The film is vibrant, emotional, and filled with the kind of energy that reminds audiences why Michael Jackson became known as the King of Pop in the first place
The new biographical movie Michael, does not merely attempt to tell the story of the King of Pop; it attempts something far more difficult — to search for the fragile human being buried beneath decades of noise, headlines, applause, and controversy.
From its opening moments, the movie bursts with life, overflowing with rhythm, colour, and excitement. Yet at the same time, ironically carrying an almost dreamlike sadness.Childhood dissolves beneath stage lights. Innocence disappears behind screaming crowds. The young Michael is portrayed not as a child discovering joy, but as a child being sculpted into perfection.
Still from Michael of Jafaar Jackson performing. Photo: Supplied/The Bioscope
Jaafar Jackson, who is Michael Jackson’s nephew, delivers a performance that was much more than an imitation, he literally captured the spirit that made Michael so captivating. The concert recreations are absolutely breathtaking, the camera follows him with almost religious awe as he glides across stages drenched in light filled with dazzling and electric choreography and infectious energy that make it impossible not to smile.
Whether recreating the moonwalk or commanding massive crowds, the performance radiates the charisma that made Michael Jackson one of the most influential entertainers in history.
He does not simply recreate the voice, the posture, famous gestures through the utterly shocking resemblance; he captures the contradiction at the centre of Michael Jackson himself which is the collision between extraordinary confidence on stage and profound vulnerability away from it.
Some scenes feel so alive that they almost blur the line between cinema and reality. The film stops feeling like a biography and becomes pure sensation. The heartbeat, rhythm, memory. Seeing people holding themselves down to their seats when the Thriller dance comes on. People humming softly to songs like Billie Jean and Human Nature, excluding that one person in the back who thought no one could hear them. Each song arrives carrying emotional weight, reminding audiences how deeply his music embedded itself into global consciousness. The film understands that Michael Jackson’s art was never background noise. It was cultural atmosphere.
Still from Michael of Thriller. Photo: Supplied/The Bioscope
In my opinion what makes Michael especially powerful is its refusal to portray fame as glamorous. While delving deeper into Michael’s superstardom it also shows his vulnerability, creativity, and desire to connect with others through his art. The quieter scenes give the movie emotional depth without overshadowing its celebratory tone. It balances spectacle with humanity, particularly through its portrayal of Michael’s complicated relationship with his father. Some of the film’s most emotional scenes emerge from this tension. Moments where achievement and pain seem inseparable.
Of course, no biographical film can perfectly capture a life as enormous and complicated as Michael Jackson’s and the complexity of telling Michael’s story is perhaps most visible in the absence of Janet Jackson from much of the film, despite her importance within both the Jackson family and popular culture itself.
There are moments where certain parts of the story could have been explored more deeply. But rather than becoming trapped in controversy or darkness, Michael the film reminds viewers why people fell in love with Michael Jackson in the first place while fully encapsulating one truth; Michael Jackson was never allowed to exist as an ordinary person. He lived beneath a microscope powerful enough to distort everything it touched.
Michael Jackson’s legacy continues to transcend through generations. Sitting in the cinema, it becomes impossible not to notice the unique atmosphere surrounding the movie. Older audiences reliving memories of growing up with Michael Jackson’s music, while younger viewers experience his artistry with fresh fascination and excitement. The theatre itself begins to feel like a meeting point between generations connected by the same songs, dances, and emotions. Few artists possess that kind of timeless cultural power and eternal presence. Michael Jackson was one of those rare figures who did not simply make music, but created moments that became and still become part of people’s lives.
I recommend you to experience this magic for yourself!
Vuvu Rating: 10/10.
FEATURED IMAGE: Michael Poster. Photo: Supplied/ The Bioscope
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As a fashion design graduate, I view the Met Gala with a more demanding eye than the average spectator. I look for textile innovation and historical literacy. When the 2026 theme was announced as “Costume Art,” I was ecstatic. It was a call to treat the human form as a canvas.
This theme offered a limitless playground, yet the evening proved to be a game of hits and misses. While some evolved the silhouette, others simply slapped a painting onto fabric. True “Costume Art” requires transformation, and only a handful truly understood the assignment.
However, one cannot discuss the artistry on the steps without acknowledging the tension on the streets. The evening’s opulence faced heavy scrutiny as Jeff Bezos served as honorary chair. The record-breaking $42 million (R701.87 million) proceeds drew criticism, with protesters outside highlighting the disparity between the gala’s excess and Amazon’s labour controversies. This corporate undertone, marked by the notable absences of stars like Bella Hadid, Zendaya and New York’s mayor, Zohran Mamdani, left the event feeling more like a private billionaire function than a cultural zeitgeist.
