MY FAVOURITE CAKE (2024)

Seventy-year-old Mahin has been living alone in Tehran since her husband died and her daughter left for Europe. One afternoon, tea with friends leads her to break her solitary routine and revitalise her love life.

In My Favourite Cake, directors Maryam Moghadam and Behtash Sanaeeha craft a tender, intimate portrayal of love, ageing, and quiet rebellion. Set in contemporary Iran, the film follows the journey of Mahin (played by Lili Farhadpour), a widowed woman in her 70s who has spent decades coming to terms with a body that is no longer youthful, and a country that feels increasingly stifling. Her life, much like her body, has become a reflection of loss and constraint. Her children live abroad, her husband has been dead for decades, and the friends who once filled her life with laughter now gather only for an annual meeting where the most exciting event is the presentation of a blood pressure monitor as a birthday gift.

Mahin is a character who, at first glance, seems resigned to her fate. She spends her days alone in her garden, napping until noon, and scrambling to answer FaceTime calls from her children who are distant in more ways than one. Her life has become a series of monotonous routines, a stark contrast to the youthful liberalism she once embraced. Yet, beneath this calm, there is a simmering dissatisfaction with her current reality. She misses the freedom she had before the revolution, the intimacy of companionship, and the sense of joy that comes from sharing your life with someone else. The film is deeply personal, but it is also political, as Mahin's story reflects the broader experiences of many Iranian women who have found their freedoms curtailed by a restrictive regime.

The film takes a pivotal turn when Mahin meets Faramarz (Esmaeel Mehrabi), an elderly taxi driver who has also been living in solitude for years. Their meeting is accidental, but there is an undeniable spark. When Mahin overhears that Faramarz is a bachelor, she boldly invites him to her home. What follows is a quietly radical encounter, as the two spend an evening together behind closed doors, far from the prying eyes of neighbours and the morality police. The simple act of inviting a man into her home is an act of rebellion in Iran, where unmarried men and women are not permitted to be alone together. This is where the film truly begins to explore the themes of repression and the human desire for connection.

As Mahin and Faramarz share their stories, they bond over their mutual losses and longings. They talk about the loves they’ve lost and the country that no longer allows them to be as free or as joyful as they once were. Their conversations are imbued with both tenderness and a sense of urgency. Both characters are acutely aware that time is running out, and this awareness makes their budding relationship feel all the more poignant. The chemistry between Farhadpour and Mehrabi is palpable, and their performances are nothing short of mesmerising. They play off each other beautifully, with a natural, understated charm that makes their courtship feel authentic and relatable.

The film is masterfully directed, with Moghadam and Sanaeeha using a light touch to explore heavy themes. My Favourite Cake is very much a slice-of-life film, with the story unfolding slowly and organically. The dialogue is considered, and the pacing is deliberate, giving the audience time to fully immerse themselves in the world of the characters. The cinematography, by Mohammad Haddadi, is equally restrained and intimate. One of the most striking scenes in the film is a moment where Mahin and Faramarz sit together in her garden, framed by soft-focus leaves and branches that seem to embrace them as they grow closer. The visual storytelling enhances the emotional depth of the film, creating a sense of warmth and realism that complements the narrative.

While My Favourite Cake is a love story at its core, it is also a critique of the political and social structures that seek to control the lives of its characters. The oppressive presence of the morality police is never far from the thoughts of Mahin and her friends. In an earlier scene, Mahin even rescues a young woman from being arrested for showing too much hair—a stark reminder of the constant surveillance and control that women in Iran face. The film makes it clear that Mahin’s relationship with Faramarz is not just a personal triumph; it is also an act of defiance against the system that seeks to suppress her desires.

The romance between Mahin and Faramarz is depicted with a sweet, almost childlike innocence. There is an infectious giddiness to their interactions, reminiscent of teenagers sneaking around, trying to avoid being caught. This sense of playfulness is in direct contrast to the seriousness of their situation, and it makes their love story all the more endearing. Theirs is a romance that is political by its very nature, as it challenges the norms of a society that forbids such relationships.

