Talking Movies: Remembering Barry – Episode 11
Welcome to Talking Movies, I’m Spling. This week we embark on episode 10 of Remembering Barry, a heartfelt tribute to the beloved entertainment journalist and film critic Barry Ronge. A rare privilege, I stepped into Barry’s tranquil Johannesburg home and conversed with his partner of 47 years, Albertus van Dyk. Their starry-eyed story unfolds beautifully, a love that blossomed against their shared passion for the silver screen.
You mentioned earlier that you kind of feel a little bit like a curator of some of the things that have made this celebrity so enigmatic and interesting and he’s captured people’s imaginations…
It’s interesting to think about legacy because it’s my love and so can I be objective? Yes, I’m the curator of Barry Ronge. I also have to weigh up the guardianship of Barry Ronge, the well-known personality, and also I have to think about my love, Barry… Bee. The garden’s full of bees. Well, if he were in a different country, somebody would have built a museum for Barry or a library for Barry.
Some people say, but what did he write? Well, he was prolific. He wrote every weekend. He wrote a whole magazine for The Sunday Times, a review, an opinion, television column. What’s his legacy? Language, yes. To be crude, as some people have said, it’s just a fat man who loved movies. Ja, wow. What did the fat man give you? Truth, excitement, language, insight, entertainment. So, what is the legacy? That legacy is very enticing. It’s very delicious to think about and Spling this is what we’re doing.
What will the legacy be? Is it worth it? Will it be locked up in academia? Well, Barry would have screamed from the end of the universe. It’s not who he is. It’s not who he was. For every man. But, yes. Can the legacy live on in a café where people will page through Barry’s books? Respect them. Enjoy them. Barry loved his books. He would drink coffee. There’s some spills. They’re not perfect copies. They’re not museum copies to be locked up behind glass.
They’re there for everybody to enjoy. It was a big thing when we left public life. We did go to Wits University. They were interested. Somebody wanted to create a reading room for Barry. Well, as it happens, that week the books were being burnt. So, there we are. Two elderly men towering above the others. Grey men. I said to Barry, “darling, we need to run”. And there is the big question. Where will the books be housed? What will we do? Are they important enough? Yes.
Barry wasn’t a snob. There’s some precious books, yes, if you want to follow their history of movie directors. Photographic books. Cinema and Shakespeare and the Fairies. So, the subjects are quite extraordinary. They’re there.
You know, he was a household name. Still is in many parts… and he does have a rich history across the media landscape, in a changing media landscape. I always felt that he didn’t get the farewell he deserved when he bowed out of the public spaces on radio, on TV with his column.
I know that when he passed away, there was a lot of media around him and people only really wanting to speak to his legacy and celebrate his life at a time when they couldn’t really say it to his face. And I just felt, as someone that is also a film critic, knowing what he went through and all the different outlets that he worked for and all the lives that he touched, that I just felt as though it wasn’t enough.
You know, Spling, what I’m going to say, and this is what Barry would have said. Alfred Hitchcock never won an Oscar. Well, there you are. That’s a short answer.
Stanley Kubrick also never won one for directing…
Well, there you are. And Barry, true to who he was and always will be, was a shy man. I remember at 702 when things were changing and everybody was saying goodbye to the other presenter. Barry said, please don’t phone in tonight. I want to remember this night for now, but don’t phone in. He didn’t want that. And that’s who Barry was and always will be. It wasn’t about the accolades. It was never about that. It was about, let’s call it a vanity. It was his pleasure. And, you know, he could share his pleasure and his passion on the world stage. That was enough. It was a cookie. You know, it was delicious. But that was Barry, my love. But that’s who he is. He didn’t want the accolades, but it doesn’t mean we cannot give it to him.
It kind of boggled my mind that someone that was so in our lives suddenly disappeared. And maybe that created more of an enigma to him. Maybe it’s something that should have happened because it’s just added more mystery and more mystique to the man. But I remember contacting the SAFTAs in order to try and motivate for a Lifetime Achievement Award. You know, in his passing, it would have been the perfect tribute and time for him because he had given so many years of his life to doing the promotion and proliferation of film as a thing that people can get passionate about.
But I also contacted the South African Hall of Fame, which is not really that well known. Being a media personality and a household name and someone that had a great influence on many journalists who have got into the entertainment realm, including myself, I just feel like his essence wasn’t fully comprehended and not enough has actually been done to really just celebrate him, which is part of what prompted me to actually want to do that.
Thank you. And I really appreciate that, and I’m sure Barry would say thank you.