So I followed with that unease at the back of my mind, but with my eye and pen poised.
The ‘almost’gallery: honourable mentions
These looks were undeniably stunning and technically brilliant, but they missed my top spots because they felt a bit too ‘safe’, or in one case, incomplete, compared to the architectural risks taken by my favourites.
Laura Harrier (Di Petsa): A masterclass in ‘wet look’ draping that turned her into a Greek marble statue, though the silhouette felt familiar.
Kendall Jenner (Gap Studio): A sophisticated take on the Winged Victory of Samothrace. Had she worn her monumental wings on the carpet rather than just in the museum photos, she would have secured the win.
As stunning as those classic references were, a few attendees truly understood the assignment, transforming the body into a living canvas in ways that felt entirely new.
The masterpieces: when fashion becomes art
Emma Chamberlain set the bar in custom Casey Cadwallader for Mugler. Drawing from Van Gogh’s impasto techniques, the gown utilised hand-painted resin and moulded silk to capture the tactile texture of a canvas come to life. She didn’t just wear art; she embodied the medium of painting itself.
Yu-Chi Lyra Kuo provided a moment of monochromatic brilliance, channelling the Winged Victory through Jean Paul Gaultier’s architectural pleating. The atelier transformed soft fabric into chiselled marble, celebrating the artisan’s ability to turn textile into stone.
Sabine Getty offered a haunting metaphor for the decay of art. The Ashi Studio bodice featured surrealist hands that seemed to sculpt her form, while the shredded silk skirt appeared to unravel like an ancient, deteriorating canvas. It was a masterclass in using deconstructivism to tell a story of loss.
Anok Yai, in Balenciaga, delivered the night’s most profound transformation, coating her skin in bronze pigment to embody the ‘Blac Madonna’. While others wore art-inspired gowns, Yai used her skin as the medium. It was a powerful reminder that fashion can re-contextualise the human body as a sacred object.
However, the brilliance of these living masterpieces only made the night’s failures more glaring.
The unfinished canvases
Simone Ashley’s Stella McCartney gown felt pedestrian. The body-chain aesthetic lacked innovation and failed to engage with the theme’s sculptural possibilities. Similarly, Kim Kardashian prioritised her signature cinched branding over thematic exploration. Her Allen Jones collaboration felt more like high-budget cosplay than the “Living Sculpture” it aimed to be.
The evening’s most egregious oversight came from Deborah Roberts, who arrived in a Christopher John Rogers gown she had already debuted at the 2022 New York City Ballet. For an event centred on innovation, re-wearing a years-old socialite gown felt dismissive of the Met’s prestige.
Finally, Zoë Kravitz in Saint Laurent was a masterclass in the mundane. A basic black lace gown offers zero artistic provocation in this context. For a designer, the lack of innovation is jarring; it wasn’t “bad” fashion, it was absence of a vision.
Ultimately, the 2026 Met Gala proved that when you give designers the world as their canvas, the results are polarising. We saw the heights of technical brilliance, where fabric was manipulated to look like marble or wet oil paint, and we saw the lows of creative stagnation, where ‘basic’ was the order of the day.
As a journalist and a designer, I believe the Met Gala should be the one night where ‘wearability’ is the last thing on anyone’s mind. We want to be challenged; we want to see the boundaries of the human form pushed until they break. This year showed us that while anyone can wear a dress, very few can truly embody a masterpiece.
For those who dared to treat their bodies as a canvas, the result was nothing short of legendary. For the rest? There’s always next year’s exhibition.
Vuvu rating: 6.9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Rough fashion illustration, edited by AI. Graphic by: Daniella Ripamonti
In the high-octane world of South African Fashion Week, a runway is usually a transition, a place where models move from point A to point B to showcase a garment. But for House of Olé, the Spring/Summer 2026 showcase transformed the runway into a breathing, multidisciplinary studio. It was a bold statement of ‘The Comeback,’ signalling that after a strategic hiatus from the runway, the brand’s return was about more than just clothes; it was about a new philosophy of survival.
The show was a sensory assault in the best way possible. Before a single look walked, the stage was set with the ‘invisible’ architects of beauty. A makeup artist stood at the start of the ramp, applying live finishing touches to models as they sat, before embarking on their walk. In the centre, a visual artist stood with a brush in hand, painting onto the suits as they passed.
