ArtsBlog

Fest star crosses over to schools’ stage

Mike — Mon, 05 Jul 2010 12:48:12 +0000

Hundreds of South African matriculants were urged to follow their passions in life and cherish freedom of expression.

Artsblog attended the launch of the five-day Standard Bank National Schools Festival in the Guy Butler Theatre at the Grahamstown Monument this morning.

South Africa’s dancer of the moment, Soweto-born Dada Masilo told the keyed up youths to follow their dreams, but know that 99 percent of success is from hard work and one percent is talent.

She dances eight hours a day and keeps her work fresh

Standard Bank Arts sponsorship manager Mandy van der Spuy says the arts inspire our youth to excel, debate and challenge..

Makana Municipal manager Ntombi Baart says council has coped well with numerous festivals, all of which added to the rainbow nation and made Grahamstown-Makana the capital of ubuntu.

Her top management recently committed themselves to responding to complaints quickly.

Grahamstown Foundation director Louisa Clayton says youths need to express themselves freely.

South Africans have died in the struggle for this right.

Faster, faster, faster! U jus’ goddu, goddess…

Mike — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 15:39:21 +0000

I gotta get this down, don’t think, must tell you, just need a cup of strong coffee, oh shit I hit the plunger hard, gotta rush, need speed, coffee splooshed out all over, light brown, no, mustard, no just skin, Dada Masilo and dancers’ skin, under stars, celestial, but what am I saying, best show ever, best for last, Sunday arvie, South African Sunday, South African, African, South African creativity, don’t stop it, ever, don’t abuse it, let if flow.

I’m drinking and drinking, with the grains, hot and gritty.

Swan Lake, Dada is only 25 years old, you got to see her, to be here, to look into her dance, her dancers her choreography, such grace, such power, so radical. RADICAL!.

So many languages, gestures, symbols.

She’s only 25. You got see her, before you die, before she dies, please don’t die!

Because she is here doing it with her beautiful people, right before my eyes.

No one will do it like this. No one will ever dance like this ever again.

South Africa on a global stage. The final scene, dark, brown, no mustard.

Skin.

Don’t really drink but I’m drunk on it. I well never see dance like this. Again.

See her, see yourself.

Gestures I can’t forget: a hand sprinkling salt, casting ashes, sowing seed, try it yourself, thumb running from pinkie to to pointing finger.

Do it slowly, then again, faster and faster, faster! Get it? Don’t pause, no commas, no full stop, period.

The finger points. Not thick and stubby and belligerent like Die Groot Krokodil, but angled slightly yet still rigid and accusatory. You’ve seen it in so many arguments and rage. Jealousy’s angry emblem.

Grotesque, but it is us. It is South African.

The guts, it all comes out of our guts, our bellies, our boeps, our womb. Entrails and emotions drawn out of us like darems and darems.

The dance, her dance, our dance.

It’s just amaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaazing!

You gotta see it, just gotta, godu … goddess.

Our godess.

Urban underground arrive for New Street fest party

Mike — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 09:34:19 +0000

Young black professionals from South African cities arrived at the National Arts Festival last night and had a huge party.

They were celebrating the last night of the two-week festival.

Grahamstown’s New Street was “like Rockey Street in Yeoville, back in the day, but it was very black” said an observer.

“It was cars, people in the streets, the boots open, the music pumping, quite a bit of house, a bit of rock. People were on their mobiles setting up the jol. It was distinctly black.

“It was nice-cut clothes, eighties/London/punk rock-look everyone is taking on now. It was peeps showing on the street their right/entitlement to be here. It was a mix. Young black artists, but also the party crew following the artists, number plates Johannesburg and Eastern Cape, Mpumulanga, Cape Town. All nice cars – BMWs, sports cars, Jeeps, SUVs of all kinds… Financed cars …”

“The Rat and Parrot is usually a place for a lot of young white tipsy students, now it looked like the outside of Baseline in Jo’burg, which is were a lot of black underground artists have gotten a place to perform. This was their supporters who were in town.

“It felt like they were here for the clubbing, and I heard someone say to this other cat in Xhosa ‘I am in the clubbing street’.”

“The girls were groomed, not a lot of weaves, a bit of shades, hair not natural, a bit of eighties’ retro look – stretch belts, off the shoulder wear, big glasses, 80s hats – short back and sides … all a variation of that.

“The attitude was that these streets are ours – it was quite cool. A lot of artists have been jamming here and this has drawn their fans and friends and followers, peeps who want to hear nice exciting music that they identify with.”

“It’s a huge statement for the festival. It’s the young Jo’burgers, who can afford to follow this lifestyle.

“This festival, more than previous, has seen a bit of a face-lift.”

“I liked it. It blurred the boundaries. It was festive.”

Come play with the big okes and anties

Mike — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 09:21:53 +0000

It’s been bugging me.

The stand-up comedy I saw at festival … something was missing.

I saw David Newton, Siv Ngesi, Mark Sampson and Stewart Taylor.

All good shows. Mark is a hoot and is a great improv, Stewart, David and Siv are well produced, slick even. Great, hard-working, honest, South African guys (you are in Mark!) and a safe festival ticket.

So why was I feeling this emptiness?

Young audiences seemed to get it and maybe, as my 73-year-old friend said: “You are old.”

Well, as a pimply teen I recall watching the late Pip Freedman (I think). It made my gut weak with laughter. You wanted todie laughing.

“You won’t say that now,” said my older mate. “You’ll cringe”.

He’s referring to Pip’s take on people of colour being, in all likelihood, highly offensive.

The point is: we really need to laugh from the darkest depths of our being.

And that is the job of our comedians, who form a very useful (and hopefully lucrative) frontline at fest.

