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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