The result was a ‘Human Art Gallery.’ Models did not just walk; they performed. Some lounged on velvet sofas positioned along the runway, remaining still as statues, inviting guests to observe the textile and the tailoring as they would a masterpiece in a gallery. This was not just a fashion show; it was an immersive performance piece, underscored by the raw vocals of a live singer that echoed through the Hyde Park studio.
Photo of the Runway from the House of Olé at SAFW SS2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
“They really have lived up to the anticipation”, noted guest and choreographer Nomza Monake. “I’ve seen Olé’s work before, but today just took it to another level. I loved how they fused the arts together. It was not just a fashion show, but a fashion show with a difference… I’m just so sold.”
Behind this theatricality lies the sharp business mind of Ole Ledimo, the designer and founder of House of Olé. Ledimo is acutely aware that the industry he returned to is different from the one he left. “When times are tough, it forces us creatives to dig even deeper,” Ledimo explained backstage. His response to the economic squeeze during his time away from the runway was to embrace a radical variety, mixing high-end, hand-painted couture with accessible ready-to-wear to maintain and win new clients.
When asked about the defining piece of the night, Ledimo pointed to a garment aptly titled “Collaboration.” It served as the anchor for his vision of the season. “It’s something I feel like as artists and human beings we need to do often,” he said. “Coming together, I think that’s what made the collection amazing, bringing the guys that have been my friends, working together for many years, from backstage into the actual show.”
The collection itself challenged the rigid boundaries of the “modern gentleman.” Ledimo’s suits, architectural, bold, and defiant, were worn by models of all shapes and heights, pushing back against the stereotypes of how men “should” dress. “The colour pink doesn’t define your masculinity. It’s a colour,” Ledimo asserted, defending the need for self-expression. “Sometimes it’s people’s opinions that hold us back.”
House of Olé Spring/Summer 2026 collection lineup for SAFW 2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
As the final model took their seat on the runway sofa and the live singer’s last note faded, the message was clear: Ole Ledimo has moved House of Olé beyond the stitch. By bringing the “behind-the-scenes” directly onto the ramp, he proved that the future of South African luxury is not just about the clothes; it is about the collective power of the artists who bring them to life.
Vuvu Rating: 9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Photo of a model surrounded by art pieces on the runway for the House of Olé, SAFW SS2026. Photo by: Daniella Ripamonti
The play Sophiatown balances the tragedy of displacement and forced removals with the joys of human connection, jazz, singing and dancing.
It is Saturday, April 11, 2026, and the theatre kid in me is geeking throughout the entire experience of witnessing the revival of Sophiatown on stage. A legacy, a history so rich, words cannot begin to describe the greatness embodied through the characters, the storytelling and the finer details that reflected the true intentionality in honouring and remembering Sophiatown.
Upon arrival, I was excited and deeply curious about what the play Sophiatown would actually be about. The audience sat in the lounge area of the Wits Theatre, anticipating the journey we were about to embark for the next two hours. Chatter and joy filled the lobby as we patiently waited for the show to start.
Boy, were we in for a true treat! Drum rolls and a groovy jazz tune is how we were introduced to Sophiatown, a fitting opening for a place known for its sonically rich cultural heritage and legacy. One of the main characters, Jack, took us back in time. It is the 1950s: typewriter on the desk, a bookshelf in the background, blue lights and the interior of a warm family home, await the rest of the characters.
Jack, an aspiring journalist, resurrects the legacy of Drum magazine by calling out names of the 1950 Drum legends such as: Can Themba, Lewis Nkosi, Bloke Modisane, and Todd Matshikiza, he highlights how they paved the way for African storytelling in Sophiatown at that point in time. Soon after, the rest of the characters join in on a chorus and soothes our ears with a sweet melody, the peanut gallery begins to cheer, and we have officially taken off.
The play is truly nothing short of amazing, and it importantly showcases how Sophiatown can never be solely understood through a singular lens or a singular story. It is culturally rich, consisting of diverse people, multiple races and different lived experiences. We are taken through a story of history, as the play reflects the severity of living under the apartheid regime which pushed for racial segregation and alienation. As one of the main characters Mingas says, “Sophiatown is not just about clubs and jazz, it is about war.”
The play explores the plight of BantuEducation, and the complexities of interracial relationships as we see through the arrival of a white Jewish girl, Ruth Golden, who is originally from Yeoville. She finds herself in Sophiatown after seeing an advertisement in the Drum magazine for the “diamond lady, number 17.”
