A tropical beach scene at sunset with a silhouette of a person near the water's edge. A sailboat is on the left, and palm trees line the shore under a vibrant pink and purple sky. The sun is low, creating a serene and warm atmosphere.
A still from Moana 2 Reo Māori. (Image: Supplied)

ĀteaNovember 28, 2024

Moana 2 Reo Māori makes history

A tropical beach scene at sunset with a silhouette of a person near the water's edge. A sailboat is on the left, and palm trees line the shore under a vibrant pink and purple sky. The sun is low, creating a serene and warm atmosphere.
A still from Moana 2 Reo Māori. (Image: Supplied)

Disney’s latest release, Moana 2 Reo Māori, is its first indigenous-language film to premiere globally alongside its English counterpart – and it could be a game-changer for Aotearoa.

In 1937, Disney released its first full-length animated film, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Now, 87 years on, the iconic film studio has produced more than 800 titles under its name, many of which have been adapted into languages other than English. In the 90s, The Lion King became the first film Disney translated into the language of a culture that inspired the film with the release of a Zulu version. But Disney has never premiered a film in an indigenous language at the same time as its English-speaking counterpart – until today.

Set in a mythical ancient Polynesia and based on Polynesian kōrero tuku iho, Moana 2 Reo Māori tells the story of a wayfinder who journeys to the far seas of Oceania and into dangerous, long-lost waters, searching to uncover an ancient secret vital to saving her island and the ocean.

The new film is the sequel to the hugely successful Moana, which was released in English in 2016, with a reo Māori version coming out the following year. Seven years on, with Moana 2 being released simultaneously in both languages, it’s a monumental achievement – not just for the film itself but for indigenous storytelling worldwide. 

“We want our kids to feel like it’s normal for them to have their films in te reo Māori at the same time as English. That should be normal,” says producer Chelsea Winstanley (Ngāti Ranginui, Ngāi Te Rangi).

Winstanley, one of three producers on the project, describes it as a “full circle” moment. The first Moana Reo Māori marked a pivotal point in normalising te reo Māori in cinema, but she says the stakes were raised this time around. While the production process was not without its hurdles, Winstanley says the milestone represents not just an artistic achievement but also a political statement.

“It’s about reinstating te reo Māori as the language of the land. For our babies to walk into a cinema and hear their language next to English – it’s everything we’ve ever wanted.”

The release required a tight turnaround, with translators, animators and producers racing to keep pace with Disney’s production schedule. Winstanley’s company Matewa Media has been behind the reo Māori translations of several Disney films in recent years, including the first Moana, Frozen, Coco and Encanto. These films had usually been completed by the time they were sent to be translated into reo Māori but because of the dual release of Moana 2, the team had to work with unfinished animations – some still resembling stick figures – while simultaneously adapting the dialogue to fit Māori cultural nuances.

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

“It was madness,” Winstanley says. “We’re used to having time to massage these translations and really consider the casting. But this was different – fast and furious. Still, we knew we couldn’t miss this opportunity.”

One of the film’s standout moments is a haka choreographed by Tweedie Waititi (Te Whānau-ā-Apanui, Rongowhakaata), which Moana performs. Winstanley describes the surreal experience of choreographing the haka in a London hotel stairwell, with tourists curiously watching on as Pere Wihongi (Te Rarawa, Ngāpuhi, Ngāti Kuri, Ngāti Wai), music co-director and music translator, danced with a broomstick. 

“It’s hilarious now, but at the time, we were just doing whatever it took to make it work,” Winstanley says. “When we finally saw the animation of Moana performing that haka using our choreography – it was mind-blowing.”

While rightfully proud to have yet another Disney film translated into te reo Māori, Winstanley acknowledges past criticisms of Disney’s history of cultural appropriation, noting past missteps in films like Pocahontas and even the original Moana. However, she believes Moana 2 represents significant progress.

A group of people dressed in traditional Maori attire pose playfully on a blue carpet for a "Moana 2 Reo Māori" event. The backdrop features animated scenes from the movie. Some individuals make expressive faces and gestures.
Some of the cast and crew of Moana 2 Reo Māori. (Photo: Supplied)

“They’ve come a long way,” says Winstanley. “They’ve learned to listen. This time, the cultural council was larger, more inclusive, and deeply involved. Tweedie was vocal whenever something wasn’t right, and that pushback was respected.”

The result, she believes, is a film that is authentically Māori and Polynesian, while retaining its universal appeal. “When you hear Moana speaking te reo Māori, it resonates on a different level. It’s more than a translation – it’s a cultural reclamation.”

Despite Disney’s resources, Winstanley notes that the real battle lies closer to home, convincing New Zealand cinemas to back te reo Māori films. Historically, local cinemas have been reluctant to take risks on indigenous-language content, often pulling films after only a few days. Winstanley hopes Moana 2 will change that narrative.

