Transforming human tragedy into humorous – or humane – entertainment is a daunting and, some may say, dubious task. It didn’t work when Anne Frank and her family were turned into a musical. But it did when Roberto Benigni took similar anti-Semitic subject matter and turned it into a mass- appeal movie.
Perhaps the success of such an undertaking has to do with the correct alchemical compound. Both compassion and comedy need to be blended, along with integrity and the imagination to tread laterally amid a minefield, in order to achieve the final mix. And even then, it might not work.
But when the overwhelming force of dedication is tried, tested and twisted within the tube, then you may have a winning formula. You may have something which flies.
And so it is with David Kramer and Taliep Petersen’s Kat and the Kings, a work which has moved from the Cape Waterfront to London’s West End with a wealth of credibility on one hand, the commitment to succeed on the other, and a chameleon-like willingness to adapt to, laugh at, and learn from pressure when the heat is on.
The production has just opened at the Baxter for a six-week run, fresh from winning two coveted Olivier Theatre awards in London (Best New Musical and Best Actor – for the whole cast).
The version of this six-handed musical revue, which is bound for a Toronto/New York airing later this year, is a far cry from the small show which opened in the Dock Road Theatre in 1995. There are obvious differences – the addition of a woman into the narrative, the presence of a live band.
But there are more subtle changes, too. The majority of the cast, who started out in the original, have honed their performances to a knife-edge crease. They are sharper, tighter, more confident. And the non-taped backing contributes to this vibrant edge. Then, too, there are script changes.
“In London, we felt we were taking certain aspects for granted, such as the historical and social background to the show, and we recognised the need for clarity,” explains Kramer. “District Six has such an immediate resonance if you use the words here – but over there we had to say where it was, how it was, and who was there.”
Which explains the internationally friendly supplements to the script.
Petersen takes it further: “We also learnt that there is a whole generation of South Africans who don’t even know what things were like 40-odd years ago. When I tell my children that I couldn’t go to just any movie house when I was young, they don’t understand. They ask me how come I didn’t just walk in. It’s for them that we need to situate our work within a specific context. And, of course, it is a way for me of paying tribute to those people who sustained me when I was growing up.”
He is referring to the tragic time when apartheid side-stepped, strangled or stomped out so much talent in South Africa. And yet it flourished, despite the draconian laws applied to drama, music, indeed any form of cultural expression.
Kat and the Kings tells the simple tale of the underdog. A group of boys (and a girl) growing up in District Six, who dream of making it big as singers. And they do, briefly, within a defined context. But the dice is loaded against them. The inevitable – invisibility -looms. Like the bulldozers on the horizon of District Six.
“It’s story of lost opportunities and potential thwarted by personal shortcomings and a political system,” says Kramer.
“I think it’s the universal thread of the narrative which has appealed to so many audiences, across the spectrum,” he remarks of the show’s six-month success in London. “And there’s a poignant sub-text which is personally satisfying to see unfold. The show is based on real lives, particularly the life of Salie Daniels, who takes the lead role. Here’s a guy who went through everything that is in the script, it’s based on his experiences. And yet, unlike the story, he has finally made it. He’s been recognised. It’s an ironic shift.”
Petersen is also quick to acknowledge the rock-solid roots from whence Kat, as so many previous Kramer/Petersen productions (District Six – The Musical, Poison) have sprung.
“It’s about recognising the specific contribution that coloured people have made. This is, in fact, the first South African coloured musical to succeed on the West End,” he says.
But lest the duo be accused of bandwagon- riding, Kramer thoughtfully adds: “Someone once accused us of presenting stereotypes, of romanticising a situation. I was angry at first, but then I realised that they were approaching our work from an academic position. We are, as entertainers, in the business of romance. Kat is not an academic paper, it’s a musical. And all musicals employ stereotypes, or the familiar, as a device to suspend belief in one reality and move into another. So an audience of academics may not enjoy what we’re doing; but I don’t think we’ve ever aimed at them.
Successful theatre entails telling stories about people to people who want to hear them.”
And if crowd response is anything to go by, they know exactly where their market is. The opening night punters were wide-eyed and wild about the show; their reaction to the satin voices and smooth side-kicking of the cast a very definite thumbs – and often knees – up. And each performer, with unique distinctive style, deserved it. Giving their honey-harmonied best, from solo spots to fullblown ensemble jamborees, this was entertainment at its best.
With forced removals and racism as a theme, nogal. Shows it can work, if you know how to work.
Kat and the Kings is on at the Baxter in Cape Town until July 4
@All the fun of the fair
Friday night
Mercedes
Sayagues
Does anybody out there remember when Maputo looked like Marxist Warsaw, with no shops, no goods, no nightlife? When the Polana was a derelict grand hotel with shabby cane furniture and a restaurant where waiters waited but there was no food?
It wasn’t that long ago. Maputo sprang back to life after 1992 thanks to the combined forces of durable peace, a market economy and peacekeeping dollars. On every trip to this charming, seaside city I see more shops, more goods, more nightlife. Also the recolonisation of Mozambique by Portuguese and South Africans looking for warm waters, warm women and hot deals.
These days, you have a choice of nightlife in Maputo – like in the glory days of Lourenco Marques. I avoid places where the ratio of expats is higher than locals; where the average age of patrons is double that of my daughter but less than half of mine. I want to hear more Portuguese than English, and never never, please, a song by Abba. So I go where Maputo’s middle class goes: the Feira Popular, on 25 September Avenue. Entrance is MT5 000, less than $0,50.
Hot tip: Ladies, do not wear spiked high heels. The only difference between the pavement at the Feira and a rural road in Niassa province is that there are no landmines here.
The Feira is a sprawling collection of more than 30 stalls for all tastes and budgets. It includes tiny basic watering holes; larger, more ornate pubs, mostly outdoors; Chinese and Indian eateries; snack bars and restaurants specialising in Mozambican cuisine; two discos, plus impromptu dancing that erupts anywhere, any time.
Hot tip: Ladies, Maputo nights can be cool, so wear a shawl or a kapulana over those bare shoulders, something easy to tie around your waist for dancing.
The place is alive and changing. Not one night is the same. So do the rounds and choose – or be chosen, as happened to us.
O Coqueiro serves authentic cuisine from Zambezia, my favorite province. Zambezia is lush and mysterious, rich in traditions, witchcraft and delicious food. A kind of Garcia Marquez place. O Coqueiro was having a party for mothers’ day with family and friends. The owners invited my friend Nicoletta and I to join. We were blessed that night. The company was friendly, the dancing lively and the food, well, heavenly.
O Coqueiro is run by the mother of all mothers, Carima Mahomed Khan da Graca, and her son Marco Aurelio who got up at 5am to grate coconuts, soak cassava leaves and sorolo beans and let fish and chicken simmer the whole day until the mulapata and mucuawi were perfectly flavored.
We moved on to the discos and ZoZo delivered everything I wanted. Air conditioned but not at Siberian temperature, super danceable Afropop with touches of ethnic African and some rap. The sound was right and it was not too smoky. I could have danced all night. At Zo Zo, the girls were black and brown and beautiful. Seven out of 10 men were white and so ugly that I wonder if South Africa and Portugal export their ugliest men here.
The African show is worth watching, energetic and closer to contemporary dance than to kitsch folk dances. Entrance is MT70 000 or about $6 for men, free for women.
Vampires have to be home before dawn and so do I. Sorry I can’t recommend a place for breakfast at sunrise in Maputo.
Mercedes Sayagues is a freelance writer based in Harare