Ruth’s presence at 65 Gerty Street in Sophiatown reflects the different living conditions between the white people and black people. Ruth is forced to adapt to life in Sophiatown, in a smaller house where everyone shares rooms, it enhances the complex relational dynamics between characters such as Lulu and Princess, Mingas, Jack and Fafi and the mother who all occupy the home.
Above all else, the play highlights the brutality of forced removals in Sophiatown with reference to the Native Resettlement Act of 1954. The apartheid regime used to remove black people from their homes, through bulldozing houses and destroying the infrastructure. The wound of displacement is so deeply felt by the audience as the characters are forcefully moved to Meadowlands.
Actors of Sophiatown play on stage. Photo by: Sikelelekile Pahlana
The play effectively and harmoniously balances light-heartedness through humour, singing and dancing with the seriousness of how violent the apartheid regime was.
The play asks to be remembered, embraced, and treated as a real point in time because it was and forever will be. We are urged into carrying the memory of Sophiatown with us and be conscious enough to ensure we never forget the pain, the joy and the collective fight it took for us to taste freedom, not idealistically yet in reality – to feel the things, the legends of those times always hoped to one day be a witness to.
I spoke to the writer, Malcolm Purkey, who said the play Sophiatown was created 40 years ago, in 1986 and it still stands today, a true testimony to its importance and relevance. When I asked him what he wanted people to take away from the play, he said, “If we found the right way, we could live together with respect. The gap of poverty and inequality is still there, and the war is not over,” Sophiatown reminds us of our common humanity and truly reflects the times, with dignity.
We are reminded, as Don Mattera once articulated, “Memory is a weapon!” Our history, South African history awaits you on the stage, it is worthwhile to go check it out and experience it for yourself. The play runs from April 11 to May 8, 2026. You will laugh, you may shed a tear, yet you will not regret it.
Vuvu Rating: 10/10.
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of stage during Sophiatown play. Photo by: Sikelelekile Pahlana
A deeply human reflection on fathers and sons, masculinity, healing and what gets passed down through generations
Imran Hamdulay’s feature debut, The Heart Is A Muscle, is a moving exploration of intergenerational passing, the complexities of masculinity and the relationship between fathers and sons. Set within Cape Town’s layered history, the film was South Africa’s official entry for Best International Feature Film at the 98th Academy Awards (Oscars) 2026.
The Cape Flats, an area shaped by apartheid and systematic marginalisation, has been misrepresented in cinema. It is often reduced to a single narrative of crime and conflict. Hamdulay pushes against this stereotype. The history of violence is acknowledged but never dramatised. Instead, he reflects on fear, hope and defiance. The Cape Flats feels like more than just a setting, it becomes a character in itself. Fractured but resilient, carrying its complexities, dignity and fragile connections.
During a Johannesburg screening at The Bioscope Independent Cinema on March 11, Hamdulay was in attendance and explained how the story was inspired by a real-life incident. While at a barbecue, he saw a friend’s son briefly go missing. In that moment, Hamdulay witnessed fear and anger in his friend like never before. This sparked his curiosity and the film’s narrative, which begins with a young couple discovering their five-year-old son has disappeared. The story continues to follow Ryan, the young father, as he confronts his own brokenness, masculinity and the unspoken histories passed down through generations.
Still from The Heart Is A Muscle. Photo: Supplied/The Bioscope
Shot entirely on location, it captures both Cape Town’s grittiness and colour. Hamdulay has explained that he tried to lead every part of the production with kindness. From the set, the shoot, the camera, to the performances. The cinematography reflects this, emphasising intimate, character-driven storytelling. Imagery such as the ocean creates feelings of isolation and unresolved emotions. Close-ups reveal personal histories through subtle traits. Instead of over-rehearsing, a lot of time was spent discussing the characters beforehand and how the actors themselves related to the story. Keenan Arrison, cast as Ryan, delivers a raw, lived-in performance, and the film’s emotion lies in the pauses, silences and gestures.
Still from The Heart Is A Muscle. Photo: Supplied/The Bioscope
The film asks: What do we inherit from our fathers? And how can we become better versions of ourselves in difficult circumstances? Masculinity is usually discussed through power and control, but Hamdulay looks at the importance of softness and healing. What begins in feelings of apprehension transitions into a meditative reflection, heightened by a score that balances tension and vulnerability.
Although the film is set in South Africa, The Heart is a Muscle also speaks to an international audience. At its core, it is a reflection on belonging. It is not only about fathers and sons but about facing inherited pain and finding a path to forgiveness and change. Hamdulay has created a film that is intimate, layered and deeply human.
