giving me the background I needed and visuals but no voice. John’s mission was easy. At the video shop he picked up his tape and we asked if they had visuals of the Presido. They didn’t. The woman sent us to the radio station. One of the things that struck me on the walk was the brandishing of Ak-47’s by the security guards. Their fingers on the trigger. Ready for…what? I thought. At the radio station the producer we spoke to told me I was too short to play Paul Kagame and I needed to be skinnier. We all laughed but he couldn’t help us. We needed to write a letter. John had another friend who would be able to help us, he said. John’s friend was very helpful. One phone call and a tape was being made as he dropped the phone. We needed to write a note but this note was a mere formality and wasn’t going to disappear into the vaults of applications, demo tapes, competition etc at the radio station. We left him feeling mission accomplished. He did say I was too short to play Kagame.

Kigali International
I was cutting it fine to the airport but I got there in time. Now I accept every airport is different and each carries out the duty of taking and receiving visitors as they feel fit. Not sure if there is accepted practice in the Airport industry because I certainly haven’t felt that. What I have felt more often is that there are no conventions or airport rules. So in Burkina Faso you have to check in twice, in Milan you have to pay to use the trolleys and in Rwanda to get into the airport as you depart, you stand outside in the blazing sun and a security guard checks your ticket and passport. I guess to ensure that the only reason you are the gate is indeed to leave the country. I had an e-ticket so I hoped he understood what that meant. Inside the woman tells me their system is down so I have to have the ticket verified upstairs. Upstairs he asks me for the printout to which I reply I lost it and he says the system is down so he can’t verify my ticket! He has to phone Nairobi. It takes them twenty minutes to get through to Nairobi. They confirm my ticket and I am asking myself if the system is down how to they verify who’d flying and booked! A terrorist’s wet dream. I get my boarding pass and my seat number reads FREE. Great, even Kulula has stopped the free seating thing. On the plane after everyone had hustled for their seats, the last thing I remember before I dozed off is that the gentleman next to me let out a large burp. I thought: no attempt to hide it? How rude. He followed up with another louder one, as if answering my thoughts. I smiled and drifted off to sleep. Is it me or do they dub Bollywood films into English in Kenya?

Return To Rwanda
I am struggling not to ask people I come into contact with about the genocide. Also I keep walking down the street looking for signs to see if its coming back again. In South Africa it’s quite clear Apartheid can’t return (at least not in the format it was presented) but here in Kigali, someone could flip. Start cutting people up. I look behind the smiles. Yes they greet me at the door but could they also turn around and give the killers my room number. At least staying at Hotel Rwanda gives me comfort. This place has a reputation for saving people. Had a surreal moment. Was watching Hotel Rwanda dubbed in French at Hotel Rwanda knowing it was shot in South Africa. Forgive my paranoia but I started thinking that to come to Rwanda is to meet death, the possibility of it, it’s to meet possible collaborators that have fitted into society but more and more I feel I am meeting life. Life in all it’s full breasted glory.

News Of War
It’s ironic again that in these mountains of peace, news should reach us of the bombing of Lebanon’s airport by Israel in retaliation for Hezbollah’s bombing of Heifa. That body, The International Community is once again scrambling. As usual, the powerful protect the power. Hearing of death in this place of peace. I start crying psychologically. When are we going to stop killing each other? People I am tired. I am ashamed of the human race. We are a disgrace. Not any of us is any use. I am totally ashamed to be human. The most intelligent life forms on earth. Yeah right.

The Girl On The Bus
Lunch was over and I was exhausted. I went down in the bus and when the driver dropped the actor’s off I stayed in the bus to dose some more. His next pick up were the children in the scene. They came in loud and cheerful. Don’t know how much activity happens on the tea farms but the presence of camera’s etc must have contributed to their excitement. A small girl sat next to me and chatted away animatedly to her friends. I looked out the window on the dusty winding road thinking about Ted Hughes poem “The Horses”. The last line came to me. In din of crowded streets, going among the years, the faces/May I still meet my memory in so lonely a place/Between the streams and the red clouds, hearing the curlews/Hearing the horizons endure. It was then I realized the small girl was resting peacefully on my shoulder. Her eyes closed. Her friends still chatting loud but she was quiet resting on my shoulder. She got up to say something to her friends and then rested back on my shoulder. I made sure I kept very still. I didn’t want to give off a vibe that suggested she couldn’t find comfort in a stranger’s shoulder. The bus came to a halt, the children bundled out. I was left alone. Surrounded by all this beauty that for me was the most beautiful moment and I respected it enough not to take a picture. Her eyes closed. Resting peacefully. Her smile. In all my travels from this day forth I will come back to that image because in that moment I felt at peace.

