Singer, writer, performer and enfant terrible Natanil in the 15-minute interview. By Charl Blignaut
We meet Natanil at his preferred Johannesburg destination, the Hyde Park shopping centre. He is allowing himself a brief rest between bouts of shopping.
Natanil: [To photographer Ruth Motau] Ag no please, I’m really not photographable on Mondays. I’ve got no chin on a Monday.
Ruth Motau: Don’t be difficult.
N: Fine, go upstairs and fetch a balaclava …
RM: Please.
N: Only if you don’t use a flash. I’m not very good with attention publicly and if you use a flash then the other shoppers will notice.
Charl Blignaut: You shop a lot?
N: Every day. When I’m rehearsing I put aside an hour. Else I have til lunch time. But on weekends I stay home because the shops are full of people who don’t buy anything. I get nervous when shoppers don’t buy.
CB: What’s your show [La Mano Fria] about?
N: It’s about me, as usual. And about Spanish music. I kept picturing myself with a fan and a crystal ball and all that but by the time I had finished researching, I’d ended up at the Holocaust. [Finally flags down a waiter] Are you going to order?
CB: No.
N: A religious thing? They have nice salads. They come with a plate of chips. When everyone’s watching, you eat the salad. Then when they look away, you eat the chips.
CB: I saw you perform at the Vita awards. How do you outsing five backing singers?
N: Easy, you just turn up your microphone.
CB: You looked fabulous.
N: It was horrific. My name was spelt wrong on the dressing room door. It had an “h” in it. I phoned upstairs and told them that someone must come and remove the “h” but no one came. [Perusing the menu] I’m supposed to eat five small meals a day …
CB: I hear you have a personal trainer.
N: Yes, for 14 months now. He comes to the house every morning at 7.30. It’s nice. It feels like someone cares because he tells Ellen what to make me for breakfast and he checks my cupboards. No one ever checked my cupboards before. [We order lunch] You know, I try to order the daintiest thing but, in the northern suburbs, when it comes the garnish is so big it looks like I’m a pig …
CB: Why does he check your cupboards?
N: To see if I’ve taken in any fats or sugars. I’m now fat-free and high-fibre. I stopped smoking and drinking – all in the same day.
CB: What happened?
N: I wanted to be like Ian McDonald, the principal dancer at Pact. I invited him to dinner and nearly died. There was a bloody halo around him. He doesn’t drink or smoke and he exercises. So the next morning I started.
CB: You’ve lost a lot of weight.
N: It’s not as thin as I get with the diet, but at least I’ve got a shape. I can’t believe my legs now. My legs blow my mind.
CB: I’m told you’re busy making your house [in Pretoria] all white.
N: I have a thing about white. It’s hell to live with, but I like things hyper-modern. I hate old or second-hand things. I always remove things once they’ve been used.
CB: Does that include your lovers?
N: No, no, I’ve been celibate for 14 months.
CB: Ever since you got a personal trainer.
N: After a workout I just don’t have the energy. And remember, I was always drunk. All the people I pursued in my life all turned out to be dogs when I was sober.
CB: Tell me more about your show.
N: I never dreamed I’d do a show without a costume change or wear the same outfit as the rest of the cast. You can’t miss me, I’m the round one in the middle. [Motau gets out her camera] No man not so close, go stand there at the back so no one will notice.
RM: But then they will notice even more.
N: Just go stand there and take off your top. [She laughs and clicks merrily.] You see, she’s so close I could swallow the camera. Not even a plastic surgeon comes that close. You know, it kills me. I spend 20 grand a year on a shoot to make myself beautiful in the press and send you pictures and then you come and take me “just like I am”. Then you still wonder why I have no lover! [He spots the waiter]. See, see what I mean. The garnish is like a hotel garden!
CB: Are you writing another book?
N: There’s a new book of stories and I’m starting a lifestyle book. As in my lifestyle – my diet, exercise programme, shrink …
CB: You have a shrink?
N: Tuesdays, 12 o’clock. I don’t get better. It’s been three years, but we can never work on the problems because he has such a beautiful place, trees and little doves. You sit there and your problems seem ridiculous. He says he learns more about me from my shows.
CB: Are your shows therapy?
N: Yes. I hate to say it but I get closure …
CB: Is that a therapy word?
N: No, I heard it on Oprah. I worship her. She’s like Piaf with a weight problem. She makes everything glamorous. You see victims on her show and you think, I want that problem too. We have the same role model.
CB: Who? Patti LaBelle?
N: No, Mary Tyler Moore. I love her, she got famous without shocking anyone.
CB: But you got famous by shocking. Singing in a huge Voortrekker dress, telling outrageous stories about lesbians …
N: There’s a difference: I’m not famous. I get recognised in Pretoria, but that’s just well-known. I know I was born for world fame, but something went wrong technically.
CB: What was that word? Disclosure?
N: Closure. And not many people get paid to get closure.
CB: What is closure?
N: It’s like you don’t have to carry anything inside you anymore because everyone knows now. I have a poor self image. I get a lot of mail from people saying you must accept yourself; we love you. [His designers, Blue Zoo, stroll by]. Shame, poor people, when I first went to them she muttered “I’ve never had to work on this scale before”. [Shouts to them] Look, I even ate my garnish!
CB: You have a serious side?
N: Everything about me is serious. It just comes out funny. What scares me about this show is that it’s just me. It’s the most non-threatening thing I’ve done … I think that as you grow older you get less angry and start to work with where the audience is at. I was preaching to the converted, you know. I’m still angry, but about practical things like theatre managements and the schlepp one goes through to keep a career going here. And we just don’t have role models …
CB: Who are your role models?
N: If I could have Barbara Streisand’s business sense, Madonna’s packaging and Patti LaBelle’s voice then I’d be happy.
CB: They’re all women.
N: I can’t help it I find men boring. Men perform within an incredibly small emotional range. Women are the whole thing. There’s also the glamour thing that men seem to miss. I believe you can feel sad but still look amazing. I want to be able to leave the planet as a well-dressed tragic figure.
CB: Well, that’s it. Is there anything else?
N: [Thinks] Normally I would thank my parents, but they don’t read the English press. [Pauses. Turns to Motau.] Just remember, I sue.
La Mano Fria is on at the Civic Theatre in Johannesburg until October 31