TIFF 2025: Zamo Mkhwanazi’s “Laundry” Exemplifies Life Under the Apartheid Regime

Zamo Mkhwanazihttps directorial debut, Laundry, is inspired by a personal story. In 1954, her maternal grandfather’s laundry business was unlawfully shot down by the apartheid government. It was about six years into the South African apartheid regime and this institutional disinheritance made her maternal grandfather lose his livelihood. This experience provides the autobiographical lens for the story. Though the film isn’t framed from a personal angle, this personal story is deposited into the narrative. Mkhwanazi’s Laundry, which premiered at the Discovery section of the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF), tells the tragic story of a Black family caught within the web of uncertain and tense social, cultural and political tension of South African apartheid.

Enoch Sithole (Siyabonga Shibehttps), the family patriarch rules the family and business with benevolence. Magdalena (Bukamina Cebekhulu), his wife, Khuthala (Ntobeko Sishihttps), his sixteen-year-old musically talented son, Ntombentle, (Zekhethelo Zondi) his machine-loving daughter are mostly subservient to his words. Set in 1968, Enoch’s laundry is situated within a predominately White neighborhood and this geographic location comes with a lot of racial, political and institutional tensions. Enoch, though, elusively “free” from institutional and racial injustice that Black business owners face due to his “exempted native status,” isn’t actually exempted. Although he walks with confident gait into White only spaces while showing off his “exempted native status” badge, he’s deeply aware of how fickle this is. And, moments into the film, we see how this play out in his conversation with a police officer hunting down guerilla freedom fighters. Thus, unmindful of the supposed privileges granted to a South African during the apartheid regime and even across the continent, the British and foreign colonizers still view Africans from a single lens: as being inferior to them. Enoch’s unjustified imprisonment exemplifies this.

Laundry wears the geographical, sonical and political garment of 1968 South African apartheid community. This isn’t just visible in Gavin Scates’, the production designer, work. The costume and production design lends geographical and periodic credibility to the unfolding story. The hair, makeup, props and other time-marking elements bolster the 1968 imagery the film pushes for. But, it’s the psychological scars of living under apartheid that the film, to a contestable degree, wins. The constant surveillance of the Black body, the condescending tone of White settlers towards South Africans, the physical and verbal harassment of South Africans by both religious and political leaders, the prejudiced stop and search and institutional and government-endorsed curtailment of free movement without an approved “pass” are subtle but prominent ways the film shows the horror of living under a brutal regime.

Also, there is a feeble critique of the patriarchal tendency of Enoch. Ntombentle lives and breathes the family business and not only does she love curating her life and daily activities around the laundry establishment, she’s eager to lead it. But, in Enoch’s socially-approved and patriarchal thinking, Khuthala whose mind is set on his music career, is the ideal heir. The reason is simple: he’s a man. Thus, the film also captures the cultural and institutional neglect of women in society. In another instance, Magdalena can’t bail his husband because she’s a woman. This situation exemplifies the intersection of racial and gender discrimination embedded into the apartheid government’s policies and practices. It’s a denial that reinforces the patriarchal nature of the apartheid regime where women’s public and social roles are controlled. Additionally, it’s a minute indication of the broader systemic inequalities that apartheid enforced, not only along racial lines but also along gender lines. Mkhwanazi’s script glances through these subjects but for the women living these systemic injustices, it limits their economic and personal freedom.

The writing is lacking in most cases. The film frames Enoch’s absence upon his arrest as inspiring chaos and doom into the business. Suddenly, the once peaceful and organized business is running into the ground and once-faithful workers are now rebelling, recalcitrant and stealing from the business. What makes it unbelievable is how, before his arrest, the script doesn’t convey how Enoch’s presence substantially adds to the day-to-day running of the business. Neither does his presence inspire loyalty and discipline amongst workers. Thus, the script’s inability to express this adds a major narrative dent to the film. Until the third act, it isn’t consciously conveyed, the psychological burden Enoch’s arrest has on his family. Enoch’s children and wife are given the air of tourists in their own active history.

Dean Meyers (Robert Whitehead ), a White official, is on Enoch’s payroll. Dean Meyers arms Enoch with necessary documents to triumph over institutional take over. For two decades, this arrangement moves undetected. Prior to Enoch’s arrest, Dean Meyers is portrayed as an unreachable White government official. After Enoch’s arrest, it’s mind-boggling how Khuthala easily gets in contact with him. Another narrative flaw is how the film floats through core political, institutional and personal issues but isn’t able to thread them together.

The actors’ performance is one of the most enjoyable bits of the film. Shibe’s performance as Enoch is filled with confident strides, words and actions. Although he moves through White spaces with possible subconscious fear for his life, his face doesn’t crack in fear nor defeat for his uncertain situation. He maintains his human dignity even when he punctuates his words with respect. Khuthala’s performance as the conflicted son who has to choose between his music career and saving his father from further imprisonment is portrayed with emotional depth.

Music is a constant element in the film. Enoch Sithole and his family are music connoisseurs. In a scene, Magdalena plays the piano after the day’s work. In another, Khuthala and Ntombentle bond over a speaker blasting music. Enoch supports Khuthala’s music dream. And Khuthala often falls into musical frenzy to deal with emotional stress. He also stalks Lilian (Tracy September), a popular musician. Thus, in the film, music is used as a conduit for stress and familial bond. But, politically, music is also an artistic channeling of pain and rage against the apartheid regime. Music becomes a sonical protest against the foreign establishment.

Mkhwanazi’s  is inspired by personal and political incidents. But, its ability to subvert this personal narrative into a fictional but history-conscious narrative provides for an entertaining and intellectually stimulating watch.