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Written byNadia Hassim
Filmmaker Sandulela Asanda knows exactly what the South African Queers want– and she delivers it deliciously well.
I did not know what I was missing in my life until I nearly cried from watching Black Burns Fast.
Being a lesbian is already hard. Being a South African lesbian feels like playing a game you’re destined to lose on hard mode with a broken controller. There aren’t many spaces created for you, and you can forget about engaging with media that you can relate to. Sure, you have the Western movies and TV shows sometimes (when they’re not cancelling and killing off the lesbians), but nothing close to home.
Imagine my surprise when an American TikToker popped up on my feed talking about a South African-made movie centred around two black lesbians. For a moment, I thought I might have fallen asleep on my doomscroll without realising. I booked my ticket to watch it at the Bioscope soon after, and honestly? I’ve never been happier for a loud American in my entire life.
Black Burns Fast is set in a prestigious all-girls boarding school in South Africa. The main protagonist, 17-year-old Luthando, is a scholarship student, which means reputation and good marks are everything. She lives a quiet life under the radar with her best friend Jodie until the new girl, Ayanda, pitches up at school.
It’s at this point that Luthando becomes every bit the loser lesbian I see in myself when a beautiful woman enters the picture.
Scott Pilgrim vs. the World is a heavy influence on the film, as seen in the way Luthando’s inner world is brought to life by colourful video game visual effects, and while the movie uses tropes we see so often in Hollywood, it never loses itself to them. The popular, pretty girls are always framed as shallow and never true to their friends– Mean Girls, Sydney White, the list is endless. When we’re introduced to the popular clique in Luthando’s world as she befriends them, I kept waiting for a moment when they’d switch up on her in the same way.
I assumed it would be when Luthando is outed as a lesbian, but it never came. Watching them reminded me of all the small moments of girlhood I cherish so deeply with my friends. Wiping stray glitter off my friend’s face as I help do her makeup. Dancing to a song we all love, slightly tipsy off of a cheap drink. Holding each other close when men turn out to be men.
It’s all there in the film, wrapping around you like a cosy blanket. There’s even a point where the girls start a brawl in church with some of the white students who have a problem with Luthando being a lesbian.
“Being a lesbian is already hard. Being a South African lesbian feels like playing a game you’re destined to lose on hard mode with a broken controller.”
Another shining point of Black Burns Fast is the way it sheds light on the racism of post-apartheid South Africa. The racism isn’t its focal point, but it also doesn’t pretend like it’s non-existent (cough, Spud, cough). If you’ve been to any Model C school in South Africa, you’ll be transported right back into the subtle microaggressions you experienced from teachers, principals, and students alike.
I appreciated this because I think many queer movies are already rooted in suffering. Being queer is no walk in the park. It can be isolating, heartbreaking, and incredibly hard. So yes, racism is awful to experience, and yes, homophobia makes going through life a lot more difficult than needed. But being queer can also be beautiful, and that’s what Black Burns Fast focuses on. Queer people, especially lesbians, deserve representation that shows being gay isn’t just endless pain and hardship.
You’re still capable of love and being loved. Sometimes coming out isn’t the end of your life. Sometimes, you get a happy ending.
Now, we’ve got comedy, we’ve got drama. But what about the romance of it all?
I’m the type of person who enjoys painfully long slow-burn romances. There needs to be yearning, there needs to be pining, there needs to be that kinda longing that involves making a three-hour playlist to listen to as you stare at the ceiling and daydream about your crush. With this in mind, Black Burns Fast is by no means a slow burn.
Did I still love the romance? Absolutely.
Sometimes a long-winded story about getting together isn’t what you need, and I don’t think this format would have suited the story anyway. Luthando spends less than half of the film crushing on Ayanda before she finally gets the guts to ask her out. That leaves so much more room for us to see their chemistry bloom and creates more tension or questions about what could go wrong.
I did not foresee the moment of conflict coming in the way it did. I can’t spoil it because this movie deserves to be watched, not read, but it did leave me gripping my friend’s hand while both of us turned away from the screen in secondhand anxiety.
Many queer movies are already rooted in suffering. Being queer is no walk in the park. It can be isolating, heartbreaking, and incredibly hard. So yes, racism is awful to experience, and yes, homophobia makes going through life a lot more difficult than needed. But being queer can also be beautiful, and that’s what Black Burns Fast focuses on.
I don’t think I can say it enough, and I don’t care if I’m biased, but Black Burns Fast delivers in every way possible. It’s so much more than a coming-of-age or rom-com movie to me. It handles the complexities of coming to terms with your sexuality, juggling multiple identities, complicated mother-daughter relationships, and yes, the power of friendship, all so tastefully. It came to me at a time in my life when I really needed it.
It was just last week that I was planning to write a piece about how I’ve never felt pride in being a lesbian. After Black Burns Fast, I wouldn’t choose to be any other way. I will be going to watch it (again), and if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.
Support the lesbian agenda, but more importantly, support local black creators who definitely deserve the praise.