Despite the joy that the couple experiences, there is an underlying sense that things are too good to last. The film does not shy away from acknowledging the harsh realities of life in Iran, and this is reflected in the film’s bittersweet ending. Without giving too much away, it is safe to say that the conclusion of My Favourite Cake is not the typical feel-good ending one might expect from a romantic film. However, it is this very contrast between joy and sorrow that gives the film its emotional weight. The love that Mahin and Faramarz share is fleeting, but it is also powerful, and their relationship leaves a lasting impact.

What makes My Favourite Cake truly remarkable is its portrayal of ageing and the irrepressible need for connection. The film reminds us that love knows no age limit, and that the desire for companionship and intimacy is universal. Mahin’s journey is one of self-discovery, as she realises that she still has the capacity for love and joy, despite the years that have passed. Her relationship with Faramarz is a reminder that it is never too late to take risks and embrace life, even in the face of adversity.

The film also explores themes of body positivity and self-acceptance, as Mahin comes to terms with her ageing body and the limitations that come with it. Her relationship with Faramarz is built on mutual respect and understanding, and the film celebrates the beauty of their connection without resorting to clichés or sentimentality.

My Favourite Cake is a deeply endearing film that is as much a celebration of love and intimacy as it is a critique of repression. The film’s quiet rebellion, heartfelt performances, and nuanced exploration of the complexities of ageing make it a standout work. With its bittersweet ending and its thoughtful reflection on the passage of time, My Favourite Cake is a tender, touching film that will resonate with audiences long after the credits roll. It is a reminder that, no matter how old we are, or how constrained our circumstances may be, we all have the right to happiness and connection.

My Favourite Cake is in NZ cinemas from October 17th, 2024

GIRLS & BOYS (2024)

Love is a battlefield. This is a war story. It begins with a chance encounter at an airport in Naples. How it ends will make you question whether it's ever possible to truly know the people we love.

Girls & Boys, a gripping solo performance by Beatriz Romilly, directed by Eleanor Bishop, is a deeply unsettling exploration of gender, violence, and love. Performed on a minimalist set designed by Tracy Grant Lord, the production strips back all unnecessary elements, allowing Romilly to command the stage for an intense 110 minutes. Dressed simply in a white singlet and beige sweatpants, Romilly invites the audience into an intimate and confessional dialogue, charting the arc of a relationship that begins in passion and ends in devastating tragedy.

The play opens with humour and warmth as Romilly’s character recounts her whirlwind romance with a charismatic man she meets at an airport. He runs a successful business, while she lands a job as a development executive through sheer nerve. The chemistry between them is palpable, and together they build a life, raising two children, Leanne and Danny, in what seems to be a thriving household. Romilly’s playful and witty delivery creates a light-hearted atmosphere, drawing the audience in with ease.

But beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect life, cracks begin to show. About halfway through the play, a subtle shift occurs, hinting at the impending disaster. A single, startling line signals the unravelling of the narrative, and what begins as a comedy steadily transforms into something much darker. The play delves into the nature of violence, posing uncomfortable questions about whether it is ingrained in male behaviour. This theme is mirrored in the contrasting behaviours of the children—Danny, who gravitates toward destruction, and Leanne, who exhibits a more constructive, intellectual nature.

Romilly’s performance is masterful. She alternates between sharing memories of her flourishing production career and recounting the mundane yet demanding challenges of parenting. As she controls the narrative, there is an underlying tension, as if she is concealing something from both the audience and herself. This sense of control only intensifies when a shocking act of violence is revealed. The audience never witnesses the violence directly, but Romilly’s vivid description of the event is gut-wrenching, offering a brutally honest depiction of a love affair turned sour.

What makes Girls & Boys so compelling is its willingness to confront uncomfortable truths about masculinity and power. The play does not shy away from examining the darker aspects of male identity, particularly as they manifest in jealousy and violence. It also highlights the resilience of the human spirit, as Romilly’s character endures both personal and professional turmoil. This combination of vulnerability and strength gives the play its emotional depth.

The minimalistic set design, while initially slow in pace, enhances the introspective nature of the performance. With no props or visual distractions, the focus remains entirely on Romilly as she moves across the stage, connecting with all sides of the audience. Subtle lighting changes and carefully timed sound effects are the only cues that shift the tone and setting, reinforcing the isolation and disconnection at the heart of the story.

