I had seen that Don't Lets Go to the Dogs Tonight was on the indie film festival circuit premiering in August 2024 and had forgotten about it. It's now entering wider release and expected in cinemas in the UK around October. As a Zimbabwean, books and films about Southern Africa will always pique my interest and I usually hold strong views on their dramatic veracity and the level of saccharine Disneyfication they tend to gravitate toward.
Being completely honest, I was not enamoured with the book when I read it in 2001 so I'm interested to see how it has been adapted. It appears to have been received with critical acclaim but Hollywood hype can frequently disappoint.
The film is written and directed by Embeth Davidtz, an American born South African actress and director. Willie Nel, a Johannesburg based Director of Photography shot the film and from the trailer, he has captured the quality of African light and graded it in a way that made me long for the familiar scenes of home.
I took a frame from the trailer as one that was immediately familiar. My grandfather was forever removing Snouted Cobras from their kitchen but thankfully never with a rifle. Snakes gravitated to the air gap under the deep freezer as a source of warmth - the compressor's heat signature was a siren call, particularly in winter. The casual insouciance with which he'd retrieve them and 'let them out' in the manner you would a domestic cat belied the fact that they were one of the most venomous (neurotoxic) snakes in the country.
There seemed to be a tacit understanding between the offending snake and grandfather that they would not hurt each other and the snakes almost always had an apologetic air about them for the inconvenience or commotion they'd caused. Their discovery or the involvement of a dog or domestic worker would invariably escalate tensions and complicate their removal. I often arrived in the kitchen to witness the spectacle of a dog in a sink and a cleaner atop the highest assailable peak (usually the fridge). My grandfather would simultaneously be shooing the snake out the back door whilst trying to console the cleaner and calm the dog. This all seemed perfectly normal to me and as I grew older, I shared in this ritual much to my mother's chagrin.