In the past, the stand-ups brought people to festival who would normally not be interested in the “serious” art being produced on stage.

And they were white.

But that is changing. New, younger, festinoes — black and white — want something different.

What we have now is a lot of lifestyle material, cultural interaction (or lack thereof) stuff about white and black, with some Xhosa bits thrown in by Siv and some Coloured stuff thrown in by Stewart Taylor.

All good, funny and informative.

But here’s my five cent: there’s nothing really large, or epic, or bold and courageous about this work.

There’s nothing really contemporary that matters enough.

These guys are not talking about the things that consume South Africans – not one Zuma joke did I hear, nothing memorable about sport, religion, politics, economics, no real reference to people who would normally be the bread-and-butter of stand up comedians – people in power.

And yet these people, with all their foibles and corruption, are, I say, the stuff of national life.

Are our comedians playing in the kiddies’ pool next to the ocean?

Where’s the Zapiro element? Where’s the graduation to satire?

I hope the response will not be that our comedians won’t be driven by politics.

I am, in fact, suggesting that this is the next level.

I say we want it and you guys are not giving enough of it.

This festival demands originality. Festinoes want to be pushed, challenged, offended, appalled, engaged. And politics and leaders are part of that.

You can start poking fun at the very festival bosses, if you want.

You guys are just too safe. And possibly not fresh enough.

Ous, step up now.

Stop playing in the shallow end.

Grow up, get out the gym, and come jol with the big okes and anties.

* If you need advice, ask Corne and Twakkie (their Helen Zille rip-off is still being spoken of in the kitchen).

** Gary, Bevan, Your Tooth Fairy, gosh bro, sho … Nah. Kotch.

Tuku King

claire — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 08:10:15 +0000

After a battle with visa police, Oliver Mtukudzi finally arrived in Grahamstown to eager crowds. If you didn’t have a ticket you weren’t getting in!!

The first time I saw this tall man performing I was at House-on Fire in Swaziland and have subsequently seen him elsewhere. The rolling music reminds me of these journeys and transports me to a place beyond where I am.

He says a few beautiful words “You can use music when you are lonely or when you are working like I am working now. (laughter). But most of all we use music to diffuse tension. The purpose of song is to give life to people. When we are frustrated we use music to diffuse that pain.”

He is a man of music, movement and majesty.

Having lost his son earlier this year he says that he “stands here not to regret but to celebrate the 21 years I had with my son.” This maybe went over the heads over of a lot of the audience who were so busy enjoying themselves that they weren’t listening to him speak…

Oliver Mtukudzi is a great entertainer who knows how to work his audience and they respond with dance and love for his music.

Woza Andries by Sheena Stannard

claire — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 07:48:34 +0000

Because this is/was Student theatre there was a small, but big in spirit, audience. What a shame. Irreverent, post-modern, therefore also inter-textual, absolutely brilliant, with no need for making a concession to Nation Building through a need for arts funding. These Stellenbosch students did a piece of what might be the most ‘important’ theatre here. Absolutely shredding, well, I was shredded. Mbongeni Ngema and Percy Mtwa were talking of doing a revisit of Woza Albert! after the great elections. Well, here it is, and the rainbow nation children are slaughtered in racial, nationalistic strife. These kids say it as it is. Be warned, be very afraid. And the artistry is faultless. Why, oh why, did not more people see this.

Comments by Sheena Stannard

claire — Sun, 04 Jul 2010 07:45:52 +0000

Undoing.
Inspiring. A meditation. To walk … very slowly. To be still. To follow. To share. Who leads? There are also trees, and their shadows. And the wind, and leaves blown. And, there is the audience. Do it. Do it to calm your soul.

The Goldberg Variations.
Do it to fill the hole in the soul.

Audio: Fest Focus Highlights

FestForward — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 14:21:34 +0000

On Fest Focus, our reporters have gone backstage to chat to jazz legends Vusi Mahlasela and Sibongile Khumalo, and also got the chance to catch up with hiphop star Tumi. And if you have missed out on our daily shows, you can find some of our comedy and theatre highlights, such as Big Boys Don’t Dance and NATV’s 12 Days of Festival song, right here…

Interview: Vusi Mahlasela

Interview: Sibongile Khumalo

Feature: Big Boys Don’t Dance

Interview: Tumi

Audio Interview: Tony Lankester

Audio Feature: Janni Younge

Song: NATV’s 12 Days of Fest

Audio Interview: Gavin Bonner

Audio Feature: London Road

The Tragedy of Richard 111

claire — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 11:11:55 +0000

A (very) small cast but a big show. Very satisfying. Superbly designed, the interpretation of the female characters — in both performance and dress — was particularly pleasing to me. Audience members who leave this venue during the show do so with a great clunking, and at gobsmackingly insensitive moments in the performance! So, if you are going to see this, for art’s sake, if not for the sake of mere manners, know that it is Shakespeare, and be prepared for the long haul. It does not seem long, by the way. It’s so rich. (No joke intended.)

Ouroboros – Comment by Sheena Stannard

claire — Sat, 03 Jul 2010 11:10:46 +0000

When I see shows like this I believe there is hope for the planet we are so blindly destroying with our eyes wide open. Poignant, visually lovely, beautifully crafted (except for the rather muffled and inexpertly interpreted vocal text), the show is gentle and full of heart. My teenage daughters distanced themselves from it, being less involved in the experience than I was. But they were sitting quite far back. I, on the other hand, let go and allowed myself to be swept into it, as if in a dream, and thus didn’t come out of the show singing songs from The Lion King, and having found puppet sex just too bizarre. So, don’t go to this show if you are cynical. (I’m not saying my daughters were, they just didn’t engage with the whole thing.)