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African Jim : sound, politics, and pleasure in early ‘black’ South African cinema

2010; Taylor & Francis; Volume: 22; Issue: 1 Linguagem: Inglês

10.1080/13696810903488595

1469-9346

Lindiwe Dovey, Angela Impey,

African studies and sociopolitical issues

Abstract This article offers a new take on the film African Jim (popularly known as Jim Comes to Joburg), the first feature-length entertainment film made with a black cast and specifically for black audiences in South Africa (in 1949). In contrast to earlier interpretations of the film, which focus predominantly on the film's images, its problematic production context, and its patronizing narrative, we focus on and offer interpretation of the film's aural/oral aspects. Through analysis of the ways in which the film's black performers mobilize African languages and music as 'hidden transcripts' (a concept we borrow from James Scott), we argue that the film is invested with certain political subtexts that have not previously been acknowledged. These subtexts, we suggest, must have been all the more powerful at the time the film was made since, in this context, the political efficacy of music was vested largely in its ability to simultaneously convey pleasure and pain, and to be both uplifting and subversive, thus concealing its essential meanings from the white power establishment. In bringing to our rereading of African Jim a sense of the importance and specificity of sound and music in black South African culture of the late 1940s, we hope to show how virtually impossible it is to give a complete reading of the film while ignoring the film's aural/oral components. This rereading also suggests that within film studies in general, and African film studies in particular, it would seem vital to acknowledge the need for more profound studies of the complex ways in which African soundscapes – African music and African languages – contribute to the multiple meanings of films that are made in this context. Keywords: South Africafilmmusicjazz1950s Jim Comes to Joburg Acknowledgements We would like to thank, in particular, Mwelela Cele, for his generous support of our research in many ways, and Carola Mostert, for her invaluable help with translation. Thank you, also, to Peter Davis, Kenneth Dovey, Teresa Dovey, Ben Gwape, Robert James, David Serame, Andrew Tracey, and Yvonne Winters, whose assistance has been very useful. Notes These lyrics are the only in the song that are in English. However, they are rhythmically chanted in a way that converts the words into sounds that appear not to have a meaning in any language. Of course, these disguised lyrics are entirely subversive in the context of a film titled African Jim made in the late 1940s. A Dictionary of South African English (ed. Jean Branford with William Branford, 4 ed., Cape Town, Oxford UP, 1991, 138) points out that the name 'Jim' is 'objectionable', a 'Mode of address to a black man whose name is unknown; now rare'. The usage in South Africa no doubt derived from the derogatory term 'Jim Fish' used in the US – 'An offensive mode of reference to a black man now rare […] Prob. fr. 'Jim Fish' a character who was always getting into trouble in 1940s' training films for miners' (Branford and Branford 1991, 138). See also In Darkest Hollywood (1993) and Bickford-Smith (2000) for commentary on this song. Sampson writes about the use of such work songs by the Johannesburg Municipality, who were particularly impressed by the 'traditional rhythmic chants' of black workers and went so far as to play them over loud speakers to stimulate work (1956, 60). Peter Davis notably points out that, 'When the film was shown again after 40 years in South Africa, at the Weekly Mail Film Festival of 1990, Karen Rutter, reviewing in The Daily Mail, called it uncharitably 'perhaps the most extreme example of patronising propaganda' (1996, 21). Maingard ultimately argues that the film 'is a limited representation of the realities of black identity in South Africa at the time'' (2007, 85). We wish to gratefully acknowledge the generous help of Carola Mostert (Department of Languages and Cultures of Africa, SOAS) and Mwelela Cele (University of KwaZulu Natal Killie Campbell Africana Library, Durban), who undertook much of this translation work. Those involved include Kenneth Dovey, Ben Gwape, Robert James, David Serame, Stanley Mnyandu, and Yvonne Winters and Mwelela Cele of the University of KwaZulu Natal Killie Campbell Africana Library, Durban. The close relationship between performers and spectators that exists, of course, in many African contexts has been explored and discussed in detail by Karin Barber (, ). Dovey (, 12–16) specifically addresses the relationship between African filmmakers, films, and spectators. All of the black South Africans who attended the screenings had prior knowledge of the film, even though they had not been old enough in 1949 to be aware of the production and screening of the film. Mwelela Cele pointed out that the label 'a Jim Comes to Joburg' is still used for a person who is considered a 'country bumpkin' and lacking in urban understanding. Sam Maile, in addition to arranging the music and composing a number of the songs in the soundtrack – such as 'Nozizwe' and 'Golden City' (Um-Afrika, 5 November 1949, 8) – also plays the role of the pianist in the film, a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips throughout. The newspaper Um-Afrika reports that Jim Comes to Joburg had its world premiere at The Rio 'non-European' cinema on Market Street on 24 October 1949. It goes on to say that 'After the show of the film the African cast made an appearance on the stage and the President of the African Congress, Dr. A.B. Xuma, gave an address' (5 November 1949, 8). The Odin Cinema was Sophiatown's answer to the elite Bantu Men's Social Centre, not only showing the latest African American musical films, but also hosting