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‘Skemerdans’: A mal interpretation of Cape Flats nightlife

Glenn Fortune (Kevin Smith) is up against everything. Suave and old-school, dressed in white, the businessman is meant to be celebrating with friends and family at his club, the Oasis. But people are on his neck, loans are falling due, he is on the brink of divorce and family members are turning against him as the sharks circle to take over his club.

Fortune is a good man facing difficult choices. It’s a kak situation and he needs to find a way out.

These are some of the opening scenes of the first episode of Skemerdans, a 13-part Cape Flats noir series set to be screened on African streaming service Showmax, run by Multichoice. 

Written and directed by Amy Jephta and Ephraim Gordon, it presents a darker, grittier view of Cape Town. There is no mountain. No sea. This is the nocturnal world of jazz and whisky and shady characters — the shadow world of the Cape.

  The cast of actors is familiar from South African television dramas and soap operas. Smith is charismatic enough to pull off the role of a washed-up Glenn Fortune, while his wife, played by Ilse Klink, brings her familiar mercurial acting to bear on the role of Shireen. It’s a setup for a fierce character that is sure to develop as the series goes on.

There is a streak of humour that cuts the tension from time to time. That humour takes the form of Denver the barman (who chases the boss’s well-travelled daughter) and Melanie the waitress (who reminds him he only knows three languages: English, Afrikaans and Kakpraat). While the high-stakes dealings are going on, they have gat-maakery skinner conversations we have with our friends. In a sense, they become the characters that ground the film for the viewer.

Ilse Klink, brings her familiar mercurial acting to bear on the role of Shireen. It’s a setup for a fierce character that is sure to develop as the series goes on. (Showmax)

What makes it remarkable is that although it feels like you’re walking into an old-time noir novel, the show is also viscerally relatable and immediate because we know these spaces. We recognise the streets and smile at the references. We’ve also jazzed at Club Galaxy, a Cape Flats institution. We’ve seen how smet (dirty) Voortrekker Road can get at night. The old sax is playing Montreal by The Tony Schilder Trio. We know this scene; we’ve been here. It’s familiar and endearing for this reason. It’s also darker for this reason.

  The episode is beautifully shot. Dark, smoky scenes bring the club setting and the pensive mood to life. In a way, it presents Club Galaxy as an important but unstated lead character in its own right.

This is not 7de Laan. The plot creaks with the tension of drama under the surface, of complicated characters, broken promises and double dealing, all shaded by the lights of the Oasis. The noir elements are undeniable. It’s the neon lights reflected in dark gutter water, street lamps and gold chains gleaming in the shadows, a pair of eyes in the rearview mirror. Every moment is loaded with tension. Although the transitions feel dreamlike, the sense of doom builds as you watch Skemerdans, and you know that things can escalate at any point.

 But it is also not your Cape Flats gangster film, such as Noem My Skollie, Four Corners or the drug-addled Dollars and White Pipes. It steers clear of romanticised depictions of masculine hyper-violence, the near-inescapable tyranny of working class life, and grand themes of redemption. Yasss.

The aesthetic is a deliberately stylised one, with muted shades of the immaculate suits, the metallic sheen of the scotch, the charred gold glint of the old saxophone playing in the club. Black and white piano keys and the final crimson blood splatter set up the mystery: Who did it?

There’s a reference to Edward Street in Bellville when the club owner’s prodigal daughter remarks that she and her friends “wil vir Edward Street nog wakker maak”. We enjoyed this reference on two levels. First, because of our early twenties nostalgia for that space. But on another level, there’s a serious and real underworld parallel buried in that reference. Edward Street has a notorious history of shootouts and underworld figures monopolising nightclub strips by force. Albeit a fleeting reference, it invokes a Cape Town reality of household names forcibly taking over long-standing aboveboard family operations with a “Name your price — or else …” . This is the central premise of the debut episode.

Glenn Fortune (Kevin Smith) is up against everything in Skemerdans. (Photo: Showmax)

A delicious one-liner from the show throws this predicament into stark relief: “Be the showman, be the distraction, entertain the masses with your sequined jacket and your magic tricks, we’ll be the machinery underwater.” The machinery underwater is exactly what Skemerdans unveils so well.

Despite the stark interplay between the shadowy threats and the glittering stage, the opening episode continues to feel close. There’s the glitzy dress sauntering down the spiral staircase, the languid entrance of a starlet that feels very Hollywood. But there’s also the daddy-daughter dance after a toast to the rise of a family from Athlone, and the voice of the nightclub host played by Alistair Izobell — a local nightclub legend — which will make you feel like you’re in your home listening to the radio. Even towards the end, when the returning daughter gets a dreaded phone call, it’s from her Uncle Trev. Everyone has that Uncle Trev. 

Through stylistic choices, this noir series makes the familiar iconic.

It is a mal interpretation of Cape Flats nightlife. We can’t wait to see the drama unfold.

This is an edited version of an article first published by Africa Is a Country

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Mia Arderne
Mia Arderne is a Cape Town-based writer with bylines at Cosmopolitan, the Mail & Guardian, Marie Claire, GQ, City Press and more. Her writing explores the politics of gender, race, identity, sexuality and mental health. She works as a journalist at Viewfinder, Accountability Journalism. Her debut novel Mermaid Fillet is published by Kwela, NB Publishers.

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