Formula One
Driving the world around is notoriously bad I am sure. Italy is bad. In South Africa when the traffic lights are down the lanes become a four way stop. It’s something that has always impressed me somewhat about South African driving. It’s an unwritten code and when it happens, South African motorists slip into character, this isn’t the case in Milan. Because in Milan when the lights are down it becomes a free for all. I nearly lost my mind as our taxi driver went into the maze of speeding cars hooting and screaming for all to get out of his way! The master race my foot! Barbados roads aren’t bad and the driving there is fine. Traffic jams at 11pm in Los Angeles drove me mad. Johannesburg drivers are bad. Durban drivers are bad (zero tolerance or no zero tolerance). Taxi drivers are the worst but I think that’s universal. However in Rwanda, driving is something else. It’s right hand drive out there so that takes some getting used to and that’s fine. Adjusting to those roads is the least of my worries. The drivers however are competing to enter the next Formula One because I have never seen such speed on some of the narrowest and bumpiest roads in my life. In Kigali where the roads are clean and smooth, the drivers straddle the lanes and if another car approaches (as is wont to happen), it becomes an eyeball match. Who will blink first! Outside Kigali as you travel and move off the roads into the mountains and the roads become dustier it’s another story. A truck was overturned in a ditch just outside Kigali and on our way to the set two guys were staring at it. The next day, the truck was still there and the same two guys were staring at it. Arrive Alive people. Down a windy, bumpy, dusty road at 6pm, our driver decides at this moment to make a phone call, looking down as the dust rises before a corner to dial numbers! Hands free? Now his English isn’t good and neither is my Kyirwanda. My French is a combination of restaurant French and charades. He can’t see my stares in the dark so I try to make sounds to indicate to him that I am not feeling his driving. Doesn’t work for he continues to drive recklessly. The two cameramen at the back don’t seem to mind. Finally a sign saying Kigali! Civilization finally! What made me smile was when our driver started swearing at another’s driver’s hopelessly bad driving!

First Day
They had kept us on set in case they needed us, so Tom and I used the opportunity to take pictures. I have never felt the picture reflex like I have felt in Rwanda especially in the hills of Kitara. Every thing is a picture. Soon it was like breathing. I didn’t have to think about it. Hills. Camera. Click. Hills. Camera. Click. And continuous clicking like one doesn’t want to stop looking and not convinced that digital technology is capturing this sight, this feeling, this moment. So the fingers keep snapping at the same image each one trying to better the last and then you stop. Lower the camera for the bodies’ eyes to feast on the view in the full understanding that God not only rests here, but the world should too.

In the summer of 1995 a new faze hit the University Of Cape Town’s Drama school. I was a second year student and that year we all discovered the movie Glengarry Glen Ross. Based on the David Mamet play of the same name, this story of the tough life of estate agents found a home in all our young eager actor hearts! Long monologues and tough dialogue-we were right at home! The third year students led by David Isaacs (of S.O.S fame) and Peter Callanghan (where are you Peter?) started the trend.

When my year moved to third year, Mark Dymond and I followed their lead. I played the Kevin Spacey character. Mark played the Jack Lemmon character. Peter had played the Alan Arkin character. David had played the Ed Harris character and backstage on Claire Stopford’s production of Shakespeare’s TWELFTH NIGHT David Isaacs and I played all the parts for Emil.

I had never heard of Emil before that play. He didn’t strike me as anything when we first met. I kept hoping we’d get along because we played the two henchmen. The first two weeks of rehearsal produced little sparks except the usual stuff. Everybody testing everyone else, challenging the director’s concept, breaking up with the girlfriends (me) and generally not investing anytime in good quality cast bonding. That stuff comes later after everyone settles and comes out of their little cocoons of fear, realising that everyone is just as scared as they are.

Emil Serfontein is a new young actor, Claire told me when I knew I got a part in the play. Never heard of him. Didn’t strike me as anything when we first met. I kept hoping we’d get along because we were the two henchmen. As usual the first two weeks of rehearsal produced little sparks. Everybody testing everyone else, too busy challenging the director’s concept, breaking up with the girlfriends(me) and generally not investing anytime in good quality cast bonding. That stuff comes later after everyone settles and comes out of their little cocoons of fear, realising that everyone is just as scared as they are.

Emil, David and I(we were later joined by Jackson) had small parts, so we kind of stayed on the periphery and watched the great Claire Stopford work with the actors. I was introduced to the great David Dennis, the great Ivan D Lucas, the great Michele Burgers and the great June van March and all the while I chilled out with my greats-David, Emil and Jackson.

We were the boys in the back. May the boys in the back come to the fore, said Ivan’s card to us on opening night. We came to the fore alright-all 15 minutes of stage time. He also gave us a mini basketball hoop cause he knew I was a fanatic. I believe in the power of God, Basketball and the power of 35mm.

All this while Emil and I were getting close. I dropped him home a number of times and I remember once having to pick him up at the Nico Malan at one o’clock and by 2 he hadn’t showed up. Missed his train he later said.