FEATURED IMAGE: The Heart Is A Muscle poster. Photo: Supplied/The Bioscope
An exhibition that forces one to look at the duality of society and confront the chaos of reality
On April 9, the Wits Art Museum (WAM) opened its doors to “Now is not Forever” an exhibition by the artist Theresa-Anne Mackintosh. The art pieces are more than just sculptures and paintings on the wall; it was figures and strokes that represented the chaos and disorder of society and reality.
Walking into WAM on opening night, one is immediately drawn to the vinyl writing on the wall. It explains who the artist is, what the exhibit includes and what the expectations of the artist are for the viewer when interpreting her work.
Now is not Forever, wall of description. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
Mackintosh included two forms of her work in the exhibition. The first being paintings, which are some of her older works. These required me to look beyond the canvas and challenge my ideas of what was on that wall. Ideas that art can only be consumed at the surface, and that art needs to make sense and be pretty. Art can be unconventional.
The pieces that truly caught my attention were three pieces that included figures mimicking the morality of life. These were titled “hear no evil”, “see no evil” and “do no evil” and included figures having had various parts of their bodies, related to the action painted over.
One used the ears to hear, the eyes to see, and the hands to do, and these in Theresa’s work were painted over. It was visually stunning. The erasure of these elements meant that they are no longer in use, thus evil could not be heard, done or seen.
The second form included sculptures, embodying Mackintosh’s alter egos. At first, they were simply appealing to the eye. The colours were vivid, and the figures were intriguing. However, art did what art does best and challenged me to interpret what the sculptures represented, not just to the creator of the art but the consumer as well.
And I, having been the observer for the night, was subjected to understanding that these figures had represented familiarity. These sculptures are recognisable figures, dogs, people, dolls – all things that I have seen, felt, and engaged with.
Picture of sculptures at exhibit. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
The inclusion and coupling of both sculptures and paintings in the exhibition was phenomenal. The art was anthropomorphic, it hurt, it was dysfunctional and embodied the disorder of society, of history, it almost seemed to reproduce reality.
Picture of one of the sculptures displayed at Now is not Forever. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
Even if you wanted to look at the exhibition as a way to distract yourself, Mackintosh’s work forced you to look further than the surface.
Vuvu rating: 9/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Picture of a girl taking a photo of the art at the exhibit. Photo by Keletso Zwane.
An ode to Motown is for the lovers of classic nostalgic music and is a must-see performance.
On February 22, I attended An Ode to Motown, a production staged in celebration of Black History Month, at Joburg Theatre. What unfolded was more than a tribute concert; it was a vibrant, high-energy homage to one of the most influential musical movements to emerge from 20th-century America.
Motown, founded in Detroit in 1959, became the heartbeat of Black American music, introducing the world to artists who would shape pop, soul and R&B for generations. The show paid tribute to this rich history, revisiting classics that still resonate across continents.
There was not an empty seat in sight.
From the opening notes, the audience was transported into a world of polished harmonies, synchronised choreography and timeless storytelling.
The singing was exceptional, powerful yet controlled, capturing the emotional depth that defines Motown. The performers, Liesl Penniken, Lerato Mvelase, Tamara Dey, Hlengiwe Pearl, and Anele Precious Mthethwa, moved effortlessly through beloved hits.
An ode to Motown show image. Photo: Supplied/B Sharp entertainment
Hits such as “Mr. Postman,” “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough,” and “I’m Coming Out,” each song greeted with cheers and nostalgic excitement. The inclusion of “Cruisin”, “Call Tyrone,” and “Water Runs Dry,” along with two soulful renditions of songs by Erykah Badu, broadened the tribute to include neo-soul influences that echo Motown’s legacy.
Quotations from songs by Smokey Robinson added a poetic thread, reminding us of the lyrical genius that defined the era.
Visually, the production was stunning. The performers dazzled in gorgeous, extravagant gowns that shimmered beneath the stage lights. The intricate choreography was both elegant and dynamic, matching the vibrancy of the live band. The theatre itself seemed to pulse with the vibrations of an enthusiastic crowd, their energy feeding the performers on stage.
Yet the show also raises an interesting question: what relevance does Motown’s history hold for South Africa? In some ways, staging this tribute here is like hosting a concert in the United States commemorating the artists of Sophiatown. It is a celebration of a distinctly American Black cultural movement, performed for lovers of classic American music and for those who admire the monumental Black artists who emerged from that era. At the same time, it highlights the global reach of Black music and its power to connect polarizing histories.
