The living room has always been the primary stage for the performance of South African actors and it’s no exception for the actors in Sue Nyathi’s viral Netflix adaptation of her book, The Polygamist. Behind the high walls, the polished floors and the manicured lawns of the series lies a world held up by human vulnerability, hidden transactions and deception.
As the series dominates local and international timelines, it has triggered an intense national conversation. While viewers online split into fiercely divided camps, debating the survival strategies of the women and the destructive entitlement of the men, the actors tasked with bringing the universe to life are dealing with a far more intimate reality. For them, The Polygamist is not just a distant drama; it is a magnifying glass held up to modern relationship dynamics, pain and the high cost of keeping up appearances.
For a society rooted in deep cultural legacies, any story touching on multiple partners instantly invites scrutiny. Yet, as the cast gather to talk about the series' explosive momentum, there is a collective refusal to let the show hide behind the excuse of an ancient custom.
“I don't think that the script necessarily leaned towards finding a balance of the cultural nuances,” reflects Gugu Gumede, who delivers a towering performance as Joyce Gomora, a character she describes as loving, protective and calculating.
Gumede is deliberate about separating the historical dignity of traditional polygamy from its modern, messy distortion.
“It more so challenges the question or theme of infidelity versus polygamy. And that's rife in so many households.”
For Gumede, the narrative exposes a darker, contemporary trend where cultural structures are weaponised to cover human flaws.
“Polygamy is mostly forced upon the woman,” she says bluntly. “Like it or not, you find yourself in the situation. It really just shows this insatiable appetite — you just can't get enough, you start to cheat and then you mask it as polygamy. The show didn't feel the urge or the need to glamourise what that is, mask it or sanitise it. It just told the true story of so many people out there.”
The actress is careful to make a crucial distinction.
“This is not the story of everyone. Please understand. There is traditional polygamy that's done well, that was enforced by the matriarch and that works. But then sometimes, as we've seen unfold in the media and in reality shows, it's really just enforced upon the woman.”
At the centre of the emotional storm stands Jonasi Gomora, brought to life with terrifying nuance by S’dumo Mtshali. He summarises his character’s inner life as lost, narcissistic and hurt.
For Mtshali, the challenge lay in balancing Jonasi's lethal charm with the arrogance that threatens to bring down his own legacy. The process required constant check-ins with his directors to see where his character was standing at any given point in the story.
“I had to constantly question the directors: Where are we placing him now?” Mtshali explains. “Where is he now psychologically? Where is he now spiritually? Where is he now physically? I had to constantly question that and myself because as an actor, you have to know where you're going, where you came from and where you are, so that it leads me to see and balance this character constantly.”
Jonasi interacts with an ensemble of women who are each navigating fragile phases of their lives, thus Mtshali views his role not as a solo performance but as a catalyst that pulls reactions out of his co-stars.
“I have to constantly ask: What am I responsible for here for this character? What am I trying to get out of other actresses to bring about their character more than my character? It was never really about Jonasi. It's really about the other character. What is Jonasi bringing out of them?”
Mtshali turns that question back onto the audience: “And that's a question that women must ask themselves. What is the man bringing out of you? The man that you choose.”
For the younger cast members, the show demanded an agonising level of emotional exposure. Luyanda Zwane, who plays Lindani, a character she defines as ambitious, crazy and sexy, describes the experience as a form of public vulnerability.
“For me, the challenge was being emotionally naked,” Zwane admits. “Being emotionally naked and having the people on set, the people editing and the people doing my scores see that emotional nakedness and what I had to tap into to reach it.”
Zwane’s character, Lindani, crosses a moral line by entering a relationship with the father of her close friend, Mpume Gomora (played with confrontational fire by Noluthando Shabalala). It is a plot point that sent shockwaves through social media but Zwane looks at the betrayal through a chillingly logical lens.
“Betrayal is betrayal to the next person,” Zwane says. “For you, you're getting what you want. For you, you're getting what makes sense to you at that moment. If Lindani had thought about ‘oh my word, what will Mpume say?’ she wouldn't have done that. She put herself first. She was selfish enough to serve her needs and her desires and then deal with the consequences later on.”
The disconnect leads to a violent physical fight between the two friends, a scene in which Lindani displays no remorse.
