The Gods Must Be Crazy, No. 3 - The Gods Must Be Crazy III (1991)

Okay, now where were we? Ah yes, The Gods Must Be Crazy had received its automatic sequel, The Gods Must Be Crazy II, an abortive, nine-years-later cash-in – this pretty much spelled the premature end for The Gods Must Be Crazy (TGMBC) as a franchise. Enter Hong Kong, whose own film industry was nicely prospering throughout the 80s and 90s, effectively building off of wuxia martial arts culture. A large part of their film style, with its emphasis on the physical, ended up becoming greatly comic – see the slapstick antics of Jackie Chan, Stephen Chow and Sammo Hung.

These efforts are heavily influenced by American comic actors of the 1920s, notably Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. This ancient era was also a strong influence on the TGMBC movies, so it makes a certain roundabout sense that the Chinese would wrest control of the flailing Africomedy series. Besides, the comic-physical emphasis TGMBC boasted was incredibly popular among Hong Kong audiences, so future entries made by them, for them just could work.

Indeed, three more TGMBCs were rapidly made within the Hong Kong sphere, headed by producer Charles Heung. Here’s the man responsible for the careers of Chow Yun-fat, Jet Li, Stephen Chow…no slouch! (His Triad background doesn’t hurt.) Teamed with famed Hong Kong screenwriter Barry Wong (to whom John Woo dedicated Hard Boiled – no slouch!), Heung set about creating Crazy Safari.

Well…Crazy Safari is but one of the names enjoyed by The Gods Must Be Crazy III. The Gods Must Be Crazy III is another of those names, along with N!xau the Bushman and Vampires Must Be Crazy (I’ll ignore the zaniness inherent in that last title for now…).

(All in all, Heung’s TGMBC follow-ups count as the official licensed sequels. That means I must ignore the spuriously-named cash-ins – oh yes, people spent the early 90s cashing in on a 1980 South African comedy – such as Yankee Zulu and Jewel of the Gods. For what it’s worth, these were South African attempts, taking advantage of the combined success of the Hong Kong movies and the Indiana Jones series, and are to TGMBC as Transmorphers is to Transformers.)

So…TGMBCIII (the official sequel we’re here to consider). A Chinese response to a South African response to old American movies…This oughta be pretty bizarre. But let’s give it a chance. At the very least, let’s review a plot synopsis, and see how long it takes for something out-of-place to pop up…

Xixo’s village is beset by a hopping vampire as –

[Comical record screech.]

A what?!


Hopping vampires, or Jiang Shi, are mythological creatures from Cantonese folklore. According to legend, when a poor family member died far away from home, a Taoist priest was hired to take the body back to familiar ground, where it could rest in peace. Like some sort of Chinese Monty Python routine, the priests would transport whole rows of corpses along on bamboo sticks, which caused the cadavers to bounce up and down as though hopping. They also rang bells to warn people the dead were jumping. These fearsome beasts became a common fixture of 1980s Hong Kong comedies, especially the Mr. Vampire series (which I’ll get to some day).

What does any of this have to do with The Gods Must Be Crazy?!

It has nothing to do with it. It’s a bizarre mash up, pure and simple, in hopes to capitalize on two inexplicably popular things (The Gods Must Be Crazy and Mr. Vampire), no matter how it’s less chocolate and peanut butter and more open wound and salt. And the sense of humor has shifted accordingly, as we lose Jamie Uys’ occasional exactitude for director Billy Chan’s humor-by-way-of-flailing. Characters just shriek, yell and mug for all its worth, which I believe in the past I’ve compared to college sketch comedy troupes. Oh, and the vampire hops, which is meant for about 50% of the komedy.


Sotheby’s, London (though not by that precise name) has a hopping vampire up on the auction block, which I’m sure is a common occurrence. Comically inept buffon Leo (Sam Christopher Chow) acquires the beast, under the tutelage of his Taoist priest, Master HiSing (Ching-Ying Lam, a different Taoist priest in Mr. Vampire – ooh, typecasting!). (Also, the vampire is played by Lung Chan – or Chan Lung, depending on naming convention.) The vampire, a 15th century Chinese nobleman turned hopping amusement, is Leo’s ancestor, and is due back in China soon. To control the monster, a yellow card must be affixed to its forehead (shades of golem rustling); for it to hop towards you, ring a bell. Now you have your very own domesticated blood-sucker. (Establishing early on this film’s abhorrence for reality, we even see the Jiang Shi presented alongside an irascible European vampire.)

Our heroes are transporting their prized vampire back east, when their airplane (going from London to Hong Kong) gets extremely sidetracked – that is, it gets lost somewhere over Botswana. That’s about 5,000 miles off course! Eh, reality, schmeality. So by this inexplicable comic mishap, our heroes are deposited in the Kalahari Desert (I assume, as it’s never spoken – in English). Their vampire even parachutes out, having hopped its vampiric way right out of the airplane! And separated from its masters – it’s just like the story of a boy and his dog.

On the ground are familiar bushmen, again accompanied by a detached and wry narrator – Stephen “Kung Fu Hustle” Chow! Sadly, I watched the Cantonese version (seeing as there’s no Region 1 version of this thing), meaning…well, I pretty much didn’t catch any dialogue. So I’m going off of visuals, mostly, and the surprising excess of dialogue in English.

Anyway, the bushmen confront a mass of obviously villainous white folk, spearheaded (as it were) by Ilsa-esque blonde militant hippy Susan (Michelle Bestbier). This token, card-carrying villain has aims on Xi’s tribe, as it exists over a natural deposit of diamonds – it occurs to me villainy in Africa is oft predicated upon this fact. And oh yeah, Xi! Superstar franchise headliner N!xau is back, exclamation point and all! (This whole movie is one huge exclamation point!) So props to Heung, for maintaining purest sequel continuity. Lord only knows what N!xau, the Namibian subsistence farmer suddenly headlining an international film franchise, made of all this, or what he even understood!


Our noble bushmen (who are now represented more as “ooga booga” spear-chuckers now the tact-challenged Chinese are running things) are nearly done for, when ol’ hopper falls from the sky and promptly gives the evil Caucasians what fer. Losing its protective forehead paper, the cadaver leaps about in a most bunny-like manner, with generous application of wire-fu. It torments everyone, in purest Mario fashion, until Xi quells the beast with its paper – Xi is a remarkably quick study to the specifics of East Asian mythological monsters. And because the tribal peoples of Africa apparently wear bells at all times, in Hong Kong’s assessment, the vampire obediently follows them home.

Leo and HiSing are our fish out of water today, taking to savannah life much like their white predecessors – that is, with comic incompetence. And to give a sense of how this comedy is played, let me transcribe some of the non-diagetic sound effects we’re graced with: “Vroop vroop vroop boing dwoink splat!” That is a direct quote. Yeesh, this are FX the Looney Tunes wouldn’t’ve used! (And in their travails against the standard TGMBC wildlife footage, another erstwhile franchise constant makes itself known – the unbelievably fake rhinoceros.)


Realizing (after an encounter with baboons) that they have to locate their missing vampire, HiSing rides an ostrich. (Today I am going to write so many sentences I myself cannot believe.) Leo is dragged along behind the bird, gaining altitude via parachute. By this means, Leo locates Xi’s distant tribe. Parking their ostrich, the Asians decide to trek there.

At the village, the vampire has taken the stead this series once held for Coke bottles – that is, it is a new work tool for our bushmen. Just picture it, the culture clash between bouncy Chinese corpses and Botswanan aborigines! It’s the original Odd Couple! (Actually, it’s damnably abstract, equally arbitrary, and as far from Uys’ foundations of social satire as these films can get.) And just how does one utilize a vampire-qua-tool? Well, you could have it bounce into a tree repeatedly, thus shaking out its fruit. One could also…er…um…actually, that’s all they came up with. Methinks this not the greatest crossover of all time.

Ultimately HiSing and Leo greet Xi and his pals, and are graciously welcomed into the tribe. HiSing also has an extremely terrifying non sequitur encounter with a freaking gigantic snake (the length and thickness of a fire hose). In any other movie this would count as a Big Lipped Alligator Moment – only we’ve just scratched the surface of wackiness served up by TGMBCIII.

Individual segments of silliness chronicle the culture clash between Xi and HiSing – now this is what TGMBC movies are about. The most amusing bit involves HiSing’s sudden realization that he needs T.P. and a private place to squat. And who doesn’t love a 7 minute-long routine about a Taoist priest struggling to defecate all throughout a Botswanan village? (That this too must climax with a snake – a cobra – suggests director Chan has a certain obsession. Then HiSing uses the cobra as a nunchuck (!!!).)

Also, HiSing teaches Xi the art of kung fu, in the worst orange filter I have ever seen.


But throughout all these adventures, our heroes never once run across their beloved vampire – because it seems searching the huts is out of the question (and the beast is simply in a hut). Instead, HiSing performs his black Taoist magic in another hut, by means of – Okay, is Voodoo related to Taoism? (Okay, I guess Voodoo is sorta nondenominational…maybe.) Because HiSing uses a goddamned voodoo doll to control the vampire’s every move. And if you’ve somehow thought this movie was so far lacking in overt wakka wakka nuttiness, well, today is Christmas. The vampire, under HiSing’s command, proceeds to act out every single physical action the off-screen wire guys can think up. It spins, leaps, twirls, beats up countless natives, and goes on an all out rampage. They even play that crazy Russian sword dance song whose name I cannot place. By the end, the entire village is decimated, because there’s nothing funnier than rendering subsistence farmers homeless.


