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The poster for Tinā the film, a pink background with a woman in Samoan attire front and centre and four uniformed school students on either side of her in the background
The film poster for Tinā

Pop CultureFebruary 27, 2025

An argument with myself about Tinā, the movie of the moment

The poster for Tinā the film, a pink background with a woman in Samoan attire front and centre and four uniformed school students on either side of her in the background
The film poster for Tinā

Mad Chapman agreed to write a review of Tinā and found it impossible. Instead she argues with herself about the biggest film in Aotearoa right now.

I can’t believe we’re resorting to this format. What’s so hard about writing a review? Lots of other writers have written reviews.

Reviewing in New Zealand is a fraught exercise. Those reviewing are often practitioners themselves, or know the creatives behind the project. Even so, I’ve reviewed plenty of local films, TV shows and plays, but this one felt different. The only thing more fraught than reviewing in New Zealand is reviewing something from “within the community”. Be too glowing and people assume you’re just saying that because of proximity, be too critical and you’re “bringing down your own people”, tall poppy etc. 

OK so argument it is. But first let’s get the usual “review” context out of the way. Tinā is the story of Mareta Percival aka Tinā (Anapela Polataivao), a grieving mother who begins teaching at a snooty Christchurch private school and starts a choir there. 

Set in 2014, three years on from the Christchurch earthquakes (in which Percival loses her only daughter), Tinā is Percival’s journey of grief, acceptance and generosity. A classic fish-out-of-water tale.

Anapela Polataivao as Tinā in the film Tinā, looking out a bus window with her face reflected in the glass
Anapela Polataivao as Mareta Percival in Tinā (Image: Supplied)

And I loved it! Even before I saw it I knew it was right up my alley. Good cast, underdog tale, Samoan hymns. The acting across the board was some of the best I’ve ever seen in a local film. Antonia Robinson as struggling student Sophie was given plenty to work with to show off her range and she delivered. Beulah Koale was the standout of the supporting cast as Percival’s concerned nephew fighting his own demons.

I agree, and Polataivao was of course the star. But for an actor of her skill, the role was perhaps underutilised. She has such a presence that the writers could have afforded to give her character more edge without losing her humanity. Yes she swears and is snarky and a bit messy but is ultimately a resigned, humble woman. I was waiting to see Polataivao rage out, or turn on some faux charm even just to show off her skills. 

The film is very clearly marketed as a wholesome tearjerker and on that it absolutely delivers. Did you cry?

Yes I did cry.

Exactly. And did you crack up at the island humour and side-eyes?

You know I did.

So what’s so hard about saying that? Review done.

Because as much as Tinā was exactly the type of movie I’d typically love, and as much as I did love parts of it, and very much love the fact that it exists, I have many other thoughts about it.

Sigh… you’re going to bring up the brown martyr aspect aren’t you.

Yes! Did you pause at all when you realised this was a Samoan story but only like four of the speaking characters are actually Samoan? 

I kind of did, but it’s set in a private school in Christchurch so it would be unrealistic for everyone to be brown. And the whole point of the story is that they are from completely different worlds, which I liked. 

Sure, but then is it really a story about a Samoan woman or is it a story about a group of palagi rich kids being taught that poor people and other cultures exist? I couldn’t help but grimace at the martyr storyline of this (literally) poor brown woman being given a job at a private school because she could “offer the kids something different” with zero consideration of what that might take away from her (which is not insignificant). And it’s all a lovely thing, apparently.

But isn’t that a realistic portrayal of private school administrations? You went to private school and encountered similar expectations so as grating as some of those characters might be, they’re sadly accurate which means you can’t fault the filmmakers for being true to life.

You’re right that it’s accurate but in Tinā the character that says that is supposed to be the good guy! He’s the well-meaning character who is ultimately all good. The villain characters are absolutely caricatures, with the evil principal-in-waiting and abusive board chair – who, by the way, could’ve just been the same character. 

Again, sadly these are people who exist in real life. I guarantee there are board members at private schools around the country who say far worse things behind closed doors than the characters in this movie. And the audience in my screening audibly gasped when those characters had their worst moments, so evidently it’s doing something to shock people into remembering this stuff is out there and experienced by Pasifika constantly.

Is it shocking them or is it making them feel good about the fact that they themselves don’t do that? I would’ve loved to see the “villains” be a bit more realistic, which is that those same men are often beloved and respected in their own communities, and often for good reason. They can be genuinely lovely and generous and kind, and also racist and narrow-minded. 

When I wrote a scathing critique of private schooling (as someone who benefited from private schooling) following the revelation that MP Sam Uffindell had assaulted a fellow student at King’s and been quietly moved along, I immediately received an email from my alma mater. I dreaded opening it, assuming they’d be furious at my criticisms. They should’ve been because they were absolutely part of the problem I was critiquing. But it was the opposite. A senior staff member had emailed to say she loved what I’d written because of course their private school would never do that. 