“When you're on the other side, it's not betrayal; it's self-fulfillment,” Zwane notes. “On the other side, it's ‘you just stabbed me in the back’. But for me, I'm like: No, I'm stabbing you in the back because I'm trying to get you down so I can walk over you and get to the goal. It's about me. That was quite interesting to explore.”
For others, the pain comes from family secrets and broken homes. Lwazie Keith Tsebesha, who plays Sarah, found the core of her character’s pain rooted in parental failure.
“In terms of Sarah's betrayal, the betrayal was from her dad and partially from her mom because her mom never really allowed her to actually fully experience what it's like to be part of a full-on family,” Tsebesha says.
The result is a destructive cycle of displaced anger.
“She found herself lashing out in order to seek attention, hurting others and just projecting all her pain onto her sister.”
Adapting a beloved, best-selling novel to television comes with its own unique weight. Sthandiwe Kgoroge, who brings a regal, grounded presence to Mama Grace (whom she describes as stern, loving and decisive), notes that the ghost of the source material is always present on set.
“Maybe the biggest challenge was the fact that we knew that there might be in people's heads that this is a book,” Kgoroge reflects. “But once you get past that in terms of, well, this is a totally different setup, different world and different medium, you're able to be free in terms of your craft.”
For industry veteran Kenneth Nkosi, who plays Magesh Gomora (whom he describes as loyal, kind and having low self-esteem), the transition was eased by how familiar the characters are in real life.
“I don't think there was a biggest challenge because these are the characters that we know, we see and we interact with every day of our lives,” Nkosi says. “Whenever I create a character, I always check around, the people that I've lived with or I live with and a little bit of me inside, because there's always going to be a little bit of me in every character I play.”
In stark contrast, Celeste Ntuli had to step outside her usual public persona to inhabit Essie, a character she defines as desperate, vulnerable and real. Known for her commanding comedic energy, Ntuli had to learn the quiet mechanics of a woman struggling for love.
“She's nothing like me,” Ntuli laughs. “I had to understand what would make someone be that vulnerable and easy to betray. The hardest part was to learn the vulnerability.”
Playing Essie also marked Ntuli's first time portraying a mother on screen, a reflective experience that forced her to confront the heavy responsibility an adult carries for a child's emotional world.
“What I enjoyed was the first time playing being a mother. Yeah, she made me question a lot. What would I be like? I know I'm a good aunt but I've never been a mother. To have that, I realised a lot. Wow, it's such a responsibility.”
For Wonder Ndlovu, who plays Menzi Gomora, the ultimate test was sitting in silence rather than focusing on lines. “For me, it was sitting in his silence because he doesn't say much. He's very observant. The industry teaches us as actors to love lines, to want to interpret lines and work with dialogue more than the scene, the stillness, the silence. I love the silence now.”
Despite the heavy themes of the show, the cast credit their off-screen bond as the safety net that allowed them to push boundaries.
“Luckily, we almost know each other,” Ntuli says of the large cast. “We've worked with each other in different productions. Even with the younger people in the cast, there was that nice camaraderie. This was the easiest set to work with.”
Kwanele Mthethwa agrees, noting that the shared goal eclipsed any potential ego clashes. “Everyone just came in, put in 101% and we all just wanted to make a great show. It was easy to feed off one another's energy.”
For Nkosi, the beauty lay in the quiet spaces between takes, sitting with fellow seasoned actors. “Seeing people at work together, playing together at the same time … Those are the moments that are beautiful.”
When asked what parting advice they would give to the broken souls they leave on screen, the cast offers a telling mix of empathy and warnings.
Mtshali offers Jonasi a rare moment of grace: “Take it easy on yourself, dude... it’s okay.” The women of the show offer sharper advice. Gumede tracks Joyce’s evolution from weakness to radical reclamation: “At the beginning, I would say: 'Girl, stand up, you're weak in the knees.' But then at the end, I say: 'You go, girl!'”
Perhaps the most haunting warning comes from Kenneth Nkosi, whose words mirror the tragic arc of the entire production. "Magesh," he says quietly, "your loyalty will betray you."
In a country grappling with the intersection of wealth, patriarchal tradition and emotional survival, The Polygamist functions as a televised confessional. It reminds us that whether a family is bound by holy matrimony, cultural custom or sheer financial security, the walls can hold the secrets for only so long before the entire house comes crashing down.