When the production started, the four of us were sent to the back dressing rooms. Maynardville leads in the front, the others in the back. There we would wait for our cues and entertain ourselves. One night David and I reminisced on Glengarry. Emil had never seen it. He was intrigued by it and David and I performed the roles from Ed to Alan, Al to Kevin, jack to Alec, Jonathan and back to Al. But Baldwin’s monologue impressed him the most and David and I took turns doing it. He never got bored and we never got bored. We settled into a routine-everynight once we got off stage for our hour and 15min long hiatus was Glengarry time. It was basketball time. It was also Emil’s time to recite the entire 12th night play. He knew everyone else’s lines. He would sit and act out each character of the play. From Butler to Bridgett, from Leeanne to D Lucas, from Michele to Gavin. And of course there was R.Kelly(before the child molestation scam). Emil loved 12Play and the routine went something like this: sing the song, do the monologue. We bought coca cola 2 litre and it rotated in fours and by the end of the two month run we sold the empties and split the money. Emil pestered us to see Glengarry, I pestered him to cough up the rands and cents to hire the video. And one Saturday afternoon Emil, David, Roshina Ratnam and I sat down to watch Glenagrry Glen Ross. Needless to say all three of us could quote the film now. Initially David and I used to tease Emil and Jackson about various things now, Emil, David and I would tease Jackson. All Jackson had to do was watch Glengarry Glen Ross.

After the play finished its run I never saw Emil again. I spoke to him often because he had a part in a movie I was working on called THE FINDERS OF MAD MEN. So usually he would call to find out when it was happening and I would reply soon. We always greeted each other with the same sentence “you call yourself a salesman you son of a bitch”-usually followed by laughter. I couldn’t believe how we had become good friends. He got good reviews for playing the lead in Marthinus Basson’s BOKLIED, I had moved to Jo’burg to be in Gray Hofmeyers ISIDINGO-THE NEED.

In December of ’98 I told myself I need to speak to Emil, the number I had for him seemed non existent. Marthinus gave me a new number for him. You must call Emil I said. You must call Emil I said in January. Tell him the film is about to happen. Call Emil I said in Febuary. Tell him the film is not about to happen but it would happen soon. Call Emil.

After Basketball practice one night Bo Petersen called me and told me that Emil had been killed in a car accident.

I’m trying to remember the last time we spoke. I’m trying to remember if I told him I had changed the name of the film. I’m trying to remember if I told him his part was going to be bigger. I’m trying but all I can remember is a space of 2months in a dressing room where four men bonded and two bonded the most. Numerous phone calls back and forth. I’m trying but all I remember is our variation on the Baldwin line “you call yourself an actor you son of a bitch?” You were an actor Emil. You were going to be great. I’m trying to freeze that image of the 5ft boy with the cap on top of his head and his shirt tucked in looking very smart. I’m trying to remember that smile. I’m trying but all I can think about is that we never got a chance to immortalize Emil on 35mm.

Akin was in Ouagadougou, the Capital of Burkina Faso, for the 2005 Fespaco. South Africa was not only well represented, but one the Golden Stallion award.

Akin travelled to Ouaga via Paris (as is so often the case, you have to fly via Europe to get to another African country).

Part I
Around the time I was sprawled out in a toilet cubicle at Charles de Gaulle airport, having just thrown up, I swore I wouldn’t die in Paris. I staggered out of the toilet and barely made it to the restaurant. The minute I got on a chair I collapsed. My eyes fading on me, providing me with images similar to viewing a child’s kaleidoscope toy. My heart beating faster as if racing to its finish. I order from the waiter. I am barely audible. The people around me are taking notice, almost afraid to look at this shivering African. My head is pounding. I start seeing black. No, I won’t die in Paris. The theme revisits itself later when I black out for an hour in one of the toilet cubicles between terminal 2C and 2F. No one knocked on the door, and then I realized something. No one knows the lifespan of an individual in a toilet at an airport. The comings and goings are fleeting. No one is ever too long in an airport toilet or too short not like a toilet at a club or at the office. It’s all about which cubicle is open and how quickly can it be used before the passenger misses his boarding. At one point I overhear a woman and a man talking in Pidgin English. I try to reach out from the toilet bowl I just threw up in and say to them I also speak the language. Friends of the same language separated by the concrete division of a toilet in an airport in a foreign land. I am however to weak to rise.

The waiter brings the water and orange juice and it doesn’t help. I order hot water. This takes longer. He serves others. I begin to feel I am a burden to him. Some immigrant that has wandered in looking for pity. When he eventually brings the hot water he asks in a quiet voice “Are you okay?” and I reply, thankful for his acknowledgement of my situation, that I am going to be all right. It’s the cold. For it is indeed the cold that is killing me. I underestimated the weather and temperature in Paris. When we arrived it was minus 3. I had on a t-shirt, jeans, socks and sandals and a flimsy jersey. My thinking was that the airport wouldn’t be cold. How wrong I was. By the time I left the plane I was shaking, by Passport Control I was shivering and by baggage check I was dying. I think the chicken on the plane the night before also had something to do with it. I spent nine hours with a high fever, shivering and throwing up in the five toilets that are between terminals 2C and 2F. Didn’t have time to change money, didn’t have time to do nothing. I just had time to survive.

When the plane touched down in Burkina Faso it was thirty degrees in the shade. I felt like I had been to hell and back. I spent the next three days recovering. Luckily I had arrived three days before the actual festival started so by the opening ceremony I was ready.