Sadly, there must be an end to wackiness, in the heartfelt, tearful reunion of Taoists and vampire. Prized corpse back in their possession, HiSing and Leo attempt to take their leave. Xi has other ideas re: vampire ownership (oh, so now he understands ownership – see previous entries). Xi and HiSing go all Dueling Bells, vampire in the middle like a confused puppy. Then HiSing tells the vampire to KILL – it is only stopped at the last moment. But having made his Taoist point, HiSing (and Leo) lead their monster hopping away.


With them gone, Susan can come in with the full force of her evil native tribe. (Imagine the worst misinterpretation of the Zulu, with a little Polynesian inexplicably thrown in – What is this, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls?!) She shrieks in purest Ilsa fashion about the diamonds, and is even ready to commit Jeep-assisted infanticide (comedy, folks), when –

Vampire to the rescue! Vampire (I really wish it had a proper name) returns to fight for honor and save the children. They all hug is rotting leg in adoration, as HiSing comes to an understanding with Xi. But then – da dum dum! – an evil bokur arrives to sic his ginormous voodoo zombie on the vampire. … Let me repeat that: It’s now zombie versus vampire! This is nutbars!


The zombie roars like a Hong Kong King Kong. The vampire hops on its zombified head for a bit, then switches up and throws the zombie into the clouds. [Dusting off hands.] And that is that.

Only the craziness hasn’t been fully wrung out of this thing yet. HiSing battles the bokur, necromancer versus witchdoctor. They each cast spells to the fullest extent of 1993 optical Hong Kong low budget SFX capability. Then, for apparently no reason, the bokur battles a baboon – He lives in the Kalahari, why is this a threat to him?! No matter, such a fight is loud and chaotic, which is “good” by Billy Chan’s standards. And when the baboon is killed (oh yeah), HiSing goes on to –

Okay, get a grip. Maybe it makes sense in China. Maybe there, this is a natural fallout of the hopping vampire premise. HiSing transfers the baboon’s soul into Leo! Leo now shrieks and capers, and handily bonks the bokur. Victory achieved, the monkey’s transparent soul floats up to the heavens – Oh…kay.

But now Xi is in trouble! (Geez, this is like a sugar rush story a child improvises.) Leo has his latest left field solution, as his pockets are full of “The Heroes of the East.” It’s actually just a bunch of photographs of Bruce Lee, greatest martial artist of all time, so –

They’ve done it again! Here I thought the movie was already at 11, but nooooo. HiSing transfers the ghost of Bruce Lee into Xi. Well enough, I suppose, that’s normal and all, except…


Oh, poor Bruce. You really are the most over-exploited dead celebrity ever. Unlicensed, strangely rotoscoped footage of “The Dragon” is intercut with the sudden kung fu antics of Bruce Xi. They even employ a (credited) synth bastardization of Lalo Schifrin’s score from Enter the Dragon! They’ve really gone off the deep end here.

Well, nothing will top that, so the movie’s basically over. A helicopter conveniently arrives to take the Asians and their vampire back to Hong Kong. But Xi’s people shall not be deprived of their sudden vampire-shaped void. HiSing has constructed for them a life-size hay vampire effigy, for the Africans to debase themselves before from now on. Verily, a dark new religion has been formed. How’s that for a cultural contribution?

This overall nuttiness is a breath of fresh air, in that it’s among the stranger things I’ve seen in a while. But for how ridiculous TGMBCIII appears to Western eyes, it must’ve been triumphant enough in Hong Kong – two more sequels were made before the franchise was retired. Now, these movies I cannot find anyplace…maybe if I went down to Chinatown, I could find a bootleg entirely without subtitles or anything…but I doubt it. Instead, what scant info can I dredge up about N!xau’s final films?

The Gods Must Be Crazy IV (1993) – Like all good Hong Kong movies, this film takes on a truly staggering number of alternate titles when translated into English. It is known as Hong Kong is Also Crazy, and Crazy Hong Kong. And with the Kalahari Desert having been parched of all narrative usefulness (I mean, once they’ve gone “vampire,” there’s not much else you can do), this series’ setting is switched up for the very first time. (I’m kind of amazed, actually, that TGMBCIII was filmed in Africa.) At last Xi makes it to the big city – Hong Kong – as the fish-out-of-water element is reversed at last. I thought this notion should’ve been the framework of Part Two. Of course, I really doubt the Chinese would have the proper ratio of satire and respect Uys would’ve brought to this notion.

The Gods Must Be Crazy V (1994) – Also known as An African Superman or The Gods Must Be Funny, TGMBCV sees Xi (or possibly he’s now just called N!xau, if IMDb is to be believed) stranded in China once again – but apparently rural China. You know, when you’re forcing his collision with one distant nation thrice in a row, things get a little strained. Wildlife footage seems to remain, pandas now fulfilling that role. They’re also a poaching target, hence the villains. And all reviews I find lambast the film for an overreliance on the wackiness and cartoon sound effects the franchise is known for – and apparently they’re actually increased tenfold for this entry. Oddly enough, it seems Jamie Uys made a triumphant directorial return for the finale, teaming up with Chinese director Kin-Nam Cho.

Here was the end of the franchise, all filmmakers worldwide deciding they’d exploited their bushman star long enough. For a series that was pretty “woogie woogie” right out of the gate, it seems things descended straight into extreme juvenilia. And of course the more niche you make a series, the less audience for it there is. Money had been made, time had been wasted, and it was time for everyone to go their separate ways.

Star N!xau returned home to Namibia, foregoing his life as an actor to resume a humble life as a farmer. N!xau spent his final years harvesting corn, pumpkins and beans, and herding no more than 20 cows – seeing as he couldn’t count beyond that. He passed away in 2003.


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)
• No. 2 The Gods Must Be Crazy II (1989)

The Gods Must Be Crazy, No. 3 - The Gods Must Be Crazy III (1991)

Okay, now where were we? Ah yes, The Gods Must Be Crazy had received its automatic sequel, The Gods Must Be Crazy II, an abortive, nine-years-later cash-in – this pretty much spelled the premature end for The Gods Must Be Crazy (TGMBC) as a franchise. Enter Hong Kong, whose own film industry was nicely prospering throughout the 80s and 90s, effectively building off of wuxia martial arts culture. A large part of their film style, with its emphasis on the physical, ended up becoming greatly comic – see the slapstick antics of Jackie Chan, Stephen Chow and Sammo Hung.

These efforts are heavily influenced by American comic actors of the 1920s, notably Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. This ancient era was also a strong influence on the TGMBC movies, so it makes a certain roundabout sense that the Chinese would wrest control of the flailing Africomedy series. Besides, the comic-physical emphasis TGMBC boasted was incredibly popular among Hong Kong audiences, so future entries made by them, for them just could work.

Indeed, three more TGMBCs were rapidly made within the Hong Kong sphere, headed by producer Charles Heung. Here’s the man responsible for the careers of Chow Yun-fat, Jet Li, Stephen Chow…no slouch! (His Triad background doesn’t hurt.) Teamed with famed Hong Kong screenwriter Barry Wong (to whom John Woo dedicated Hard Boiled – no slouch!), Heung set about creating Crazy Safari.

Well…Crazy Safari is but one of the names enjoyed by The Gods Must Be Crazy III. The Gods Must Be Crazy III is another of those names, along with N!xau the Bushman and Vampires Must Be Crazy (I’ll ignore the zaniness inherent in that last title for now…).

(All in all, Heung’s TGMBC follow-ups count as the official licensed sequels. That means I must ignore the spuriously-named cash-ins – oh yes, people spent the early 90s cashing in on a 1980 South African comedy – such as Yankee Zulu and Jewel of the Gods. For what it’s worth, these were South African attempts, taking advantage of the combined success of the Hong Kong movies and the Indiana Jones series, and are to TGMBC as Transmorphers is to Transformers.)

So…TGMBCIII (the official sequel we’re here to consider). A Chinese response to a South African response to old American movies…This oughta be pretty bizarre. But let’s give it a chance. At the very least, let’s review a plot synopsis, and see how long it takes for something out-of-place to pop up…

Xixo’s village is beset by a hopping vampire as –

[Comical record screech.]

A what?!


Hopping vampires, or Jiang Shi, are mythological creatures from Cantonese folklore. According to legend, when a poor family member died far away from home, a Taoist priest was hired to take the body back to familiar ground, where it could rest in peace. Like some sort of Chinese Monty Python routine, the priests would transport whole rows of corpses along on bamboo sticks, which caused the cadavers to bounce up and down as though hopping. They also rang bells to warn people the dead were jumping. These fearsome beasts became a common fixture of 1980s Hong Kong comedies, especially the Mr. Vampire series (which I’ll get to some day).

What does any of this have to do with The Gods Must Be Crazy?!

It has nothing to do with it. It’s a bizarre mash up, pure and simple, in hopes to capitalize on two inexplicably popular things (The Gods Must Be Crazy and Mr. Vampire), no matter how it’s less chocolate and peanut butter and more open wound and salt. And the sense of humor has shifted accordingly, as we lose Jamie Uys’ occasional exactitude for director Billy Chan’s humor-by-way-of-flailing. Characters just shriek, yell and mug for all its worth, which I believe in the past I’ve compared to college sketch comedy troupes. Oh, and the vampire hops, which is meant for about 50% of the komedy.


