David Fane in rehearsal for Auckland Theatre Company’s The Heartbreak Choir, just the first of many roles in what will be a big 2023 for him.
David Fane in rehearsal for Auckland Theatre Company’s The Heartbreak Choir, just the first of many roles in what will be a big 2023 for him.

Pop CultureFebruary 12, 2023

David Fane is glad to have aged well

David Fane in rehearsal for Auckland Theatre Company’s The Heartbreak Choir, just the first of many roles in what will be a big 2023 for him.
David Fane in rehearsal for Auckland Theatre Company’s The Heartbreak Choir, just the first of many roles in what will be a big 2023 for him.

As he prepares to appear in Auckland Theatre Company’s first show of 2023, David Fane ONZM talks to Sam Brooks about his new stage role, being part of the cast of Our Flag Means Death, and what he thinks about Bro’Town today.

If you live in New Zealand, chances are you’ve encountered David Fane in one fashion or another. Whether it’s as a radio host on Flava, on stage as part of the Naked Samoans, in an ad campaign keeping New Zealand green, onscreen in queer pirate comedy Our Flag Means Death, or as a voice in early game of the year contender Hi-Fi Rush, Fane reaches into every corner of this country’s entertainment industry.

While he rightfully made headlines for his recent ONZM honour, that’s only the start of what is looking to be the actor’s biggest year yet. He starred in the Sione’s Wedding prequel series Duckrockers, just wrapped filming on the second season of OFMD, has a new Taika Waititi film in the can and is just about to star in Auckland Theatre Company’s first show of the 2023 season, Aussie feel-good comedy The Heartbreak Choir. 

He’s in the midst of rehearsals for that show when we sneak off to the green room and he puts two warm beers in the freezer to cool them down. In person, Fane is how you expect him to be based on the characters he’s played: gregarious, chatty, always with a gag within reach. He’s what most stand-up comedians wish they were like, but he actually failed his comedy course at Toi Whakaari Drama School. That he failed the comedy module is well known. Less well known is the detail that he was playing Stevie Wonder commentating a horse race.

David Fane in rehearsal for ATC’s The Heartbreak Choir. (Photo: Andi Crown)

Since graduating in 1992, Fane has never stopped working. His list of credits reads less like a CV and more like a list of seminal New Zealand – and more crucially, Pasifika – cultural moments. Even so, his role in The Heartbreak Choir, as “a quiet Australian cop with a sad secret”, is something of a departure.

He agrees: “I wouldn’t have hired me!” The play revolves around a group of women in a small town who form a new choir after a disagreement leads to their original one splintering. Fane plays Peter, a cop whose own history with the choir slowly reveals itself. Peter’s not the soul of the play – that comes from the five singing women in the choir – but he’s the gentle backbone that gives the play that extra heft.

He might not be the best singer (his words) but what makes him a perfect fit for the quietly supportive Peter is a quality that recurs throughout our chat: he loves to gas other people up.

In just over half an hour, with one barely-chilled beer knocked back, he praises the Māori theatre stalwarts of the ’90s (“They should all have letters after their names”), his Heartbreak Choir cast (“they’re powerful women and they bully me”) and his Our Flag Means Death co-star Con O’Neill (“easily my favourite pirate!”). He even throws a few choice compliments my way, and I can confirm there’s few better feelings in the world than having David Fane ONZM gas you up.

David Fane with fellow Naked Samoans Shimpal Lelisi, Oscar Kightley and Mario Gaoa at the New Zealand Screen Awards 2005 (Photo: Bradley Ambrose/Getty Images)

He’s less keen to compliment himself, though. When he speaks about his past work, he’s pensieve, reflective. That’s surprising given how well much of it has aged: Sione’s Wedding is still a fun romp, his bits of Outrageous Fortune hold up, and it’s a crime that the Naked Samoan live shows aren’t preserved for the public to watch.

It’s that comedy group that he speaks of with most pride, particularly The Naked Samoans Go Home special, which unflinchingly tackled the topic of suicide. “We weren’t making comedy about suicide, we were doing social commentary about suicide using comedy,” he says. “That’s probably one of the most affecting times I’ve been onstage.”