P.S. On the way back to South Africa I walked those corridors again and went into each of those toilets. This time warmly dressed and in control. I just wanted them to know. I had survived.

Part II
Twenty four hours before the Academy Of Motion Pictures and Sciences announced the winner of the Best Oscar in the Foreign Film category and less than a week after U-Carmen e-Khayelitsha won the Golden Bear, the 19th edition of FESPACO opened in Burkina Faso. Burkina Faso means ‘Land of the Incorruptible’ and on that afternoon, the incorruptible land welcomed all its visitors from the rest of the world with open arms at the Opening ceremony at the National Stadium. Filmmakers, film lovers, critics and journalists stood in awe as Salif Keita performed, casting a spell over the 30,000 plus crowd and preparing the way for the festival ahead. FESPACO is the bi annual Pan African Film Festival and its legendary status is renowned the world over. Words fail to describe the place and many travellers that have gone can only say to the less fortunate at home “You have to go”. Whether it’s the thousands of motorcycles on the road driven predominately by Burkinabe women or the nuns singing Ave Maria before you have dinner at the restaurant Eau Vive, the home of film couldn’t be in a better place.

Like all festivals there is a common meeting spot. In the case of FESPACO it’s the Hotel Independence. That hotel is the pulse of the festival. It is like the baobab tree in traditional African folklore. The baobab is where the elders gathered to discuss issues affecting the community. Around the great hotel swimming pool great directors and up and coming ones sit and discuss. In different parts of the courtyard the various radio stations are set up and this year notably the BBC which broadcast a daily report from FESPACO. Sometimes during discussions a woman walks past to the beat of a drum and you realise you are in the middle of a fashion show FESPACO style. No ramp, no camera nothing-just the models, the costumes from the particular film walking around the pool.

The themes of the films in competition this year varied in subject matter. From Zola Maseko’s DRUM which looks at the life of Drum journalist Henry Nxumalo to Dani Kouyate’s OUAGA SAGA which tells the story of 11 characters fighting poverty to realise their dreams to Zeze Gamboa O HEROI fresh off its win at the Sundance Film fest which deals with the story of a rehabilitating soldier from Angola this year was exciting. If there was a new kid on the block it was South Africa. Apart from a record four films in competition there were fourteen other films at the festival as part of screenings and out of competition events. Each played to packed houses. One woman remarked after seeing U-CARMEN E-KHAYELITSHA that she had goose bumps. The buzz was good and South Africa was on a high. As part of its contribution and continuing contribution to the growth not only of the South African industry but also partnering with other African festivals, The National Film and Video Foundation showed its true worth by introducing the Lionel Ngakane prize. Uncle Lionel as he was fondly called was a known patron of FESPACO. He was one of the godfathers of African Cinema and having an award named after him was a fitting tribute. It echoed one of the ceremonies of the festival. A Libation ceremony was held for the fathers of African film that had passed. People like Djibril Diop Mambety and Aboulaye Sow. As the week grows, films are watched, the talk starts. Who will win the Stallion? The word on the street was either a South African film would win or a woman filmmaker would win. Filmmakers in competition behave a little differently as the big day draws near. They hold their drinks a little closer, they are distracted in conversation, they often prefer to sit in silence, they rather talk about sport while others at the bar would want to discuss the films, the world press interviews them and the tension in their voices is heard.

The closing ceremony in the stadium was a little subdued this year, speculation was because of the two deaths at the opening ceremony. Nevertheless the stage is set and there is a red carpet and as each announcement came, hearts beat faster and as each award section is broken up with a performance the tension hangs in the air. And one by one South Africa’s finest walked that red carpet. Teddy Mattera and Ramadan Suleman. The Lionel Ngakane prize goes to TASSUMA by Daniel Kollo Sanou a native of Burkina and then the moment. Everyone strains forward, the film is announced, the clapping starts. Zola Maseko stands up, Abderrahman Sissako(last festival’s winner) hugs him, Zola makes his way down to the stage, behind him the South African flag is waving, on his way he hugs his friend and fellow filmmaker Farai Sevenzo. In the stands people start whispering ‘this is the first Anglo phone film since Kwaw Amsah’s Heritage Africa in 1989 to win’ ‘this is the first South African film ever to win’ ‘I told my friends Drum is the best film I have seen’. Zola delivers a beautiful speech honouring his partner and fellow producer the late Dumisani Dhlamini as he is handed the Etalon d’Or de Yennenga(Golden Stallion of Yennenga). A week after the Academy Of Motion Pictures and Sciences gave the Best Foreign Film to Spain; Africa gave South Africa its greatest prize.

Akin’s debut feature film, God is African, was released in 2002. It was screened across South Africa and has appeared at film festivals all over the world. In this piece he contemplates: The Curse of the Second Film

“Akin, the worst has happened. Your mother passed away this morning.”

