It’s been 30 years since Miki Magasiva first dreamed of being a filmmaker — and, after 20 years of making hundreds of commercials, television, music videos, and short films, he’s finally made his first feature film.

Tinā, which Miki wrote, directed and produced, opened the Hawai‘i International Film Festival last month, where it was described as an inspiring and “rhythmic tear-jerker”, among other things. Here’s Miki in kōrero with Dale.

 

Talofa, Miki. It’s good to talk with you. How did you feel about the launch of Tinā in Hawai‘i?

It was awesome. It was the perfect audience to launch it to. Sympathetic to the story. Could understand where we were coming from. We couldn’t be more happy.

What impresses me is that you wrote it, produced it and directed it. It really is your baby. So congratulations on that effort. I’m really looking forward to seeing it. Did the audience’s reaction give you the sense that you got it right?

In this industry, it’s often hard to know whether people are being honest and genuine or they’re just being nice. But we did get a sense that everybody genuinely enjoyed it and found something in the story to connect with. One of the easy ways of seeing that is they’re in tears when they come out. There’s no hiding that emotion when it’s written on everyone’s faces.

It’s so nice when you have people come up to you and say: “Listen, I connected with that. I completely understand where she was coming from because I went through that struggle myself.” Or you have other people saying: “We’re so proud that you’ve put more of our stories on screen, and I can see myself in the heroes that you’ve portrayed up there.”

I guess the main goal for releasing this film is to make our peers and the people in our community proud. But we also wanted to show that we can actually make stories that people want to go and watch and enjoy and pay money to see.

I was moved that you opted to include the tragedy of Ōtautahi (Christchurch) in your script. Could you touch for a moment on using emotions in a film, because you probably want your audience to go through a range of emotions in the hour and a bit you’ve got them. I guess you’re aiming for a laugh here, a sigh there, and, in this case, tears at some point. What would you say about the rhythm of writing needed to achieve that goal?

It’s one of those things that you work on for a long time. Films and scripts don’t happen overnight. You just start piecing it together from square one. This one took me four or five years just to get the script right, and then came the filming.

During that process, sometimes you’ll go back and concentrate on characters, and sometimes you’ll go back and concentrate on visual aspects of the film. Same with emotion. You’ll go back and try to trace the emotional arc of where you are in the story, and make sure you get those emotional beats right. So, if you think you’ve gone too intense, you add a comic moment and let the audience breathe a little bit.

In this case, the tragedy happens at the start, and a large part of that rationale was to try and really hook audiences.

Sometimes the story finds its own way there. When you write a scene, it just happens naturally: This is what a character would do when they’re posed with these questions or when they go through these actions. It just reveals itself as you go along.

I was so happy to see people getting emotional through this story. I think a large part of that was because, when I wrote this script, I was going through an emotional time in my life as well. And a lot of that spilled onto the page and eventually ended up on the big screen. I must have spent, jeepers, three years crying, writing this thing.

So I don’t think it’s any surprise now that a lot of that filtered through to the audience, which I’m just so happy about.

Tēnā koe. You’re an emotional puppeteer.

That’s it. It starts with the puppeteer. They’ve got to go through it themselves. So I’m happy to say that I’m an emotional person, too.

So am I, mate. You have touched the heartstrings. I’m also a music lover, and one of the lovely things about Pasifika peoples, Māori included, is our love of waiata and of choral singing and of the harmonies that might be musical in name but describe a vibrant life as well. In the movie, Tinā, (the Sāmoan substitute teacher, played by Anapela Polataivao) ends up sharing this love of music with a group of elite, predominantly Pākehā, students. What was it like to work with these young people, and to paint a picture of how a relationship like that might be established, and then celebrated?

You know what the funny thing is? I feel like the young kids now are totally down with our culture. Perhaps the story should’ve been told 10 to 15 years ago and would’ve been more appropriate for that time, because I feel like our kids today are really down with the cultural kaupapa here and also in the wider Pacific.

All the kids that we used in the film are choir kids. None of them were actors. They come from a choir pedigree. So they already understood what it was like to sing this kind of music. Most of them, if not all of them, had sung Pasifika-Māori songs before, because they’ve come through The Big Sing. So I don’t feel like I had to explain it too much to them.

What I had to do was connect the story to what they were doing, and tell them how we were connecting the songs to the story that I was trying to tell. And once I did that, I had full buy-in emotionally from them. They wanted to know how to perform the songs right. Wanted to learn every single aspect of how to pronounce the words. How to say it right. How to do it right.

My favourite day on set was the final day that we shot in Auckland. I wrapped up with all my student kids, and they paid me the best kind of respectful compliment by doing a tribute song, a Sāmoan song, for me and the entire crew.

That struck straight at my heart. I was super emotional during it, and I couldn’t have been more proud and over the moon — not only that they performed for the screen and for the movie, but they were there for me as well.

You come from an amazing family, and I’d like to backtrack a little bit here and ask about your folks.