Sotheby’s, London (though not by that precise name) has a hopping vampire up on the auction block, which I’m sure is a common occurrence. Comically inept buffon Leo (Sam Christopher Chow) acquires the beast, under the tutelage of his Taoist priest, Master HiSing (Ching-Ying Lam, a different Taoist priest in Mr. Vampire – ooh, typecasting!). (Also, the vampire is played by Lung Chan – or Chan Lung, depending on naming convention.) The vampire, a 15th century Chinese nobleman turned hopping amusement, is Leo’s ancestor, and is due back in China soon. To control the monster, a yellow card must be affixed to its forehead (shades of golem rustling); for it to hop towards you, ring a bell. Now you have your very own domesticated blood-sucker. (Establishing early on this film’s abhorrence for reality, we even see the Jiang Shi presented alongside an irascible European vampire.)

Our heroes are transporting their prized vampire back east, when their airplane (going from London to Hong Kong) gets extremely sidetracked – that is, it gets lost somewhere over Botswana. That’s about 5,000 miles off course! Eh, reality, schmeality. So by this inexplicable comic mishap, our heroes are deposited in the Kalahari Desert (I assume, as it’s never spoken – in English). Their vampire even parachutes out, having hopped its vampiric way right out of the airplane! And separated from its masters – it’s just like the story of a boy and his dog.

On the ground are familiar bushmen, again accompanied by a detached and wry narrator – Stephen “Kung Fu Hustle” Chow! Sadly, I watched the Cantonese version (seeing as there’s no Region 1 version of this thing), meaning…well, I pretty much didn’t catch any dialogue. So I’m going off of visuals, mostly, and the surprising excess of dialogue in English.

Anyway, the bushmen confront a mass of obviously villainous white folk, spearheaded (as it were) by Ilsa-esque blonde militant hippy Susan (Michelle Bestbier). This token, card-carrying villain has aims on Xi’s tribe, as it exists over a natural deposit of diamonds – it occurs to me villainy in Africa is oft predicated upon this fact. And oh yeah, Xi! Superstar franchise headliner N!xau is back, exclamation point and all! (This whole movie is one huge exclamation point!) So props to Heung, for maintaining purest sequel continuity. Lord only knows what N!xau, the Namibian subsistence farmer suddenly headlining an international film franchise, made of all this, or what he even understood!


Our noble bushmen (who are now represented more as “ooga booga” spear-chuckers now the tact-challenged Chinese are running things) are nearly done for, when ol’ hopper falls from the sky and promptly gives the evil Caucasians what fer. Losing its protective forehead paper, the cadaver leaps about in a most bunny-like manner, with generous application of wire-fu. It torments everyone, in purest Mario fashion, until Xi quells the beast with its paper – Xi is a remarkably quick study to the specifics of East Asian mythological monsters. And because the tribal peoples of Africa apparently wear bells at all times, in Hong Kong’s assessment, the vampire obediently follows them home.

Leo and HiSing are our fish out of water today, taking to savannah life much like their white predecessors – that is, with comic incompetence. And to give a sense of how this comedy is played, let me transcribe some of the non-diagetic sound effects we’re graced with: “Vroop vroop vroop boing dwoink splat!” That is a direct quote. Yeesh, this are FX the Looney Tunes wouldn’t’ve used! (And in their travails against the standard TGMBC wildlife footage, another erstwhile franchise constant makes itself known – the unbelievably fake rhinoceros.)


Realizing (after an encounter with baboons) that they have to locate their missing vampire, HiSing rides an ostrich. (Today I am going to write so many sentences I myself cannot believe.) Leo is dragged along behind the bird, gaining altitude via parachute. By this means, Leo locates Xi’s distant tribe. Parking their ostrich, the Asians decide to trek there.

At the village, the vampire has taken the stead this series once held for Coke bottles – that is, it is a new work tool for our bushmen. Just picture it, the culture clash between bouncy Chinese corpses and Botswanan aborigines! It’s the original Odd Couple! (Actually, it’s damnably abstract, equally arbitrary, and as far from Uys’ foundations of social satire as these films can get.) And just how does one utilize a vampire-qua-tool? Well, you could have it bounce into a tree repeatedly, thus shaking out its fruit. One could also…er…um…actually, that’s all they came up with. Methinks this not the greatest crossover of all time.

Ultimately HiSing and Leo greet Xi and his pals, and are graciously welcomed into the tribe. HiSing also has an extremely terrifying non sequitur encounter with a freaking gigantic snake (the length and thickness of a fire hose). In any other movie this would count as a Big Lipped Alligator Moment – only we’ve just scratched the surface of wackiness served up by TGMBCIII.

Individual segments of silliness chronicle the culture clash between Xi and HiSing – now this is what TGMBC movies are about. The most amusing bit involves HiSing’s sudden realization that he needs T.P. and a private place to squat. And who doesn’t love a 7 minute-long routine about a Taoist priest struggling to defecate all throughout a Botswanan village? (That this too must climax with a snake – a cobra – suggests director Chan has a certain obsession. Then HiSing uses the cobra as a nunchuck (!!!).)

Also, HiSing teaches Xi the art of kung fu, in the worst orange filter I have ever seen.


But throughout all these adventures, our heroes never once run across their beloved vampire – because it seems searching the huts is out of the question (and the beast is simply in a hut). Instead, HiSing performs his black Taoist magic in another hut, by means of – Okay, is Voodoo related to Taoism? (Okay, I guess Voodoo is sorta nondenominational…maybe.) Because HiSing uses a goddamned voodoo doll to control the vampire’s every move. And if you’ve somehow thought this movie was so far lacking in overt wakka wakka nuttiness, well, today is Christmas. The vampire, under HiSing’s command, proceeds to act out every single physical action the off-screen wire guys can think up. It spins, leaps, twirls, beats up countless natives, and goes on an all out rampage. They even play that crazy Russian sword dance song whose name I cannot place. By the end, the entire village is decimated, because there’s nothing funnier than rendering subsistence farmers homeless.


Sadly, there must be an end to wackiness, in the heartfelt, tearful reunion of Taoists and vampire. Prized corpse back in their possession, HiSing and Leo attempt to take their leave. Xi has other ideas re: vampire ownership (oh, so now he understands ownership – see previous entries). Xi and HiSing go all Dueling Bells, vampire in the middle like a confused puppy. Then HiSing tells the vampire to KILL – it is only stopped at the last moment. But having made his Taoist point, HiSing (and Leo) lead their monster hopping away.


With them gone, Susan can come in with the full force of her evil native tribe. (Imagine the worst misinterpretation of the Zulu, with a little Polynesian inexplicably thrown in – What is this, Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls?!) She shrieks in purest Ilsa fashion about the diamonds, and is even ready to commit Jeep-assisted infanticide (comedy, folks), when –

Vampire to the rescue! Vampire (I really wish it had a proper name) returns to fight for honor and save the children. They all hug is rotting leg in adoration, as HiSing comes to an understanding with Xi. But then – da dum dum! – an evil bokur arrives to sic his ginormous voodoo zombie on the vampire. … Let me repeat that: It’s now zombie versus vampire! This is nutbars!


The zombie roars like a Hong Kong King Kong. The vampire hops on its zombified head for a bit, then switches up and throws the zombie into the clouds. [Dusting off hands.] And that is that.

Only the craziness hasn’t been fully wrung out of this thing yet. HiSing battles the bokur, necromancer versus witchdoctor. They each cast spells to the fullest extent of 1993 optical Hong Kong low budget SFX capability. Then, for apparently no reason, the bokur battles a baboon – He lives in the Kalahari, why is this a threat to him?! No matter, such a fight is loud and chaotic, which is “good” by Billy Chan’s standards. And when the baboon is killed (oh yeah), HiSing goes on to –

Okay, get a grip. Maybe it makes sense in China. Maybe there, this is a natural fallout of the hopping vampire premise. HiSing transfers the baboon’s soul into Leo! Leo now shrieks and capers, and handily bonks the bokur. Victory achieved, the monkey’s transparent soul floats up to the heavens – Oh…kay.

But now Xi is in trouble! (Geez, this is like a sugar rush story a child improvises.) Leo has his latest left field solution, as his pockets are full of “The Heroes of the East.” It’s actually just a bunch of photographs of Bruce Lee, greatest martial artist of all time, so –

They’ve done it again! Here I thought the movie was already at 11, but nooooo. HiSing transfers the ghost of Bruce Lee into Xi. Well enough, I suppose, that’s normal and all, except…


Oh, poor Bruce. You really are the most over-exploited dead celebrity ever. Unlicensed, strangely rotoscoped footage of “The Dragon” is intercut with the sudden kung fu antics of Bruce Xi. They even employ a (credited) synth bastardization of Lalo Schifrin’s score from Enter the Dragon! They’ve really gone off the deep end here.

Well, nothing will top that, so the movie’s basically over. A helicopter conveniently arrives to take the Asians and their vampire back to Hong Kong. But Xi’s people shall not be deprived of their sudden vampire-shaped void. HiSing has constructed for them a life-size hay vampire effigy, for the Africans to debase themselves before from now on. Verily, a dark new religion has been formed. How’s that for a cultural contribution?