Romilly’s portrayal of anger is particularly striking. Unlike traditional depictions of female rage, her performance is raw and unfiltered, yet devoid of tears, which adds a layer of unsettling power. The absence of overt emotional release amplifies the play’s tension, making the audience feel the weight of her suppressed emotions.

Though the fast-paced dialogue and British accents may be challenging for non-native English speakers, Romilly’s sharp wit and tenacity ensure that the character's personality shines through. The humour, though often dark and laced with profanity, serves to temper the play’s more violent themes, providing moments of relief amidst the intensity.

Ultimately, Girls & Boys is a provocative and timely exploration of violence, love, and gender. The play refuses to let its audience remain passive, forcing them to confront difficult realities that resonate deeply in today’s world. It is a show that lingers long after the final line is spoken—dark, unflinching, and undeniably relevant.

Girls & Boys is being performed at the ASB Waterfront Theatre from 10 - 22 September, 2024

Purchase tickets here

Duration

1 hour and 50 minutes, no interval

Advisory

This production contains offensive language, graphic descriptions of family violence, murder and suicide, sexual references, and depiction of psychological distress. Not suitable for anyone under 18 years of age.

Need to talk?

If you or someone you know needs information or support, the following organisations may be helpful, and are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week:

Are You OK?

0800 456 450 or Webchat available 24/7

https://www.areyouok.org.nz/

Lifeline

0800 543 354 (0800 LIFELINE) or free text 4357 (HELP) any time

www.lifeline.org.nz

Shine Domestic Abuse Helpline

0508 744 633 or Webchat available 24/7

www.2shine.org.nz

Women's Refuge

0800 REFUGE of or Webchat available 24/7 https://womensrefuge.org.nz/

1737 - Need to Talk?

Free call or text 1737 any time

1737.org.nz 

TRANSFORMERS ONE (2024)

The untold origin story of Optimus Prime and Megatron, better known as sworn enemies, but once were friends bonded like brothers who changed the fate of Cybertron forever.

Transformers One brings a fresh and dynamic perspective to the beloved Transformers franchise, setting itself apart from previous live-action entries by focusing entirely on the world of the Autobots and Decepticons. Directed by Josh Cooley and featuring the voices of Chris Hemsworth, Brian Tyree Henry, and Scarlett Johansson, this animated feature dives into the rich history of Optimus Prime and Megatron, charting their tragic journey from brothers-in-arms to bitter enemies. With a strong emphasis on emotion, world-building, and character-driven storytelling, Transformers One feels like a rejuvenation of the franchise, injecting it with a level of depth and heart that many fans have longed for.

At its core, Transformers One is an origin story, exploring the early days of the Autobots and Decepticons on Cybertron. The film traces the bond between Optimus Prime and Megatron, highlighting how their once-strong friendship unravels into a bitter rivalry. The emotional weight of their relationship forms the backbone of the narrative, allowing the audience to truly empathize with both characters. It's a refreshing shift from the typical action-heavy plots of past films, offering more substance and depth to the conflict. This focus on character and story development is one of the film's greatest strengths, making the viewer feel the emotional stakes as Optimus and Megatron transform from allies to enemies.

One of the standout features of this film is how human-like the Transformers' facial expressions are. The animation team has done a remarkable job in bringing the Autobots and Decepticons to life, giving them emotions that resonate with the audience. Unlike previous iterations where the Transformers often felt robotic and distant, Transformers One gives them a sense of humanity. Their emotions are clear, their thoughts are visible, and their struggles are palpable. You can see the conflict in Optimus Prime's eyes, feel the anger and betrayal in Megatron's face, and experience the full range of emotions as they grapple with their differences. This attention to detail makes the characters feel alive, more than just machines engaged in battle.