With those words from my father, my whole world came crashing down. Standing at the entrance of the SABC, I cried. My mother meant everything to my family. She inspired me and most of all she was an angel. Up till that moment my debut feature film, GOD IS AFRICAN was all that mattered to me. It was about to released. She missed the release by four weeks. The hype surrounding the film threatened to cripple me. I suddenly didn’t care what people thought of the film. I had worked myself to a lather of paranoia in the months before it was released. What if the critics slate it? Would it go down as the worst film of the year? All these fears went. I just wanted to be with my family and mourn. They came out in their droves to see my mother off. My auntie’s formed a circle round her coffin. We as the family testified to her greatness. We laid her to rest. She left us the rest of our lives to remember her.

GOD IS AFRICAN was released and people said what they had to say. I traveled to film festivals and met other filmmakers who were making their own films and moulding their own dreams. The midnight boat ride in Amsterdam with Sami Sabiti and Jason Xenopolos was beautiful. The lunch with Uncle Lionel(rest in peace), Patrick Shai and Eddie Mbalo was a treat in Paris. Talking film with Sechaba while eating plantains in Ougadougou was exhilarating. The film’s reception worldwide-priceless.

And through all the travels the questions came: what are you going to do next? In Los Angeles I cracked a joke when asked that question. I said I was making SON OF GOD IS AFRICAN. I have often thought of a sequel. Ten years down the line when the time might come to investigate Africa once again. In the meantime I watched films and read. Four years of working on GOD had hindered a lot of that. I went back to the mundane existence that is the human experience. All this, while mourning for my mother.

Lots of false starts along the road to the 2nd movie. Speaking with director Ken Kaplin(Pure Blood) and Gina from The National Film and Video Foundation, the discussion was rather to skip the 2nd film and just move onto the third! When making GOD I was certain my next film would be MY BROTHER FROM ANOTHER MOTHER. A comedy that I had started writing at the time of GOD. I had money from the NFVF to develop the script. I had done read throughs and felt I was on the way. Got a budget and a plan. It soon became obvious as I went along that this won’t be my second film.

I started my own company with two of the most respected people in the industry. Robbie Thorpe and Kgotmotso Matsunyane. T.O.M Pictures, made up of our surnames. World domination is our aim. We were blessed to have produced Craig Friedmond’s excellent script based on his play GUMS AND NOSES. I feel at home with Robbie and Kgotmotso. The vision is the same, the passion unparallel. No more would I be subjected to a man who promised me he was transforming Africa only to find out that it was a joke. I was home. And in the night my mother visited me in my dreams.
Started working on projects. Some stalled because of writers block. Bouncing the ball on the court brought physical gratification but couldn’t quench the thirst of what I was going to do next.

I travel to Barbados to celebrate my grandfather’s 80th . I take a camera with me to observe. Still haven’t a clue what I am doing. I meet producers in London to discuss future projects. All sounds very exciting. Everyone has a chart about what Akin Omotoso should be doing next.

GOD IS AFRICAN was good, they say, but you have to move beyond that now. You need to make your next film, they say, what is it?

I always wondered about filmmakers that make one film and you never hear from them again. Now I understand what they might have gone through. Your second film is as important as your first but in a way it’s even more important. The security blanket mentality is actually to have made one film. However, I am still known as the guy who made GOD, what happens if the next film is a dud? People are willingly to forgive a lot of things in GOD, would they be so kind next time out. Wonder what type of curse that carries? I guess if the film is a dud you will hurry to make the next and hopefully erase all memories of that one. So one has to pick and choose carefully the next project. Even though there are no guarantees, as I said it’s a lot cooler being known as the guy who made GOD, than the guy who made that awful film. But I know I can’t resist the lure of storytelling and the pull of the camera. It’s embedded in my bones and it forms the air I breathe. I will make that next film. I just don’t know what it will be! And all the while the questions continue “what are you doing next”. And through that process I realize that actually, the only pressure I should feel is the pressure to make a great film. I look around and check what my director friends are doing.

An exciting year for South African film. Brendan made his film HEY BOY. Norman Maake’s film finally gets to see the light of day as SOLDIERS OF THE ROCK plays to packed houses in Toronto and picks up awards in Los Angeles. Zola Maseko made MR DRUM. Ramadan shot ZULU LOVE LETTER with Pamela Nomvete. Tim made TWIST on the back of thousands of rand. Terry made MAX AND MONA. My friend Quanita Adams stars in FORGIVENESS with Arnold Vosloo and Lionel Newtown. Craig made GUMS AND NOSES. Hakeem kae Kazim is working on his MACBETH project and Sami Sabiti’s written his script. It’s going to be a good year.

I read a book that captures my imagination. It captures my imagination so much I drag my best friend Tony Kgoroge to Botswana to meet the writer. She meets us and is happy to have us turn her book into a film. Pictures with her daughter and a friend, a signed poster of GOD, a party in the evening and I know I have found my second film. The curse is lifted. I contact a producer in New York. I bring the project to him. He takes me on a tour of his friends in New York and Johannesburg. The deal is being put together. I update the writer and she seems excited, even sends me an sms saying to keep believing in the project. I have my directors treatment ready. I have a man to write the script. There is a potential cast. I harass the actresses on the sets of GENERATIONS and ISIDINGO to read the book! Its stunning. I am happy. I feel my mother is happy. I have found my second film.

