Verlange

Katinka Heyns’s first film in well over a decade, Die Wonderwerker (The Miracle Worker), is an engaging character drama built around a specific period in the life of South African poet and naturalist Eugene Marais (1871-1936), played here by Dawid Minnaar in one of the best performances of his career. Die Wonderwerker also provides Eliza Cawood with some powerful scenes where she mostly underplays much of the character Maria’s anxieties, and while many have complained about Anneke Weideman’s Jane, I have to admit that I was neither blown away nor offended by her performance. The way some people talk about her you’d swear the character is expected to be an essayist whose tour de force on Darwin got published at puberty instead of the immature 19-year old farm girl the film gives us.

En route to Nylstroom, Marais arrives on the Van Rooyen farm with malaria and the family take him in to see to his recovery. Marais’s presence intensifies tensions that are already present: Maria and her husband Gys (Marius Weyers) have not seen eye to eye for a while, and their son Adriaan (Kaz McFadden) has an unhealthy interest in young Jane Brayshaw, the Van Rooyens' adopted daughter. As these characters turn to each other Marais turns mostly to himself – he is addicted to morphine – until he starts to see Jane as possibly more than just a young girl.

Koos Roets, recipient of a lifetime achievement award at this year’s Cape Winelands Film Festival, remains a consummate cinematographer; Die Wonderwerker looks great, with a deeper colour depth than many other Afrikaans films. And how refreshing to see an Afrikaans film that does not feature that annoying sped-up day-to-darkness shots to indicate the passage of time.

I have major issues with Heyns’s previous work, and this film isn’t flawless, but it’s as if all of her films have lead to this moment: while the earlier films tick most of the features of old fashioned classical filmmaking, Die Wonderwerker is superb classical filmmaking. This film is far more successful at mastering this approach to storytelling than Roepman. Between all the formulaic storytelling and moments of indulgent exposition, Heyns delivers a memorable portrait of Marais constructed around her favourite theme: the outsider who brings turmoil and change into the Afrikaans nuclear family.

It’s a very specific portrait of Marais, and listening to people’s responses to the character construction I was reminded of Roger Ebert’s lukewarm review of Iris¸ the biopic of Iris Murdoch that I quite liked. To paraphrase Ebert: Iris is a wonderful film, but it’s not about the Iris he knew and loved. I suspect the same applies to Die Wonderwerker: it’s a depiction of Marais that may not positively correspond with how many see and appreciate the historical figure. Nonetheless, even those unmoved by the film’s version of Marais should recognise that between some over manipulative moments, Die Wonderwerker has greater emotional resonance than any of Heyns’s previous films.It is one of the best Afrikaans language films of the past few years.

The Howling

Wolwedans in die Skemer, the new Afrikaans thriller directed by Jozua Malherbe, starts with an intriguing premise based on memory loss and past and present trauma but becomes increasingly dependent on genre clichés towards the end. In spite of some interesting revelations towards the climax, the film falls flat on a narrative level; on a technical level, some cinematographic flair injects the visuals with some dynamism.

(minor possible spoilers follow)

Sonja Daneel (Rolanda Marais) loses her memory in a car crash. The management of the local Hotel Njala take her in, given that she was on her way to start working there as receptionist when the accident occurred. Of the hotel staff, Adele (Desire Gardiner) is cold and corporate; her sister Maggie (Lelia Etsebeth) is a sensitive, quiet counter; their father Jan (Andre Roothman) is strangely distanced and estranged from the mother (Riana Wilkens). The tour guide Ryno (David Louw) is a bit of a player; girls seem to clamour for his attention. He has eye on Adele, but Sonja’s arrival provides a new point of interest. In addition to Sonja, a red-hooded, axe-wielding figure also makes his appearance at Hotel Njala.

The film looks good, has an attractive cast and a beautiful Hazyview setting. I don’t feel qualified in commenting on the acting except to say that the actors do what they can with thinly drawn characters: Adele is Cold, Jan is Eccentric, Maggie is Soft, and Sonja is Absent. We never really get to align ourselves with Sonja since she is such a passive character. For someone who repeatedly states that she doesn't know who she is, she does not seem too focused on finding out. Paradoxically, Ryno is the most rounded character, yet there is no clear reason why numerous girls would be so interested in him. He’s amiable enough, but the motivation behind Adele's evident infatuation remains a bit of a mystery.

Given how Wolwedans is framed as a thriller the film is bizarrely inert, balancing romance (an attempted love triangle), family drama and thriller conventions. It's the latter that causes some problems: for example, the hooded killer suddenly appears in front of the camera and is accompanied every time by an explosion of musical cues. (In his heyday, M. Night Shyamalan as well as Spanish filmmakers Alejandro Amenabar and JS Bayona demonstrated the power of musical restraint in scenes of tension.)

Such reliance on overly familiar genre conventions make the film seem somewhat dated and compromises its suspense. Indeed, the film could have worked as a powerful period thriller – think Red Riding Trilogy – with Sonja’s amnesia and the killings set against the backdrop of politically tumultuous South Africa. Why, after all the self-aware genre commentary of Scream and other titles from the pre-torture porn 1990s  thriller-horror revival, and also in the aftermath of The Descent, Wolwedans still uses some of the same visual and narrative devices that those films decried.

To illustrate: thrillers often feature the damsel in distress running away from her killer. To the exasperation of the audience, two things happen. Firstly, the fleeing girl runs to the least safe place available (that is, away from light, away from crowds) instead of to somewhere safe and populated. Secondly, the girl’s pursuer walks while the intended victim runs. Finally, both end up in the same place within seconds of one another. Then, having cornered the intended victim, the killer does not proceed to just kill the victim but first engages the victim in some expository conversation; Roger Ebert refers to this as the fallacy of the talking killer.

Wolwedans is too reliant on such conventions in creating tension, and it undermines the impact of the revelations accompanying the ending. That said, the ending is unpredictable enough and delivers exciting moments that demonstrates some considerable acting skills.  

All in all, as a locally produced genre film, the polished Wolwedans in die Skemer is a vast improvement on Night Drive even if it too does not invigorate the thriller genre.