“Our biggest challenge is proving we’re a viable market,” she explains. “But we’ve shown cinemas that audiences exist. Schools are booking screenings, families are flocking to theatres – it’s undeniable.”

She’s urging cinemas in Aotearoa to support reo Māori films: “We’re opening up opportunities for everyone in Aotearoa. This isn’t just for Māori – it’s for all of us to celebrate te reo Māori as a living, thriving language.”

For Winstanley, Moana 2 isn’t just about representation – it’s about normalisation. “We want our kids to see themselves on screen and think, ‘This is normal.’ That’s the goal. They shouldn’t have to fight for visibility – it should just be there.”

Another added benefit is how the film nurtures future talent. Waititi’s own daughter, Te Urikore Waititi-Lake (Te Whānau-ā-Apanui), worked on the production, while many Māori actors, including Rachel House (Ngāi Tahu, Ngāti Mutunga) and Temuera Morrison (Te Arawa, Ngāti Whakaue, Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua), both of whom featured in the English and reo versions of the first Moana, returned to reprise their roles in te reo Māori. “It’s an intergenerational transfer of knowledge,” she says. “We’re showing the world – and ourselves – what’s possible.”

While Winstanley is grateful for the partnership with Disney, she’s clear that this is only the beginning. “We don’t just want to adapt Disney films – we want to create our own. This is a stepping stone.”

Her vision extends beyond the theatre, with aspirations to use films like Moana 2 as educational resources. The first Moana was translated into Hawaiian and Tahitian and subsequently used in schools in those regions. “The magic of these stories is their potential to inspire – whether it’s in the classroom or at home. This isn’t just about entertainment; it’s about empowerment.”

With more than 40 locations nationwide screening the film in te reo Māori with English subtitles, Winstanley hopes it will be a unifying moment for all of Aotearoa. “This is a chance for us to come together and celebrate our unique identity as a bilingual nation. Let’s make it count.”

This is Public Interest Journalism Funded by NZ On Air.

Keep going!
A rugby player passionately gestures with his mouth open, wearing a dark jersey with white details. Tattoos are visible on his arms. The background is a textured pattern with swirling motifs.
TJ Perenara made sure he made a statement with his final haka as All Black. (Image: instagram.com/allblacks with additional design by Liam Rātana)

OPINIONĀteaNovember 26, 2024

All Blacks haka controversy: A bold statement or brand risk?

A rugby player passionately gestures with his mouth open, wearing a dark jersey with white details. Tattoos are visible on his arms. The background is a textured pattern with swirling motifs.
TJ Perenara made sure he made a statement with his final haka as All Black. (Image: instagram.com/allblacks with additional design by Liam Rātana)

When TJ Perenara took the field for his final All Blacks match, his haka wasn’t just a performance – it was a political statement. It’s a reminder of the enduring power of haka as a tool for protest and identity.

After 89 international games for the All Blacks, TJ Perenara has bowed out of the international rugby union arena. However, before taking the field for the last time in the revered black jersey, Perenara decided to use the platform to make a political statement. 

Despite being a seemingly routine haka performed by the All Blacks 19,000kms away in Italy, it was a statement being directed not at the bunch of burly Italian men standing opposite them, nor the 40,000-strong crowd in attendance, but rather the hundreds of thousands of New Zealanders watching the game live on television and those that would see the clip on social media. Talking to Sky Sport after the game, Perenara said it was special to lead the haka at any time, “and to be able to lead it tonight, specially to show the unification of our people back home”.

“I think we all saw the people in our hīkoi that took place, and we definitely saw it over here, and just the unity that our country showed, how our country has all come together.

“So for us to be able to acknowledge that unification of our people, all of our people, not just tangata whenua, but tangata katoa of Aotearoa, it’s something that was important for us, and important for me,” Perenara said.

Leading the haka for a record 64th time, Perenara began in the centre of a circle of his fellow teammates. Perenara emerged as the team echoed “tāiki ē!” in unison, part of a saying often used in speeches and karakia to signify that the group is united and ready to progress the purpose of them coming together.

“Ko tēnei haka mō te tāngata katoa o Aotearoa,” Perenara said as the team dispersed around him, preparing to begin the haka. This translates to: “This haka is for all the people of Aotearoa.”

Instagram post by skysportnz promoting the "Last Haka for 2024." Mentions "All Blacks v Italy LIVE Sunday 9:10am with build up from 8:15am" and includes hashtags #SkySportNZ and #ForgedInBlack.
The All Blacks love to promote the haka, when it suits. (Image: instagram.com/allblacks)

Perenara then followed this up with: “Toitū te mana o te whenua. Toitū te mana motuhake. Toitū te Tiriti o Waitangi.” Translated, these mean: “The mana of the land remains. The sovereignty remains. Te Tiriti o Waitangi remains.”

Sitting at home on the couch on Sunday morning watching the prematch haka, the moment wasn’t lost on me. Even though the All Blacks would go on to have a quite unconvincing win (I fell asleep during the game), I knew I would find myself writing about that haka moment come Monday. Sure enough, there has been a plethora of media coverage about the haka since, with opinion being divided on Peranara’s choice of words.

