Archived Reviews of Desperate First Ladies
REVIEWS OF DESPERATE FIRST LADIES in CAPE TOWN — SEPTEMBER 2011
***** Uyslike bydrae tot landsake
– Laetitia Pople, Die Burger, 9 September 2011
Pieter-Dirk Uys betaal nie belasting soos ander Suid-Afrikaners nie. Nee, skerts hy, hy betaal tantième aan ’n regering wat so brou en aanjaag dat dit sy loopbaan volhoubaar maak.
En dit is nie net Zuma wat so mildelik inspirasie oor die satirikus “uitstort” nie, o nee. Die regerings van die klein republiekie aan die suidpunt besiel Uys mos nou al ruim 38 jaar!
Die korrupsie, gulsigheid en gewoon power regering van die jonge demokrasie, nou in sy laat tienerjare, is fel onder skoot in Desperate First Ladies. Desperate verwys na die televisiereeks Desperate Housewives, oor radelose en verveelde Amerikaanse huisvroue, en in Uys se vertoning na die president se vele amptelike vrou(e).
Die stel is drie wasgoedlyne met al die tabberds van Uys se vorige karakters, van Elize Botha se luiperdvel-rokke tot Betsie Verwoerd se pastel-Voortrekkerrok neffens Evita B. se spoggerige uitrustings.
Luidens Uys kan pres. Zuma net f—k, dans en stort. En hy illustreer dít ryklik en met ritme. Juju en regter Mogoeng Mogoeng loop ook lekker deur. Daar is ook Uys se ou teikens, P.W. Botha —
op wie hy al hoe meer trek, sê hy gebelg — en Winnie Madikizela-Mandela. Dan huldig hy sy gunstelingkarakters: moeder Teresa (in groen Crocs met bewerige sterretjies as ’n stralekrans), Nowell Fine, steeds liberaal na ál die jare, Bambi Kellerman en daardie doyenne en kanniedood Evita Bezuidenhout…
Die sterskets was dié van Grace Mugabe — wat haarself voor die gehoor behang met “bloeddiamante”, haar eie kapsel lokkie vir lokkie saamstel en ’n verwerking van die kinderliedjie “Old MacDonald had a farm” so onheilspellend sing soos “Old Mugabe had a farm” en sy oog is op ’n ou wynlandgoedjie daar onder die Pieke…
Op 66 jaar dop Uys nog rats in en uit karakters soos Houdini wat in en uit ’n harnas klim. Sy ontleding is so flink en in die pas met die varsste nuus — jy herken dit oombliklik, jy lag soms met ongemaklike herkenning en dan bulderlag jy hulpeloos.
Met ’n fladder van ’n vals wimper kan Uys sweerlik ’n diktator koudsit. Dankie tog vir sy binnegoed, daarsonder sou die dag se nuus waarskynlik ondraaglik wees.
Tot 1 Oktober, Baxter-teater, Rondebosch
Tannies, tyrants and old oom PW ***
Desperate First ladies, written and performed by Pieter-Dirk Uys
– Helen Herimbi, Tonight, 13 September 2011
Tannies and tyrants all come alive in Pieter-Dirk Uys’s new work.
The show features a chorus line of a dozen well-known women and those whom Uys encountered and then made famous through his interpretation of them.
There’s obviously Bambi Kellerman, sex worker and sister to Evita Bezuidenhout. And there’s Mother Teresa (whose silver star Alice band threatened to fall off while Uys was being naughty about the goings-on in heaven) and plenty of other characters that made for chuckle-worthy moments.
But the moments that stand out are when we see this veteran of the stage transform, while talking about certain issues, into the character whose era he is discussing.
He does it impeccably when he dons a hat, hunches his shoulders, makes his lips into tiny folds and literally becomes PW Botha — the only male character in the show.
It also is impressive when, reducing the theatre to almost pitch-black dark and using only the spotlight, Uys sits in front of an imaginary mirror and puts Grace Mugabe together.
From the shiny bling necklace, the chandelier earrings, the synthetic hair patched on to Velcro and a menacing version of Old McDonald turned into “Old Mugabe wants that farm”. Ee-yigh-ee-yigh-YOH!
Other moments in this satirical comedy are more light-hearted. Apart from the fact that it’s a fake Beyoncé (I can tell) singing Single Ladies, Uys uses this song as a wink to the audience and as something like an interlude too.
He even does a bit of a jiggle when it plays.