mass political meetings, and providing a platform for a range of musical styles from swing and African jazz to classical concerts, vaudeville and variety shows (Coplan ). Black South Africans were discerning in their taste and choices, and even had some agency (albeit limited) in shaping what kinds of films were screened. In District Six, for example, if people did not deem the matinee film worthwhile viewing, word of mouth spread so quickly that the cinemas would be empty at the evening screening (Bioscope). Harry Bloom, scriptwriter of King Kong: An African Jazz Opera, refers to the way in which film music was mimicked by township musicians and incorporated into what became known as 'Township Jazz' (1961, 7). The language spoken in the townships was also a mixture, he says, of Sesotho, Afrikaans and 'film-world slang', picked up from the movies (1961, 16). Notably, the actor who plays Jim – Daniel Adnewmah, a teacher from Alexandra township – suffered a similar fate during the shooting of the film (Um-Afrika 5 November 1949, 8). Indeed, Dolly's 'real' persona slips into the film occasionally, when she is called 'Dolly' rather than 'Judy' by the other characters. This is noteworthy given that many other films of this era – such as Song of Africa (1951) and Cry, the Beloved Country (1951) – suggest that black South Africans essentially belong in the countryside. We do not deny the importance of identification in securing the film's popularity since David Serame and other contemporary viewers to whom we have shown the film have also clearly derived great pleasure through such identification, and have even expressed a degree of nostalgia. South African ethnomusicologist, Lara Allen has also made use of Scott's notion of 'hidden transcripts' in her analysis of the commercial development of 'vocal jive' during the 1950s (2003). The trope of the 'singing waiter' was no doubt borrowed by the filmmakers from American Al Jolson's role as the singing waiter at Blackie Joe's café in one of the first sound films, The Singing Fool (1928), thereby giving cinematic depth and intertextuality to the scene and reinforcing the integration of black South Africans into the global, modern world economy rather than sidelining them to the ahistorical margins. This redemptive power of music reflected a very real situation in South Africa at the time. In fact, during the shooting of Jim Comes to Joburg, Dolly Rathebe, who plays the role of Judy, was arrested for not being in possession of her pass book. The incident became a major embarrassment to the government when the newspapers published the headlines 'Native film star arrested', and Dolly was immediately released from jail. In an essay titled 'Apartheid's musical signs' (2008), Olwage writes that the negro spiritual had a particular psycho-political resonance for black South Africans, particularly in the 1920s and 1930s, for whom the songs breathed 'hope and faith in the ultimate justice and brotherhood of man. The cadences of sorrow invariably turn to joy, and the message is ever manifest that […] every man will be free' (Ilange Lase Natal, 2 November 1923, quoted in Ballantine 1989, 9). These soundtracks are strongly reminiscent of those used for the African Mirror newsreels (first set up as silent films in 1913, with sound added in 1939) and designed as news or topicality films to precede the main showing. African Mirror was funded largely by the government with British Imperialist intentions (see Tomaselli ). For a more detailed analysis of the train as metaphor in Zulu isicathamiya songs, see Erlmann . The train scene in African Jim was, according to South African jazz musician, David Serame, one of the most iconic of the film, and may be linked to a number of popular migrant workers songs which similarly feature the train as a symbol of departure, namely 'Shosholoza' (imitative of the sound of the steam train) and Hugh Masekela's hit song, 'Stimela' (coal train). Serame has suggested that the Ngoma Nightclub was modelled on the Bantu Men's Social Centre, which was set up in the 1920s in the central business district of Johannesburg as a recreational and educational space for black South Africans. This adds complexity to Davis' reading of the Ngoma Club as reminiscent only of nightclubs featured in Hollywood films (1996, 23). Composed by Leon Rene and Johnny Lange in 1942, but the song first made its grand entrance into music history when it was sung by Mae E. Johnson in Stormy Weather (1943). The original lyrics are: I lost my sugar in Salt Lake City Oh, why did I go there? I should have stayed down in New Orleans And never gone nowhere. We do not have space here to elaborate on the gendered dimensions of film production, spectatorship, and performance in early 'black' South African cinema, something which has been considered by Allen . One could certainly draw certain parallels between Dolly Rathebe and Mae E. Johnson, who starred only in one film – Keep Punching (1939) – although she had a few small roles in other films, registering the difficulty of making a living as a black actress in this era, both in South Africa and the US. Johnson's career began in Harlem nightclubs – making the Judy character in African Jim take on a biographical and historical dimension. Notably Johnson's popularity was secured through her work as a Mae West impersonator – a rare and somewhat subversive reversal at a time in which white (and black) actors were more likely to don blackface in the tradition of minstrelsy performances. For more on blackface and minstrelsy see Bogle . According to renowned South African ethnomusicologist, Andrew Tracey, there were many BaChopi groups in Johannesburg in the 1940s; most of the Johannesburg mines (e.g. Consolidated Main Reef, East Rand Proprietary Mines, and Durban Deep) had at least one group (personal communication, 26 May 2008). For further information on these dance groups, see also Hugh Tracey . See also Couzens .