Set entirely on the metallic world of Cybertron, Transformers One offers a visually stunning depiction of the planet, immersing the audience in a fully realised world. The art direction and world-building are top-notch, with every frame filled with intricate details that bring Cybertron to life. The action is clear, fast-paced, and exhilarating, yet the designs of each Transformer are distinct enough that there’s never any confusion about who is who. Each character’s design and colour scheme is instantly recognisable, helping to differentiate them in the heat of battle. The visual clarity is a breath of fresh air compared to the chaotic action sequences of previous live-action films, which often made it hard to keep track of the combatants. Here, everything is crisp and defined.

Clocking in at a brisk 104 minutes, Transformers One manages to strike the perfect balance between action and story. The film wastes no time getting to the heart of the matter, offering high-octane action sequences that are visually impressive without overstaying their welcome. The third act, in particular, is a spectacle of energy and excitement, ramping up the tension and delivering on the emotional beats that have been building throughout the film. While some may find the plot points predictable, the execution is so strong that it doesn’t diminish the impact of the story. The pacing is tight, and the action sequences are dynamic and thrilling, although some moments are so fast-paced that it may be difficult to keep up if seated too close to the screen.

Transformers One is clearly aimed at a younger audience, blending the coming-of-age genre with the world of robots. However, the film does an excellent job of making its themes and storylines accessible to all ages. The emotional depth, character development, and sense of nostalgia make it enjoyable for long-time fans of the franchise as well as newcomers. It strikes a careful balance, offering enough action and visual excitement to keep younger viewers engaged while also providing a thoughtful exploration of friendship, loyalty, and the cost of war. The coming-of-age aspect is seamlessly woven into the narrative, adding an extra layer of relatability.

One of the most refreshing aspects of Transformers One is its focus on the Transformers themselves. Unlike previous films, which often became bogged down in human-centric storylines, this movie keeps the attention squarely on the Autobots and Decepticons. The plot revolves around their conflicts, their relationships, and their world. By doing so, the film avoids the distraction of human drama, allowing for a more cohesive and engaging story. It's a welcome change for fans who have long wanted a film that truly centres the Transformers without the constant presence of human characters stealing the spotlight.

The film’s humour is blunt and direct, with moments of levity breaking up the intense action and drama. While the comedy may not appeal to everyone, it fits well within the tone of the film, keeping the overall atmosphere light-hearted even in the midst of darker moments. The jokes are in-your-face, but they serve their purpose of providing some relief amid the high-stakes action and emotional tension. The balance of humour and drama ensures that the film never feels too heavy, maintaining an enjoyable and engaging pace throughout.

Transformers One breathes new life into a franchise that many thought had run its course. By focusing on the origins of Optimus Prime and Megatron, the film offers a fresh take on a familiar story, rich in emotion, character development, and visual spectacle. With its stunning animation, engaging storyline, and focus on the Autobots and Decepticons themselves, this film delivers a Transformers experience that fans have been waiting for. Whether you're a long-time follower of the franchise or a newcomer, Transformers One is a triumphant return to form, proving that there is still plenty of life and creativity left in this iconic series.

Transformers One will be released in cinemas on September 26, 2024

THE SUBSTANCE (2024)

 

A fading celebrity decides to use a black-market drug, a cell-replicating substance that temporarily creates a younger, better version of herself.

Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance is an audacious dive into psychological horror, blending grotesque body transformations with biting social commentary. Running at 140 minutes, this slow-burning nightmare unravels Hollywood's obsession with youth and beauty, making it a disturbingly poignant satire on the entertainment industry’s toxic standards.

The film stars Demi Moore as Elisabeth Sparkle, a once-glamorous celebrity whose entire identity is wrapped up in the admiration of men and the adoration of the public. At 62, Moore portrays Elisabeth’s desperate struggle against the inevitable effects of ageing with fearless intensity. The casting is an ironic and poignant choice, given Moore’s own history as a sex symbol in the 80s and 90s. Her performance strikes deep as she grapples with a fading relevance that reflects the reality many ageing actresses face in Hollywood.

Moore is joined by Margaret Qualley, who plays Sue, the younger version of Elisabeth. Sue is everything Elisabeth used to be—youthful, radiant, and ambitious. As the two versions of Elisabeth share the screen, the film exposes the toxic pressures women face to retain their physical allure. Moore and Qualley both deliver bold performances, with Qualley bringing an infectious energy as the seductive and ruthlessly ambitious Sue. This duality of characters creates a tense dynamic that drives the film’s unsettling narrative.