Finalising the deal between my company and the producer is proving difficult. So difficult that the producer sidesteps us and offers the writer in Botswana more money and she accepts. So much for the poem she wrote in my copy of her book. Everyone around me is furious but not as furious as I am. Hard lessons have been learnt. The double crosser wrote me an email asking me to call him, so he can say when he eventually makes the film that he tried to reach out to him and I didn’t respond. The writer tells me to be professional. That at least made me laugh.

As the dust settles in my head and I go about my day to day life, I realize that my second film has always been in the making. It’s a film suggested to me at a time when I didn’t know what I wanted to do. My mother asks us to interview our grandparents about their life. Being amongst the first West Indian immigrants to London. In 1999 when I was there we spoke of it. At the premiere of GOD in Barbados in 2002, we spoke of it. Before my mother died we spoke about it. I filmed my cousins, my grandparents, uncle and aunties getting stories about them. The footage sits in my cupboard. On a hot Saturday when the world watches the MANDELA AIDS concert, I watch the footage at my friend’s house. In that moment, I see my mother. I see what she meant. I know what she wants to see. A film starts forming in my head. It comes from deep in the soul. My soul. It doesn’t involve shady producers or people who promise you that they will set the world on fire for you only to forget to buy the matches. It’s rooted in the sounds of the Calypso music, the recipes of my grandfather and the beauty of my aunt Vonne. It rests in the streets of Cave Hill, the beautiful beaches of Barbados and the smile on the beautiful girl I met who said we used to play together as kids. At my mothers memorial in Barbados, I heard her voice. As my moms friends got the chance to pay their last respects, I heard her voice. She whispered to me. I nodded. I knew what my film would be. And as I embark on that journey, I buy my smarties and coke at the cinema and sit back in the dark to watch all these new South African films about the blast out into the world.

Thank you, Mummy.

this article first appeared on coffeebeans.co.za

The first time I read about Mel Gibson’s new movie The Passion Of The Christ, I quickly dismissed it. The report said it was going to be in Latin and Armaic. I thought “that’s a lost cause” and promptly forgot about it.

The next time it came to my attention was when a Jewish guy I was having dinner with said to his friend who was also Jewish “Have you heard about Gibson’s film?” “It’s going to be anti-semitic” “I know.” I was surprised. I thought the film had been finished and had gone underground.

Then bits and pieces started surfacing.

The Pope saw it and said it was fine (or did he?) and the word of mouth continued to build until it opened in the States and smashed all box office records. Reminds me of a line from a hip hop track “Five million sold/Album still selling though”. The Passion is still selling and people are lining up to get some of that juice. Mel Gibson spent his own money to make the film and that has always been a fantasy of mine. With God is African, I did spend my own money (along with some other people’s) so I haven’t reached my ultimate fantasy which is to spend my money on a film I believe in and make a profit like Mel Gibson has done. I can picture him waiting for them to set up lights on the set of the Lethal Weapon movies making his notes about The Passion. Danny Glover wondering why all these Latin scholars are hanging around all the time. This has to be the most successful subtitled movie ever and it’s in a language that isn’t even used today! As a filmmaker I have to admire Mel Gibson’s conviction and determination. The film is dogged with controversy and maybe his intentions aren’t as honest as he might want us to believe but as a filmmaker I take my hat off to him.

I went to watch the film the night it opened in South Africa. The suspense was killing me. Apart from the idiot sitting next to me who insisted on keeping his cellphone on and chatting through the first twenty minutes of the movie, I was engrossed throughout. The idiot next to me, when he eventually settled down, soon got very vocal. Annoyed at Peter’s denial, surprised at Judas’ behaviour - I wondered whether he didn’t know The Greatest Story Ever Told.

I thought the film was brilliant. The way in which it was told. The economy of language (maybe some actors struggled) and the performances of the actors. I heard about the violence but for me there was much more violence in Tarantino’s crap movie Kill Bill Vol 1 and I don’t remember hearing anyone complain. In this day and age where images are beamed at us, the sight of blood has lost its meaning. When the violence has a consequence I find people find it hard to relate. The blood in this film has consequences. I also don’t think its anti-Semitic. Some people wanted him dead. If anything it has more to say about the corruption of power and what happens when an innocent man is sent to death. The mob mentality that exists in our society today also existed in those days. `Crucify him they cry’ could be substituted for a lot of innocent men round the world today who find themselves on the wrong side of public opinion.

We have all seen the pictures, and we all know the story. Jesus died on the cross. But when you write it or you read it you don’t get a sense of what that really means. Jesus Christ Superstar and King Of Kings don’t really go there. As a filmmaker Gibson takes you there. This is what it means to be nailed to a cross. Some people might argue that they don’t need to see it and I say to them then don’t go see the film. We all know the story. No surprises in this film and nor is there need for any. The story is pretty simple. But my head was ringing at the end of the film. I felt moved. Tears were on the tip of my eyes but didn’t fall. I was definitely touched. And what is a movie if it can’t move you and make you feel things you haven’t felt? The Man suffered and for every lashing he got I thought of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Mahatma Ghandi, Ken Saro Wiwa, Nelson Mandela and men and women who constantly have to sacrifice their life to make our lives better.