This overall nuttiness is a breath of fresh air, in that it’s among the stranger things I’ve seen in a while. But for how ridiculous TGMBCIII appears to Western eyes, it must’ve been triumphant enough in Hong Kong – two more sequels were made before the franchise was retired. Now, these movies I cannot find anyplace…maybe if I went down to Chinatown, I could find a bootleg entirely without subtitles or anything…but I doubt it. Instead, what scant info can I dredge up about N!xau’s final films?

The Gods Must Be Crazy IV (1993) – Like all good Hong Kong movies, this film takes on a truly staggering number of alternate titles when translated into English. It is known as Hong Kong is Also Crazy, and Crazy Hong Kong. And with the Kalahari Desert having been parched of all narrative usefulness (I mean, once they’ve gone “vampire,” there’s not much else you can do), this series’ setting is switched up for the very first time. (I’m kind of amazed, actually, that TGMBCIII was filmed in Africa.) At last Xi makes it to the big city – Hong Kong – as the fish-out-of-water element is reversed at last. I thought this notion should’ve been the framework of Part Two. Of course, I really doubt the Chinese would have the proper ratio of satire and respect Uys would’ve brought to this notion.

The Gods Must Be Crazy V (1994) – Also known as An African Superman or The Gods Must Be Funny, TGMBCV sees Xi (or possibly he’s now just called N!xau, if IMDb is to be believed) stranded in China once again – but apparently rural China. You know, when you’re forcing his collision with one distant nation thrice in a row, things get a little strained. Wildlife footage seems to remain, pandas now fulfilling that role. They’re also a poaching target, hence the villains. And all reviews I find lambast the film for an overreliance on the wackiness and cartoon sound effects the franchise is known for – and apparently they’re actually increased tenfold for this entry. Oddly enough, it seems Jamie Uys made a triumphant directorial return for the finale, teaming up with Chinese director Kin-Nam Cho.

Here was the end of the franchise, all filmmakers worldwide deciding they’d exploited their bushman star long enough. For a series that was pretty “woogie woogie” right out of the gate, it seems things descended straight into extreme juvenilia. And of course the more niche you make a series, the less audience for it there is. Money had been made, time had been wasted, and it was time for everyone to go their separate ways.

Star N!xau returned home to Namibia, foregoing his life as an actor to resume a humble life as a farmer. N!xau spent his final years harvesting corn, pumpkins and beans, and herding no more than 20 cows – seeing as he couldn’t count beyond that. He passed away in 2003.


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)
• No. 2 The Gods Must Be Crazy II (1989)

The Gods Must Be Crazy, No. 2 - The Gods Must Be Crazy II (1989)

Writer/director Jamie Uys waited five years to create his follow-up to 1980’s surprise South African sleeper hit The Gods Must Be Crazy. That’s a little late for a cash-grab sequel. Exacerbating issues, the thing wasn’t even released until 1989. Yup, it took nine years for The Gods Must Be Crazy II (which may as well have been titled The Gods Must Still Be Crazy or, better yet, Animal Reaction Shot: The Movie) to see actual distribution, one whole Reagan administration later. It’s safe to say that now, whatever market there was for a sequel is long gone. For TGMBCII (I just love these abbreviations) to have any hope, it has to be a great sequel, one of the greatest ever made. It has to be the Aliens of South African bushman comedies.

It is not.

TGMBC (the first one) leaves no obvious path for a sequel to take, meaning the chances for a carbon copy remake-as-sequel are very high. I mean, it was a self-contained satire of man vs. nature, with a little token South African cultural insensitivity thrown in for good measure. Satirical point having been made, what’s left to do?

Who else is back, apart from Uys? Well, the guy who doesn’t understand modern actor contracts or the notion of indentured cinematic servitude – Namibian hunter-gather-actor N!xau, whose name becomes incredibly exciting 2/5ths of the way through, again playing bushman Xi…though he’s renamed Xixo here, resembling the final scrawl on a love letter.

Anyway, with him back, I guess we could switch up the first film’s formula, go bigger, you know, and send the noble savage all the way into the big city. You know, where the original’s satire could be elaborated upon? We could do that, or we could just make another bush-set comic romp, where the premise of the first is diluted. Yeah, we’ll do that one! And we’ll devise parallels for each of the original’s plot points – Ah, repetition as sequel.

So that means the emphasis is now entirely upon slapstick – which to be honest this series does well. In fact, TGMBCII manages to improve the 20s-style physical shenanigans. Uys’s comic timing has improved, and his approach is now more Keaton and less Keystone. (That means no more sped-up car chase komedy.) Many, many individual sections of TGMBCII could be isolated as perfect comedy shorts.

Adding to that improvement, TGMBCII is simply a better made film, technically. Gone is the homemade sheen (and charm), replaced by the same competent but underwhelming cinematography of most professionally-made 80s films. Indeed, the change here is this movie seems professional. That doesn’t fix a surfeit of inspiration or purpose, sadly, but merely helps to point out the conceptual deficiencies in the new flick.

Oh, and the editing is atrocious. Honestly, about 90% of the scenes are about 15 seconds long (a challenge of having too many subplots), when simply sticking to one scene a bit longer (and dropping the running time overall by about 15 minutes) would make a far superior film. I think it could still be salvaged. No matter…

We start, as always, with Xixo (nee Xi) bushmanning it up in his isolated Kalahari village, as a narrator lets us know in no uncertain terms he and his people are better than we are. Xixo had kids before, but now they’re important (ugh! – kids in sequels), so let’s meet ‘em, shall we? They are Xiri and Xisa (I sense confusion imminent), whose genders are indeterminate and whose cuteness is cloying. I shall just call them “the kids.”


The plot isn’t gonna start itself, so whilst hunting with Xixo, his brood happen upon a parked poachers’ truck, towing a water tanker on its rear. They examine this unusual form, as the movie thoroughly refuses to do the same sort of “bushmen think cars are animals” “humor” that made up 93.27% of TGMBC. They’re in the truck’s rear, lamenting the recently-poached elephant tusks – which somehow translates to white guilt – when the poachers awake and drive off. Thus the kids are accidentally trapped, as Xixo pursues on foot to rescue them.

This is one entire subplot of TGMBCII, which I’ll just relate in whole right now. Otherwise, we’d have like six whole paragraphs of nothing but “Xixo runs,” and we don’t want that now, do we?

Anyway, Xixo runs, which is all he does in this movie, basically. This is our headlining star here. Of course, the film’s unerring refusal to badmouth the bushmen (it paints them as sinless Na’vi, essentially) means no humor can come from Xixo’s journey. Noooo, he’s a serious guy! With, like, respect for all living things and a deep worldview and Oh God I’m so sorry I was born a Caucasian!

But as the film progresses, and grows more fully devoted to pure physical wackiness (which can exist independent of positive cultural stereotypes), this truck chase does a wonderful thing: It starts to resemble The General (1927, and one of my favorite films). By that I mean one kid tumbles off, then another, then the truck itself backtracks for unrelated reasons (having to do with comic incompetency), and soon four separate parties are struggling to keep track of each other, even while they’re all traveling on the same straight line. Then hyenas get involved. It’s a comic balancing act, though a mere shadow of the buffoonery the other subplots have in store.


Meet NY Doctor of Corporate Law Anne Taylor (Lena Farugia), who can be summed up in one statement: Jamie Uys must’ve seen Temple of Doom. That is, she’s Willie Scott – da dum dum! Anne is, initially, a vessel for all the worst assumptions about civilization and womanhood, squeezed into one ridiculous pink 80s dress. She’s career-minded in the worst sort of way, obsessed with appearance, unaccustomed to even a lesser 4-star hotel. Who wants to guess she’ll get stranded out in the Kalahari? And who wants to guess she’ll largely redeem herself with a character arc?

She’s basically our stand-in for Kate from the first…in some ways better, in others worse. Kate had altruistic reasons for going to the bush, but she had no personality. Anne, though, goes from hateful to fairly competent over the story, though – it’s progress, I guess.

The other side of the equation is our Andrew stand-in, Dr. (of what?) Stephen Marshall (Hans Strydom). Sadly losing Marius Weyers’ gifted physical comedy from the first, Stephen is simply…Did Crocodile Dundee exist yet in 1985? (No, ’86.) Whatever, Stephen’s some sort of under-mustachioed Tom Selleck lookalike he-man, whose function is almost entirely to act as a foil to Anne. When her foil isn’t Xixo…Or the other guys we haven’t met yet. Yeah, Stephen ain’t too useful.

Xixo runs.

Their Kalahari misadventure starts when Stephen takes Anne sightseeing in an ultralight aircraft for no reason mere hours before she is to give a conference on some nebulous subject. (Actually, some other guy named Jack – but not the Jack from the first – first takes Anne out, for as little difference as it makes – A friend needed a role?) Anyway, a nearing storm transforms Stephen’s crazy little airplane into a model so it can thrash around some Godzilla jungle sets for a bit. The plane crashes, gets caught up in, like, the Tree of Life, and thus Anne and Stephen are predictably stranded.

About that plane – It too is a stand-in, for the Land Rover from before (hence it has the most personality of anyone). Trading a car for plane is a good uptick, sequel-wise, though it isn’t quite as hilariously user-unfriendly. Still, Uys sees the comic potential unique to a plane, and largely makes use of it.