At its core, The Substance is a darkly satirical critique of Hollywood’s treatment of women. Dennis Quaid portrays Harvey, a sleazy and manipulative character whose name clearly alludes to the notorious Harvey Weinstein. His presence reinforces the film's commentary on the patriarchal system that objectifies women, valuing them solely for their appearance. The film's first half leans heavily into this satire, showing Elisabeth's slow unravelling as she struggles to keep pace with an industry that worships youth.

As the story unfolds, Elisabeth resorts to increasingly extreme measures to preserve her youthful appearance, leading to some of the most disturbing body horror scenes seen in recent cinema. Fargeat’s use of practical effects and prosthetics enhances the film’s visceral impact, crafting moments of grotesque transformation that are equal parts shocking and mesmerizing. It’s a masterclass in pushing the limits of horror without losing sight of the film’s thematic depth.

Fargeat's direction is both bold and uncompromising. The visual style of The Substance is striking, with lurid colors, surreal camera angles, and close-up shots that reveal every wrinkle and imperfection on Elisabeth’s aging body. Benjamin Kracun’s cinematography captures this duality, juxtaposing Elisabeth's fading beauty against Sue’s flawless youth. This emphasis on physical details serves as a pointed critique of the unrealistic standards imposed on women, particularly in the entertainment industry.

The horror elements reach a fever pitch in the film’s third act, where Fargeat truly lets loose. The final scenes are filled with grotesque imagery and unsettling body transformations, pushing the viewer’s tolerance to the edge. Yet, the horror is not without purpose—each shocking moment reinforces the film’s message about the dangers of idolizing youth and rejecting the natural ageing process. The relentless pursuit of perfection leads Elisabeth into a nightmarish descent, culminating in a third act that is as horrifying as it is unforgettable.

Moore’s performance is central to the film’s emotional weight. She brings a raw vulnerability to Elisabeth, drawing on her years of experience in Hollywood to deliver a performance that is deeply personal. The pain, anger, and desperation she expresses resonate far beyond the screen, making Elisabeth’s journey both tragic and relatable. Qualley’s portrayal of Sue, meanwhile, captures the darker side of ambition, embodying the youthful arrogance that comes with being the industry’s latest darling.

What makes The Substance stand out in the crowded horror genre is its willingness to tackle complex issues with a fearless approach. Fargeat doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of aging in Hollywood, but instead confronts them head-on. Her feminist perspective offers a powerful critique of the male gaze and the impossible beauty standards that women are forced to uphold. By blending horror with social commentary, Fargeat creates a film that is as thought-provoking as it is disturbing.

The film's sound design further amplifies the discomfort, turning ordinary sounds into instruments of horror. From the nauseating squelch of medical procedures to the grotesque noises of characters devouring food, every auditory detail is designed to unsettle. The film’s oppressive atmosphere is enhanced by its synth-heavy score, which heightens the tension throughout.

Yet, despite its shocking content and disturbing visuals, The Substance offers moments of biting humour. The film’s satirical tone often veers into the absurd, poking fun at the ridiculous lengths people will go to preserve their youth. This blend of dark humour and horror makes the film an engaging, if not entirely comfortable, viewing experience.

The Substance serves as a damning indictment of Hollywood’s obsession with youth and the way it discards women who no longer fit its narrow standards of beauty. Fargeat's direction is unapologetically bold, and her critique of the entertainment industry is sharp and unrelenting. While the film’s grotesque imagery may not be for the faint-hearted, it is a powerful exploration of the pressures placed on women to conform to unrealistic ideals.

In a genre often dominated by male perspectives, The Substance stands out as a feminist body horror masterpiece. Its fearless performances, bold direction, and thought-provoking themes make it a film that will linger in the minds of viewers long after the credits roll.