That woman was well-meaning and a great teacher, but genuinely believed she was exempt from class criticism because she didn’t condone violence. I guarantee she will watch  Tinā and love it, and would view herself as the noble, well-meaning principal who hired Percival so she could “offer something different”. See what I mean? In another movie (that I’d absolutely watch) that character would be the only villain you needed, but here he’s one of the heroes.

A still from Tinā showing seven school students lying down with their heads alongside each other
A still from Tinā (Image: Supplied)

I suppose that does sound like an interesting sequel. I agree that some of the framing at times felt clunky but that is one hell of a tightrope you’re expecting films like these to walk. It’s a movie designed for a broad audience and you can’t argue with the reception, it’s been pretty much universally applauded so you may be alone in your hating. 

I’m not actually hating, I did genuinely enjoy it! But unfortunately given the dearth of both reviewers and also Pacific journalists I feel compelled to point out that while it is a beautiful film, it feels more targeted to a “mainstream” (read: palagi) audience. Percival is “flawed”, meaning she swears and is on the benefit and doesn’t start out particularly interested in anyone else, but ultimately she only ever behaves in noble, righteous ways. She’s an extremely easy brown person to get behind. And likewise, outside of the caricatured villains, all the white characters are equally noble and righteous, they just need to be patiently shown the way by *checks notes* the poor, Samoan teacher. 

So what if it’s made with a mainstream/white audience in mind? Are all Pacific creatives required to only ever make art that is for Pacific audiences? And by the way, I’ve heard only glowing reviews from Pacific audiences as well. Aren’t you a big promoter of Pacific artists just making whatever they want and not having to be representatives all the time? Nothing wrong with just making a movie, getting some work and moving on to the next project. Not everything has to tick every box. Sounds like you’re expecting a lot more from Pacific films than other films.

Maybe I am. And I’m sure the synopsis of this film made it easier for funding bodies to support it (bleak) so can’t fault the team behind it for that. But part of me shudders whenever a film falls into the dreaded middle ground. I would’ve loved a buzzy, random, weird film made by Pacific people. I would have also loved a deeply cultural film that is ten toes down Samoan. I would have also loved a classic tearjerker where people’s race is irrelevant and nothing to do with the plot.

I think my conflict around Tinā is that it is presented and marketed as a deeply Pacific film where race and culture is at the heart of its story, but in execution is closer to a classic tearjerker for a predominantly Palagi audience. Either would be great! But it will inevitably become the most recognisable Pacific-New Zealand film in the world, and despite its name and title character, Tinā feels, to me, more about the palagi people (and audiences) Tinā is helping to grow than Tinā herself.

OK well that is much more convoluted than my thoughts in the theatre which were “wow great acting” or “I love this hymn” or *crying*. Did you like any parts of it?

I loved a lot of it! The scenes where Tinā’s teaching the kids, especially the beautiful scene of them learning to breathe together. I loved when she was at home or interacting with her old teacher friend (Nicole Whippy, excellent as always as the audience conduit). I loved any interaction with other non-private school characters and wished we’d got to spend more time with her alone.

I loved the soundtrack, even the crack up choral rendition of ‘Welcome Home’ which was very on the nose. Anyone who’s ever tried to find Samoan hymns on Spotify will recognise the Samoan Teachers Training College choir throughout.

I also loved the soundtrack but would have loved more silence in the score. For a film about the silent struggle of grief, there was pretty much not a single moment of silence. 

I was impressed that it carried to two hours without feeling long, where typically local films feel as if they’re stretching to get to 90 minutes. There was enough story there to last the distance.

I agree. There were probably a couple of side plot points that could’ve been cut without losing the heart of the story (probably one too many hospital scenes and not sure what was going on with the Palagi priest speaking Samoan and being so prevalent), but that’s the editor in me talking.

I think I know the answer to this but what did you think of the ending? I was extremely emotional watching it and found it quite beautiful. There were plenty of sniffles around me too.

I think the ending nearly worked but for me it didn’t quite stick the landing, largely because of what I’ve ranted about above and some other points I can’t detail for spoiler reasons. I’m sure most others would disagree though.

So do you think people should watch Tinā?

Absolutely. Just please don’t clap when the white teenager pronounces “talofa” correctly.

Keep going!
a collage of shocked and or stressed out facial expressions from mafs participants in black and while on a crumpled paper design
Is this the beginning of the end for MAFS AU?

Pop CultureFebruary 26, 2025

Is this the cast that’s finally going to break MAFS AU?

a collage of shocked and or stressed out facial expressions from mafs participants in black and while on a crumpled paper design
Is this the beginning of the end for MAFS AU?

After 12 seasons of drama, the pressure to constantly be serving tea is causing the show to boil over entirely. 

This week on Married at First Sight Australia, a contestant walked out after experiencing what they described as “the lowest of the lowest of the low”. If you’ve been watching, you’d know this descriptor could be applied to all number of circumstances, be it Ryan boasting to the other grooms about how Jacqui “gives good head”, Eliot sulking because he wanted a bride 10 years younger, or Jake saying “I’m not racist, but I like Caucasian people mostly”.

