New Zealand Director Explores a Clash of Cultures in New Film

FILM once were warriors

directed by Lee Tamahori

"Once Were Warriors" is the carrion call to the carcass of Maori culture; and its vision means to shake you to the core.

With its relentless banality and gritty despair, director Lee Tamahori's debut film marches on with a mission irrespective of effete artistic considerations. There is no elegant dialogue or complex scene sequencing. Emotions come from the gut, unconscious of reason or purpose. The characters only know that life is rotten to the core, and that only good people can make it seem any better. It's just that simple; it's movie making by people who understand what destitute Maori relate to, and for precisely this reason, "Warriors" has been a smashing success.

New Zealand's Maori are caught at a nexus of civilizations. Ever since the British conceded land rights to the great Maori warriors, the aborted attempt to dominate the island has translated into a process of westernization which threatens to complete the job. Traditionalists always have expressed their dismay at the needless pain the cultural division has so evidently caused. Now Maori artists like Alan Duff, on whose book the movie is based, and director Lee Tamahori are joining in the fight.

Few thought Maori would go see the film--it seemed like something meant more to promote white middle class prejudice than to call for change. But Tamahori, who is himself descended in part from the Maori, took the gamble and won. Maori have not only been willing to see this blunt and brutal portrait of themselves, it has been Maori, over whelmingly, who have made Tamahori's debut film the best selling film in New Zealand history, surpassing even "The Piano" and "Jurassic Park" at the box office.

At the heart of this searing look at family life are strong performances from the only actors on the set with real film experience, Rena Owen and Temuera Morrison. Morrison plays a seductive and dangerously violent Jake Heke whose outbursts threaten to tear his family apart forever. Owen plays the resilient and fiery Beth Heke whose defiance and intelligence infuriate the brutish Jake. When a savage beating prevents her from appearing in court on behalf of her delinquent young son, Beth begins to realize how little Jake cares for his family. With the help of her daughter Grace, an aspiring young writer, Beth embarks on a path of separation that will lead her back to her cultural and familial roots.

What begins looking like one more film fetishizing violence ends with a palpable, some will say trite, proclamation of self-importance. It is the realization that there is nothing Western culture can do to save the Maori from decadence and decay that they could not do better themselves. By first flinging bits of raw, unfiltered indictments of urban life at its audience, "Warriors" depresses the spirit in order to redeem it with a glimmer of hope in the end. While violence serves a dual purpose, to caress the fetish as well as to sicken the heart, it is the latter purpose Tamahori hopes will resonate most deeply with his audiences.

Yet the movie's biggest problem aside from a weak screen play is the conflict between its message and its means. Chicken wire over the windows tells us that barroom brawls are a common problem, but Tamahori confuses the issue by alternating uplifting fights of just vengeance with drunken displays of uncontrolled power.

As part of the comprehensive critique of deteriorating social fabric, the brawls demonstrate warrior instincts run amok. But at the same time, bad guys get wasted in the same manner good guys are attacked. Only the mood is supposed to change from these battles of good versus evil. When we finally see Jake for what he really is we have already been conditioned to like his brand of justice. Suddenly we are forced to cast even his justice in a negative light, and that retroactively.

The effect is sobering, but in terms of the movie's agenda, it also appears contradictory. If the movie targets Maori who actually live like this, how are they to dispense with the message that barroom justice is good while internalizing the message that violence breeds violence, domestic or otherwise?

The bottom line is that while there may be grandiose messages of social renewal sprinkled throughout the script, there is equal kowtowing to the god of glamourized violence. The same target audience that engages in bar fights and beat their wives are also being entertained by the Van Damme-styled fight scenes replete with tough talk and tightly choreographed martial arts maneuvers. For beefy guys who supposedly sit around and drink five or six liters of beer in a sitting, all this activity is especially impressive.

There is nothing in this movie to enjoy, least of all its art. And yet, like Beth, its defiant spirit and hope are enough to bring it prosperity. Hope here means hoping this actually intends its documentary brotherhood and only accidentally exploits a fetish for violence on and off the screen.