Would anyone like to be the prime minister?

A view from the studio at the first Chris v Chris debate of the 2026 election.

The funniest bit came after Chris Hipkins said John Key had broken a promise not to increase GST. 

“You’re not debating John Key,” said Christopher Luxon. “You’re debating Christopher Luxon.”

“You’re definitely not John Key,” said Hipkins.

“You,” countered Luxon. “You’re no Helen Clark.”

It was a snappy exchange, we all laughed, but like much good comedy it contained a nugget of melancholy. This is not Key. This is not Clark. And they know it. They both did fine. But neither of the rivals in the first major leader debate of the campaign, if we're honest, ever looked particularly prime ministerial.

If all of this seems familiar, it’s because it’s familiar. Chris 1 and Chris 2, back once again, just this time with the roles of PM and would-be PM swapped. 

In keeping with the obligations of a sequel, there were a few nods to the first debate from last time. Luxon’s big (and thoroughly vindicated) call on securing an India trade deal, for example, or his notably smaller claim to spend 60 bucks a week on groceries. The callback last night somehow ended in a firm commitment to FruJus.

Chris and Christopher had emerged into the TVNZ studio to a backdrop of their own giant, dichromatic heads. Helpfully, their surnames were plastered infinitely on the screen. Luxon was variously addressed as Chris and Christopher, confirming that whatever he has achieved this term, he has completely failed to deliver a consensus on what to call him. 

The real scene was set, of course, in the two polls of the day, from Reid for RNZ and Verian for 1News. The average across the two: Labour 29.4% and National 27.5%  Their preferred PM numbers? Please, don’t ask. 

Given all that, there was a Hippocratic energy in the room: first, do no harm. Neither was in the mood to take any big risks.

There wasn’t the chumminess we saw in the first debate of the original movie. I counted just the one “I agree with Chris” this time. But nor did it become acrimonious in the way it had by the second TVNZ debate of 2023. Last night, given his appeal to the importance of “disagreeing agreeably”, Hipkins could hardly run again with “none of my MPs beat people up with a bed leg”.

Each repeatedly questioned the veracity of the other. (Sample exchange: “Not true,” said Hipkins. “It is true,” said Luxon.) But it wasn’t until the post-match press stand-up that the L word came out and Hipkins called Luxon a liar.

There were markedly fewer blasts of “no new taxes” from Luxon than I expected – probably a smart play, even if it risked a stern telling-off from Simeon Brown. There was plenty of “you can’t fund it”, however, a line which Hipkins came prepared for with the riposte that National hasn’t published its fiscal plan yet.

In hindsight, it might have been worth National smashing it out before yesterday. On the other hand, there are risks in rushing, as Labour illustrated with a $90 million miscalculation in theirs. It was small in the scheme of things but, "I won that," said Hipkins last night.

Jack Tame managed the encounter adroitly, even if it was a little unfair to begin a question to Luxon with, “last time you were on Q+A …” Who can reasonably expect to remember that far back?

The moderator delivered a brief pep talk at the first commercial break. “Faster, faster, faster,” was Tame’s instruction, as he mimed dicing vegetables. He was determined to inject pace and urgency at every turn. He incanted “to the wall!” every time a visual aid appeared behind the leaders, as if exhorting the giant screen to transmogrify into Chris 3, grab a podium and properly join the debate. 

A little mojo dust appeared to have escaped Luxon’s body just before that break, when Tame announced that the audience of undecided voters seated upstairs in the TVNZ atrium so far preferred his rival by two-thirds to one-third. They weren't quite the worm, but they were the closest thing we had, and the leaders stared plaintively up at their images.

In the second half, Luxon bounded back, in more confident ground on education especially, and he made it to the finish line with only a couple of wobbles. He swallowed a couple of syllables in seeking to justify his response to Winston Peters’ comments in parliament to Lawrence Xu-Nan, which both leaders reiterated they considered “racist”, and on his decision to rule out working with the Opportunity Party. 

When challenged on his Opportunity stance in the media stand-up afterwards, Luxon braved out that well-known MMP path: declaring he was being clear and unequivocal while leaving as much wriggle room as humanly possible.  

This is a strange sort of campaign. Enthralling in its closeness, certainly. But exciting? Only to the sort of person who thinks the most exciting rugby score is 3-3, with 50 reset scrums along the way. Three years ago, a million people tuned in to this debate. Are as many engaged in 2026?

In those circumstances, the debate did the job. Tame and his wall kept things moving across a whole lot of terrain. Chris set out his stall well enough, said what he stood for. And so did Chris.

The undecided-voter gods finished with a scorecard that looked about right: 49% said Hipkins, 24% Luxon, and 27% had lost the will to live, or to decide, at least. The fundamental problem for the incumbent in a cost of living election is that, whether you pin it on him or not, most people feel the cost of living is harsher today than it was three years ago. And it sure as shit wasn’t good then.

At one point Tame asked both men for an example of a time they’d changed their minds. Capital gains tax, said Hipkins. Luxon said he loved to change his mind but, well, he stuck by his policy. Would many have changed their minds watching Chris v Chris, the sequel, Part I? Doubt it.