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Cinematic Myth and
the Maori

 


by David Matthews 

All Rights Reserved © David Matthews and Deep South
Deepsouth v.6.n.3 (Spring 2000)

 

Ti hei mauri ora.
Patai mai he aha te mea nui o te ao
Ka whakahoki au
He tangata, he tangata, he tangata.
Ti hei mauri ora.

(Translation)


The breath of life.
Ask me what is the most important thing in the world
And I will reply
It is people, it is people, it is people.
The breath of life.
- Old Maori proverb


As a New Zealander of both European and Maori descent, I find myself in a position of profound ambivalence regarding Lee Tamahori’s film adaptation of Alan Duff’s novel, Once Were Warriors (hereafter abbreviated to Warriors). On the one hand I would like to praise the film for its uncompromising depiction of urban Maori in a state of crisis. On the other hand I can not help but protest at the predominantly negative light in which Maori men are portrayed (i.e. as alcoholics, wife-beaters, child rapists, gang thugs, gambling addicts, glue sniffers and the like).

 


One of the things I find most disturbing about Warriors is the familiarity of the Heke family – they could easily have been a part of my own extended whanau – and I believe that this shock of recognition partially accounts for the film’s success; as Maori we were able to see some of the tragic consequences of our urbanization and assimilation into European society and culture; as a nation we were confronted with many of the pressing social problems affecting our indigenous population.

 


The film also had universal themes (for example family, violence, and suffering) and it had a Hollywood – style narrative which made it marketable abroad as well as in New Zealand. The careers of Lee Tamahori, Tem Morrison, and Cliff Curtis have all risen rapidly as a direct result of the success of Warriors. I was living in Asia at the time of the film’s release, so I missed the initial reaction of the New Zealand viewing public. But I did read a couple of glowing reviews and I also talked to a few foreigners who raved to me about how good the film was, asking me if Maori men were really that violent. More than any other N. Z. film Warriors brought Maori into world prominence – but for all of the wrong reasons.

 


Strangely, though, the impression I have from talking to a number of people, both foreign and local, who saw the film is far different to what I would have expected, especially regarding the character of Jake “the Muss” Heke. Rather than being revolted by this animal, I detected a perverse kind of admiration for him. For example, I can remember an American girl telling me she thought he was “sexy”. My most horrifying memory, though, was a conversation I had with a Kiwi guy not long after I had arrived back in N. Z. and had just seen the film for the first time. I remember being dumbfounded as he tried to excuse Jake’s brutal beating of his wife, Beth. “Hey”, he said, “She should have cooked the man some eggs.” How anyone in their right mind could sanction such behaviour is beyond me, but I soon realised that Jake had attained a kind of cult-hero status in N. Z. Some men – and not all of them Maori – actually looked up to this character.

 


Warriors simultaneously illustrates many of the problems facing modern Maori while reinforcing the negative stereotypical image of Maori as alcoholic, violent, wife-beating rapists who let their children fall by the wayside. What I can not decide is whether to feel shame or indignation on behalf of my race. While it is true that these problems exist, once immortalised on celluloid certain narratives take on a life of their own, and I believe it is possible that Maori may be associated with this negative image for years to come. Should I thank Lee Tamahori and Alan Duff for drawing attention to the grim realities of urban Maori life, or should I castigate them for profiting from the misery of their race?

 

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