Another highlight is when he explains his encounter with Winnie Madikizela-Mandela’s bodyguards after he performed at an ANC function dressed as that stalwart of the party. With miniature tyres as bracelets tied to handcuffs. And a stompie as an earring.
If you’re too young to know those references, then some allusions will definitely fly over your head. Others, though, will fly right into your brain and come out of your mouth in the form of laughter.
Enjoy.
Desperate First Ladies — a hilarious tour de force
– Greg Landman, City Press, 18 September 2011
Pieter-Dirk Uys’ swipe at everything that moves incorrectly, Desperate First Ladies, has opened to enthusiastic audiences at the Baxter Theatre in Cape Town.
With a backdrop of colourful frocks hanging in rows on the ceiling behind him, Uys shows he’s still the master of grabbing one by the tender soft parts and making one laugh and cry at the same time. The structure of the piece makes it possible for him to move in and out of characters with ease, taking the audience on a roller coaster ride into zaniness — with a sharp edge.
Evita Bezuidenhout’s Teutonic sister, Bambi Kellerman, had the audience in stitches with her deadpan lesson in how to roll a condom on to a dildo, “not a banana, darling, that won’t help”. And Mother Theresa trying to keep the switchboard in heaven operating while Marilyn Monroe on strike was a hoot.
The arrival of a hyper Mrs Gaddafi, wielding an AK-47 and thanking the South Africans for giving them shelter (“the camels will love eating Kirstenbosch”), took the show to new heights of bizarreness, while the impression of Grace Mugabe was chilling in its accuracy. Of course, it wouldn’t be a Pieter-Dirk Uys evening without Evita herself, and she is created before our eyes, emerging, glittering and just a bit daft, obviously as mystified at the political goings-on in a future South Africa as we all are. Uys, the actor, astounds with his ability to submerge himself in character. Where does he go while they are on stage? He disappears completely. Not to be missed!
PDU shows top form in ‘Desperate First Ladies’
– Peter Tromp, The Next 48 Hours, 23 September 2011
I bumped my head on a post on my way to the Baxter to see this show. (Don’t ask.) I had a bit of a throbbing headache (and an ever-growing, embarrassing bump as proof of my clumsiness) and thought there would be no way it would be possible to enjoy a show at that moment.
If it isn’t apparent by now, Pieter-Dirk Uys has a mysterious way about him. He has the ability to assuage headaches aplenty, whether they are self-inflicted (my case), imagined (the “this country is going to the dogs” camp) or nationally inflicted by the political elite (chief instigator being a certain excitable youth leader).
He is also one of the truly few political voices that can get away with saying almost anything and generally speaking his mind. This is because of his affable nature, and particular that of many of his creations, primarily Evita, of course. This freedom of expression has been hard won, but it has been a deserved victory, mainly earned due to PDU’s commitment to question whoever is in office, regardless of their political leanings.
‘Desperate First Ladies’ presents PDU at his lightest and most charming. The ease with which the man works a theatre as large as the Baxter Theatre stage is quite remarkable. There’s no denying the level of political fatigue in the country so PDU, who has tooted the national responsibility horn before, probably knew he had to come out a little lighter and leaner. Physically he seems sprightlier than ever, but the tone of ‘Desperate First Ladies’ is also more palatable than some of his shows in recent years and also completely trimmed of fat.
It is sometimes easy to take for granted what a gifted comedian Uys is and here we get him as close to an all-out comedy force as we have seen of late.
Uys is almost incapable of ignoring politics altogether, though; even his most recent artistic triumph, a cabaret featuring his ex-pat, Germanised creation Bambi Kellerman, featured many a detour to South African’s current state. ‘Desperate First Ladies’ is political for sure, but not dourly so.
Instead of invoking outrage or concern on the part of the audience, he instead invites us to take pleasure in the absurdity of the South African landscape of power and personality and makes us realise anew how far a few laughs can go to making media saturated everyday life a lot more tolerable. That’s not to say he excuses the infernal inequities in our country, nor the behaviour of many of the elected officials.
It’s more a case of PDU’s humour and sharp acerbic eye dominating proceedings, rather than his sense of outrage.
Uys is far too canny an operator to just preach to the already converted, mostly liberal audiences that will flock to his show. He goes further, making us feel complicit in his observations.
During the show, he shares stories about making some of the top brass in our country (including the supposed Mother Of The Nation) feel very uncomfortable when he gets to entertain them, and for any disgruntled South African that vicarious pleasure is almost worth the price of a ticket right there.