The Substance is in NZ cinemas from September 19, 2024

SUA (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

The life of a Samoan immigrant bus driver and his experience in Aotearoa 

Sua is a short documentary directed by Robert Norman and produced by Pilisita Mateni with consulting producer Elizabeth Laupepa. Clocking in at just under 10 minutes, the film offers a glimpse into the life of Sua, a Samoan immigrant who has worked as a bus driver in Aotearoa. While the documentary has its strengths—most notably the subject's compelling personal story—it struggles to find a cohesive direction, resulting in a viewing experience that feels fragmented and unfocused.

At the heart of Sua is an interesting and significant story. Sua's life as a retired bus driver, who was once a teacher and now works within the church, represents the journey of many Pacific Island immigrants who have come to Aotearoa in search of better opportunities for themselves and their families. His passion for helping others, both physically and spiritually, is evident, and there is an underlying warmth and humanity that shines through his anecdotes. The film highlights the importance of hearing the stories of older generations, especially those who have migrated from their home countries and built new lives in unfamiliar places.

Sua’s story holds immense potential, as it touches on themes of migration, sacrifice, family, and community. However, these elements feel largely disconnected from each other in the final product. Rather than building a cohesive narrative, the documentary comes across as a collection of disparate memories. The audience is introduced to different aspects of Sua's life—his work as a bus driver, his past as a teacher, and his involvement with the church—but these pieces are not woven together into a clear storyline. The lack of a central purpose or direction leaves viewers with more questions than answers, as the film never fully explores how these different facets of Sua’s life connect to one another.

Visually, Sua is a mixed experience. The film appears to have been shot with a single camera, and this choice severely limits the visual storytelling. Without additional footage or cutaway shots, the camera is forced to constantly follow the subject, which results in distracting movement. The camera shifts from side to side, zooms in and out, and occasionally goes out of focus, all of which detract from the interview and disrupt the viewer's engagement with the story.

When the camera does settle down, the film offers some beautiful shots. The close-ups of Sua are particularly effective, capturing the emotion in his face as he recounts his experiences. These moments allow the audience to connect with him on a deeper level, providing a brief glimpse into his world. Unfortunately, these strong visual moments are overshadowed by the overall inconsistency in the camerawork. The lack of additional footage also means that there is little room for editing, which could have helped smooth out some of the more distracting visual elements.

Despite its shortcomings, Sua has a strong foundation to build upon. Sua himself is a passionate and engaging subject, with a story to tell. With better direction and focus, the film could more effectively explore the themes of migration, identity, and community that it touches upon. 

With more focused storytelling, stronger interview techniques, and improved visual consistency, Sua has the potential to be a meaningful exploration of the Samoan immigrant experience in Aotearoa. By honing in on the central themes of migration, identity, and community, the film could become a powerful testament to the resilience and strength of the Pacific Islander community.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

YEAH PARE (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

Lost in the night markets 2 young boys befriend each other and go on an adventure - video game style!

Yeah Pare is a short film that combines childhood adventure with the vibrant chaos of the Pakuranga Night Markets. Directed by Sean Dioneda Rivera and Albert Latailakepa, and produced by Danny Aumua, this 9-minute gem effectively transports viewers into a whimsical, game-inspired world where two young boys, amidst the lively market stalls, find friendship and embark on a journey that feels reminiscent of classic video games.

What stands out immediately in Yeah Pare is the blending of art styles. The film shifts between live-action sequences and 8-bit pixel animations, reminiscent of early Gameboy aesthetics. This visual approach not only adds a layer of nostalgic charm but also serves a functional purpose, acting as a creative method of transitioning between scenes. The pixel animations allow for creative visualisation of the boys' movements throughout the market, giving the film a dynamic energy that mirrors the pace of arcade games. This melding of styles offers a fresh take on visual storytelling, enhancing the film's appeal to both younger audiences and those who fondly remember the early days of video gaming.

The 8-bit sequences in particular are cleverly integrated into the narrative. Rather than feeling like a simple stylistic choice, these animations are woven into the film's fabric, representing the boys' adventurous spirit as they navigate through different challenges in the market. Each transition between live-action and animation feels purposeful, making the film feel cohesive despite its use of different mediums.

