Review: Don't Fuck With Me I Have 51 Brothers and Sisters

In the realm of large families, Dumisani Phakathi has most people beat, boasting 51 brothers and sisters and 11 mothers. No surprise, though, he only has one father — and that man looms large over these 63 people as well as many others, even in his death. Phakathi’s film “Don’t Fuck With Me, I Have 51 Brothers and Sisters” is an attempt to reconcile the scattered bits of that legacy by piecing together the man who left it through the only physical parts of him left on the landscape — the fruit of his loins, so to speak.

Phakathi is a South African filmmaker with some level of fame in his own country. His father was also well-known, but not in the same arena — he owned football clubs and was often the subject of newspaper articles, expounding on the future of his club and discussing signing players in a creative way that Phakathi might speak of editing footage. Phakathi’s birth mother keeps a collage of that she has created, a mix of newspaper article of father and of son, swirling around each other, hinting at the likenesses between them.

If their commonality seems apparent, imagine trying to rectify that with 51 other people. Not only is there the question of what this volume of people could share with one man, but also where the likeness manifests itself in each other. Are their personalities as alike as their eyes?

Phakathi found out about all his siblings at his father’s funeral — apparently, some significant number of them showed up with their mothers in tow. Quite opposite of what one might expect in regard to the the psychodramas that could take place in such a circumstance, Phakathi presents his relationships with the siblings that he does know as warm, even joyous. Their biology is reason enough for joy.

In fact, the biggest instance of angst involves Phakathi’s whole sister — that is, his sister who he grew up with, his sister through his father and his mother — who reveals her anger over Phakathi’s inability to come through for her following their father’s death. Her sobs that he was “not there” for her are striking when contrasted with the fact that he was physically “not there” for all his other siblings for most of his life until his father’s death. The paternal passing is literally a familial reinvention for Phakathi — it’s ironic, though not surprising, that his “real” family feels slighted and left out.

In many ways, Phakathi is following in his father’s footsteps by taking on relationships with as many of these children as he can — and much like his father, it becomes obvious that given the sheer numbers behind the situation, there is no way for him to not become spread thin. Emotionally, his heart may be full of love for these people, but there is only so much time in the day, no matter how big and sincere your emotional ties might be.

And then there are the issues of such a situation that no one in it would ever have to deal with. Two sisters bring up the issue of marrying boys they don’t realize are their brothers. In fact, one sister has a story about meeting one of her brothers, only to discover she was this boy who had, years before, dated her best friend and she had regular interaction with. Here, the fantasy life for Phakathi is laid out with a nightmare ending — girl of his dreams, marriage, pregnancy —and then the families meet and then the truth comes out, too late.

Another problem for Phakathi is that the volume of siblings means 51 people with totally different lives. Most, as presented in the film, lead well-adjusted lives, but there is sorrow looming statistically and it rears its ugly head when he goes to meet one sister, raised by her grandparents with her siblings. The grandparents are now dead and the 15-year old girl goes to school and raises her siblings herself. She is quiet and shy and so very young. Their meeting is both awkward and tender and you wonder if and how he will intervene in her life in years to come.

What Phakathi’s film examines most of all is what lies underneath the social structures of family, where kinship is at an unseen genetic level, but manifested through the strong, emotional social cues of family. As with any family, they have their own lore, but unlike most families of that size — and this includes all the aunts and uncles who appear in the film — it all revolves around one man.

Despite the epic nature of his family, by focusing in on any given aspect, any of can find something that relates to our own modest experience — it’s just that Phakathi’s challenge in traversing these personal byways might be more complicated because of the terrain they rest on. Regardless, the family you have is the family you have.