TIFF25 REVIEW: Uhlanjululo [Laundry] [20XX]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 106 minutes
Director(s): Zamo Mkhwanazi
Writer(s): Zamo Mkhwanazi

Giving up your dreams won’t save you.

It’s impossible to watch a film set during South African Apartheid and not find every oppressive aspect a one-to-one comparison point for Palestine and the decades its people have spent as second-class citizens to Israelis in their own home. The constantly changing laws making simple acts more difficult. The nation becoming an open-air prison due to it being nearly impossible to ever leave without permission. The inability to dream beyond survival itself and the reality that even that isn’t guaranteed. The horrific series of tragedies that can be born from one member of the ruling class deciding to randomly assert his authority.

Enoch Sithole (Siyabonga Melongisi Shibe) had everything under control. His assistance to a British government official years prior granted him an exemption medal that bestowed certain privileges to which only Afrikaners were legally able to possess. It’s what got him into a room with the renowned Dean Winters (Robert Whitehead) to cultivate a two-decades-long relationship that saw his laundromat thrive in a whites-only neighborhood known for its constant threat of harassment against Black citizens. With it, Enoch provided his wife (Bukamina Cebekhulu’s Magdalena), son (Ntobeko Sishi’s Khuthala), and daughter (Zekheteholo Zondi’s Ntombentle) the rare gift of a comfortable life.

When writer/director Zamo Mkhwanazi’s Laundry begins, however, it’s all put at risk due to Winters’ absence. That void emboldens some racist Afrikaners to make an example of Enoch for what they deem a level of charity that devalues their own superiority. And it doesn’t matter if he does something to provoke them or not—who’s going to believe the Black man in a room full of white officials? So, his inevitable incarceration becomes the first domino to fall. Then it’s Magdalena needing to find his uncle to sign a bail agreement (Black women cannot). Then it’s young Khuthala and Ntombentle trying to keep the business afloat themselves.

The film becomes a dramatic string of impossible decisions pitting necessities against desires in ways no free person should ever be forced to choose between. What begins as a familiar family dynamic of patriarchal divisions (Enoch wants Khuthala to take over the business despite his passion for music and his sister Ntombentle’s passion for engineering and the laundry itself), soon zooms out to reveal the social dynamic of being Black under Apartheid rule and the hoops one must jump through to achieve anything. It’s not about Khuthala picking art or commerce. That choice hides the real options: escape, subservience, jail, or death.

Khuthala is the de facto lead as a result of his father being in prison and his mother fighting to get him freed. We’re watching him balance his duty as a son to help Ntombentle at the store (and attempt to assert authority over employees who know he can’t) and his personal yearning for music. So, he often leaves early to jam with Lilian Mkhize (Tracy September) and her band instead. Rumor has it that they’re heading to America and Khuthala proves he’s talented enough to join them. The longer Enoch remains away, however, the heavier the burden his responsibility to family becomes.

What makes it more tragic is that his parents understand this conflict (perhaps more in their son than their daughter as Mkhwanazi’s script perpetually ensures any dialogue with Ntombentle is interrupted when the topic of Khuthala arises—with future purpose). They would sacrifice everything to help him fulfill his dream if they weren’t beholden to a ruling class trying its best to strip their humanity away. So, it falls on Khuthala to sacrifice for them instead. To willingly put his aspirations on-hold to ensure their survival under dire circumstances. But he could never have imagined the price he’d need to pay to do so.

Laundry quickly grows darker in scope and emotion as more of those dominoes fall. Because everything in South Africa at this time hinged on a quid pro quo. Enoch bribing Winters to keep that exemption medal in play despite the British leaving years ago. Human dignity being traded for the chance of earning exit papers to flee the injustice. Identity being compromised for the hope of safety as it concerns enrollment in a Catholic school’s assimilation factory. And you don’t just get an innocent Black man out of prison if you aren’t willing to give up someone in his place—the ripples of which could travel anywhere.

It’s almost rude to give us an insanely memorable musical sequence about halfway through as Khuthala makes his skill known and September’s Lilian unleashes the full power of her voice because it truly gives us a false sense of hope that at least one of the Sithole family will make it out. The moment they finish playing, though, he admits the situation at home is too volatile to simply abandon it. Cue an instant whiplash from the high of a dream to the pain of reality. And the steady decline only grows worse considering the few victories they do earn seem to raise the stakes higher and render success more unattainable.

The main cast is phenomenal with Shibe and Cebekhulu providing a resonant sense of moral pride in the face of grave prejudice while Sishi and Zondi delicately traverse the adolescent uncertainty of not realizing the consequences of their demand to rebel and be heard. The latter’s characters are forced to grow-up overnight once their choices begin to wreak irrevocable havoc upon the people they love. It all culminates into an unforgettably heart-breaking epilogue showing just how tenuous security is under Apartheid. Because nothing can be earned amidst such an imbalance. It can only be given.