Ultimately, An Ode to Motown was a joyful, nostalgic, and beautifully executed celebration. One that proves Motown’s rhythm still moves audiences, no matter where they are in the world.
Vuvu rating 9.5/ 10
FEATURED IMAGE: An ode to Motown, performance on February 22 at the Joburg theatre. Photo: Bonolo Mokonoto
Four seasons in, Bridgerton struggles with originality, yet it feels as genuine than ever.
Dearest gentle reader, in this highly anticipated new season of one of Netflix’s most-watched series, Bridgerton season four, part one, is not quite what we expected.
This season focuses on the notorious playboy Benedict Bridgerton’s love story and his quest to find life partner. He meets a lady named Sophie at a masquerade ball and makes it his mission to find her after she leaves the ball in a hurry. This season uses the Cinderella trope, but instead of a glass slipper, Sophie leaves behind a glove. This story line makes the story predictable, as many audience members are very familiar with this trope, it lacks originality.
A very interesting aspect of this new season is that we get an inside look into the servants’ quarters. We are offered a behind-the-scenes glimpse of how the lives of the rich and royal are kept in-order by those who are rarely noticed in these spaces. It is reminiscent of renowned period drama, Downton Abbey.
Through this shift in perspective, the series highlights the invisible labour that sustains the grandeur of high society. Lady Whistledown makes a point of exposing and sharing the stories of these workers, further emphasising their importance in society.
A carriage driver remarks on the behaviour within the ton, stating, “It’s thrilling for them, chaos for us.” This line emphasizes the immense labour servants must perform to maintain the magnificence or grandeur of the balls and social events hosted during the debutante season.
Throughout the Bridgerton series, Benedict has been depicted as sexually fluid, which makes his search for a wife this season feel out of left field and somewhat out of character.
It would have been more compelling to watch him seek companionship with both men and women, ensuring that the character development establishing him as pansexual in previous seasons, did not go to waste.
The chemistry between Benedict and Sophie is undeniable. This is the first season where the main couple get to know each other in a friendly manner, and this was entertaining to watch.
The playfulness and gentle ease they have with each other is refreshing, from the conflict we initially see with the previous main couples in the series.
Despite the predictability and missteps on Benedict’s character development, Bridgerton season four succeeds in feeling emotionally sincere.
This may not be the most original chapter in the Bridgerton storyline, but it proves that familiarity, when written well, can still be engaging.
Vuvu rating: 7.5/ 10
FEATURED IMAGE: Bridgerton season 4 review. Photo: Netflix
There is so much more to Danya Dev’s album than compliments to beautiful women and a flashy lifestyle, his story is worth listening to closely.
With the recent release of his debut solo album, Danya Dev (Sphelele Dunywa) officially took a hiatus from the Blaq Diamond duo to reintroduce himself. Titled Bayede, a Zulu greeting for a King meaning all hail, the project serves as both a grand entrance and a mission statement.
Across 18 tracks spanning 51 minutes, Danya Dev crafts a sonic world that is remarkably consistent: laid-back, atmospheric, and tailor-made for late-night drives or slow Saturdays.
While some listeners might think the use of typical Afro-pop and Hip-Hop themes, i.e. the allure of beautiful women, female gold-diggers, and flashy lifestyle, was a default genre move, the album is in fact thoughtfully structured as a two-act narrative.
The first act is about the temptation of fame. The journey begins with a man caught in the whirlwind of celebrity. He depicts a reality where his accomplishments and fame act as a magnet for women. On tracks like Uber Eats and Where were you, he highlights the transactional nature of modern romance, where status and ‘’nice things’’ drive attraction.
Danya Devs debut solo album playlist. Photo: Lulah Mapiye
The second act brings the story to a close with a sense of maturity. We see a man who has traded the chaos of the ‘’fast life’’ for the desire to build a home. The lyrics in Ola Sbali (Hi brother inlaw), Abakhongi (lobola negotiators) and 1 million signal a newfound respect for stability and partnership.
While the album features a heavy-hitting roster of guest stars, including Sjava, Kwesta, Cassper Nyovest, Ndu, Mawelele, most are given much time to shine except Sjava who sings for eight seconds in Uber Eats, which is extremely disappointing.
Be that as it may, Bayede does not try to reinvent the wheel, instead, it leans into a singular, steady vibe. It is a cohesive body of work that proves Danya Dev is more than capable of carrying a kingdom on his own.
