Matthew Krouse
The fake stones that built Sun City, its intentionally haphazard forestry and its pretentious pools that look like ruins are part of the general lie it lives. Here, in the sad old North-West province – we’re supposed to pretend – a playful, lost African civilisation put down roots that can now be explored thanks to some coincidence of contemporary archaeology.
The corny magnificence is carried through in all its features. Lately, Sun City safari seekers can follow the general myth through to its logical conclusion when they go to see Pulse, Sun City’s new, medium-scale extravaganza in an appropriate style.
Pulse builds magnificently on the assumption that African culture is decorative for the same reason that peacocks have coloured feathers. Ndebele patterned drapes adorn tribeswomen who parade purely for the sake of parading.
Warriors bounce about symmetrically, shields in hand, because they’re fulfilling some instinctual drive towards perfect rhythm. As an extravaganza Pulse is so politically incorrect that it makes no bones about celebrating the so-called savage in people – African people to be precise. But these savages are well- regimented. It is their driving instincts that inform them where to place each foot. And each placement is an act of enticement – they’re all out to have great jungle sex.
The soft porn thing is, in a number called Bronze Seduction, predictably marvellous with couples getting it together in enormous, suspended rings – pretty much like the B-grade version of the Chinese circus. Clearly, you can see what the conceptual team of Nico Brits, Karen Cutts and Ivor Jones have intended in the first half, an African love dance divided geographically into Ndebele, Zulu, Xhosa, Hindu, Masai, Muslim and Khoi components.
It is only when the extravaganza attempts to take on urban South African cultures that the whole thing gets a bit fuzzy. Although the performers handle the foray into Sophiatown, gumboot dance and Sarafina aptly, there’s something absurd about watching these moments, which are usually seen through struggle eyes, turned into a rather mindless exercise in glamour. Imagine a leggy, gym-slipped Sarafina, for example, in the shortest mini uniform, bending over to reveal a glittery g-string! The mind boggles.
Apart from the lead singer, Stella Magaba, cocking up just about every number on press night, Pulse is as you’d expect it to be: lavish, smoky, with things coming out of the ground and from the sky.
I don’t know if one should go all the way to the Pilanesberg to see it, but if you happen to be in the area, it’s not to be missed.
Pulse is showing at the Sun City Theatre until May 2001