Film Critic: Stephen ‘Spling’ Aspeling
Noem My Skollie (Call Me Thief) tells the story of Abraham and the Young Ones, a small-time gang fractured by a brutal two-year stint in Pollsmoor Prison. Loosely based on the life of screenwriter John W. Fredericks, the film marks the directorial debut of Daryne Joshua, starring Dann-Jacques Mouton in the title role. Mouton – who previously portrayed a character named Abraham in Jans Rautenbach’s eponymous film – brings an inherent warmth and charm to the part. Despite AB’s rebellious trajectory, this likability anchors the audience, softening the harsher realities of Cape Flats gang culture and incarceration.
Set in 1960s Cape Town, the production recreates the era with striking authenticity. Period wireless broadcasts, retro vehicles, mid-century wardrobe and meticulous set design vividly reconstruct the impoverished townships of the time. This world is further enriched by era-accurate slang, dialect, and prison tattoos, embedding the characters deeply within their environment.
The narrative echoes City of God as it tracks four troubled youths – played with raw conviction by Austin Rose, Ethan Patton, Joshua Vraagom and Valentino de Klerk – who turn to crime for survival, status, and escape. While it may not match the visual kineticism or relentless pulse of Meirelles’s classic, it delivers its own distinct resonance through an ensemble whose earnest performances blur the line between acting and lived experience.
A raw sincerity drives this gritty drama, where harrowing moments sustain a taut, volatile atmosphere. Much of its power lies in the authentic vantage point of Fredericks, who witnessed these realities firsthand. Central to the tension is the fractured dynamic between AB and Gimba (Gantane Kusch), two gang “brothers” who drift onto divergent paths behind bars. Mouton and Kusch bring palpable friction to their shared history, while David Manuel (“Gums”) delivers a chilling turn as a psychopathic cell boss.
What ultimately keeps this compelling work from true greatness is its diffuse narrative structure. Shifting between a coming-of-age brotherhood saga, a gritty prison drama about the power of storytelling and a doomed romance, the film spreads itself thin. By attempting to serve so many narrative threads, the pacing falters and the runtime inflates. Yet even when its focus wanders, the film’s gritty heart, emotional honesty and cultural specificity make it an arresting watch.
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