We’re a family of five boys. Much later, when we boys were all grown up, my parents (Taufaiula and Salafa) adopted a young girl.

My folks moved over here in the late ‘60s, early ‘70s, and had my eldest brothers in Wellington. So Rob, who everybody will know well as Robbie Magasiva, was born in Wellington, and so was Steven, the second eldest. Then my parents chose to take them back to Sāmoa.

My old man had wanted to pay some service to his family, so he took the two boys back to Sāmoa, and that’s where the rest of the family was born. I was born in Savai‘i, in the village of Lefagaoali‘i. And my little twin brothers, Tanu and Pua, were born in Tanumapua, which is in Upolu.

In 1982, when I was five years old, my parents decided to bring us all back to Wellington. And that’s where all the boys were raised.

I think people of our parents’ generation never really got the opportunity to pursue what they were good at. It was just about providing for their young families by moving them to better places of opportunity such as this wonderful country of Aotearoa.

Neither of my parents was in performance or the arts. My dad worked in the post office for a very long time, and Mum worked odd jobs, doing whatever she could, from working in a record company printing labels to cleaning businesses and those sorts of things.

What connects us back to a performance and arts background is that Pasifika people have it in their DNA. We have a tradition of telling our stories and our history and passing that down through the generations.

Sāmoa has a very strong tradition of oratory, and my dad is an orator in our village. And much like there is here in Aotearoa, there’s a certain language and formality in oratory that’s part poetry, part politics, part storytelling. I think there’s a storyteller in all Pacific people. I remember my mum in the old days — she used to have rooms of people in laughter. So I don’t think it’s accidental that three of the boys ended up in the arts industry, and especially the film industry. It’s in our blood.

You’re part of the advance guard of Pasifika storytelling. What about mentors, inspirations?

I’ve had many over the years — and I think that as a director, as you mature, your taste changes. At the start, you want to follow certain filmmakers, and then a year later, five years later, 10 years later, your tastes have changed, and you’ve gone on to other things.

But I will mention one film that I looked at as a youngster. I don’t think I knew at the time that I wanted to be a filmmaker, but it was certainly the first film where I saw a Pacific character and could connect with that character and got lost in it, just as much as everybody got lost when they watched Star Wars the first time. And that was The Silent One. I didn’t know it at the time, but perhaps watching that film planted a seed that would be watered later on when I got an opportunity to be involved in a film, behind the scenes.

And then you grow up and become a filmmaker and you see so many different kinds of film. From Spielberg to Tarantino to David Lean, everybody has some sort of inspiration for you when you go through your career. So, yeah, heaps. It’s like a buffet! Pacific Islanders love their buffets.

Did you train formally, or was it just that you were involved behind the scenes and, over time, learned what the roles were? Also, as a filmmaker, I’m guessing you have to have a thick skin, because some ideas that you think would make a great film don’t get funded because people can’t share your vision. Have you got a thick skin?

Have to, bro. I know very few people who’ve had overnight success.

As for training, I’ll quickly go through the history. When I was seven years old, I was cast as an extra in a short film, Stalin’s Sickle. And that was where I first fell in love with what happens behind the scenes.

Jump forward to when I was 16. Rob already had an actor’s agency, and after he saw me in a stage play, he said: “Look, I think you should talk to my agent.” At the time that was Gail Cowan. Her agency was called Double Happy back in those days. She took me on as an actor, and I was able to do commercials and go back on set again. That’s when I knew I needed to be in filmmaking.

So I went to university and I did a double major in English and theatre and film. I knew I wanted to be in film, I just didn’t know how to get there. I thought maybe I could learn something at university. Back in those days, there weren’t that many practical courses. There was one out in Avalon, which is where all the TV studios were based back in those days. They had a film and television production course. I applied and got into that.

As soon as I finished that, I started talking to anybody who could get me on set in any capacity they would have me, whether they wanted me to help with setting up lights, driving around looking for locations, making coffee, getting lunch, whatever I could get my hands on.

And then I kept going from there. I think it was 2003 when I got the opportunity to direct some commercials. The production company I was working for knew that I wanted to be a filmmaker, so when a director fell ill, they gave me some commercials. I directed them, they won some awards, and I never looked back. A year later, I was a director full-time and just grinding it out.

You’re right. You need thick skin. You just have to pitch and keep on pitching. It’s been 20 years of doing hundreds of commercials, doing television, doing music videos, doing short films. Finally, I’ve been blessed with the opportunity to do my first feature film 30 years after I first dreamed of doing it.

You have to have the drive to keep going in the face of setbacks. I was the kind of guy who didn’t have anything else. I was just like: “This is what I’m gonna do, however I’m gonna do it. I’m just gonna keep plugging away.” It’s been the most magical, rewarding experience I could’ve ever gone through.

Sometimes you hear bad stories about how hard films are to make. They really are, but the experience is magical because of the people who come on board. With my film, I felt like I looked into the actors’ eyes, and they wanted to be there every day, and they wanted to make the story passionately for themselves as well as for me. I can’t wait to show everybody so they can be proud of their work and our work.

