Andrew Wilson spoke to actor/playwright Greig Coetzee, winner of six Vita awards
The extent of playwright and actor Greig Coetzee’s dominance in this year’s FNB Vita Awards, where his play White Men with Weapons blew away some heavyweight theatrical talent, astounds even him. “I thought maybe one award for all the hard work, but six? I’m humbled to be mentioned in the same breath as some people in my categories.”
Sweeping the boards in the categories South African Playwright of the Year, Production of the Year of a New South African Play, Best Actor, Play of the Year, Director of the year (Garth Anderson), and Best Lighting Design (Skip Wright), Coetzee’s rampant piece of transitional post-war blues saw a troop without a war fighting both past myths and future uncertainties in a savagely honest production that captured the imagination of the judges, if not, initially, the paying public.
“The box-office wasn’t great -attendances at the Hilton Festival equalled the entire Johannesburg and Cape Town seasons combined. Despite full houses, I averaged 15 people per night.” Unaffected by the depressing mathematics, Coetzee is philosophical. “If theatre strives to be unpretentious and basic in its desire to entertain, audiences will come back. A serious play like Kindertransport played to packed houses because it struck a chord of honesty and was ultimately entertaining.”
Growing up in Durban’s southern suburbs, Coetzee was surrounded by the conservatism his play demystifies. “Our councillors were the kind that would get re-elected depending on how hard they campaigned to keep the beaches white. It was a bit like the Bronx – my high school supplied most of the bouncers for Durban’s night-clubs. Sometimes they practiced on me.”
Studying drama and Zulu at Pietermaritzburg University came as a release. “I saw myself as the vanguard of the struggle – I wore all the right T-shirts. I think I was even questioned once or twice.” Dripping with irony, Coetzee laughs at his private rebellion, particularly in his year of military boredom in 1990.
“At Oudtshoorn I refused to carry a weapon – probably the weakest form of opposition. I couldn’t even go to the shooting range to relieve the boredom. A few weeks into basics we were marched in to watch FW’s famous opening of Parliament. After that the cat was among the military pigeons. Things started to change. I began writing down ideas for a play called Men Only, which got some of the angst off my chest.”
Five long years of teaching at Pietermaritzburg Girl’s High didn’t dampen his thirst for theatre. “I think I was always a frustrated performer. Even though teaching was great, I’d set a five-year period to pay back loans. In 1995 I took Men Only to Grahamstown.”
Coetzee realised he had a black comedy on his hands – “I couldn’t believe it. The audiences laughed at my angst! I immediately rewrote it and got myself a director and that was it – White Men with Weapons.”
Six Vitas later, he remains sober. And slightly unimpressed by the throwaway tone and ersatz humour that characterised a less-than-glittering Vita ceremony at the Civic Theatre. “There were people there whose track-records demanded a greater degree of respect. They deserved better.”
Echoing a growing sense of disquiet in the theatre industry as to its own direction and status, Coetzee nevertheless remains optimistic. “There’s been some ground- breaking stuff recently, like Andrew Buckland’s Noisy Walk. I think we need to be simple and truthful. And entertaining.”
With a shade of anarchy, Coetzee describes his next project. “It’s called The Blue Period of Milton van der Spuy – about this guy who sees himself as the modern Renaissance Man, who has a blue period like Picasso – but never attains the greatness he desires.”
Is this autobiographical? “Not really. This character is … what’s the politically- correct phrase … slow … challenged … anyway, he’s as thick as a plank.”