Vuvu rating: 7/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Danya Devs debut solo album cover. Photo: Danya Devs
This short film turns the age-old question of “Does my partner really love me?” into a brutal survival metric that punishes emotional failure with deadly consequences.
I entered Love Economy blind, save for its AFDA Film School origins and a tantalising premise: a 12-minute Afrofuturist jolt set in a self-sustaining 2040 South Africa, where love isn’t just currency, it’s survival. The title hinted at romance’s commodification, but the poster, a couple in blissful union in vibrant traditional wear, the shine of their rings matching their smiles, juxtaposed by them facing away from each other against a white and pink backdrop, gave little away.
Love Economy grabs you in seconds, subverting expectations of another earnest indie tale of marital strife or rural drudgery. No slog through poverty porn here; instead, a Wakanda-esque utopia pulses with reclaimed luxury—padel balls sheathed in traditional prints, aerodynamic Xibelani skirts whipping on courts, flying Gusheshe taxis slicing neon skies and holographic dogs for the allergic. The heart of the film, The Love Meter, a digital tool, implanted at 21 in this futuristic South Africa amid mandatory marriage, tracks spousal affection: dip below viable, and you die.
Protagonist Rudzani (Ntokozo Nkambule) pours devotion into her cold husband Zak (Asande Zulu), but his learned infidelity and inability to emotionally care for her send her meter plummeting as she wrestles with “Makoti Must” edicts. Meanwhile, AI Thori—a Siri on steroids, house-bound monument—chimes warnings about his dangerously low love and suggests ways for her to fix it.
The film portrays gender and masculinity in 2040 as deeply intertwined with societal expectations and technological control, revealing the high stakes and emotional damage these norms inflict. Zak embodies the pressure to be the “perfect husband” within a rigid system controlled by the Love Meter. His attempt to fulfill prescribed roles despite emotional disconnect results in personal crumbling, highlighting the destructive nature of idealized masculinity that demands performance over authentic connection. And oh, does he perform. He loves Rudzani’s utility over her soul, and his masculinity’s high stakes crumble everyone involved: her social death is literalized through the plummeting Meter, while his escape is impossible.
The film critiques such masculinity as harmful not only to women but to men as well — both trapped in damaging roles. By making love a quantifiable survival metric that disproportionately affects women like Rudzani, it exposes how patriarchal and transactional aspects of love and marriage are enforced through technology. The story highlights women’s coercion to conform (“makoti must”) while navigating limited agency in relationships dictated by societal and state control.
Moreover, these dynamics link to ongoing South African realities, such as gender-based violence, showing how traditional masculinity and cultural expectations create festering harm technology aims to manage but ultimately cannot resolve. It calls for reflection on gender, care, and respect beyond social contracts measured by fear or obligation, advocating for love that transcends duty.
Directors Azwikonisaho Ramavhuya and Jaclynn Meintjes, alongside production designer Heebah Raji, infuse every frame with cultural colour theory, turning underrepresented Tsonga-Venda motifs into high-tech finery that screams African opulence, not capitulation. Visual effects artists Nkosisphile Ngubeni and Oamogetswe Tshenkeng craft seamless touches like wrist-bound meters, transforming Western imports into proudly African artifacts. The film’s feverish poetry in motion earned it nominations for Best Third Year Film, Screen Design Team, and Production Team at the 31st AFDA Graduation Awards.
Love Economy lands as South African Afrofuturism’s urgent milestone. Homegrown ambition proves we don’t need expatriate voices to conjure these visions. The plot doesn’t hand you answers — it shoves you into the meter’s glare and dares you: what’s love worth when it’s tallied like rations? In this kaleidoscopic 2040, does tech liberate hearts or merely ledger them? Watch, and ask yourself: are we already plugged in, or is true affection still off the grid?
Rating: 8.5/10
FEATURED IMAGE: LoveEconomy Poster. Image: Supplied/AFDA
When boy problems or heartbreak have you on shaky ground, Shekhinah’s Less Trouble comes in like a wave, and it’s strong enough to drown you in your feelings.
Crowned as one of South Africa’s most celebrated voices, Shekhinah is back to prove that her music still hits where it hurts. Four years since the last album, Trouble in Paradise, her return is a reminder of just how good she is at what she does.
Shekinah’s album Less Trouble features several artists including Lordkez, Moliy, Young Stunna and Mars Baby.
A year ago, she released two singles, “Steady” and “Risk”, offering listeners a preview of the upcoming album’s direction.
