Nostalgia in Aotearoa, New Zealand’s Screen Production

Nostalgia in Aotearoa, New Zealand’s Screen Production

ARTS & CULTURE | ISSUE EIGHT | SCREENS

Written By Ivy Lyden-Hancy (she/her/ia) | @tekaraipiture | Contributing Writer

“Trees. Birds. Rivers. Sky.

Running with my Uncle Hec. 

Living Forever...” - Ricky Baker on Hunt for the Wilderpeople

Moe mai ra, Sir Sam Neill (Uncle Hec) 1947-2026

Nostalgia in Aotearoa is a memory carved into the bones of our people. Māori and Pasifika screen production holds our mamae through media. Nostalgia is a constant battle of remembering and returning. In a changing world, our stories, our pūrākau become our anchor. The familiar tunes and quotes that come out of screen like Boy (2010), Whale Rider (2002),  Hunt For The Wilder People (2016), and Bro'Town (2004), are a heartbeat we as people all share simultaneously. 

Before streaming swallowed the world, Aotearoa lived inside video stores. Every Tuesday after work my mum would take my brother and I to Video Ezy; we would both get to pick one each because Tuesday was ‘Specials’ day. It was customary, there was not a week where we would not go. I usually would pick the new Barbie movie coming out, my favourite pick had to be Barbie and The Diamond Castle (2008). Those dim aisles of faded covers and cracked plastic cases teleported us to a world and let us escape the heaviness of our own world. In these stores you could find Boy, Once We Were Warriors, The Dark Horse, or Bro’Town tucked between Hollywood blockbusters.

Those films were mirrors; they showed the small nuances of our society: the feeling of running barefoot on gravel, the aunties and how they are, the tea towel talks, our sayings, and our people. Boy dancing his way out of the silence of his mother’s death was a big reason we all knew Michael Jackson growing up. In Bro’Town, the boys escape into humour, a world where brown kids are heroes and the story. I am from Kura but Morningside 4 Life.

Video stores in New Zealand let us see ourselves. They let us borrow a story to understand our lives and others; how they are. Who they are. They snuck their way into communal spaces. Things like pirating movies became moments where strangers became whānau, searching for stories that felt like home, or others' homes. In those aisles, Māori and Pasifika kids learned we were worthy of being on screen, our jokes, our struggles, our hopes and dreams. Our media told us we were more than we ever thought we could be.

Nostalgia in Aotearoa’s screen production is a window into the lives of people like us. Ricky Baker’s haiku’s in Hunt for the Wilderpeople were so fucking funny, but there was so much behind each one. His first attempt:

“Kingi you are a wanker”

It's funny but it's a shield. Humour as armour, something Māori are born with. 

Later as the story develops his haiku softens:

“Trees. Birds. Rivers. Sky. Running with my Uncle Hec. Living forever.”

Now that Uncle Hec is gone, it has a completely different meaning.

This shift is nostalgia in motion: a boy remembering what it feels like to be safe. To be held by an unfamiliar land and someone who never leaves it. Haiku becomes a way of carrying his mamae without drowning in it. Haikus became a language for healing, showing us that nostalgia lives where both joy and sorrow touch. Poetry becomes the bridge between trauma and hope,  reminding us of the softness that exists in pain.

Māori humour is our rongoā. It is how we survive grief and the burdens of life. In Boy, Rocky and Boy both use humour to escape their mamae, but in different ways. Boy jokes to distract himself from the absence of his mother and the disappointment of his father. Rocky lives in a whole different world, pretending he has powers, making himself into someone bigger than he actually is. Their humour and hurt clash as they try to build a relationship that wasn’t theirs to fix.

This mamae is never touched on directly, it lives in the ways of living, and the whakapapa of their being.

Engari, nostalgia in Aotearoa’s screen production has a long whakapapa. It begins with our trail blazers, Merata Mita, the first woman to direct a feature film; Barry Barclay, who created the concept of Fourth Cinema; Rachel House, whose characters and voice anchors countless films; and Taika Waititi, who brought Māori humour to the world stage without losing its roots.

Those are the architects of our nostalgia, the familiar faces that brought Māori to the world of screen production. Māori are not just the mamae we saw in Once We Were Warriors; we're people, family, wankers, wilderpeople, and we've got potential. 

As Uncle Hec says, “We’re fugitives now, We’re the Wilderpeople”.