My drama teacher once told me that the best position to be in is when some people hate your work and some people like your work. Mel Gibson is in that position.

He only made one mistake. Wasn’t Jesus black?

this article first appeared on coffeebeans.co.za

The first SMS came in the middle of a heated argument I was having with my friends. In seems in this day and age you can set the tone for an evening by bringing up three topics. The first, Zimbabwe. The second, Israel. The third, the United States of America. We were tackling the first at a coffee shop in Rosebank at 12a.m. We had just watched THE HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG, Vadim Perelman’s brilliant film that in a strange way was linked to our heated conversation about Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe. One of the themes in THE HOUSE OF SAND AND FOG is a dispute of ownership of a piece of property. No conversation about Zim is not complete without referencing the land issue. In between shouting, hot chocolate and being accused of not listening, my phone beeped. ** The message simply said BRENDA FASSIE IS DEAD.

This was on the 2nd of May. The newspaper screamed ITS ALL OVER FOR BRENDA. Your picture was there Bongani. You looked lost. You looked confused. You were looking like any child would look not knowing the future of their parents. Turns out that it would be a week before Brenda took her show to the field of the Lord and that the SMS was premature. Through all the denials, the visits, the headlines, the prayers I remembered that picture of you Bongani. Each day greeted us with the new images, new faces, new revelations but that picture stuck in my mind. The one with you and the plastic coke bottle.

The second SMS came in Cape Town. Ironic-MOTHERS DAY. I was about to board the plane back to Johannesburg. No arguments about Zim, just the sound of the lady announcing which gate to board. My phone beeps. I show the lady my boarding pass. I check the message. I take a deep breath. I switch off my phone. And the ritual replays itself.

The news of someone’s passing is always cause for reflection. Some people say you reflect on your life. Others call everyone they know and express their love. I simply, if I knew the person I would always go back to the last time I saw them. I don’t pretend to have known your mother well. I can’t even say we were acquaintances. We were in the same industry yes but I knew her from a distance like most of her fans. We met three times and it’s not like we sat down and had a chat. I never had the privilege to direct her, to act opposite her or even to be in the studio as she laced the tracks. She was born ten years before me in 1964. She got her kick start in 1979 when I was five years old. When in 1983 she scored a hit with ‘Weekend Special’ I was surprised that my Dad could cook! My mother had traveled to Barbados with my sister and my Dad was left to baby sit us. I thought we would starve! Needless to say he was great. When she released ‘Memeza’, I had just broken into the industry. Your mother lived in my time and I am proud.

The night your mother died, a friend of mine, Nomsa Nene (also in the entertainment industry) was fighting for her life in a hospital in Johannesburg after having been in a terrible car accident. I visit Nomsa. The first TV show I acted in was with Nomsa. At the hospital I spend time with her husband Roberto and the producers who gave me my first break Rob and Lena Davies. They crack jokes like ‘I am impossible to get hold of now that I am on Generations’. I laugh. Good to be with family. We can’t see Nomsa. Only family is allowed to see her. The doctor’s say Nomsa is stable. I call David Newton(who I hadn’t spoken to in a while). He acted in that same show with Nomsa. I guess I am reaching out to people. David and I agree to do dinner soon. The other week I watched Nomsa performance in Les Blair’s JUMP THE GUN. I thought, I must tell Nomsa I saw that film again. Now, I stand in the Trauma Unit, the weight of your mother’s death over me and I am praying for my friend, Nomsa. It isn’t the year of the black celebrity. DJ Khabzela of YFM, Tebogo Madingoane of the group Mafikizolo and now Brenda.

The plane touches down in Johannesburg. I click my phone on. It beeps. Another SMS. A friend from London-”We have just heard the sad news. How’s the mood in SA?” I reply simply “People are down”. A friend from Namibia is shocked. Your mother touched the world.

I was in awe of your mother Bongani. Who wasn’t? You don’t know me but I write to you as someone who has also lost a mother. When my mother died all I wanted to do was sleep. A sudden heaviness overcame me and it only be addressed in sleep. I asked a friend of mine who also lost his mother what happened to him and he said he wanted to sleep. You are probably tired. But you probably can’t sleep. Too many people. So many things are expected of you. Because fortunately for you my young brother you are the son of a living legend. You were born into the spotlight. You were on TV at an age when most children were running around in the sandpit. I write to you as someone who has had to negotiate his way in the limelight. As I cried in the hospital for my mother, some security guard asked for my autograph. I write to you because I can separate the fame from the private. When I realized my father was famous, I was still able to separate him from the fame. The same way I separate Joe from Phat Joe, or Hakeem from The Fresca Guy. I would encourage you, once you have found your feet again because, my young brother, you must let time heal you. Everyone will have pearls of wisdom for you on how to deal with your mother’s death. As someone who is walking that road, the road to recovery is hard. Some days better than others. Little things trigger tears and you might find that your tank is on empty. A waiter taking his time to bring the bill might piss you off. You might think you are over your mother’s death in two years time or even ten years. However long it takes, let time heal you. And when you are healed, young blood I would encourage you to write a book about your relationship with your mother. Let the world see her through your eyes. If you read Ken Wiwa’s brilliant book IN THE SHADOW OF A SAINT (which deals with his relationship with his father) you will get an idea of the kind of book I feel the world will be ready to read.

