I always bear a measure of trepidation when renting an “indigenous culture” sort of film, as many of them are inclined to dwell on native peoples’ social problems, alcoholism, domestic abuse, oppression by Whitey, &c, and the resulting movies tend to be predictable, exasperating, and depressing. In recent years there has been a trend of improvement in this sub-genre, but even such fascinating and well-executed films as Rabbit-Proof Fence and Gadjo Dilo are determined to lurch into wretchedness at their endings. Pathfinder, on the other hand, was a splendidly earnest adventure movie, but it was at heart a dramatization of a Lappish folk-tale, and nothing more; its story and style had no real relationship to the Lapps’ current situation.* Once Were Warriors gave the full social squalor treatment to contemporary Maori culture in 1995. So it’s very heartening to see a movie like Whale Rider steer clear of these pitfalls and actually offer insight into the processes of cultural stagnation and renewal.

A brief summary of the conflict at the film’s outset: Pai (the strikingly poised young Keisha Castle-Hughes) is the granddaughter of Koru (Rawiri Paratene), leader of the local Maori tribe. Her twin brother was to be Koru’s heir, heir to a line which stretches back to Paikea, the man who rode a whale to New Zealand; but both her brother and her mother died at their birth. Now, at the age of twelve or so, Pai is better versed and more involved in tribal tradition than any other young person, but her sex presents to Koru an insurmountable obstacle towards her fulfilling any role of tribal leadership, which would have been her brother’s birthright. Koru clearly sees Pai’s birth as the death-knell for the tradition of which he is keeper; he has lost faith in the old ceremonies, and the war-canoe which he is carving languishes unfinished.

Whale Rider does not search for the causes of Maori cultural lassitude in external sources such as history, New Zealand’s European government, or any white cultural domination; scarcely a white person appears in the whole movie. It instead looks inward, exploring the psychology of how individual Maori have or do not have faith in tradition. It was entirely filled in Wharanga, a real, living village on the North Island’s east coast (and not unlike a poor town here in New Mexico). Except for the leads, the cast is likewise composed of locals. This puts the supporting actors somewhat in the audience’s position in regard to Maori customs. The kids performing traditional chants at a school function early in the movie are ill at ease, perplexed, and clearly wondering if what they’re doing is perhaps unbearably silly. But there is later a wonderful scene in which Koru instructs the local boys in the conventions of Maori stick-fighting (more Maori weapons here). He thumps his chest and screams and protrudes his eyes and tongue in a hideous fashion, and at first looks quite absurd. Certainly, the bare-chested pubescent boys whom he orders to imitate him do not think they are cutting very impressive figures. But Koru proceeds to explain the significance of these ritual combative gestures, notably that the extended tongue signifies a Maori warrior’s intention to eat his foe, and I suspect that his pupils are no less delighted than I by the knowledge that their ancestors did not make idle threats. The boys start repeating the gestures more earnestly, and it is clear to see that the actors here, along with their characters and hopefully the audience, are coming to regard these proud traditional boasts as something worth taking pride in.

Keisha Castle-Hughes is another actor who all but lives her performance as Pai. Apparently she was pulled out of her classroom by the casting department and asked if she wanted a leading role in a feature film. She rose to the occasion gloriously (I very much hope to see her in other roles), and with evident delight becomes the torchbearer for traditionalism among the young people. Her character’s conflict is not with duty or destiny; Pai is eager to assume the role of Paikea’s heir, and when, for instance, the local boys all fail an initiation test, we have no doubt that she will be the one to complete it. Her troubles are instead with her grandfather.

Koru is everyone’s stubborn traditionalist grandpa, and the fundamental conflict of the film is his failure to see that some parts of his tradition must change if its best parts are to survive, that his granddaughter must be his heir or his bloodline be broken. This spiritual blight in its leader has infected the local society. The mythological nature of Koru’s malaise requires an act of mythological significance for its cure, and Pai is finally driven to such an act. The film’s climax demands some suspension of disbelief, but not much; no supernatural event occurs literally, but portent and destiny are palpably present as Pai asserts her descent from the Whale-Rider and her right of inheritance.

The final scene is visually spectacular, as Koru’s long awaited war canoe is launched, crewed by sixty muscular, grinning Polynesians, the real-life citizens of Whangara. The movie makers gave the canoe to the village when filming was done; the villagers had attempted to build one some years before, but it was not completed. This gift encapsulates the film’s message. The canoe was not built traditionally, it is constructed of movie studio materials, but it is stunning to look at, full size, and seaworthy. Tradition does not need to shun modernity. It needs rather to exploit the parts of the world and society which have changed for the better, to preserve the parts we wish to keep eternal.