New filmmaker John Barker is soccer coach Clive Barker’s son. It’s not a fact he needs necessarily to trade on, given the hopeful state of his career.
This year Barker Jnr has come up with a film-industry surprise — a mockumentary called Blu Cheez. If you’re on the alternative rock music bush telegraph, you may well have heard of it. Blu Cheez is a piece of rough, postmodernist filmmaking in the tradition of This Is Spinal Tap.
Barker’s small masterpiece is entirely convincing. It follows the trails of a bunch of Joburg geeks — or is that dorks? — who have founded a rock band and hit the big time. Uncharacteristically, for low-life whites, they’ve gotten involved with a fast-talking black manager, known simply as Dzino, who supplies the ultimate twist in the tale. In the tradition of many fine outfits, Blu Cheez’s talents are limited and their bad habits are extreme.
Barker is the star of his own film. This white boy with dreads puts on an entirely unconvincing British accent and, without ever having sung a note, sets himself up as the lead vocalist of the band. Their big hit is called How Can I Miss You If You Won’t Go Away?, and it really sucks.
“December’s bad for freelancing,” Barker says. “Everyone closes down; no one wants to give work out. My job in Kenya got cancelled this morning.” Political turmoil has put paid to Barker’s upcoming gig, but now he can stay home and watch Blu Cheez when it gets aired this month on DStv.
Barker’s journey to the point where he has made what is arguably the cutest piece of fiction film around has been quite characteristic of
the industry experience of his generation. He studied graphic design in Durban, got into stop animation, realised he wanted a career in film, went to Cape Town to work on commercials and then left the country to get some experience abroad.
In London he worked on Channel Four’s celebrated morning show The Big Breakfast, waking at 4.30am to be on set after having worked as a barman until midnight the night before.
Returning to South Africa he got involved with the successful music video company Devereux Harris, where he picked up camera, editing and directing experience.
“The reason I did Blu Cheez, or the reason I could do Blu Cheez,” Barker says, “is because I was working on the [reality TV series] The Summit about soccer on e.tv. I took all the knowledge I have about music videos and being in the music industry and combined it with what I learned on The Summit about how to tell a story. There you have to direct and write. You have to find stories, which makes you think about storytelling and narrative.”
Well, that’s the process in theory. In practice Barker teamed up with his film-industry buddies, some of whom tinker with music, and he forced them on to set when their freelancing jobs were done.
In case one thinks the process is simple, Barker says: “My wife nearly divorced me — she was really stressed. I had my second child and I was trying to do Blu Cheez and get my freelance money. So it’s been a long, long year.
“I first went to Dzino [the writer] because we had just finished Bassiq, a music show on SABC1. I said, ‘Dzino, I got this idea to do this movie about the worst rock’n’roll band in the country.’ Out of all the projects I wanted to do, that was the one we could actually do because it meant no money. I knew if we took a bunch of friends who are musicians and we put them in a room and we roll two cameras — with all the egos you’re going to get from people who’ve never rehearsed before and who are put under pressure to make a number of songs, there’s going to be some sort of clash, some sort of antagonism. And that’s what drama is. And that’s what happened.”
With guest appearances by famous musicians Zola, Mizchif, Theo Crous and Koos Kombuis, Blu Cheez is nil-budget mockumentary as rock extravaganza. The drama culminates in the jacuzzi with smashed musicians being showered with affection by lithe, nude groupies. Gothic darkness and a lot of noise mask some of the inadequacies of the scene.
“The naked scene was supposed to be quite a wide shot with loads of people walking in front of the cameras. It was supposed to be this huge rock’n’roll party. I went to everybody I know — I went to girls and said, ‘Won’t you take your tops off for this shot? Please, it’s for the film and it’s going to do well.’ And they said, ‘Is it going to be on TV?’, and I said, ‘God I hope so.’
“We had about 10 girls who said yes, they would come and take their tops off. All this was set for 8pm. It got to 9pm and only one girl had turned up. She got all insecure. I felt like crying. I’d had enough. I’d sold my soul the whole year to people, begged people for favours.
“The reason I got the guys there was because I said the chicks are going to take their tops off. And they got there and said, ‘John, this is bullshit, we’re not doing this anymore.'”
Ja, well — the reason it’s called a mockumentary is because it’s not all that it seems. Next year Blu Cheez — the worst rock band on Earth — hope to release their first CD. No kidding.
See Blu Cheez on Movie Magic 2 on DStv on December 19 (9.40am) and December 24 (23:30pm)