Jenna Cato Bass is a South African writer, filmmaker, and former magician. Together with Wanuri Kahiu, Bass co-wrote the coming-of-age romance “Rafiki,” which premiered in Cannes’ Un Certain Regard in 2018. Her third feature as director and writer, “Flatland,” was the opening film of the 2019 Berlinale Panorama. Her other credits include “The Tunnel,” “Love the One You Love,” “High Fantasy,” and “Sizohlala.” Bass teaches Directing and Screenwriting at the Cape Peninsula University of Technology and is a founding member of the Free Film School collective.

“Mlungu Wam” (“Good Madam”) will premiere at the 2021 Toronto International Film Festival on September 9. The fest is taking place September 9-18.

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

JCB: “Mlungu Wam” is a horror satire about a young single mom struggling to reconcile with her estranged mother, a live-in domestic worker who obsessively cares for her elderly, white Madam in the suburbs of Cape Town.

W&H: What drew you to this story?

JCB: All the films I work on come about when several things fall into place, or click in my head. In this case, I’d really been wanting to to explore the horror genre. For most of my life I’d been completely unable to watch scary movies: I was a sensitive child. At the same time, genre means nothing to me without substance — what it’s saying about our world. So I wanted to tell a story about a domestic worker who gets to reclaims her agency, along with the home she has lived and worked in her whole life. So using this particular genre was a way to provide a literal exorcism of our country’s trauma.

W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?

JCB: I don’t think it’s one specific thing. I want people to ask questions and to have conversations with other people, and within their own heads. I want them to feel uncomfortable. Entertained. Provoked. Like they went somewhere, have come back, and the world seems different.

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

JCB: Absolutely shooting during the pandemic. South Africa was on Lockdown Level 3 at the time, which was still very strict, and there was a very real threat to the cast and crew. This was hugely stressful and a major responsibility for us as producers, but we wanted to make work for our team, and we needed a purpose, especially at such an uncertain time.

We decided to do it, despite the challenges, of which there were so many. In addition, we shot in a very conservative, white neighborhood which made our mostly-black team feel very unwelcome. We had several instances ranging from the usual micro-aggressions to full on discrimination. This was deeply upsetting, but we tried to channel all our anger into the film we were making.

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

JCB: My local co-producer, Babalwa Baartman, and myself started with what I usually do: putting in my own money. From there, we approached Causeway Films, who I had been wanting to work with for ages. They came on board, and along with a few other private investors — including my dad — we managed to raise the finances.

Importantly, we also have great partnerships with our two post facilities — Stealth Donkey for picture and Sound & Motion Studios for audio — who worked very hard to make the production happen.

W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?

JCB: A lot of things, but mainly the realization that film is the science of everything. By being a filmmaker I could learn and experience anything I wanted. It wasn’t just one job — it was a way to explore and understand the whole journey of life.

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

JCB: Best advice: Take acting classes.

Worst advice: No one cares about “foreign-language” films. (Because believe it or not, that’s something I have been told many times.)

W&H: What advice do you have for other women directors? 

JCB: Ask for advice and for help, but don’t ask for permission. No one is ever going to give that to you. You have to give it to yourself.

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

JCB: Dear Lord. OK. It changes all the time, but because this is the mood I’m in currently, I’ll say Anna Biller’s “The Love Witch.” Anna Biller made me realize that pursuing your fantasies, fetishes, and obsessions is beautiful, not selfish or silly. It’s something usually reserved for men, and when women do it, they’re accused of all sorts of things, mainly being incompetent. Don’t ask me why. Anna Biller’s work gives me affirmation that I’m not insane. And she makes me laugh and have an amazing time while I’m watching her work.

And oh dear, I’ve left out Mati Diop’s “Atlantics.” Please allow me to include that — I just have no motivation other than the film is spectacular and everyone should watch it.

W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?

JCB: All things considered, I am fine. I am safe, healthy, and vaccinated, and so are my loved ones. Because the kind of projects I do are so small and independent, I believe I’ll continue to be able to make them despite a continued pandemic.

What is harder is being so secluded — to be going out less, experiencing the world less, meeting new people less. This is the kind of experience I desperately need to write stories about, but I am just trying to do my best under the circumstances.

W&H: The film industry has a long history of underrepresenting people of color onscreen and behind the scenes and reinforcing — and creating — negative stereotypes. What actions do you think need to be taken to make it more inclusive?

JCB: Representation is beyond massively important. I think about it all the time — being grateful for what is there and furious about what isn’t. To change this, we need greater diversity of gatekeepers, or at the very least for the current gatekeepers to realize what has been obvious to everyone else, which is that diverse content will actually make them money.

In terms of hiring the creatives who work behind the camera, an issue I encounter involves the gatekeepers (again) who remain obsessed about protecting some kind of “bottom line” or “quality standard” which is nebulous and doesn’t even exist. This is the reason we get time and again for why the same — cis-het, white, male — people are hired again. No one person can guarantee the success of a production. Nothing is going to change if new people are not given a chance, if they never hold key creative positions. And nothing is going to change until the diverse perspectives are properly valued as the major resource they actually are.