It’s not often that one person will come up with the idea, write the screenplay, produce it and direct it. Would it be fair to say there’s a lot on the line for you with this one?

You’re right, bro, there is a lot on the line. The dream has always been to do film and use that to feed the family. You do it for yourself, your family, your community. But also you want the film to be successful so you can do the next one. Mario Gaoa and I set up a company to help with the production of this film, but we’ve reinvested pretty much all of the funding that we got to make this film.

This being the first feature, and us wanting to make it the best that we possibly can, we haven’t really left much for ourselves. Hopefully, we can make the next one, and over time build a collection of films that allows people to invest in the company, so that we can continue to make these stories.

What thoughts do you have about the emergence of young storytellers with Pacific or Māori backgrounds? And how does it feel to be part of that advance guard?

It’s pretty humbling. It’s also pretty shocking to think that I might be pioneering something because I feel like it should’ve been around well before I turned up.

You don’t really think about the responsibility when you’re piecing these things together. You’re just desperate to do your craft and do some work, and to do the thing that you love to do. And then, nek minnit, you’re making a feature film and people are seeing you as someone who can help to usher in that next generation. So I’m super humbled with the responsibility, and excited about the new generation of Pacific filmmakers coming through.

But these young kids now are so savvy with the technology. Every single one of them knows how to handle all the technology that’s on offer. Seems like second nature to them. And I feel like I’m getting older and slower with that sort of stuff. So it’s great to see them and be able to navigate them. It’s about trying to hone and nurture that young talent.

People are trying to tell their stories all over the world, and we’re such a small part of the world down here in our Pacific. Our stories are unique — nobody tells it from our perspective. So I feel like we can be a really strong voice internationally, and that people will appreciate and want more stories from the Pacific. And hopefully, this new generation of people can take that mantle and go even further than we have.

What’s next for you? Have you got some ideas rolling around in your head that you think could make entertaining movies which make an impact?

I think all directors have tons of ideas. A lot of them are pretty stink, but there are a few that I’d love to go on to. I’m working on two at the moment, but it’s too early to say what those are. One is based in Sāmoa.

Here’s an idea. A New Zealand navy vessel grounds itself on a reef just off Upolu and stops the people collecting their seafood delicacy that they travel home to collect.

Oh, right! And then the government plays it down as if it’s just a tiny little accident, nothing to worry about. Yeah, that’ll be a good story to tell.

What is the name of that delicacy? Some kind of worm, I think. I have a mate who used to go back to Upolu every year for them. They only come up to the surface for a few nights of the year.

I think you’re talking about palolo, the coral worm.

That’s it.

Far out, man. I mean, I love my seafood, bro. And I can eat most things, but I still haven’t been able to eat that one.

Miki, I have to say that when Pua died we all shared your grief. And I’m assuming that when you talked about writing this screenplay and feeling strong emotions, those were some of them. Brothers are special, and losing one is perhaps one of the most challenging situations of life. Have you anything you’d like to share about that?

Thank you, bro, I really appreciate that. And yeah, it was exactly that. It was a hard time, as it is for anyone who has to go through that journey. I’ll also try and put a positive spin on it and say that the bro was guiding me the whole way. Not to get too spiritual on it, but I genuinely believe he was. There were just too many crazy, crazy things that happened in order for us to get this movie made to be a coincidence.

So, I’d like to say that he was guiding my hand the whole way. And I think the emotion that I was feeling at the time through him found its way onto the page and then to the screen. A part of him has ended up on that screen, too, and it helps me deal with what we had to go through, and continue to go through.

I often ask people, as we wind up our conversation, about what they love to do outside of their working life. What do you do to keep yourself fresh for the challenge of life?

I really love surfing. I continue to be crap at it, but I moved out to the coast because I wanted to be closer to the surf. Though, as fate would have it, as soon as I moved to the coast, I started making this film, which took me out of the water. Now that we’re coming to the end of the movie process, I’d like to get back into the water. Coming from a village in Savai‘i that’s right on the ocean, I’ve always felt like a bit of a water baby.

When you say you moved out to the coast, is that the Wellington coast?

Nah, based in Auckland. Been up here for the last 20 years. The film was shot 90 percent in Auckland, a little bit in Christchurch. I moved out to the coast probably about an hour and 15 minutes away from the city, to a little place called Leigh.

Is this movie coming to the Māoriland film festival, or where’s next? Toronto? What’s next on the Indigenous film circuit for you?

I would love to show it at Māoriland. At the end of the year, we’ll be at a festival in Australia. And then, at the start of the new year, we’ll be in the US, and then we’ll be releasing it to Aotearoa theatres on February 27. From there on, we’ll try and get it to every Indigenous festival we can get it into.

Miki, all the best with the mahi. It’s been an absolute privilege to have a kōrero with you, brother. Mauri ora ki a koe.

(This interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

E-Tangata, 2024