Movie Review: The House That Never Sleeps
One-liner: Powerful themes and enigmatic storytelling drive this distant yet visually-enticing fantasy mystery drama.
Sean Mongie’s short film, The House That Never Sleeps, produced by Catharina Weinek and Dumi Gumbi, is a high-concept fantasy mystery drama interwoven with magic realism. The story centres on Ayanda Mkhize, a once-prolific author whose career has stalled. He’s forced to confront this difficult reality when a budding author and podcaster, Sbu Dludlu, approaches him to cover his past work. This retrospective encounter stirs a hornet’s nest, prompting Ayanda to reflect on uncomfortable truths as Sbu stumbles upon a mythical device, questioning its authenticity and power.
The film masterfully balances old and new, using an enigmatic old building as its setting. The Victory House, with its many floors and rooms, becomes a symbolic asylum for the exploration of the African creative’s journey. Ayanda, now reduced to binding books to make ends meet, represents the veteran artist grappling with diminishing returns and the struggle to maintain the essence of his work. His disillusionment and sorrow are palpable, creating a purposefully resigned performance that portrays him as alienated and cagey, his own worst enemy. In contrast, Sbu, an author at the beginning of his career, embodies fresh ambition, and his intrepid investigation and admiration shake Ayanda’s carefully constructed world. The two characters serve as compelling time capsules, highlighting the generational divide in the creative process.
Mothusi Magano is a shard of a man as Ayanda, who haunts Victory House. His melancholy is well-worn and it’s clear he’s not used to guests, trying to conceal his pain and shame. Magano’s performance carries this weight well, offering a complex array of blue tones with a self-taught pessimism. A shock to his system, his admirer serves as a naïve throwback, contrasting Magano’s performance with a marked optimism in Sechaba Ramphele. Seeing the light yet curious as to the stagnation, Sbu becomes another pain point for Ayanda.
“Okay, who wants to tell him?”
The curious device at the heart of the narrative drives the mystery, offering clues about its magical power. This element, combined with the film’s beautifully crafted production design, creates a timeless aesthetic that effortlessly spans decades. The artful cinematography further grounds the film while maintaining an otherworldly undertone. Mongie’s overarching vision is enhanced by successful and convincing visual effects, adding another dimension to the fantasy. The pacing is deliberately slow with a frozen in time feel, which could have been alleviated by more points of identification or more dramatic tension in the moment.
As it stands, The House That Never Sleeps is a haunting, stylish, and thought-provoking short film turned meditation. Its intimate cast delivers sincere performances, anchoring a poetic storytelling style. The film doesn’t spoon-feed its audience, cleverly navigating a passing-the-torch moment that serves as its own brand of social commentary. While the mystery remains somewhat elusive, its poetic quality and captivating nature make it an engaging and enticing exploration of the creative process. A cool, measured and thoughtful short that operates at an arm’s length, it runs the risk of alienating its viewer but offers up some powerful themes, provocative ideas and striking visuals.
The bottom line: Pensive
