Set in a South African slum on the outskirts of Johannesburg, Tsotsi follows the transformation of an ostensibly emotionally inhibited adolescent who answers to the name Tsotsi; meaning “thug” in local Tsotsitaal patois. Breathtakingly played by amateur actor Presley Chweneyagae, the young killer Tsotsi – maltreated by those whom he loved – undertakes a form of self-depersonalisation in an attempt to dislocate himself from his traumatic history. Severing all ties to his previous self, he runs away from his home to live on the streets as a cold-hearted, small-time gangster. With no name, no past and no identity, it seems that nothing can move him.
Yet when Tsotsi unwittingly gains possession of a one-year-old baby after shooting his mother, he is faced with a dilemma that threatens to penetrate his emotional fortress. Unable to desert the child as he himself was, Tsotsi takes it on himself to become the child’s surrogate father. By projecting his abandoned and vulnerable past-self onto the newly acquired infant, Tsotsi becomes increasingly attached to the helpless baby whom he perceives to possess the innocence he has lost. In a sense the child is the key that frees Tsotsi’s repressed emotions and with the ability to be affected once again reawakened, Tsotsi’s dormant memories come flooding back. Through a culmination of flashbacks and a visit to the concrete construction pipe that was once his primitive childhood home, Tsotsi reacquaints himself with his past.
Ultimately this is a film about the exorcism of trauma and the subsequent re-discovery of self by re-learning how to feel. Although deeply moving, at no point does Hood fall back on Hollywoodised one-liners or big dramatic embraces. Much of this is due to the soundtrack; an infusion of heavy-bass Kwaito and pulsating African-tribal folk music, this score really does transport you to the poverty-stricken South African townships. Many of the songs also feature the melodic voice of South African protest singer and poet Vusi Mahlasela, an inclusion that permits Tsotsi to be emotionally engaging without skirting on the corny.
In fact Tsotsi manages to stay clear from all the obvious pitfalls of over sentimentalising the story or characters. By staying true to Fugard’s original novel and taking a reductive approach to dialogue, Hood rejects the normative use of language in films as a means of explanation. It is clear that no words are wasted in Tsotsi and much of the underlying meaning is heavily reliant on visuals. The result is that the cinematography is both stunning and poignant; scarcely can a still frame in a film say so much. Consequently, it would be a mistake to say that the deliberation given to each shot in Tsotsi is merely impressive; it is a work of art.
And the acting follows suit. From the loneliness and simmering rage in Tsotsi’s fixed glare to the immeasurable pain in Miriam’s fleeting glance, it is uncanny the extent to which the emotions in the film are conveyed by the actor’s eyes alone. After trawling through so many wax work Hollywood productions, it is invigorating to watch a film where so much time is dedicated to tracking the expressions of the actors. To some this film might seem a little slow moving at first, but given half a chance it is guaranteed to take the viewer on a powerful journey that results in subsequent ponderings on philosophical questions about personhood never before heeded.