The All Blacks organisation has been criticised for choosing to cut the beginning of the haka out of clips it has shared on social media. “Disappointing and very sad to see haka, a national taonga and visceral expression of messaging and emotion censored in this way by an institution like @allblacks,” commented toitu_te_tiriti, the official Instagram account of the Toitū Te Tiriti group. “Sadly it demonstrates yet again that Mãori culture is ok to be used performatively for entertainment and when it suits the commercial needs of an organisation, however not ok when used in its true form if the emotion of said haka does not convey messaging which the institution/organisation deems palatable.”

‘He mea tautoko nā ngā mema atawhai. Supported by our generous members.’
Liam Rātana
— Ātea editor

Meanwhile, media commentators such as Mike Hosking have been vocal in their disapproval. “One of the constraints around being an All Black is you represent the country as an elite athlete, not a politician or an activist,” he said. “What we want in All Blacks are sportspeople of integrity, professionalism and, preferably, an ability to win a lot…The rest of it risks damaging the brand, insulting fans and distracting us from the main point of the outing.”

Here’s my piece of unsolicited advice for Mike Hosking and people who share a similar viewpoint. If you’re not Māori and you’re not performing haka, then keep your comments about what is and isn’t appropriate when it comes to haka to yourself. 

On Sunday, the All Blacks performed Ka Mate, a haka that has become synonymous with our national rugby team, despite it originally being composed by Ngati Toa rangatira Te Rauparaha in around 1820. If anyone has a right to comment on the use of Ka Mate, it is surely Ngāti Toa – not Mike Hosking. His cry about brand damage and distraction is petty and he is masquerading race-baiting as opinion in order to drive up engagement and pander to a sector of society that is anti-anything-Māori when it goes against their beliefs.

Following the match, All Blacks head coach Scott Robertson told media he was aware Perenara intended to make the statement as part of the haka. The duo had discussed the remarks before the match, with Perenara informing Robertson they were “a sign of unity”.

TJ Perenara leads ‘Kapa o Pango’ prior to the Rugby World Cup 2019 Group B game between New Zealand and South Africa on September 21, 2019 in Yokohama, Japan. Photo: Hannah Peters/Getty Images

It’s not the first time a political haka has made headlines in recent weeks. Te Pāti Māori MP Hana-Rawhiti Maipi Clarke recently went viral following her haka in protest of the Treaty principles bill. She also performed Ka Mate, following the announcement of her party’s votes on the bill and a political statement against the government. This haka was also met with criticism, being labelled as “thuggery” by Act party leader David Seymour. It was another moment of divisiveness, with Maipi-Clarke either being met with praise or ridicule. Some spoke of secondhand indigenous embarrassment, while others praised her for taking such a stand.

“If you have to do a haka to get your point across, maybe you don’t have a good argument,” Seymour told media at the time.

A haka can be whatever the person performing it wants it to be. There are haka pōwhiri, which are used to welcome manuhiri – sort of like what Ngāti Oneone rangatira Te Maro was doing when he was shot by one of the crew of the Endeavour. There are haka tautoko, which are used to show support for a kaupapa, person, or group. Then there are haka that are performed before going into battle, or in protest. 

What haka should never be is a tokenistic ritual appropriated by non-Māori and used only when it suits the majority. Surely we’re educated enough to now realise that non-Māori shouldn’t be telling Māori when, where, or how our culture is acceptable or not. Mike Hosking’s comments suggest he may need some further education.

The time has come for us in Aotearoa to acknowledge that we can’t have our cake and eat it too. For far too long, we have paraded haka as a point of difference on the world stage, without giving it the respect it deserves. Haka is recognised around the world and exploited by tourism operators and marketers if given half a chance. Pākehā are proud to be a “Kiwi” overseas and will often be the first ones to drunkenly perform a haka to show off how “cultured” they are when the opportunity arises. However, using haka as a form of protest? No thanks.

The thing is, haka has long been used as a vehicle of political protest. For decades, kapa haka have utilised haka as a way to address political issues of the day. It is often used as an expression of resistance, solidarity, and calls for justice. The emotive power, physicality, and symbolism of haka assert Māori sovereignty, amplify marginalised voices, and unify communities, making it a tool for Māori movements advocating for justice and equity.

While the haka may sometimes be treated as a commodity in certain contexts like sports or tourism, treating it as such does not respect its true essence as a taonga of Aotearoa. Haka is fundamentally a cultural and spiritual practice, deeply tied to Māori identity and values. Any use of haka must consider the need to honour and preserve its mana, ensuring its use aligns with tikanga Māori. It is not something to be criticised by non-Māori, nor utilised purely for commercial gain. The haka is not just performance – it’s identity, resistance, and truth. TJ Perenara’s message reminds us: Māoritanga must be embraced fully, not just when it’s safe or convenient.