The first step is to get the plane out of the tree, piece-by-piece. This necessitates a rope and pulley system, which in turn leads to the be-underwearing of Anne (it is a series running gag to repeatedly expose the lead actress’ underpants). Another series running gag seems to be incredibly fake-looking rhinoceroses, one of which chases Anne up a different tree, effectively recreating a scene from Disneyland’s “Jungle Cruise.” Hyenas laugh; giraffes gawk; monkeys look on thoughtfully (missed opportunity: no trios of sinless primates). Seriously, cut out the animal reactions, you’d have a film 3/4ths as long.

Xixo runs.

Back at the Anne and Stephen follies, Anne crossdresses Bugs Bunny style in order to draw a horny ostrich away from its eggs. This allows Stephen to poach said eggs. Then he builds a campfire, and poaches the eggs in an entirely different way. The ostrich remains sexually unfulfilled.

Having exhausted the current setting for its humor value, the duo lugs the airplane through the desert towards the flats (Anne serving as mule – ha!). Then a…a badger or a feral skunk or a Pokémon or something attacks Stephen’s shoe. Stephen must therefore doff his boot, which remains in a life-or-death struggle with the badger, as they continue on.


The plane launch shall not be graceful, since the badger also deflated its tires. Following the cartoon logic which dictates his life, Stephen removes the fuselage’s flooring, to get the craft up to speed in the manner of Fred Flintstone. No points for guessing he tumbles out, leaving Anne alone in this out-of-control flying deathtrap. In the chaos, the plane is fired at by a random army garrison that’ll never be seen again – Ah, Africa. Then it tumbles back to earth, parachute tangling up in a different Tree of Life. Then a cheetah rushes at Anne, the plane spins around in circles, and it doesn’t prosper. Really, this movie goes pretty nuts sometimes.

Xixo runs. It’s a running joke!


Left alone at the flats, Stephen tries to retrieve his boot, leading to an extended comic conflict with the same bloodthirsty badger. It’s another of those individual moments of silliness which serves little overall purpose, but remains the point of this exercise. And Stephen is only able to coax himself free of the little beastie with a potent combination of eggs and beer (survival essentials).


The time has come, believe it or not, for another subplot to get introduced. Because cutting between the travails of Anne, Stephen, Xixo and the kids isn’t enough for Mr. 15-Second Scene Editor here. So out here in the Kalahari, the most crowded desert on Earth it seems, a Cuban soldier (Eric Bowen) and an Angolan soldier (the exquisitely-named Treasure Tshabalala) engage each other in an inexplicable, context-free comedy of blunders, as each tries to take the other prisoner. It’s sort of a stand-in for the lame terrorist subplot from TGMBC, only with better humor. It still makes buggerall sense, though.

Xixo ru– Actually, he stops to silently comprehend the soldiers’ struggles, in the same manner as the endless apes they usually cut away to. Unimpressed, Xixo runs.

Presumably this has to do with the Angolan Civil War, even though the movie takes place in Botswana. Hey, wait up! Is this satire here?! Indeed, the Tom & Jerry relationship between the Cuban and Angolan soldier is meant as a summation of the war as a whole. With head-clonking. Jamie Uys is no Stanley Kubrick, I tell you what.

Anne, in her travels to rediscover Stephen (why?!) happens upon a metal windmill way the hell out here in the wastelands. What follows is a nicely evolving silent comedy routine – one of the more fully Keatonesque moments in the film. She finds when she turns the blades, water escapes from a pipe below; when she reaches the pipe, the water has stopped. That’s our setup. Anne tries catching the water in a can, but it tumbles over. She props the can up with a rock, but a monkey steals it. Correcting for that monkey, several more show up. Anne plans to pelt them all with several rocks, so they gang rape her…Actually, no. Rather, the wind blows and Anne does a sexy shower dance for the animals – Okay, what’s going on here?!

Xixo runs – through a giraffe’s legs!


Now Anne happens upon revolutionary and counter-revolutionary, engaging their warfare through buffoonery. This is where Anne’s competence truly shines, making me forget all about the shrieking harridan from the beginning. She collects a rifle, another has a pistol, and the third has the fuel (for jeeps and planes and such). It all plays out, with insistent cutaways every quarter minute, like a silly version of a John Woo standoff. Also, Xixo is there, doing nothing.

And what of Stephen, who’s served very little purpose since Anne went off on her own? Well, he’s been bitten by a deadly scorpion (it’s a comedy – laugh). So Stephen’s dying. He’s soon visited by Xixo, who seems to have forgotten his own truck-chasing story (oh yeah!). Xixo, the wise and infinitely superior non-white, knows the only cure for a scorpion bite: Bury a dude in sand! It might make some sort of sense, but more importantly, it’s a humorous image.


Around now those villainous poachers come barreling back into the picture, to provide some Third Act wickedness so it can seem like something’s been overcome. Thus the poachers decide to take everybody hostage, on the off chance they “saw our ivory.” ‘Cause five people stranded in the desert, head-clonking each other, are that much of a threat. Most are bound two-by-two, back-to-back – lovebirds Anne and Stephen together, likewise “lovebirds” Cuban and Angolan. Xixo is there too.

Because competency is the rarest commodity in the TGMBC franchise, the poachers affect their prisoners’ escape. One leaves to go make a radio call, while the other fool loses his pistol down his own pants (!). Everyone else flees, in yet another moment of inspired physical comedy – a slapstick foot chase with lashed couples trading turns carrying the other. Description is insufficient.


The other poacher starts a wildfire. Everybody on screen and in the audience is hopeless, at a loss, except for Xixo…and myself.

DETOUR! When there is unburned fuel between you and the fire, it behooves one to reach a fuel-free safety zone with no possibility of reburn, at a sufficient distance in a 1:100 proportion relative to flame height. If such a safety zone does not exist, and no other escape route presents itself, one may create one’s own safety zone by means of a backfire.

“Backfire: A fire set along the inner edge of a fireline to consume the fuel in the path of a wildfire and/or change the direction or force of the fire’s convection column.” [The Fireline Handbook, January 1998]

A backfire can use up oxygen otherwise available to the main fire (removing one side of the Fire Triangle), causing both fires to diminish in intensity as they meet each other. It is a potentially dangerous practice, as an understanding of wind patterns is essential, but it can also save lives.

In such a way, Xixo et al survive the fire. Its dramatic purpose over, the fire simply goes out.

Then they get the best of the poachers, with the help of several chaotic neutral lions.

The soldiers make amends, realizing the silliness of the capitalist/communist debate ahead of historical schedule. They together use their Jeep to launch the airplane, as Anne and Stephen sail back to civilization just as Idi Amin, on loan from Uganda, is about to organize a search party (he’s hungry). Anne and Stephen smooch in their underpants for all to see.

And Xixo reunites with his children, crying tears of joy and relief a hundred times more genuine than any emotion a deadened urbanite could ever feel. Our lives are shallow and unnatural, this movie tells us! Cue credits.

The Gods Must Be Crazy II is the sort of sequel which is mostly useful, franchise wise, only in indicating how useless it would be to go on with the series. Its chronologically retarded release would back that up. Indeed, the premise has already been milked dryer than the Kalahari, and indeed, the South Africans were already washing their hands of their one and only nascent franchise. And yet there were three more to come. How is that? Well, The Gods Must Be Crazy II is one of the few movies of the modern era to show a debt to America’s silent comedies of the 20s. But there was another style of contemporary moviemaking with similar inspirations. Hong Kong cinema!


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)
• No. 3 The Gods Must Be Crazy III (1991)

The Gods Must Be Crazy, No. 2 - The Gods Must Be Crazy II (1989)

Writer/director Jamie Uys waited five years to create his follow-up to 1980’s surprise South African sleeper hit The Gods Must Be Crazy. That’s a little late for a cash-grab sequel. Exacerbating issues, the thing wasn’t even released until 1989. Yup, it took nine years for The Gods Must Be Crazy II (which may as well have been titled The Gods Must Still Be Crazy or, better yet, Animal Reaction Shot: The Movie) to see actual distribution, one whole Reagan administration later. It’s safe to say that now, whatever market there was for a sequel is long gone. For TGMBCII (I just love these abbreviations) to have any hope, it has to be a great sequel, one of the greatest ever made. It has to be the Aliens of South African bushman comedies.

It is not.

TGMBC (the first one) leaves no obvious path for a sequel to take, meaning the chances for a carbon copy remake-as-sequel are very high. I mean, it was a self-contained satire of man vs. nature, with a little token South African cultural insensitivity thrown in for good measure. Satirical point having been made, what’s left to do?

Who else is back, apart from Uys? Well, the guy who doesn’t understand modern actor contracts or the notion of indentured cinematic servitude – Namibian hunter-gather-actor N!xau, whose name becomes incredibly exciting 2/5ths of the way through, again playing bushman Xi…though he’s renamed Xixo here, resembling the final scrawl on a love letter.

Anyway, with him back, I guess we could switch up the first film’s formula, go bigger, you know, and send the noble savage all the way into the big city. You know, where the original’s satire could be elaborated upon? We could do that, or we could just make another bush-set comic romp, where the premise of the first is diluted. Yeah, we’ll do that one! And we’ll devise parallels for each of the original’s plot points – Ah, repetition as sequel.