“Devil in disguise, trouble in your eyes, every single time all we do is fight.” With these lyrics, Shekhinah sets the tone from the very start. The opening track, “Break up season”, lays the foundation, hinting that the album will centre on the highs and lows of relationships.
From her album Rose Gold to now, she’s stayed true to her signature sound, rarely chasing trends or charts, and instead focuses on making music that ages like fine wine.
Shekhinah’s album cover. Photo: Shekhina’s IG
On track 3, “Bare minimum”, Shekhinah strikes a chord with anyone who’s ever been given the bare minimum in a relationship. She reflects on asking for little yet receiving even less and ultimately reaching the point where letting go becomes inevitable.
The playlist opens with a sense of tension and frustration but soon transforms into bursts of pure joy. By the time you reach track 7, “Spoonky”, it feels like freedom itself, like cruising down the freeway with the windows rolled all the way down, warm wind rushing against your face, palm trees swaying past in a blur. You’re singing off-key, laughing uncontrollably with the love of your life in the passenger seat, every worry dissolving into the sunset. It’s a moment of pure happiness bottled in sound.
“Less trouble” isn’t just an album; it’s a celebration of love, happiness, and the freedom to finally feel complete, just as she says on “Spoonky”, “you’re the one that I want”.
Rating: 8/10
FEATURED IMAGE: Shekhina’s album cover. Photo: Shekhina’s IG
A powerful series by Paul Weinberg captures the human experience in an oppressive society.
A room full of pictures that mirror our society as it was and now is. A new photographic exhibition at the Wits Arts Museum showcases history and collective trauma.
The museum filled with Paul Weinberg’s work told so stories through photographs. Bringing together nearly five years of Weinberg’s work, most of the exhibition was filled with black and white archival images, which was one of the things that caught me by surprise.
One of the photographs taken by Weinberg on display shows P.W Botha taking a salute at a military parade in 1980. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
The collection released, “Between the craft” displayed pictures that were thought-provoking, informative and had deeper meanings. Each image highlighted themes, from oppression to reconciliation and allowed the audience to construct their own perspective.
One of the images captured was of the ‘boers’ with their guns in an authoritative position and their young black farm workers. These photographs were not just captured; they were telling stories, testimonies, and a call to action, to end the oppression of black people.
Weinberg created a dynamic non-linear story that still guided the audiences’ interpretation of his messages. This was done through the arrangement of the images and the titles.
“Intro, Travelling Light” was a photo series displayed the ‘dark days’ black people faced during Apartheid. It embodied that “between the cracks, life continues with its pain and joy,” with a range of images displaying people rejoicing even in times of oppression. Creating the light for themselves during dark times.
“Then and Now” mirrored society’s revolution of what was, and what became. Capturing protests, brutalities, deaths, and funerals. Weinberg added “I didn’t enjoy it,” in his caption. This is what inspired him to look into religion and spirituality.
“Moving Spirit” included moving pieces that focused more on spirituality than religion, which dropped the idea of division between colour, gender, and class.
The sky-blue wall representing the liberation in spirituality. Photo by: Kamvelihle Mtwazi
Weinberg expresses his gratitude to have experienced various kinds of spirituality where all these themes were not important, “travelling in pursuit of the spirit,” he captioned in one of his pieces.
An image that touched me the most is a photograph of two elderly sisters, re-uniting after 20 years of separation, after their removal in Riemvasmaak, 1995.
The second floor of the museum had walls of colour: orange and sky-blue, divided by a wall of black and white images with a white background. This was a lovely way to narrate the ending of the stories.
The first wall was bright orange, filled with frames of beautiful landscapes, taken from all over South Africa, titled “Earthsongs”.
The overall experience was thought-provoking, and the touch of colour at the end represented the light at the end of the tunnel.
The exhibition is an experience pleasing to the eye, because the images were boldly expressive of emotions.
Vuvu rating 10/10
FEATURED IMAGE: An image of two elderly sisters, reuniting after 20 years of separation, after their removal in Riemvasmaak, 1995.
Since her announcement as the Democratic Alliance’s mayoral candidate for Johannesburg, Helen Zille has dominated national headlines. In this bonus episode of We Should Be Writing podcast, hosts Lulah Mapiye and Bonolo Mokonoto dissect a media meet-and-greet with the mayoral hopeful. From her extensive political résumé to her controversial public utterance, we examine why the Democratic Alliance has chosen Hellen Zille as their candidate for the 2027 local mayoral elections. Additionally, […]