All these lowest of lows, and yet none of them were being referenced here. Instead, this was a quote from 30-year-old man Adrian after he threw a huge sooky lala because he wasn’t included in a MAFS promo shoot. Taking his ring off and demanding that producers put him in the promo or he would walk, it was yet another example of my working thesis for this extremely odd, possibly shark-jumping season: the inmates are now running the asylum.

Since its revamp in 2017, Married at First Sight Australia has long ceased being a social experiment about wide-eyed strangers looking for love, and what’s emerged is something closer to a hybrid of professional wrestling and soap opera. “It went up to four nights a week,” expert John Aiken explained on The Spinoff last year. “We brought in more couples, we brought in dinner parties and commitment ceremonies, and then we sat back to see what happened.” 

The experts look shocked while they watch a dinner party on TV
Experts Mel Schilling, Alessandra Rampola and John Aiken, watching what happens.

What happened, of course, was a ratings smash. To stick with pro wrestling terms, the dinner parties soon became the A-show, where heroes and villains would face off, bit part players would step from the shadows into the spotlight, and red wine splattered like fake blood. But beneath the theatrics, the show always held onto its compelling human stories – the complexity of the Tin Man, the class warfare of Domenica vs Olivia, the total absurdity of Collins. 

This season, that balance feels off – and not just because the cast arrived stacked with loud and proud misogynists. I’ll begin with the more minor production gripe that not one, but two of the couples matched had already dated each other in the past. As Rhi and Jeff arrived at the altar with a grin of recognition and a sighed “hi Rhi”, “hi Jeff”, the “total stranger” concept was shattered instantly. What is this, New Zealand?! Australia has 26 million people! 

What didn’t even make it to TV was the fact that two MORE contestants had slept together in the past, news which emerged from one of the dozens of splashy MAFS gossip accounts that are threatening to supersede the show in both scoops and drama. This season even opened with a montage of frenzied TikToks and Reels about the “global sensation” of MAFS AU. You have to wonder, is the pressure to serve “tea” causing the show to boil over entirely? 

A screenshot of the MAFSgossip instagram page teeming with salacious headlines
A screenshot of one of many salacious MAFS Gossip account

Because while the best of MAFS is the slow unravelling of facades and the building of tension and moments of release between personalities, the drama this season has been explosive and relentless from the start, and we’ve seen producers openly struggle to get anyone to play ball. Multiple people have left outside of the commitment ceremonies which, although a totally fake device, is still important in wrapping up storylines and serving narrative justice. 

Sometimes, the drama has been so much that it has teetered on incomprehensible. Jacqui and Ryan, some of the most perplexing characters ever put on television, hate each other’s guts one day and are welling up about their future children the next. Adrian and Sierah are clearly having an affair, complete with footsies at the dinner party, and yet the focus remains entirely on promo-gate. Morena’s wrath scares me so much I don’t even want to mention it.

The group dynamic is also very strange, with too many of the contestants openly revelling in the drama (see: Billy’s wide-eyed reactions and heckles) and nobody stepping up to be the Lucinda Light-type moral compass. I’m loath to bring it up again, but when Ryan told the grooms that “Jacqui gives good head”, the group became fixated on whether or not it was true, rather than the fact he grossly shared such an intimate detail at all. Priorities, people!

A man with brown hair sits stunned with eyes wide
Billy’s wide-eyed reactions have become a mainstay of the show – but isn’t that our job?

Thankfully, Alessandra got to dunk on Ryan for that, but the experts have been extremely lacklustre in their roles this season. John Aiken, famous for coming off the top ropes with harsh truths, mostly seems to be slumped over in the corner of the expert couch like an abandoned ventriloquist dummy. Instead of tackling the rampant emotional abuse and gaslighting, they all just seem totally knackered and holding their heads in their hands like the rest of us. 

Which brings me to my final gripe: why on god’s greenest Sydney apartment astroturfed earth did they bring back Eliot and Lauren to get remarried? Bringing back cast members breaks the fabric of the universe, but particularly when you give another shot to the tradwife and the guy who wants a wife with no aspirations apart from “gym”. If anyone deserved it, it was Katie – although it would be no surprise if she never wants to go near MAFS again.

The bleakest part of all of this is that if reality television holds up a mirror, what’s being reflected in MAFS scans with our reality. We’ve got the collapsing hierarchies, eroding trust in authority, conflict and scandal outweighing nuance and facts, and the worst men you’ve ever seen saying the craziest shit you’ve ever heard with little to no repercussions. We used to watch MAFS to try and escape the real world, but now it’s all in there, screaming right back at us. 

And that, to borrow a phrase from Adrian, might truly be the lowest, of the lowest, of the low. 

Watch Married at First Sight Australia here on ThreeNow