(New Zealand 1990 96 minutes)

Director: Barry Barclay
Producer: John O'Shea
Screenplay: Barry Barclay
Photography: Rory O'Shea (Berlin), Warrick Attewell (New Zealand)
Editors: Simon Reece, Dell King
Music: Dalvanius

Leading Players:
Wi Kuki Kaa (Rewi Marangai)
Gunter Meisner (Professor Biederstedt)
Nissie Herewini (Nanny Matai)
Peter Kaa (Peter Huata)
Maria Fitzi (Hanna Lehmann)
Donna Akersten (Fiona Gilbert)

Ancient grievances spawn distinctly modern attempts at redress in the second feature by Maori film-maker Barry Barclay, whose 1987 film Ngati charmed with its poetic and gentle simplicity.

This time. though, there's fire in the belly as writer-director Barclay addresses the vexted question of ownership and control of indigenous artefacts. Even in the wake of the wonderful Te Maori exhibition which brought the word taonga into Pakeha vocabulary, Te Rua seems aImost brutally uncompromising to Pakeha eyes. Yet its remorseless logic (on both dramatic and political Ievels) is irresistible.

lts centraI characters in terms of screen time are Rewi Marangai (Wi Kuki Kaa) and his relative Peter Huaka (played by Kaa's real-life nephew Peter Kaa). Both, though, are subordinate to an old kuia, Nanny Matai (Nissie Herewini), who speaks only in Maori and is the only one who knows the burial place of one of her tribe who assisted a thief a century ago to spirit away carvings from the meeting-house of the fictionaI Uritoto tribe.

The two men are in Berlin - the elder now a successful lawyer wilh big corporate clients and the younger a fashionable performance poet - where the carvings now rest on their sides in undignified and crated storage in a museum basement.

The two conspire to effect the carvings' return, using and being used by a German-based action group, but ultimately maintaining control over the process of negotiation in the same way as they seek control of the treasures.

Te Rua is a problematic work, not least because it rejects narrative formulas in favour of a style where the unifying threads are spiritual rather than dramatic, which results in an occasionally breathtaking incoherence (although it gains in fluency in the second half to become a taut and engrossing thriller). And it is littered with irritating infelicities such as the decision to subtitle Maori speech but have Germans speaking mangled war-comic diaIect to each oIher.

Yet there is no denying the raw power of Barclay's vision and its amplification by Dalvanius' perfect score and the photography of Rory O'Shea in Berlin and Warwick Attewell here (the Uritoto marae, built for the film, is set on the Wairarapa coast). Scenes such as Rewi's homecoming shine with a Iyrical beauty, and the greetings delivered by several characters to the carvings have a hair-raising intensity about them.

In the end, Te Rua is an awesomely impressive achievemenl. And the most important thing about it may just be its insistence that it tells its stury on its own terms. We would all do well to listen.
- Peter Calder, New Zealand Herald, 22 November 1991.

Source page Wellington Film Society