Schalk Bezuidenhout lit up this year’s Hilton Arts Festival with an electrifying 90 minutes of stand-up that was all hilarity and heart.
Schalk, 33, grew up in Kempton Park on the East Rand. He is a smart, courageous guy with a super-authentic, self-effacing brand of humour that resonates deeply. He describes his Afrikaans upbringing fondly.
It was a good life. His childhood was marked by riding his bicycle to school, and “English was only used in self-defence”.
The son of a national intelligence operative turned entrepreneur and a school history teacher, Schalk studied drama at university and morphed from a “conservative caterpillar into a beautifully dramatic butterfly, complete with moustache and furry afro”.
Since he started stand-up in 2011, he has performed around the world, appeared in television adverts and in a film called Canary.
In 2024, he bought a house in Ballito – a landmark year in which he also got divorced and trained for his first successful Comrades Marathon.
In 2025, he brought the house down at Hilton in a show that referenced both events: one painful, the other triumphant.
His gift as a performer is his unrehearsed sincerity.
An hour of witty one-liners is good for a laugh, but Schalk’s talent lies in making audiences think and feel – processing often awkward and uncomfortable issues with laughter and empathy.
He’s sharp, but kind, and his art is a societal safety valve.
Stand-up is not regarded as much of an art form.
“It’s like the naughty little brother to fine arts or music,” Schalk says. “The child the parents don’t really want to talk about.”
But it is the most demanding type of theatre because it can easily go wrong, especially when the material is awkward.
A review in the UK Guardian said Schalk was “in total control of his comic register”.
Writing a blog review, Paul Marshall said Schalk’s show reflects on the “absurdity of his global success with the kind of offhand charisma that makes you feel like you’re catching up with an old friend”.
In an interview with Ukwazi Life, Schalk put it his unmistakable way, reflecting on his art and the Hilton show that saw him pirouette around in a leotard before launching himself backwards into the crowd.
“Comedy doesn’t always have to be funny. I want to take my relationship with my audience to the next level by letting them in. I did public speaking at school and my mom paid for lessons with this tannie. Eventually, my mom coached me herself. The number one rule is that it’s a conversation, not a speech you have memorised. It’s easy to go into autopilot, but the challenge for the comedian is to be present in the moment, like it’s the first show. You owe the audience that – to be direct and real, even if you are serious and vulnerable.”
Mense, this oke is world-class. If you haven’t seen him yet, find him.
