“Ayanda” is a candy-coloured coming-of-age story set in Yeoville, Joburg, a suburb that bursts with brightness and thrums with electric music. Happily, Ayanda is one of those few South African films that organically draws on elements of local life, infusing its tangle of soap-operatic plot points with an authenticity that is rarely felt in the Hollywood model which prevails in the country elsewhere. It manages to capture a playful romantic ambience without resorting to unbelievable Sex & the City-type caricatures, and its materials – love, parental honour, responsibility, growing up, even tax evasion and the occasional whiskey-questing corrupt cop – come together to form an entertaining whole which never feels straightforwardly didactic.
When her late father’s auto-repair shop is threatened with closure, twenty-one year old Ayanda (Fulu Mugovhani) needs to figure out a way to redeem his legacy and keep the Yeoville landmark alive. Combining an entrepreneurial ambition with her artistic skills, she sets about redesigning classic, beat-up old cars, fitting them up with sleek couch seats and vibrant smears of paint. She’s joined by two mechanics, played by Thomas Gumede and O.C. Ukeje, both of whom are exceptionally charming and funny. But there are other hidden conditions of pressure bearing down on the longevity of the repair shop – Ayanda’s uncle, Zama (Kenneth Nkosi) is in deep with SARS and is facing jail-time, putting him in the desperate position of needing to choose between his freedom and the memory of Ayanda’s father.
The film is intercut with documentary-style footage interviewing the radiant, well-upholstered youth of Yeoville, and stylish stop-motion inserts in which psychedelic fabrics and bric-a-brac transmute into images of a road-trip. It keeps a decent equilibrium between feel-good lightness and existential heaviness, and one of its most exciting traits is that it feels like a progressive move for mainstream cinema: here, genre serves to give shape to genuine South African stories, rather than acting as a restriction which prevents those stories from emerging in their own, natural way. Beyond this, the film just gets it right: the adoring testament to Yeoville, the pan-African celebration of multitudes who gather here at the edge of the continent, the strong female characterisations, all wedged together into a cheery romance-inflected drama. While it has its shortcomings like the occasional drag in pacing, and is perhaps a little top-heavy in its wide range of social issues, it bubbles like a freshly-opened can of cream soda and shows that it is clearly possible for South Africa to make romantic comedies that do not sacrifice the realities of the continent on the altar of business.