/ 27 May 2008

There’s something about Kim

When I was first told that I would be interviewing Kim Engelbrecht, my thoughts did not revolve around the highly anticipated play she will be starring in from May 26 — Ben Elton’s satire on violence and the media, Popcorn. My thoughts, similar to those of a giddy teenager, were ‘I’m gonna meet Kim Engelbrecht” (repeat x 40). A week later, it is this wholly unprofessional mantra that still courses through my mind as I drive to meet her, trying my best to summon up even the slightest vestige of journalistic detachment.

The reason for my excitement is that Engelbrecht, best known as Lolly on Isidingo, is, following roles in Bunny Chow, A Boy Called Twist and The Flyer — to quote Ben Stiller’s Zoolander — so hot right now. Many a debate has taken place in my lounge over the question of whether or not she is a truly talented actress. But there is consensus on one thing — Engelbrecht is gorgeous. Soapie hour would be boring without her. And, at the very least, the woman who self effacingly says that she acts because, ‘there’s nothing else I can do, as pathetic as it is admit to that”, is a more intelligent pin-up choice than the likes of Lee-Ann Liebenberg or Tanya van Graan.

Any questioning of Engelbrechts’s talent probably stems from the fact that she has not been blessed with overwhelmingly challenging roles thus far. Her turn as Scout in Popcorn may afford her a chance to offer something different from the all-out sympathetic characters she played in Bunny Chow and A Boy Called Twist. Scout and her boyfriend Wayne (Carl Beukes) are the Mall Murderers, a couple of Mickey and Mallory Knox-inspired killers, who break into the home of Hollywood producer Bruce Delamitri (Ashley Dowds), with the intention of spreading the message to the world that Delamitri’s movies are responsible for what they have done.

‘You never know where you stand with Scout,” says Engelbrecht. ‘She’s young and loopy. She’s also impressionable, she’s in love with the media and glamour and pretty things. She tries to live her life according to Heat magazine. But she fails, because she doesn’t have an iota of style. Basically she’s trash.” I ask if it is fun playing a less likable character than she usually plays. ‘I always like the characters I play,” Engelbrecht stresses. ‘As an actor you have to be on your character’s side and be able to justify her behaviour.”

Popcorn has been surrounded by the kind of hype usually reserved for major extravaganzas such us Umoja or Soweto Story — surprising for a non-musical play with a limited cast. There have been billboards and posters galore. They even sent the Mail & Guardian a box of popcorn with a plastic gun in it and pictures of Beukes and Engelbrecht looking all moody and holding guns.

Englebrecht was slightly reticent about having to pose for publicity pictures packing heat. ‘You don’t want to glorify guns in South Africa, we’re not the most chilled out society. But although Popcorn is a bit crazy and violent, the message of the play is meant to be a statement on the way the media glorifies violence. Ben Elton’s work has a comic quality to it but it always makes you think.”

While undoubtedly intelligent, there is an element of Engelbrecht’s personality that irks the cynical journalist in me. It’s her relentless positivity. The side of her that says: ‘You’re put on this earth to do a certain amount of things and it’s an injustice when you don’t achieve everything you can.” Later, Engelbrecht says: ‘I really want to write a self-help book. I would like to do motivational speaking.”

She also wants to save the world. ‘I’m a 46664 ambassador, I used to work for loveLife, I am aware of what’s going on in society”. I ask what being a 46664 ambassador entails. ‘The aim is to do things [Nelson] Mandela can’t do, because he’s getting old and he’s very busy — buying shirts.” It’s quips like this last remark that disarm me. Engelbrecht, who used to do stand-up and was a member of the Pure Monate Show’s writing team, has a sense of humour.

Of her upbringing in the Cape Flats, Engelbrecht says: ‘It wasn’t a very rough area. It was just — normal.” She says this in the manner of someone for whom ‘normal” isn’t an option. Because of this attitude, Engelbrecht’s future will be punctuated by plenty of success. And somewhere along the line, armchair critics like my friends and me might debate whether she is truly talented or just hot. But, really, that’s our issue, not hers.

Popcorn opens at the Tesson Theatre, Civic Theatre, on May 31. Tickets are R190. Book at Computicket. Tel: 011 877 6800