He’s more ambivalent when it comes to Bro’Town, the animated TV show the group co-created. It’s inarguably one of the most successful New Zealand series of all time, but it can be a tense watch now. Some of the bluer jokes about gender and sexuality wouldn’t fly today, and you could argue they didn’t exactly work then. “The stronger the LGBT voice became, the more I realise when I look back on it, I think how much it has aged,” he says. “The fart gags still work, the clever, banal jokes still fly, but it’s aged, and rightly so!

“The world changes and we all have to change, whether you like it or not. If a person says no, and stands up, you’ve got to clap for them. If you don’t, then you’re putting them down. Fuck that.”

David Fane plays Fang in the cult hit Our Flag Means Death. (Photo: HBO)

One way the world has changed is that we probably wouldn’t have seen David Fane in a queer pirate comedy at the start of his career – mostly because nobody would have made a queer pirate comedy back then. Today his role as Fang on Our Flag Means Death has brought him his biggest audience yet, especially once it became a cult hit thanks to people realising it was very, very gay.

Someone on the cast, anonymised for their own dignity, was a bit slower on the uptake, Fane says. They had shot four episodes, almost half the season, before they came up to Fane and asked him: “Is this show gay?” Fane affirmed that yes, it was. The cast member remained unconvinced; they must have the wrong scripts, because their gaydar wasn’t “pinging”.

“I laughed and we’d all hang out. He apologised to us later, ‘I’m really sorry! I was mis-saying the lines, I didn’t understand the context!’”

The cackle he follows up this story with is one you’ll be familiar with, no matter if you’ve seen Fane on a stage or on a screen, heard him on the radio or in a video game, or probably even run into him on the street. It’s a little cheeky, it’s full of heart, and like the letters after his name, it’s well-earned.

The Heartbreak Choir plays from February 14 to March 4 at the ASB Waterfront Theatre.

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Bruce Lee of Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll (Image: Archi Banal)
Bruce Lee of Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll (Image: Archi Banal)

Pop CultureFebruary 11, 2023

Inside Bruce Lee’s celebrity sushi empire

Bruce Lee of Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll (Image: Archi Banal)
Bruce Lee of Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll (Image: Archi Banal)

Alex Casey talks to the most famous living Bruce Lee about building a sushi empire endorsed by everyone from The Mad Butcher to Dei Hamo. 

We are a nation that is terrible at preserving our popular culture history. We don’t have anything close to the thousands of stars lining Hollywood’s Walk of Fame, or the hundreds of waxworks filling London’s Madame Tussauds. Instead, our most comprehensive tribute to the celebrities of Aotearoa can be found emblazoned on the walls of a humble sushi chain. Walk into any of the 11 Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll stores around the country and you’ll be greeted by all the greats: Len Brown, The Mad Butcher, Dei Hamo and Drew Ne’emia, to name just a few.  

It is perhaps fitting then that the founder of Bruce Lee Sushi, Bruce Lee, shares his own name with a massive celebrity. But Lee, who grew up in Incheon, South Korea, says he has no connection to the martial arts superstar. While the association might seem useful to the brand on the surface, Lee says his deceased namesake has caused quite the headache. Eight years ago, when he opened three stores in Australia, he was contacted by lawyers from Bruce Lee Entertainment in California asking him to a pay a royalty to use the name Bruce Lee. 

“I told them ‘my name is Bruce Lee too, and it’s my face I’m using’,” Lee explains, adjusting his big gold Rolex defiantly as we chat at one of the small tables of his Wynyard Quarter store. “Even when you Google the name, it is me that comes up first” (citation needed). He refused to back down, was forced to get his own lawyers, and they became embroiled in a Lee-based legal battle that spanned over two years. “Now, it is gone,” Lee grins, wiping the air clear with both hands. “Because it is my face. And it is my sushi. And my name is Bruce Lee.” 

Certified Bruce Lee (Photo: Alex Casey)

Before he became a titan of the sushi trade, Lee could not have been in a more different industry. Working as a bodyguard for the rich, famous and sometimes criminal in Incheon and Seoul, Lee found himself getting into threatening situations. “I had many problems with the fighting and the gangsters,” he explains. “I made heaps of money, but it was very dangerous.” He turns his head and shows me the ragged edge of his ear, which he says was bitten off by a mobster. “I’ve got knife marks all over my body, I’ve had 12 operations. I was drinking every night, big parties, my liver was tired.”