So that means the emphasis is now entirely upon slapstick – which to be honest this series does well. In fact, TGMBCII manages to improve the 20s-style physical shenanigans. Uys’s comic timing has improved, and his approach is now more Keaton and less Keystone. (That means no more sped-up car chase komedy.) Many, many individual sections of TGMBCII could be isolated as perfect comedy shorts.

Adding to that improvement, TGMBCII is simply a better made film, technically. Gone is the homemade sheen (and charm), replaced by the same competent but underwhelming cinematography of most professionally-made 80s films. Indeed, the change here is this movie seems professional. That doesn’t fix a surfeit of inspiration or purpose, sadly, but merely helps to point out the conceptual deficiencies in the new flick.

Oh, and the editing is atrocious. Honestly, about 90% of the scenes are about 15 seconds long (a challenge of having too many subplots), when simply sticking to one scene a bit longer (and dropping the running time overall by about 15 minutes) would make a far superior film. I think it could still be salvaged. No matter…

We start, as always, with Xixo (nee Xi) bushmanning it up in his isolated Kalahari village, as a narrator lets us know in no uncertain terms he and his people are better than we are. Xixo had kids before, but now they’re important (ugh! – kids in sequels), so let’s meet ‘em, shall we? They are Xiri and Xisa (I sense confusion imminent), whose genders are indeterminate and whose cuteness is cloying. I shall just call them “the kids.”


The plot isn’t gonna start itself, so whilst hunting with Xixo, his brood happen upon a parked poachers’ truck, towing a water tanker on its rear. They examine this unusual form, as the movie thoroughly refuses to do the same sort of “bushmen think cars are animals” “humor” that made up 93.27% of TGMBC. They’re in the truck’s rear, lamenting the recently-poached elephant tusks – which somehow translates to white guilt – when the poachers awake and drive off. Thus the kids are accidentally trapped, as Xixo pursues on foot to rescue them.

This is one entire subplot of TGMBCII, which I’ll just relate in whole right now. Otherwise, we’d have like six whole paragraphs of nothing but “Xixo runs,” and we don’t want that now, do we?

Anyway, Xixo runs, which is all he does in this movie, basically. This is our headlining star here. Of course, the film’s unerring refusal to badmouth the bushmen (it paints them as sinless Na’vi, essentially) means no humor can come from Xixo’s journey. Noooo, he’s a serious guy! With, like, respect for all living things and a deep worldview and Oh God I’m so sorry I was born a Caucasian!

But as the film progresses, and grows more fully devoted to pure physical wackiness (which can exist independent of positive cultural stereotypes), this truck chase does a wonderful thing: It starts to resemble The General (1927, and one of my favorite films). By that I mean one kid tumbles off, then another, then the truck itself backtracks for unrelated reasons (having to do with comic incompetency), and soon four separate parties are struggling to keep track of each other, even while they’re all traveling on the same straight line. Then hyenas get involved. It’s a comic balancing act, though a mere shadow of the buffoonery the other subplots have in store.


Meet NY Doctor of Corporate Law Anne Taylor (Lena Farugia), who can be summed up in one statement: Jamie Uys must’ve seen Temple of Doom. That is, she’s Willie Scott – da dum dum! Anne is, initially, a vessel for all the worst assumptions about civilization and womanhood, squeezed into one ridiculous pink 80s dress. She’s career-minded in the worst sort of way, obsessed with appearance, unaccustomed to even a lesser 4-star hotel. Who wants to guess she’ll get stranded out in the Kalahari? And who wants to guess she’ll largely redeem herself with a character arc?

She’s basically our stand-in for Kate from the first…in some ways better, in others worse. Kate had altruistic reasons for going to the bush, but she had no personality. Anne, though, goes from hateful to fairly competent over the story, though – it’s progress, I guess.

The other side of the equation is our Andrew stand-in, Dr. (of what?) Stephen Marshall (Hans Strydom). Sadly losing Marius Weyers’ gifted physical comedy from the first, Stephen is simply…Did Crocodile Dundee exist yet in 1985? (No, ’86.) Whatever, Stephen’s some sort of under-mustachioed Tom Selleck lookalike he-man, whose function is almost entirely to act as a foil to Anne. When her foil isn’t Xixo…Or the other guys we haven’t met yet. Yeah, Stephen ain’t too useful.

Xixo runs.

Their Kalahari misadventure starts when Stephen takes Anne sightseeing in an ultralight aircraft for no reason mere hours before she is to give a conference on some nebulous subject. (Actually, some other guy named Jack – but not the Jack from the first – first takes Anne out, for as little difference as it makes – A friend needed a role?) Anyway, a nearing storm transforms Stephen’s crazy little airplane into a model so it can thrash around some Godzilla jungle sets for a bit. The plane crashes, gets caught up in, like, the Tree of Life, and thus Anne and Stephen are predictably stranded.

About that plane – It too is a stand-in, for the Land Rover from before (hence it has the most personality of anyone). Trading a car for plane is a good uptick, sequel-wise, though it isn’t quite as hilariously user-unfriendly. Still, Uys sees the comic potential unique to a plane, and largely makes use of it.

The first step is to get the plane out of the tree, piece-by-piece. This necessitates a rope and pulley system, which in turn leads to the be-underwearing of Anne (it is a series running gag to repeatedly expose the lead actress’ underpants). Another series running gag seems to be incredibly fake-looking rhinoceroses, one of which chases Anne up a different tree, effectively recreating a scene from Disneyland’s “Jungle Cruise.” Hyenas laugh; giraffes gawk; monkeys look on thoughtfully (missed opportunity: no trios of sinless primates). Seriously, cut out the animal reactions, you’d have a film 3/4ths as long.

Xixo runs.

Back at the Anne and Stephen follies, Anne crossdresses Bugs Bunny style in order to draw a horny ostrich away from its eggs. This allows Stephen to poach said eggs. Then he builds a campfire, and poaches the eggs in an entirely different way. The ostrich remains sexually unfulfilled.

Having exhausted the current setting for its humor value, the duo lugs the airplane through the desert towards the flats (Anne serving as mule – ha!). Then a…a badger or a feral skunk or a Pokémon or something attacks Stephen’s shoe. Stephen must therefore doff his boot, which remains in a life-or-death struggle with the badger, as they continue on.


The plane launch shall not be graceful, since the badger also deflated its tires. Following the cartoon logic which dictates his life, Stephen removes the fuselage’s flooring, to get the craft up to speed in the manner of Fred Flintstone. No points for guessing he tumbles out, leaving Anne alone in this out-of-control flying deathtrap. In the chaos, the plane is fired at by a random army garrison that’ll never be seen again – Ah, Africa. Then it tumbles back to earth, parachute tangling up in a different Tree of Life. Then a cheetah rushes at Anne, the plane spins around in circles, and it doesn’t prosper. Really, this movie goes pretty nuts sometimes.

Xixo runs. It’s a running joke!


Left alone at the flats, Stephen tries to retrieve his boot, leading to an extended comic conflict with the same bloodthirsty badger. It’s another of those individual moments of silliness which serves little overall purpose, but remains the point of this exercise. And Stephen is only able to coax himself free of the little beastie with a potent combination of eggs and beer (survival essentials).


The time has come, believe it or not, for another subplot to get introduced. Because cutting between the travails of Anne, Stephen, Xixo and the kids isn’t enough for Mr. 15-Second Scene Editor here. So out here in the Kalahari, the most crowded desert on Earth it seems, a Cuban soldier (Eric Bowen) and an Angolan soldier (the exquisitely-named Treasure Tshabalala) engage each other in an inexplicable, context-free comedy of blunders, as each tries to take the other prisoner. It’s sort of a stand-in for the lame terrorist subplot from TGMBC, only with better humor. It still makes buggerall sense, though.

Xixo ru– Actually, he stops to silently comprehend the soldiers’ struggles, in the same manner as the endless apes they usually cut away to. Unimpressed, Xixo runs.

Presumably this has to do with the Angolan Civil War, even though the movie takes place in Botswana. Hey, wait up! Is this satire here?! Indeed, the Tom & Jerry relationship between the Cuban and Angolan soldier is meant as a summation of the war as a whole. With head-clonking. Jamie Uys is no Stanley Kubrick, I tell you what.

Anne, in her travels to rediscover Stephen (why?!) happens upon a metal windmill way the hell out here in the wastelands. What follows is a nicely evolving silent comedy routine – one of the more fully Keatonesque moments in the film. She finds when she turns the blades, water escapes from a pipe below; when she reaches the pipe, the water has stopped. That’s our setup. Anne tries catching the water in a can, but it tumbles over. She props the can up with a rock, but a monkey steals it. Correcting for that monkey, several more show up. Anne plans to pelt them all with several rocks, so they gang rape her…Actually, no. Rather, the wind blows and Anne does a sexy shower dance for the animals – Okay, what’s going on here?!

Xixo runs – through a giraffe’s legs!


Now Anne happens upon revolutionary and counter-revolutionary, engaging their warfare through buffoonery. This is where Anne’s competence truly shines, making me forget all about the shrieking harridan from the beginning. She collects a rifle, another has a pistol, and the third has the fuel (for jeeps and planes and such). It all plays out, with insistent cutaways every quarter minute, like a silly version of a John Woo standoff. Also, Xixo is there, doing nothing.

