Once Were Warriors

1994's ONCE WERE WARRIORS is a film that announces itself with ferocity within its first minutes.  The opening scenes pulse with rock music as we see several people walking around South Auckland, New Zealand.  By freeway overpasses and busy marketplaces.  Everything feels grimy.  It has a rock video vibe, not at all what I was expecting.  I thought director Lee Tamahori's film, which I knew was an intense drama about domestic abuse and poverty, would be quieter, more low key, less flashy.  But having such a rough and tumble, rowdy, and anxious feel established from the beginning is quite appropriate for this story.  The adults frequent bars and have loud parties in their home, a messy rental provided by the state.  Jake (Temuera Morrison) is an alcoholic, a "mean" drunk, who's content to live on the dole and regularly terrorizes his wife Beth (Rena Owen) and children, who are sometimes seen cowering together in their bedroom as they listen to dad beat mom senseless.

The music continues through much of the movie.  We hear it from the stage at the bar, from the jukebox, and on the soundtrack.  It works beautifully and unexplainably, never detracting from the strong narrative.  I would've thought otherwise.

Riwia Brown's screenplay is a perfect showcase for the actors, each of whom throw themselves into their roles.  Blood, sweat, and tears, quite literally.  The physicality exhibited is very much a part of their sordid existences.  By his mates, Jake is nicknamed "The Muss", as in muscles.  He's an imposing figure, and there are indications he might be a decent bloke without all the booze.  The selfishness and bullying of his family makes him suitably hissable, yet interestingly never one dimensional.  That I believe is a tribute both to the actor and script.  But Owen owns this movie with her tower of strength turn, one of the best roles for a woman I've seen in some time.  She too offers a complex characterization, one that deepens as we learn more of her Maori heritage, a critical element of this story.

The child actors are also excellent.  Julian Arahanga plays the eldest son, Nig, who is about to join a Maori gang.  His initiation ritual makes an interesting comparison/contrast with the father he despises.  Middle son "Boogie" (Tangaroa Emile) ends up in a detention center due to his repeated delinquency, and learns how to defend himself with Maori customs.  And daughter Grace (Mamaengaroa Kerr-Bell) is the sensitive, yet prematurely cynical thirteen year old who likes to write in her journal.  Her role may be the most pivotal to the movie.  To say more would risk spoilers.  Suffice it that her performance rivals Owen's as to claim the film's heart and soul.

It's a shame Tamahori went off to Hollywood soon after ONCE WERE WARRIORS to direct several mediocrities, including the 007 flick DIE ANOTHER DAY.  His work here is impressive and energetic.  The violence erupts often and is hard to watch, but the film knows how and when to shift gears.  As with those in Jake's path, viewers may likewise be compelled and intimidated, on edge as to how he will behave at any moment.  If you've been around abusers like him, this film will feel more intimate, personal, and resonate even harder.