On his wife’s suggestion, Lee took some time away from the security industry to “relax” for a while. The first option was Australia, but he had visa problems. Next on the list was New Zealand. They arrived on a one-year visa, but haven’t looked back after 17 years. Working in a furniture store when he first arrived, Lee devoted his spare time to another passion of his – making sushi. For five years he spent early mornings and late nights perfecting his fusion sushi, and getting feedback from locals. “A lot of sushi is bland, no flavour” he says. “Not mine.”

Lee opened his first store in Botany Downs, and got to work hustling the radio circuit, doing television spots and door-knocking the wedding and funeral industries to drum up more business and publicity. But it was only when rugby league star Ruben Wiki walked into his store one day that Lee cracked onto a new strategy – celebrity marketing. “Everyone was asking him for selfies and kept saying he was this Kiwi legend,” says Lee. “So I decided to make him the Kiwi Legend roll, and put kiwifruit inside the sushi.” Years later, Lee says it is still “selling good”. 

From there, the Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll celebrity wall exploded. A chance meeting during a local TV appearance introduced Lee to Joseph Parker, which saw the creation of the One Punch Noodle and, even more valuably for Lee, over a decade of friendship with the boxing heavyweight (he says they have dinner “five to 10” times a year). Other athletes featured include Maria Folau (salmon roll), Tana Umaga (All Black roll) and Jerome Ropati (crunch roll). “The sportspeople are good, because I target them with the healthy food,” says Lee. 

But it’s not just sportspeople who make the hallowed wall – former Auckland mayor Len Brown can be seen beaming while holding the Super City Roll (tuna, cucumber, teriyaki chicken, bread crumbs, creamy wasabi sauce). That was a celebrity endorsement earned through years of dogged determination from Lee. “I asked him in his first year as mayor and he said ‘no’. And then the second year he said ‘no’. So I’m contacting him every year for four years, and then he eventually said ‘yes’ and then I added him to the menu,” he laughs. 

Since then, he’s changed his policy – no active politicians on the celebrity sushi wall. “I’m careful to get into political stuff, because my customers support different parties,” says Lee. Or, even more plainly, “don’t mix politics and sushi.” His current sights are set on former prime minister John Key: “I’m asking him always.” His insistence has paid off across multiple public-facing industries – the wall is also full of actors (Xavier Horan, Crazy Chicken B), musicians (Dei Hamo, French Kiss Roll) and TV personalities (Drew Ne’emia, Crazy Chicken A). 

New Zealand’s walk of fame (Photo: Alex Casey)

Eagle-eyed customers will notice that it’s not all celebs – the face of Spicy Crazy Chicken is none other than Lee himself. The Heaven Roll is even more personal, depicting his dad holding up a giant, freshly caught fish. It is also a menu item that reveals some of Lee’s deeply held values. “Twelve years ago, Hell Pizza gave away pizza with free condoms and it made me very angry because I am Christian,” Lee explains. To assuage his anger and counteract Hell, he thought about one of the happiest scenes he could – his Dad smiling and fishing. 

“He said it felt ‘like heaven’” says Lee, “so that’s why I made the Heaven Roll.” 

Although he ‘s managed to build a celebrity sushi menu deep in diversity and meaning (although it could do with more women), it hasn’t all been smooth sailing for Lee. Prior to 2020, Bruce Lee Sushi & Roll were poised to open new stores in Dubai, London and Qatar. But during the pandemic, they were forced to close eight stores, including three stores in Australia and one in Malaysia. Now, with a cost of living crisis and the price of ingredients soaring, he is looking to add at-home sushi making tutorials to his already generous social media presence. 

And, as always, Lee will still be hustling for new celebrities to get on his coveted sushi wall. Along with John Key, he has his sights set on Mark Hunt, Israel Adesanya and David Tua. He’s looking further afield too: “I’m now more focused on the international phase,” he says. Tyson Fury is said to be visiting New Zealand this year, and he’s hoping to use his connection to Joseph Parker to get an introduction. “I want some really famous people, I’m thinking about BTS because why not? I’m thinking of the characters from Squid Game, because why not?

“All I can do is try,” sighs Lee. “Try, try and try.”