I am sure tonight when you sleep you miss your mother. You mourn YOUR MOTHER, while the nation cries for BRENDA. The nation mourns for the ‘Madonna of the townships’, the Queen of Pop. You cry for your mother. The woman who raised you. We may remember lines from her songs but you have the whole soundtrack to her life. You know melodies we can only envy. You know tunes that made you and molded you. The rest of us have to be content with her CD’s.

And in this time of chaos my brother before she is laid to rest, I felt the need to write to you.

No one knows what it means to lose a parent until you have lost one. As you reach up for air I say that my prayers are with you. Your mother has been immortalized forever. While we will hear her music forever, you will hear her voice. A voice we weren’t privy to. You might feel she wouldn’t talk to you again but let me reassure you young brother, she will. She will sing you to sleep, she will show up unexpectedly. When they say life is unfair, I understand. She can talk to you but you can’t talk to her. Then again we are defining ‘talk’ in the physical sense. You will talk to her.

And when the noise has settled, the newspapers with their lights are gone. The mourners are gone and you lay in your bed to sleep, know that I think of you Bongani. I know you don’t me and we have never met but even in our six degrees of separation, we are bond together because tonight your mother sings for my mother.

this article first appeared on coffeebeans.co.za

South African film-maker Teboho Mahlatsi is redefining the film-making canvas. He’s become a pioneering icon of South African film-making with the massive success of the TV series Yizo Yizo and its sequel - but it’s with his short film Portrait of a Young Man Drowning that we see his inner vision.

By Akin Omotoso

Picture an empty canvas called the South African Film Industry. A young man picks up his brush, dips into his paint and paints a perfect picture. Picture actors and directors and audiences alike lining up to crown this young man the next best thing. Journalists undermine him by referring to him as the Quentin Tarantino of South Africa. Picture a TV series that keeps everyone at home every screening for the thirteen weeks it runs, a TV series that had people debating and grooving to a slamming soundtrack. Yizo Yizo even had its own merchandise. Picture me struggling to get one of those caps, and eventually when I did, I felt I could hang.

Now picture this young man going back to the studio and looking across the empty canvas again. As the audience waits in anticipation of Yizo Yizo-The Return, this young man’s mind is on other paintings. Pictures not yet viewed in the vast canvas that is the African landscape of filmmaking. He paints another picture. In this picture he would examine pain and destruction in a township. In this picture he will use imagery straight from the soul. In this picture he would talk about a killer seeking redemption.

The killer walks with his wound in search of water to bathe. The society wants him to come and kill some more. The background music has the sound of water in it. The girls who come to call the killer are sweating. The killer looks, not so much at them, but the tiny trickles of sweat that drop down their necks. The one girl licks her lips to prevent them from drying up. That soothing moisturizer is what the killer craves. Something to wet him. The woman washes her clothes, the killer is mesmerised by the water. The old man drinks clear water in full view of the killer after refusing to allow him to wash at his house because he says it won’t help him. I don’t think I have ever craved to drink water as much as I did when I watched this young man, this young man called Teboho Mahlatsi and his film: Portrait Of A Young Man Drowning.

I heard someone remark that its too Oliver Stone in its outlook. As far as I am concerned, Oliver Stone wishes he could do half of what Teboho is doing. The same person said that the weird angles and the stylisation shouldn’t have been done on 35mm. That the 35mm camera does not call for that. It never ceases to amaze me when certain South African filmmakers are afraid to experiment. Who says 35mm must be this or that? American, European, Japanese directors experiment with the medium like there’s no tomorrow. South African directors run away from it. I am glad Teboho doesn’t. We stand on the threshold of a new generation and we need to start redefining our images and the medium in our own voices. Not the voices of the West, but the voice from the heart. The imagery contained on the canvas of Portrait is one that I have not seen in a while. From the burning car, to the killer seeing himself carrying the coffin of his victim and eventually being carried off dead himself. Forget Yizo Yizo (but didn’t Yizo Yizo 2 just rock?), anyone wanting to praise young Teboho should get a copy of Portrait. There is pain in that movie. Not just some township guys getting down for a party. There is a call for change.

Portrait was part of a group of other films. That year Husk was nominated at Cannes. Husk is a good movie, but I still think they picked the wrong film. The imagery in Husk is very familiar. The imagery in Portrait is new. I wait with bated breath to see what the young man will paint for us next.

this article first appeared on coffeebeans.co.za