A sector in freefall

South Africa’s film and television industry is once again preparing to take to the streets. 

At the end of January, thousands of actors, writers, directors, producers, crew members and allied workers will march under the banner “Save SA Film Jobs”, demanding urgent reform of the department of trade, industry and competition’s (DTIC) film and TV incentive scheme. 

The protests, scheduled for Cape Town and Pretoria, come amid what industry bodies describe as an existential crisis. One that has seen the sector shrink by nearly half.

At the centre of the mobilisation is a growing sense that government inaction has tipped a fragile creative ecosystem into freefall. For years, South Africa positioned itself as a globally competitive production hub, attracting international projects through skilled labour, favourable exchange rates and a rebate incentive designed to stimulate investment. 

But according to industry leaders, the system has ground to a halt, leaving productions stalled, workers unpaid and investor confidence badly shaken.

Jack Devnarain, the national chairperson of the South African Guild of Actors (Saga), describes the current moment as catastrophic, not only for performers, but for the entire value chain that sustains film and television production. 

In an interview with the Mail & Guardian, he argues that the collapse of the incentive has exposed deeper structural failures: a lack of political will, incoherent industrial policy and the continued exclusion of freelance creatives from South Africa’s otherwise progressive labour protections.

When industry bodies say South Africa’s film and television sector has contracted by nearly 50%, Devnarain says this is not an abstract statistic; it is visible across every layer of production.

“It literally means there are fewer people doing production work and that the entire value chain is being affected,” he explains. 

A single film or television production typically employs a wide range of workers, from writers and actors to camera operators, costume designers, makeup artists and post-production specialists. Beyond the set, productions also support hotels, transport services, catering companies and drivers.

“As the production industry contracts,” Devnarain says, “so do all the other associated industries.”

The immediate consequences are fewer shoots, shorter contracts and long periods of unemployment between projects. For an industry characterised by precarity, the contraction has pushed many workers to breaking point.

“With less work available,” he says, “people will then take their skills into other countries and other territories, or you might find them simply leaving the industry and picking up other skills to find other available work.”

The skills drain is particularly damaging in a sector where experience, mentorship and continuity are essential. Once lost, that expertise is not easily rebuilt.

For decades, South Africa worked to establish itself as a favoured destination for international productions. Its reputation was built on a combination of climate, infrastructure and a high standard of technical and creative skills. That standing, Devnarain warns, is under serious threat.

“South Africa has a lot to lose,” he says. “We’ve taken many decades to establish South Africa as a favoured destination.”

The immediate casualty of the incentive’s dysfunction is foreign direct investment, which Devnarain says is being diverted to other African countries and production hubs beyond the continent.

More damaging, however, is the reputational fallout. “Once South Africa develops a reputation for incompetence and poor administration, which is the case now,” he argues, “then we will always be overlooked by producers who are looking to create great content within an administration that works.”

In an industry driven by tight schedules and complex financing arrangements, reliability is everything. Even generous incentives lose their appeal if approvals are delayed or payments uncertain. Devnarain is pessimistic about how quickly that trust can be restored.

“We are unlikely to regain that confidence from international producers in the near future,” he says.

The crisis has hit actors particularly hard. Even in stable times, Devnarain notes, acting work is precarious, poorly regulated and vulnerable to exploitation. “We are also vulnerable to a lack of regulation and a lack of minimum standards when it comes to our earning rates and contractual standards.” 

With fewer productions moving forward, actors lose not only income but opportunities to develop their craft and build sustainable careers. “You have actors who are no longer able to develop their skills, to showcase their talent, and to develop a strong body of work. It is catastrophic.”

The situation is made more bitter by recent legislative progress. The DTIC played a role in drafting legislation that would, for the first time, secure statutory royalty rights for actors. This was a long-fought victory aimed at ensuring residual income from their work.

But the gains are rendered meaningless, Devnarain argues, if productions are not being made at all. “You can have the most wonderful laws for a residual income but if there’s no production work, then all these wonderful statutory rights are irrelevant.”

Although the industry previously mobilised in February 2025, Devnarain says the current wave of protests reflects a continued failure by the government to act decisively.

Saga’s demands are clear: the immediate reinstatement of adjudication and approval processes for incentive rebates and a guarantee, backed by Treasury, that approved funds will be paid.

Equally important, he says, is transparency.

“The process itself must be transparent and efficient, and it must be run in accordance with the needs and the challenges of the industry.”

Too often, he argues, government departments design systems that serve bureaucratic mandates rather than the realities of production. The consequences can be devastating.

Producers may secure approvals in principle, complete their finance plans and even begin shooting, only to find that promised funds do not materialise when needed. “How on earth are people going to be paid?” 

The result is unfinished films, unpaid cast and crew, and millions of rand in outstanding costs. Compounding the problem, he says, is the government’s refusal to accept liability, arguing that contractual responsibility lies solely between producers and workers.

“That is absolutely unacceptable.” 

Beyond the immediate crisis, Devnarain sees a deeper failure in South Africa’s approach to the creative economy. “There is no coherent industrial policy when it comes to the South African creative industry,” he says bluntly.

Despite the country’s strong labour framework, including the Basic Conditions of Employment Act and the Labour Relations Act, freelance creatives fall outside the protections. The consequences are severe.

“There are no basic labour rights,” Devnarain says. “Even simple things like safety on set, sexual harassment, overtime and sick leave. None of this is protected.”

In 2026, he describes this situation as humiliating. While South Africa boasts some of the world’s most progressive labour laws, they simply do not apply to most of the people working in film and television.

Addressing the gap, he argues, requires alignment across multiple departments including trade, industry and competition; employment and labour; social development; and sports, arts and culture. 

Yet meaningful coordination has been absent, and the problems have persisted for decades.

When thousands of black-clad creatives march at the end of January, Devnarain says the message to the government should be unmistakable.

“This is a show of solidarity from all parts of the sector,” he says, and a condemnation of the DTIC’s failure to address a crisis squarely within its mandate.

“They should have acted more timeously,” he adds, “and in fact they should have been preemptive.”

Instead, the industry has faced what Devnarain describes as a lack of constructive communication and engagement. It’s an absence that has stalled economic potential and deepened the damage.

Are solutions available? Devnarain believes the problem is not a lack of models but a lack of political will.

“There are many countries in the world that have film incentive rebates,” he says, pointing to examples including Morocco, Saudi Arabia, the US, New Zealand and Australia. “So the model is hardly an alien thing.”

More than 60 countries, he notes, operate regulated creative industries where unions participate in collective bargaining, ensuring minimum protections for workers. South Africa’s failure to do the same, he argues, is increasingly indefensible.

“This is a conversation with the department of employment and labour,” he says, “to ask them, how on earth do we still not have any basic protections for freelancers?”

For those outside the creative sector, the film industry’s struggles might seem distant. Devnarain insists they are not.

South Africans are not merely consumers of film and television, he argues. They are participants in a global audiovisual economy shaped by streaming platforms, social media and digital distribution.

“We need to activate this as a viable sector to be able to export valuable South African creative commodities,” he says.

Without a functioning, regulated industry, the country risks remaining a passive consumer rather than a producer of value. 

“Why not actually start to engage the economy where we are making a profit out of our contributions,” Devnarain asks, “and not just merely sitting by in the world as casual spectators and as passengers?”

As the industry prepares to march once more, the stakes are clear: not only the survival of thousands of livelihoods, but the future of one of South Africa’s most globally visible and economically promising sectors.