Robert Whitehead’s Head in the Stars, and Feet on the Ground

Robert Whitehead, born on 23 September 1950 in Johannesburg, South Africa, has a career that spans a little over 50 years and has worked as an actor in theatre, television and film, as well as being a celebrated theatre director. Some of the films that Whitehead has acted in include, “Mr. Bones,” (2001), “The Dark Tower” (2017), and “Sew the Winter to My Skin” (2018).

As a young man, after studying textile and furniture design in London, he then studied Drama at the Drama Studio in Ealing, West London.

He remembers putting on plays with his younger sister, as a young boy and believes that it was at this young age that this passion to be an actor was born. Whitehead remarks on the word “play” and how this extended into his lifelong career, where a lot of rehearsal is games that you play with one another and between each other, thereby refining it and ultimately turning the play into performance. Despite his appreciation of the play involved in his work, he is quick to distinguish that from improvisation.  “I never really liked that much, although one’s had to do a lot of it, but I’ve never really liked that much.”

And play he does, all the way through this close encounter.

I am welcomed into Whitehead’s beautiful space, sunlight streaming in through the transparent scarlet curtains and swathes of different colored red fabric draped over bohemian type furnishings.

He puts his walking stick aside and makes us a cup of tea each. I enquire about the striking painting, still covered in plastic that is standing against the floor of an adjacent wall. He says that it is one of his artworks.

We then sit down at a long table that is covered in a crimson tablecloth. Several red patterned rugs run the length of the screed floor. There is a small vase of hand-picked flowers from the garden; two candles in candle holders; mounds of medication; piles of books; sour gums; an atlas and a large magnifying glass spread across a tablecloth.

On checking that it will be ok for me to take his photograph after the interview; he informs me it will be R100.00 per picture. He taps the desk, indicating where the money should land. Very quickly, I come to realize that I have come to “play”. As we work our way through the questions, he baulks and bargains with the imaginary kitty that he has set up alongside him. Intermittently, he closes his eyes and when he opens his eyes again, he says, “Excuse me, I’m just having a nap”.

Enquiring of Whitehead how he spends his time when he takes time out, he says that he is in a permanent state of time out now, since he suffered heart failure. “I now walk with a stick, because it’s affected my balance. I can’t be on stage anymore. But, either way it’s been incrementally quiet over the years for old white ‘women’ like me.”

I ask him how he adapts to challenges, and whether or not he could share an anecdote; he answers, “I knew I shouldn’t have done this interview. What am I supposed to say? Can’t you just invent something?” He covers his face with both of his hands, defiant, possibly apoplectic, but clearly not “playing“ along with me.

This man who has played a host of characters, including the notorious Barker Haines of Isidingo, may well have left me at table with a “monster”.

“No, I can’t.” he says. I respond, laughing along, and move along to the next question.

“What do you think are some of the biggest challenges facing the South African film industry today?”.

He answers:  “ You ask me all these erudite questions as if I have a clever answer and…” his answer tails off.  I prod a bit more, and he responds: “The question is what’s driving the quality of the work.”

When I probe him to unpack the statement, he responds,  “Can’t you make it up?” Again, I insist that I can’t. He says that he will give me the R100 back.

Rather than taking the imaginary R100 or was it R200 back, I turn to his pile of books. He mentions that he still reads a lot and goes on to tell me that his favorite authors are Gore Vidal and Elmore Leonard. He adds that it is unfortunate that they are American.

When I ask whether he reads any South African/African authors, he says with gusto “No! No!” and then suggests that I should make up a list of wonderful African authors that he’s read. Again, I refuse.

I enquire about the magnifying glass that is on the table. He reaches across to an atlas that is alongside him and picks up the magnifying glass. He takes a sour gum from alongside him, pops it in his mouth and starts studying the atlas. He informs me that whenever he comes across places in books that he hasn’t heard of, he will look it up in his atlas.  I ask about google. “No! No! I don’t do that,” he says in disgust.

I sigh; he sighs.

“How many more questions? ” he asks. I evade his question, given that not many of the questions have given rise to any answers.  I ask whether he needs a break and whether he would perhaps like another cup of tea.

“No!” he responds. “I was just thinking about killing myself, but I won’t now. I’ll wait until you’ve gone.”

I steer the line of questioning towards his work on Isidingo, a South African soap opera, where he played the role of Barker Haines. Haines was a high-living billionaire who schemed his way into the lives of various people in and out of the mining town of Horizon. The eviler he was, the more they loved him. He says that as a freelancer that was the first time that he had a contract and that he worked for over 10 years, adding that it was marvelous until it all went away.

Whitehead (Barker Haines) was very close to Leonie Haines (Ashley Callie – (30 December 1976 – 15 February 2008) who played his daughter in “Isidingo”. She died as a result of head injuries from a head-on car collision and the team had to quickly devise a storyline where she went hiking and got lost in the mountains, with the cause of Lee Haines’s death in “Isidingo” remaining a mystery. At the time, Whitehead broke down during the filming of the episode of her death, with  the soapy becoming reality TV. All these years later, Whitehead still displays deep sadness around the loss of his onset daughter, Leonie Haines.

Whitehead goes on to speak about Michelle Botes (Cherel – his wife on “Isidingo”) who passed away in December 2024. He says that although they weren’t very close, he found Bote’s refusal to endure treatment admirable.

With regards to guidance for young actors and directors breaking into the industry in 2025, Whitehead advises: “They just have to trust themselves and keep at it. If you believe that’s what you’re going to do, then you must do it.”

I go on to ask, what three values represent Whitehead best. After the short spate of him agreeing to answer some of my questions, we are back in the play state. He closes his eyes, and responds, “I’m just having a little sleep.”

When he opens his eyes, I ask him “Humor”? At this stage of the game, it’s unclear who is humoring who.

“Yes, you can put that down”, he responds and then goes quiet on me again.

“Curious?” I enquire.

“Curious is good”, he responds. “Trouble is I’m not very curious,” he adds and closes his eyes again.

“Sleepy?”…. I enquire.

“Lazy”, he says perking up. “I remember as a child, I was accused of laziness because I would stare with my mouth open. Dreaming of course… one’s little dreams, but apparently quite vacant and even from then I have always had that sort of condition which has always been taken as laziness, and I’ve been accused of being lazy.”

I probe about the radio work that Whitehead is involved in. “Well, sometime last year SABC4 started a series of Saturday night radio plays. I’m acting in one and will be recording tomorrow.”

What is the name of the play, I make inquiries.  “It’s called None Of Your Business. I don’t know the name of the play,” he responds.

In closing, I read a Victor Hugo quote to him. “What makes night within us, may leave stars” and ask him what the quote means to him.

Suddenly, he appears alert and keen. This time, I can see that I’ve got his attention. “I’ve not heard that before and I find it quite meaningful, actually,” he replies.

“What makes night within us may leave stars,” he repeats. “You don’t necessarily know at the time, if it’s a dark area that you are going through,” he continues. “However, once you’re through it, you realize that there have been stars.”

Despite Whitehead’s cantankerous and obstreperous attitude throughout the interview, we end the meeting on what feels like a deep connection.

I am just a little bit in awe of this iconic man.