And what of Stephen, who’s served very little purpose since Anne went off on her own? Well, he’s been bitten by a deadly scorpion (it’s a comedy – laugh). So Stephen’s dying. He’s soon visited by Xixo, who seems to have forgotten his own truck-chasing story (oh yeah!). Xixo, the wise and infinitely superior non-white, knows the only cure for a scorpion bite: Bury a dude in sand! It might make some sort of sense, but more importantly, it’s a humorous image.


Around now those villainous poachers come barreling back into the picture, to provide some Third Act wickedness so it can seem like something’s been overcome. Thus the poachers decide to take everybody hostage, on the off chance they “saw our ivory.” ‘Cause five people stranded in the desert, head-clonking each other, are that much of a threat. Most are bound two-by-two, back-to-back – lovebirds Anne and Stephen together, likewise “lovebirds” Cuban and Angolan. Xixo is there too.

Because competency is the rarest commodity in the TGMBC franchise, the poachers affect their prisoners’ escape. One leaves to go make a radio call, while the other fool loses his pistol down his own pants (!). Everyone else flees, in yet another moment of inspired physical comedy – a slapstick foot chase with lashed couples trading turns carrying the other. Description is insufficient.


The other poacher starts a wildfire. Everybody on screen and in the audience is hopeless, at a loss, except for Xixo…and myself.

DETOUR! When there is unburned fuel between you and the fire, it behooves one to reach a fuel-free safety zone with no possibility of reburn, at a sufficient distance in a 1:100 proportion relative to flame height. If such a safety zone does not exist, and no other escape route presents itself, one may create one’s own safety zone by means of a backfire.

“Backfire: A fire set along the inner edge of a fireline to consume the fuel in the path of a wildfire and/or change the direction or force of the fire’s convection column.” [The Fireline Handbook, January 1998]

A backfire can use up oxygen otherwise available to the main fire (removing one side of the Fire Triangle), causing both fires to diminish in intensity as they meet each other. It is a potentially dangerous practice, as an understanding of wind patterns is essential, but it can also save lives.

In such a way, Xixo et al survive the fire. Its dramatic purpose over, the fire simply goes out.

Then they get the best of the poachers, with the help of several chaotic neutral lions.

The soldiers make amends, realizing the silliness of the capitalist/communist debate ahead of historical schedule. They together use their Jeep to launch the airplane, as Anne and Stephen sail back to civilization just as Idi Amin, on loan from Uganda, is about to organize a search party (he’s hungry). Anne and Stephen smooch in their underpants for all to see.

And Xixo reunites with his children, crying tears of joy and relief a hundred times more genuine than any emotion a deadened urbanite could ever feel. Our lives are shallow and unnatural, this movie tells us! Cue credits.

The Gods Must Be Crazy II is the sort of sequel which is mostly useful, franchise wise, only in indicating how useless it would be to go on with the series. Its chronologically retarded release would back that up. Indeed, the premise has already been milked dryer than the Kalahari, and indeed, the South Africans were already washing their hands of their one and only nascent franchise. And yet there were three more to come. How is that? Well, The Gods Must Be Crazy II is one of the few movies of the modern era to show a debt to America’s silent comedies of the 20s. But there was another style of contemporary moviemaking with similar inspirations. Hong Kong cinema!


Related posts:
• No. 1 The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)
• No. 3 The Gods Must Be Crazy III (1991)

The Gods Must Be Crazy, No. 1 - The Gods Must Be Crazy (1980)

The Gods Must Be Crazy?! I had no idea there was a sequel, let alone a franchise. But don’t ya know, there are five of ‘em. Well, I learns things doing this blog, I does…

The Gods Must Be Crazy was the great South African comedy hit of 1980. After that, the country’s international cinematic reputation fell into disrepair irreparably, until District 9. Not bad for a washed-out and shaggy fish-out-of-water comedy. But somehow, this little Africomedy managed around $100 million worldwide, which was even less to sneeze at then (a mere five years after Jaws created such records). By pure word of mouth did The Gods Must Be Crazy (okay, TGMBC) spread, attainting a cult popularity while never exactly being a major hit in any one place…apart from at home, of course.

Writer/director Jamie Uys started filmmaking in the 1970s with two Beautiful People pictures, which are actually nature documentaries. He then did Funny People, which is about people, though not Adam Sandler – that’s another Funny People. Naw, this one’s a theatrical rip-off of “Candid Camera,” and was considered the peak of South African wit at the time.

Until TGMBC blew it out of the water. Here was South African hilarity that was truly at the cutting edge, seeing as it mimics American comedy stylings of the 1920s. The film’s central thesis is to explore the humorous collision of nature and civilization, finding jocularity in a bushman’s encounters with technology, and mocking white people’s ineptitude in the wilds. One could make a case complaining about the film’s outdated noble savage depiction of the Ju’hoansi aborigines, or certain other niggling cultural details, but…is it really worth the trouble when it’s a movie which revels in head-clonking humor?

By the beginning, you’d be forgiven for thinking it another of Uys’ nature docs, as it makes extensive (and consistent) use of wild savanna animal footage. There is even a narrator (Paddy O’Bryan), who proves a bit of a gentle wit and decidedly not a scrupulously scientific documentary filmmaker.

It is this narrator who informs us ignorant audience members about life in the harsh Kalahari Desert, which the scarcity of water means no humans – but for the miniscule bushmen. By depicting these natives in their noble savagery, and their savage nobility, the narrator opines they are the most contented people on earth. It is precisely the sort of prelapsian, tit-happy scenario folk associate with National Geographic, and it’s just as much of a put-upon. While Uys used real tribesfolk for his cast, they weren’t quite as isolated as are shown here. They’d long ago abandoned hunter-gatherer for something a bit more Anno Domini. Humorously, they did not understand the sort of unga-bunga activities director Uys imagined.

Illustrating this point is the big breakout star of TGMBC, Namibian bush farmer turned inexplicable actor N!xau (yes, that exclamation point is part of his name – maybe it’s a clicking noise or something). Prior to TGMBC, he’d seen less white people in a whole lifetime than I do on an hourly basis. Lamentably, there was some confusion amongst the tribes about paper money as currency – hence the persistent rumors that Uys did not pay his cast, or that N!xau made a mere $2,000 for his starring role (shades of the Slumdog Millionaire fiasco). But in light of TGMBC as a franchise, with N!xau headlining it (a film franchise starring a pre-technological actor!), one must assume N!xau made out okay in the end…Though I can’t imagine it was the most respectful working relationship in film history.

Getting back to business – The natives’ serenity is juxtaposed by the narrator’s assessment of modern civilization, presumably Johannesburg. This is one of the film’s cleverest notions, head-clonking humor aside, as it satirically addresses the urban lifestyle in nature doc terms. “Civilized man refused to adapt himself to his environment. Instead, he adapted his environment to him.” All the narrator’s commentary, though erudite, is told from the perspective of an alien to earth – not literally, but so as to force a reassessment of what we find normal. The narrator also serves as a translator of sorts for N!xau’s hunter Xi, whose Bantu banter has more clicks in it than…let’s say a popular website.


Speaking of N!xau (or Xi, really, but I do love typing out that “!”), he has just discovered an empty Coke bottle disgorged from a passing biplane (or farting god, by the narrator’s assessment). The “thing” soon becomes the focus of Xi’s village, as it brings a number of functions – music, corn-grinding, snake-curing, latent capitalism. Ah, the gifts of civilization. And that whole capitalism thing just near destroys these innocents, whom have never before felt anger, jealousy, or hate, we’re meant to believe. Fights over the bottle, soon rechristened “The Evil Thing,” lead to some of the film’s first celebrated head-clonkings. And it’s not just any old head-clonking! The music, when it’s not eagerly aping Burt Bacharach’s Casino Royale (1966 version) soundtrack, is happily emphasizing the slapstick, much like a Mexican sitcom. It’s pretty unsophisticated, but there is stuff in here that works.

Xi takes it upon himself to be the village’s Frodo, to take The Evil Thing to the edge of the earth and hurl it away – The Evil Thing being an unwanted gift from the gods with their titular mental instability. This trek shall see Xi through the savannas, past scads of wildlife footage – some of it even interaction. This is far, far better to the lame jungle adventures of the 40s.


Meanwhile, an entirely unrelated subplot is brewing in the fictional African nation of Burani. The country’s diplomats meet when a coterie of guerilla terrorists burst into the capital for a mass assassination. It’s a comedy, folks! And judging by how footage is sped-up, like a Benny Hill routine, yup, it’s supposed to be funny. But those Africans, man, perhaps there’s something funny about political assassination over there I just don’t get. And yeah, many people die.

The terrorists flee in their Jeeps much as the Keystone Kops would – the film is one organ accompanist away from being a true silent comedy. (Actually, the best moments to come mine silent cinema quite masterfully.) But the prime sort of humor for now is the sort where the terrorists at their banana hideout proclaim “They’ll never find us.” Cut to the encroaching armed forces of this zany romp’s ersatz Idi Amin stand-in. Fun times! Then it’s time for a slapstick shootout, complete with klutzy bazooka handling that still results in many dead – including Burani’s general. This is a pretty weird movie.

The terrorists are the most pointless filmic element. They won’t really serve any point until they’re called upon to serve as villains for the Third Act. Until then, just know they’re currently fleeing to the completely non-fictional Botswana, where the rest of the tale takes place.

