23 October... 27

Devilish Chocolate for a blessed birthday

The Help vs The Help

Last week I went to the movies with my mother and against my better judgment I chose to see The Help. The reason my judgment was against seeing this film was not because I thought it would be bad but because I knew it wouldn’t be of the quality as the novel from which it is adapted by Kathryn Stockett (2009).

Yes, the story of The Help has stirred some controversy concerning the acknowledgement or the lack there of, that was given to the contributors of the stories. None the less, the book is written in the voices of three of the characters which makes it that much more intriguing, it really is a page turner. It is written with such awesome detail of which very little is captured in the film, I don’t even think that the deep southern accent detailed in the book is as thoroughly delivered on the big screen.

I never understand how films always manage to lose parts of the story that really embrace a lot of the essence of what is being told. How is it that the director decides to completely change certain characters, their appearance and the role that they play... it really upsets me.

Of course reading the book before watching the movie almost always guarantee’s that the pictures you’ve conjured up in your own head will most probably be shot to hell and gone and even some of the scene’s you’re most excited to see, you’ll be lucky enough to have a fraction of it retold.

The story told is based on the well known race tale of the 60’s before and during the civil rights movement. Stockett however, focuses particularly on the story of the black maid, the white master and the unspoken of truths that existed between the two. It tells the tale of these average people who had a lot to fear, that decided to relate the day to day stories of their average lives, stories that were honest to their thoughts and feelings , stories that were in many ways the same as their comrades but that were still their own.

There are however things that the film does for one’s emotion that the book doesn’t quite manage. Bringing to life some of the emotion that is experienced while reading. The film allows you a more vivid understanding of the relationships that existed between white and black people in the south and particularly in Jackson Mississippi, a town that was considered one of the most racist in the 60’s. The film explores the deeply intimate relationships that existed despite the blatant hatred and hurt that was consistently inflicted. It explores and creates an understanding of the self conflict and immense confusion experienced by the children of white families who were brought up and loved by the very people they were meant to hate. It scrutinises the inconsistency that was present in the way that white people treated black people and the appreciation that a lot of them felt and even sometimes displayed toward black people.

So the book vs the movie? You have to appreciate the moments in the film of humour, hurt, vengeance and love that the actors bring to the characters but it could definitely have given a lot more attention to the detail that Stockett achieves in the novel.

The First Grader- The simplicity of Freedom

So I seem to be making a habit of going to see movies at the Labia.... or at least I’m trying.

Last night we went to see The First grader, a movie I’ve been dying to see and for the most part it lived up to some of my expectations. The film is based on a true story of an ex Mau Mau fighter from a remote village in Kenya, who at the age of 84 decides that he too wants to take the government up on their offer for free education for all, an education he could not afford to get before.

Moments of sadness and anger are balanced by some humour, from a chorus of local men and taxi drivers who constantly have their two cents to add, and warmth that keeps it from being completely consumed by the painful political milieu on which the story is based, giving you the chance to be inspired by the hope and humanity of Maruge (Oliver Litondo) instead. The children in film have the most beautiful souls that you can see through their wide eye’s and they demonstrate, as only children can, the meaning of acceptance as the take Maruge into their classroom and lives. Most of Maruge’s life is a sketch of his fight for freedom, which although Kenya eventually succeeded in getting, the film depicts him as still fighting for, even after the British are gone, in his desire to be literate and to be at peace.

With believable and inspirational performances all round Kimani Ng'ange'a Maruge’s story is given much justice in the way it has been told. Although, in as much as the story is an inspirational one, the line of the tale told is lacking in some aspects, it doesn’t quite manage to invoke the emotion you would expect from a story like this one. Characters such as Charles Obinchu played by Tony Kgoroge and his relationship with his wife Jane (Naomie Hrris), could have been more thoroughly explored. Quite frankly there are just moments that could be small climaxes in the film that are simply not fulfilled and leave your tears backed up in their ducts.

Overall the story is an awesome one, wholesome... the screenplay, not exactly award winning but one I would say you should at least watch for some insight into a history that may not be your own but the story of an individual that could teach for generations to come.

Pieces of Home

So apparently, your home says a lot about who you are... I think ours is a good mix and I think I actually like our home.








what can I do but indulge his ambitions of being a skater boy



Our growing collection of hats & scarves



A bigger more solid wine rack soon to come

Klein Paternostertjie

Food with a view




The epitome of sophistication is utter simplicity. Maya Angelou

Viva Riva Movie-ing in Cape Town

Being at the Labia on Orange has a certain wistful ambiance that I can’t particularly describe... the unchanged building has so much character you’re happy to just have a cup of coffee in the foyer or maybe even a slush dashed with a choice of vodka or gin (gotta love it) from the chocolate bar.





This cinema was the perfect place to watch the first film out of the DRC in 25 years, Viva Riva written and directed by Djo Tunda wa Munga. A depiction of Kinshasa’s shanty towns, local night life and a glimpse of a decidedly mysterious culture is incorporated into a well known storyline of gangsters, a girl, a score and Riva... this simple plot manages to keep the entire theatre engrossed with laughter, revolt and gasps throughout the film.