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 (061303) How common are movies in which a
female character struggles to overcome male chauvinism. And how
rare is one that does so without preaching or finger-pointing.
Whale Rider is that blessed rarity. It's a film about gender
empowerment in which the struggle between the sexes isn't
reduced to crude stereotypes, and the lessons learned come
honestly and with a sense of genuine revelation.
The audience award winner at the most recent Toronto
International Film Festival, Whale Rider is the second feature
by New Zealand writer/director Niko Caro, who must be added to
any list of emerging talent. In adapting Witi Ihimaera's 1986
novel about a young Maori girl who confronts her tribe's
patriarchal laws, Caro has created a stirring tale by blending
elements of modern reality with ancient myth. It's a story that
seems all the more remarkable, considering that its main star,
Keisha Castle-Hughes, was only 11 when the film was made, and
she commands a considerable portion of the screen time. The
Auckland-born Castle-Hughes is a natural, expressive talent. She
has that indefinable quality that comes along only rarely. This
is not the typical child actor. Never feeling over rehearsed,
cloying or trying too hard to emote, Castle-Hughes is a
revelation. During a climatic scene here young Pai is reading
her essay to the townspeople, the emotions that come from
Castle-Hughes are obviously coming from a very real place
within. This is one of the finest debuts in quite a while.
She plays Pai, a girl born in tragedy to a proud-but-struggling
Maori family in Whangara, a village on the windswept east coast
of New Zealand's North Island. Pai's twin brother dies at birth,
as does their mother. The father Porourangi (Cliff Curtis) is
heartbroken, but his grieving is interrupted by the rudeness and
impatience of grandfather Koro (Rawiri Paratene), a tribal
elder. He tells his son to quickly remarry and to produce the
male heir needed to continue the family's tradition of a male
spiritual leader and warrior, whom legend has it arrived at the
island on the back of a whale. A carved totem of the whale rider
graces the roof of the family home, and provides a constant
visual reference and reminder of the duties of destiny.
Koro is not one to be denied. He's convinced that only a male
heir will save the family and the village from ruin. But
Porourangi is a sculptor, not a saviour, and he has no interest
in breeding to sustain a legend. He decamps from the village for
Europe, leaving young Pai behind to be raised by grandfather
Koro and grandmother Nanny Flowers (Vicky Haughton). Koro is a
fearsome presence, a man not easily challenged, and he considers
women useless for anything other than conception or homecare.
But he's not a bad man, just one who is trapped in the ways of
an ancient culture that he fears is fast vanishing, and which he
feels compelled to defend. He is charmed by little Pai, and
accepts her as his grandchild, even as he fiercely maintains
that she can never assume the mantle of the family's spiritual
whale rider.
Finally convinced that Porourangi will never give him the male
heir he desperately wants, Koro opts for the next best thing:
training one of the village boys to assume the task. He begins
instructing a desultory group of village youths, but his best
student is one whom he refuses to acknowledge. Pai is secretly
watching from the wings, learning the warrior stances and
traditional prayers and songs that Koro teaches. She is
determined to prove that a girl can be a whale rider, even if it
means defying her grandfather.
She sticks to her resolve even when her wayward father returns
from a sojourn to Germany, his pregnant girlfriend in tow, and
offers to take her away with him. Life won't be easy for Pai if
she remains in the village, especially when Koro discovers her
secret lessons, but she is determined not to take the easy way
out.
Whale Rider tilts toward pure myth in its final act, but it is
presented with such skill, beauty and truth, there is no reason
to doubt the images on the screen.
The village is struck by an ecological disaster, as a group of
migrating whales runs aground on a sand bar, flailing
desperately to get back into open water. This is the worst kind
of luck for a community that worships whales, and Koro reads the
situation as evidence of spiritual unrest over the lack of a
proper male leader. The time comes for Pai to confront her
destiny, even if it is destiny that has been denied to her.
It is a testament to the vision of Caro that Whale Rider is
never allowed to become didactic or too clever for its own good.
Her skill behind the camera, combined with a uniformly great
cast, stunning cinematography and fully realized special effects
(the whales, incredibly, are all digital) make this a
coming-of-age story that all ages and both genders can call
their own. It is the years best film so far.
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