It’s time for yet a third unrelated story – unrelated for now. But this one’s funny, because it mocks whitey. Out in the bush is doctoral biologist Andrew Steyn (Marius Weyers, the film’s secret weapon), who makes a study of manure as it relates to migration patterns and scatological humor. Andrew is content, alongside assistant Mpudi (Michael Thys) and their malfunctioning Land Rover Mpudi lovingly refers to as “The Antichrist.” (Were it a Dodge, it would be the “Anti-Chrysler.” [Rim shot.]) Along comes a reverend (director Uys in all his glory) to request Andrew go collect the local village’s new white schoolmarm, Kate Thompson (Sandra Prinsloo), newly arrived from the city. Thus Andrew is off in the Land Rover – which has to be jump-started by a mule towing it.


Andrew’s automotive hegira is the film’s absolute highlight, and where its true 20s slapstick sensibility comes to fullest light. Here we have a situation of man vs. machine Buster Keaton would envy: a Land Rover with no brakes, which cannot be shut off, and a series of gates it must pass through which must also be opened and shut. And only Andrew to do all this. An enormous amount of humor is wrung from a gate on an upslope; Andrew must somehow chock the car as it tumbles away from him. All while a monkey watches on thoughtfully. Isolated, this section would make a perfect short subject.

(In a Keaton-inspired film featuring a Coke bottle, I’m glad they never make a Fatty Arbuckle reference.)

Andrew finally meets up with Kate, who is his very own Coke bottle – Kryptonite, I mean. The man is absolutely worthless around women, as linguistically capable as Sloth from The Goonies, and a klutz to boot. Weyers truly is a gifted physical comedian, in an era where that is largely a lost art. Thus begins the return journey, another odyssey past angry rhinoceroses and familiar gateways. The difference now is that when the Land Rover tumbles out of control, Kate is stuck inside it, completely at a loss to control this vehicle. She works for Andrew’s character, but she’s something of a bore herself.

Xi’s quest – remember Xi? – includes his first encounter with a gun. It provokes a little humor, but our noble savage is not to be a figure of humor as Andrew is (he remains in the bush, so this fish is barely out of water at all).

Andrew, in his inestimable competency, has stranded the accursed Land Rover in a hippo-ridden stream, forcing Kate and himself to bed down for the night. And Kate’s a city slicker, and a bit – careful, be polite here – high maintenance to boot. So it all plays out like Willie’s campfire scene from Temple of Doom, only not 1/100th as grating. And in charges a rhino, keen to put out Andrew’s fire – that’s not a euphemism. Rhinos: they’re the fire chiefs of the savanna. It’s just like something I once did at a college party full of arsonists (this was back when I was actively firefighting). But somehow, the sudden presence of a rhinoceros convinces Kate that Andrew might be a pervert – trust me, it sorta makes sense on film.


Come daytime, Andrew sets to work winching the Land Rover out of the river via tree branch, while Kate sets to work clothing herself. (Ah, the division of labor.) She gets caught up in a tree, in a moment that strangely mixes gleeful slapstick and body horror, distracting Andrew long enough for the car to rise up off the ground. “Ay yay yay yay yay,” Andrew says, this film’s catch phrase, as he departs to retrieve the Antichrist.

Him gone, Xi arrives, beholding Kate – in the narrator’s terms, the ugliest person he’s ever met, for her pale skin and blonde hair. I know, what a freak! (Ah, but that’s called “comic juxtaposition.”) And when Kate, whom Xi takes for a god, will not comply with his clicks concerning The Evil Thing, Xi toddles on off, deciding that she may not be a god after all. I’m glad they didn’t make Caucasian divinity a running gag.


Andrew gets the Land Rover running!...by having Mpudi tow it with a go-kart. And in an African nation full of the oddest vehicles you’ll ever see outside of a Kia showroom, would you guess Andrew’s macho romantic rival would show up in that van-like monstrosity in the upper left there? It’s “great white hunter” Jack Hind (Mick Jagger…I’m sorry, Nic de Jager), who sweeps Kate off her feet and whisks her off in the great van thing. Her scenes bitching about Andrew are paralleled with Andrew pining hopelessly for Kate.

Growing even hornier in forced seclusion with shriveled old Mpudo, Andrew dudes himself up all fancy-like in order to impress Kate. He drives off in the now-functioning Land Rover, its comic function momentarily satisfied. In such a manner Andrew pays Kate a visit at the schoolhouse, while she tries to teach the good little African children all about the joys of apartheid. Beholding Kate’s beautiful eyes and double-X chromosomes, Andrew transforms into a whirlwind of destruction equaled only by the Tasmanian Devil, thrashing the entire classroom. It’s another good bit of physical comedy, carried entirely by Weyers.


While Andrew has his woman, Xi has his goats – in the narrator’s estimation, they are “ridiculous looking” but “look good to eat.” That’s precisely how I feel about goats! So Xi knocks a goat out with a special concoction of noble savage tranq. He prepares to roast the delicious quadruped, as horror movie music plays (I swear), when a cop arrives on the scene. In a moment I shouldn’t laugh at nearly as much as I do, the cop hurls the unconscious goat unceremoniously onto his truck’s rooftop, then knocks Xi out with a special concoction of civilized man tranq.

It’s the trial of the century! Botswana v. Bushman! The Case of the Nearly-Eaten Goat! (Okay, I’m the only one making a big deal of it.) Mpudi is called in to translate for Xi, as he’s the only one who “clicks” with him – Get it? Heh! [Sorry.] Anyway, Xi is sentenced to three months in prison.

Mpudi insists to Andrew that this incarceration will kill Xi. How did Mpudi, whose dubbed dialogue sound more Jewish than anything, get to be such a bush-genius? Glad you asked, Andrew (or whoever just queried me there). For Mpudi tells tale of his three years spent amongst Xi’s people – he knows of their deep connection to nature. It’s for this reason Xi must be rescued from prison.

Well, Mpudi’s tale must’ve been a long one, for Xi’s been in jail one whole week now, and hasn’t eaten a bite (should’ve asked for goat). Mpudi barters through the Botswanan bureaucracy. Xi’s sentence is reduced to a work detail: he is to serve out his time under Andrew’s inept care. So Xi is moved from the four solidest walls in all of Botswana, and instead faces something far less dangerous – LIONS! AAH!


It’s time for our comical murdering terrorists to reappear on the scene, just in time to kidnap Kat and her mass of schoolchildren, thus create a scenario in which Andrew can finally appear the hero. All women want is to be rescued from terrorists, just ask John McClane! Ultra-terrorist Boga (Louw Verwey) has some very curious demands: that the army clear a swath so he and his new hostages can walk off to the Montero Jungle uninterrupted, never to be seen again. I’m sure I don’t quite know what his goal is here – this isn’t even the fictional country he intends to terrorize.

As with most comedies, the need to create Third Act conflict is antithetical to the humor, which becomes far less dense. Why does this genre regularly feel the need to turn to drama at the end? No matter, it so happens that Andrew has decided upon the Montero Jungle (that’s probably not its real name) as the destination for his latest fecal scavenging investigation. Thus, after far, far longer than I am indicating here, he, Mpudi and Xi see the terrorists’ merry band nearing.

Overcoming them is pretty danged simple. It’s mostly a matter of Xi disguising himself as a child (one of this section’s few jokes, and it’s not all that successful), then shooting ¾ of the terrorists with his patented goat tranq. Oh, and it’s a stealth bow, so the arrows are toothpicks. Terrorists fall asleep to actual lullaby music.

But two terrorists are still unaccounted for. Thus commences a comic, bloodless shootout, the forces of good represented by Kate and one little child, both toting guns. It being Africa and all, I suspect the kid with the uzi was simply there that day. Then along comes Andrew, takes up yet another firearm, and bests the terrorists in comic ways I shall not ruin here. And with Andrew the hero of the hour, that’s the call for Jack the cock-blocker to appear unannounced and once again claim Kate as his own. Damn it!

This affords Andrew one more scene of Botswanan buffoonery in Kate’s presence. First, he practices a loquacious dissertation alliterating the causation of his romantic disabilities (“It’s just a psychological problem.”), but upon actually seeing Kate, Andrew don’t talk too good-like. Rather, he ravages a picnic lunch Kate has prepared – almost as though it were set up purely for a “Mr. Bean”-esque scene of bodily flailing. But apparently Kate loves Andrew for such displays; she kisses him. “Ay yay yay yay yay.”


As for Xi, now as free as a bushman, he has retrieved the long-lost Evil Thing, and made his way to the actual end of the earth – or at least a ridonkulously large cliff. Thus he hurtles the bottle down to head-clonk whatever pure tribe lives at the cliff’s base, then makes his joyful return home.

And so ends a gentle satire of civilization, and a slapstick throwback to the 20s, that misses the mark (terrorists) as much as it hits (Land Rover). It’s an unassuming movie, with the sort of washed out cinematography that works far better for mood pieces like The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. Here it just betrays a certain charming cheapness (unmistakably non-mainstream) that serves the film well – aided by animal interaction you wouldn’t expect from a film of this caliber. And every year or two sees a bizarre breakout hit that latches onto the public’s consciousness in a purely inexplicable way. I’m not sure what the precise, simple power of TGMBC is (head-clonking perhaps), but it sure made its name…and warranted a sequel, apparently.


Related posts:
• No. 2 The Gods Must Be Crazy II (1989)
• No. 3 The Gods Must Be Crazy III (1991)