Alex Casey reviews Holy Days, the new local film starring Miriam Margolyes, Jacki Weaver and Judy Davis.
In 2024 I was invited out to a warehouse in Woolston, Christchurch, where it was snowing in the middle of December. Tonnes upon tonnes of Epsom salts recreated the snowy peaks of Aoraki, as young actor Elijah Tamati traipsed through a manufactured blizzard created by a guy up a ladder wearing an festive Elf T-shirt (it was nearly Christmas, after all). I tried to linger around long enough for the arrival of the film’s high profile international stars – Miriam Margolyes, Judy Davis and Jacki Weaver – but was sadly escorted off set before our paths could cross.
As it turns out, I had witnessed what would become one of the big setpiece scenes for Holy Days, an unlikely road trip movie adapted from the Joy Cowley novel of the same name. The feature debut of Nat Boltt, the film follows a trio of nuns journeying to the South Island to retrieve a deed and save their crumbling convent from being sold to developers. Coming along for the ride is Brian, a young Māori boy struggling with his father’s recoupling after the tragic death of his mother. It is his dream to visit her maunga, Aoraki, to say his final farewell.
Young actor Elijah Tamati does a remarkable job as Brian, as comfortable being consumed with grief in a confession booth as he is unleashing karate moves to scare a herd of cows off a rural road. Joined by a holy trinity of acting royalty (Davis, Weaver, Margolyes), there’s an ease and warmth between the unlikely travel buddies. Margolyes’ Sister Luke is suitably outrageous, losing dentures and flashing bumcheeks. Weaver’s Sister Mary Claire is the quiet voice of reason. Davis’ Sister Agnes is more the straight-shooting, smoking and drinking type of nun.
Popping up along the way are some notable supporting characters and cameos, including the shambling resident priest played by Johnny Brough, and Brian’s new evil stepmother Liz, played by the film’s writer and director Boltt. Tanea Heke is a standout as Aunty Patricia, Brian’s great-aunty and a former sister of the convent. Conversing in te reo Māori in her lounge, with land march flyers and Dame Whina Cooper photos dotted in the background, she brings some subtle but much-needed historical and cultural context to the world of the film.
Perhaps because of its gentle, family-friendly leanings, Holy Days often saunters along its cross-country sojourn instead of going for the kind of pedal-to-the-metal chaos and destruction as typical of road movies like Goodbye Pork Pie. Every inconvenience the characters face is solved almost immediately, be it the discovery of a winning betting ticket in the glovebox or a quietly-bribed police officer. At times the dialogue can be strange and obvious, such as when Sister Mary Claire, driving down the beach, says “oh goodness, I think I’m on the beach”.
The film’s lightness of touch also means the emotional moments don’t always land, like when the nuns discover another Kaikoura convent left to ruin. Maybe I am whatever the religious equivalent of the grinch is, but the plight of the Catholic church’s land-banking efforts doesn’t move me particularly deeply in 2026. And while it is impressive to have a film helmed by three women in their 70s and 80s, it’s hard to ignore another glaring set of optics – what was really happening in faith-based institutions at this moment in history, especially to young Māori.
I hope I’ve got it all wrong and a bit of misty-eyed nun-based nostalgia is just what the country needs right now. There’s certainly no denying the impressive efforts of the art department, rendering the road trip in dinky miniature stop motion while also sourcing the perfect rusty dashboard Jesus, all backdropped by stunning South Island vistas. But for a story dabbling in themes of faith, culture, grief and identity, I just wanted more to chew over. Like poor Sister Luke eating lunch without her dentures – it may appear delicious, but there’s a bit of bite missing.
Holy Days is in cinemas from today.
