by Cain Noble-Davies
Worth: $18.00
FilmInk rates movies out of $20 — the score indicates the amount we believe a ticket to the movie to be worth
Cast:
Anapela Polataivao, Antonia Robinson, Beulah Koale, Dalip Sondhi, Nicole Whippy
Intro:
… hits the ears and heart with the force of a virtuosic solo …
When is an underdog not an underdog?
The feature debut of writer/director Miki Magasiva, after cutting his teeth with contributions to Teine Sā and We Are Still Here, Tinā has the surface hallmarks of a classic underdog story.
An older mentor (Anapela Polataivao’s Mareta), still dealing with personal strife, is given the thankless task of leading a group of outcasts and misfits to become a team and win the Big Competition. Except, this doesn’t operate like an underdog story. The Big Competition? Little more than a vehicle to drive the plot forward, with no time spent on who is being competed against and what the stakes are for a reward. The outcasts and misfits? Not the usual collection of archetypes and walking genre tropes, and while there are still a few that do stand out as individuals, it’s the choir they are all part of that takes precedent. No tokens allowed here. And as for the mentor, Mareta isn’t someone who needs to be changed or taught a profound lesson. And Atua help anyone who tries insisting that she does to her face!
It’s not an underdog story because, for there to be an ‘under’, there must be someone ‘over’. And the film actively doesn’t care about whoever may be up there. Prejudice, aggression, and eye-rolling condescension are still flung their way, but always like human-sized gnats to just swat away, rather than obstacles that are worth devoting time to overcoming. The important thing is the bonds that are forged between people and just how liberating it is to be one with others.
The choral performance scenes are shot beautifully, and sound even better… and yet that isn’t even what makes them so affecting. Rather, it’s the strength of their union, their shared breath, existing in a space where they can bear their scars without judgement or pity. All these different cultures, different class backgrounds, fusing to become greater than the sum of their parts, mighty as they already are.
As the camera carefully, patiently, observes Mareta and her choir come to terms with grief, body dysmorphia, gender expectations, the testing of faith, and a lot of White Kiwi attitudes, Magasiva and DP Andrew McGeorge show a lot more than any of the characters end up saying; their specifically interior strife and conflict, conveyed in interior terms. The performances are a large contributor to this working so well, from Polataivao’s Auntie Triumphant energy to Antonia Robinson’s phenomenal turn as the reluctant lead chorister Sophie, but big props to the filmmakers themselves for just letting the audience drink it all in; not get hung up on what is written down, but how it feels when sung out loud.
Tinā hits the ears and heart with the force of a virtuosic solo, but there is no singular voice behind it; it’s everyone’s. From the pitch-perfect cultural foundation, building itself on the measured experience of the Samoan diaspora, the film echoes out to every disregarded corner of the halls to find the ones left behind, and offering them a place to be. It transcends the rigid confines of an ‘inspirational’ underdog story, maintaining that same soul uplift that makes for great collective viewing, while zeroing in on why such experiences are meant to be shared. Shared laughs, shared hums, shared tears (a lot of shared tears; get your hankies out for this one), shared memories. Get together and let it all out.
