Janet Smith Down the tube
Robert Powell’s haunted face is our most abiding cinematic image of Jesus, thanks to Franco Zeffirelli, the same director who said all those disgustingly true things about the public response to Princess Diana’s death last year. Zeffirelli would never perform a vulgar deed, which is why the spare, exquisite features of Powell were so powerfully represented in Jesus of Nazareth.
How tragic it is to see the same actor grown older and losing the beautiful symmetry of his face to gravity, acting in Pride of Africa, M-Net’s ambitious co-production with Yorkshire Television which will be aired tomorrow, Saturday February 7, at 20:00.
Powell is not a leading man any more, hasn’t been for years. Few people would remember anything he did before or after Jesus of Nazareth and many will have forgotten him altogether. Yet, here he is, producing his lines quite competently and in stark contrast with the abilities of many of his fellow cast members. But his appearance in this noisy telefilm will invigorate his career less than a screening of a Prodigy video at catechism would enhance the reputation of the Pope.
Pride of Africa has enjoyed a good round of publicity from the pay channel, not only because this is largely a local production, but also because M-Net obviously hopes its screening will confirm corporate support of the national effort. The public relations function of such a telefilm is twofold: remind the snotty subscribers who sneer at the lumpens still stuck with only SABC1, 2 and 3 that not all that glitters American is gold. And scratch the itch of the SABC which recoils in horror every time M-Net’s licence agreement is mentioned.
What a pity, then, that this is not riveting television, at least not judging by the first episode which saw Ashley Hayden turn on the eastern European accent along with all the men in the train in which Pride of Africa is set. Maybe it’s the sound of the wheels — katang-katang- katang every sleeper of the way — that is so irritating. Perhaps it’s Hayden, South Africa’s favourite pin-up and former soft- porn anchor, who is irritating. There’s definitely something very annoying about seeing Clive Scott all dressed up as a railways employee feigning an expression of being hassled by a rare well-paid acting job.
This week, SABC3 screens its two-part drama, If This Be Treason (see Page 3), a stylish piece which takes another stab at eradicating white guilt through the god of television. A biopic of Helen Joseph, it pulls out fine acting talent and a reminder that when South African TV is good, it’s damn good. (There was 1922 of course, and last year’s Deafening Silence — also on SABC3 — was hardly in the same league of lymph drainage as Westgate.)
Pride of Africa is such old South African TV that it reeks of veldskoen in an era of Magli, which is not to say that every drama produced for television must rip the national psyche to shreds and then sew it all back up again with soaps about aspiration and comedies about rainbow neighbours. It’s disappointing. Director Herman Binge has a good eye for the landscape in which he casts his dramas, although he has made his money out of trashy, vernacular, hit series over the past few years. This one should have been the real thing: a tale about wild animals, great sex in a luxurious coach and the return of Powell.
From Jesus to jussus, man, when is M-Net going to realise its potential and give us authentic South Africa drama that looks like New Directions, only better?