• Wide Release
• Director: Michael Raeburn
• Written by: Michael Raeburn, Doris Lessing
• Running Time: 105 minutes
• Language: English
• MPAA Rating: UNRATED
• Cast: Karen Black, John Thaw, John Kani, Patrick Mynhardt, John Moulder-Brown, Margaret Heale, Björn Gedda, Jan Nygren, Vincent Mijoni, Ivy Miyanda, Reg Cornish, Gailos Shiyamba, Kennedy Mungomba, Martyn Hutchins, Wesley Kaonga, Jesse Martin, Bernard Hamaundu, Abel Kabungo, Manoa Mwila, Edmund Ngula, Richard Nkanyezi, Ann Oglethorpe, Diana Kelly, Rosemary Kirby, Karen Kotze, Chris Hodgson, Ian Kotze

Michael Raeburn's adaptation of Doris Lessing's novel “The Grass is Singin” is about as unmemorable a cinematic experience as one is likely to endure, this side of anything Woody Allen. It’s pacing is sluggishly unfulfilling, and the dialogue is peculiar, falling off the actor’s tongues in a sort of staccato hymn that’ll most assuredly have you reaching for the mute button mere minutes in, or at least begging someone around you in hopes that they understand what exactly the fuck the folks up on the screen are talking about. Oh, and Karen Black is just plain odd here. Yeah, she’s as hot as ever but, goddamn, her performance is all over the map, a by-product of a first time filmmaker who clearly didn't have a clue about what he was doing with his actors.

Flanked by a sense of desperation and the sudden awareness that even her own peers are growing wary of her, a maladjusted 30-year old townie, Mary (Karen Black), decides to begrudgingly accept the marriage proposal of a local farmer, Dick Turner (John Thaw). Watching Black’s iniquitous saucer-like eyes in this scene does more to convey her true feelings than of the nicey nicey dialogue she spouts, making for a strange, awkward moment indeed. Dick dreams big but lives modestly, something that Mary soon discovers as she joins him at his humble plantation way out in the boonies. She almost immediately erects an insolent posture towards the all-black hired help, especially one partly educated houseboy, Moses (John Kani), who seems to bear the brunt of her vindictiveness. Mary’s long gazes at Moses’ sweaty muscular body as he carries out the daily chores, speaks to some kind of subconscious primal want, however, for better or worse the film never really delves into that, although, the impression is definitely there… lingering. As the weeks turn into months, Mary finds herself exasperated by the incessant muggy boil and the perpetual loop of decelerated country-living, eventually choosing to leave Dick and head back to the city and a past she once seemed so intent on discarding. Sadly, as she soon learns, her old life in the city, as a secretary, is long gone, replaced by younger, prettier up and comers. Eventually she is forced to hobble back to the farm with her tail tucked neatly between her legs. Her paranoia and irascible behaviour increases tenfold with her re-arrival, eventually coming to a head when Dick falls ill with malaria and she is forced to take over as head supervisor.

It is at this point in the film that Mary morphs into an old-school colonial tyrant on par with Joan Crawford, as she orders the help around like veritable slaves at the end of a leash. At times, she even refuses them water and, with whip in hand, punishes those who dare defy her hysteria-laden barks to “Get back to work!”  The beaten crew isn’t long in reaching their own breaking point, collectively choosing to quit rather than endure one more day working for Mary. When the malaria breaks, Dick is forced to try to repair the damage his wife has caused, all the while playing down Mary’s distinct notions that the only way to succeed is to follow the advice of another local, Charlie Muller (Patrick Mynhardt) – a fellow who has found success in the face of Dick’s ceaseless failure. As it turns out, Charlie has flourished by choosing to grow out one large crop as opposed to a bunch of smaller ones. Dick is apprehensive of adopting the operating style of a man who rules his hired help with an oppressive hand, something that the spiteful Mary embraces unequivocally. Dick is a push-over, though, and eventually agrees.

Surrendering to Mary’s wishes, Dick ushers in one big plant but, instead of collecting his riches, he instead is made to watch as all of his hard work goes up in flames when a raging fire rips through his land. It takes with it everything including, seemingly, much of Mary’s sanity. With Dick’s health growing increasingly worse and with the unpaid bills stacking up, the piggish Charlie begins to mill about like a fly to shit, initially buying Dick’s truck and later, his whole dang farm. Mary, as usual, is stuck inside, stewing in the heat and her own burgeoning psychosis. In fact, she practically spends the film’s last agonizing-as-fuck half hour hovering about in a pound of ill-applied powdery make-up and attempting to sound like a Southern-fried belle, all the while striking up a weird friendship with the newly re-hired Moses, someone that she had personally canned earlier in the movie. Their camaraderie never goes beyond intimate, inarticulate chatter (and the occasional game of stupefying dress-up) but it is enough to send the film careening towards utter tragedy as Mary eventually turns her back on Moses when Charlie’s crew appropriates the land. Torn between his Christian and tribal beliefs, Moses’ senseless last minute decision to brutally avenge that sense of treachery he feels, the price of which opens the film, screams the loudest how utterly fruitless “Killing Heat” is as a cinematic experience.

While the portrait of colonial life in Africa might work well as a novel, as a film, it’s virtually unwatchable. I think much of the blame falls directly into the lap of first time director, Michael Raeburn, who clearly has no idea how to tell a story or direct his actors. Oh, he can translate the arid, desolation of outback Africa (it was filmed on-location in Zambia) well enough, but story-telling, that’s a whole different ballgame. Choosing to unravel catastrophic melodrama in a choppy narrative style that launches on a confusing, shocking image only to up skip backwards into a story that is equally confusing and disjointed, is pure hell as a viewer. Adding to the mire is the fact that Karen Black (1985's "The Blue Man") seems unsure of how to approach the role, and, my guess, Raeburn wasn’t offering much by way of advice throughout. Early on we get the sense that she’s just plain evil or mildly crazy, but as the film moves forward, we’re never quite sure. Those frantic turns where Mary flies into a rage at the hired help, almost always gives way to a follow up sequence where she seems to be quietly contemplating with shame the error of her ways… or is she? See, we never really know for sure and it begins to nag at you after awhile. Later, as the heat and grime begins to erode whatever nugget of sanity she might have had, we’re left with nothing. Instead of rounding out the character, giving her some depth, we're offered instead a strange “Sunset Blvd” homage. Her ever-changing performance never allows for much human touches to bleed through and the audience is left grasping at anything. It's definitely one of those 'lights are on but nobody is home' pieces that never really works. On the other hand, British born actor John Thaw, better known as Inspector Morse, endows his quiet, agreeable Dick Turner character with a powerful mix of tenderness and increasing despondency. There's a point in the film when he begins to understand the mistake he made in marrying Mary, and we feel his sense of hopelessness as he attempts to make the best of a very bad situation. We yearn for him to break away and make a better life for himself, knowing full-well that it will never come. In the end, he remains the only sympathetic character in the film, and the true tragedy lies in watching him being pulled out of his home; a tired and broken man too sick to even realize that the woman who has made his life a living hell the past few years has been taken from him. John Kani also does some good work, even if his character is poorly crafted and lacking in genuine motivation.

A tiresome jaunt in unsatisfying, utterly confusing, melodrama, "Killing Heat" is the kind of film you give a wide berth to when you see it on tv or on DVD somewhere. Avoid!