The Road to Elandsbaai

I had this idea. Four guys. A road movie. I wanted to capture a specific kind of masculinity. Not the loud version. Not the one that shouts or takes up all the oxygen in the room. Just the quiet, intimate side.

I might have failed at that.

It’s possible the film doesn’t actually say what I thought it would. Because of that, you probably won’t find it in my reel. It exists in a private archive of "almosts." But if you ask for it—specifically, directly—I’ll show it to you.

On this shoot, I worked with Phoenix for the first time. They were my 1st AD. The film itself might be an asterisk, but meeting Phoenix was the main event. It opened a door to a much more important collaboration later on. Sometimes you have to make a movie that doesn't work just to find the person who makes the next one work perfectly.

There was Matt and his vintage Range Rover. We spent a lot of time sitting in the back. The paperwork for the vehicle was, let’s say, optimistic.

We stayed at a farm for two nights in Elandsbai.

We were having a braai for dinner. The communal South African ritual of fire and meat. We were all there, gathered around the heat, waiting for the last two people to drift back from the coast. Except they didn't show up.

Their car broke down in the middle of nowhere. In Elandsbai, there isn’t much in the way of traffic. Hitchhiking isn't a strategy; it's a fantasy.

So they walked. They walked for more than two hours through the absolute dark to get back to the farmhouse. By the time they arrived, they looked like hobos.

It’s funny how we approach these things. You start with a thesis on masculinity—this idea of quiet intimacy and shared silence. And you end up with two men hiking through the night because a vintage car died.