Yeah Pare is a playful exploration of childhood curiosity and the bonds formed through shared experiences. The script, written by Rivera and Latailakepa, captures the innocence and excitement of two boys on an adventure. The night market setting serves as a perfect backdrop, with its bustling atmosphere and a myriad of stalls, each offering its own unique sights and sounds. The film feels like a series of mini-adventures, with each stop along the way marked by its own theme, whether it be horror, action, or something in between.

The comedic elements are well-executed, with light-hearted banter between the two leads, keeping the tone fun and engaging. Despite the fast pace of the film, there's a sense of camaraderie between the characters, making their journey through the night market feel relatable and authentic. The humour is cleverly interspersed, never overpowering the adventure aspect but adding to the overall enjoyment of the film.

Rivera and Latailakepa show a strong understanding of visual storytelling in Yeah Pare. The use of close-ups and handheld camera work during the chase scenes effectively conveys a sense of movement and urgency, drawing the audience into the boys' world. The camera work is energetic yet controlled, making the market feel like a labyrinth of endless possibilities. The film's editing is tight, with smooth transitions between scenes, helped along by the 8-bit animations that give the film a brisk, forward momentum.

While the film’s use of montages helps to build the atmosphere of the night market, there are a few moments where repeated scenes slightly detract from the film’s otherwise seamless flow. However, this is a minor issue in an otherwise well-constructed short. The use of B-roll footage adds depth to the setting, painting a vivid picture of the market's bustling environment without overwhelming the central narrative.

Sound design plays a crucial role in enhancing the arcade-inspired visuals of Yeah Pare. The soundtrack complements the 8-bit animations, evoking the familiar sounds of old-school gaming while simultaneously fitting into the lively ambience of the night market. The sound design is thoughtfully chosen, creating an immersive experience that echoes the film's playful and adventurous tone. Whether it's the hum of the market or the digital blips of the pixelated world, the soundscape adds another layer to the film’s storytelling.

Yeah Pare is a charming short film that successfully captures the essence of youthful adventure and the magic of new friendships. Through its creative use of live-action and 8-bit pixel animation, the film offers a unique visual experience that is both nostalgic and refreshing. Rivera and Latailakepa’s direction brings together a playful script, engaging performances, and strong technical elements to create a film that resonates with audiences of all ages.

Though the film is brief, its impact is lasting. Yeah Pare is not just a journey through the night markets; it’s a journey back to childhood, when every corner held a new possibility and every stranger could become a friend. For viewers looking for a light-hearted adventure with a touch of nostalgia, Yeah Pare is a delightful and heartwarming watch.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

WILBERT WIRE (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

An autistic student who is ‘othered’ attends an art class and is tasked by his teacher to create a painting about love

Wilbert Wire, directed and written by Ricky Townsend, is a charming and imaginative short film that blends elements of science fiction with family-friendly storytelling. With a runtime of 13 minutes, the film offers a delightful exploration of an autistic student's journey to understand the concept of love through a unique art assignment. Produced by Ella Waswo and co-produced by Joseph Chamsay, this short manages to captivate with its engaging premise and inventive execution.

The core of Wilbert Wire revolves around Wilbert Wire, an autistic student who finds himself at odds with his peers and the world around him. Tasked by his teacher to create a painting about love, Wilbert's attempt to comprehend and depict this complex emotion forms the crux of the film. The premise is both fun and thought-provoking, using the art class setting to explore broader themes of emotional expression and acceptance.

The film employs familiar stereotypes associated with autism—difficulty in expressing emotions, adherence to routines, and a fascination with trains—but it does so with a refreshing twist. Rather than reducing Wilbert to a mere collection of traits, the film embraces these characteristics to craft a narrative that is both endearing and insightful.

The opening scenes, featuring commercials and channel surfing, are a clever way to introduce the world of the film. These elements set up the narrative in an entertaining and engaging manner, creating a payoff that resonates throughout the film.

One of the standout aspects of Wilbert Wire is its set design and lighting. The art room, though occasionally marred by slightly shaky camerawork, is otherwise visually engaging, with a smooth tracking of the characters and their interactions. The film’s colour palette plays a significant role in establishing mood and tone. The use of a yellow gradient during the simulation scenes is particularly effective, creating a visual distinction that enhances the storytelling.

The lighting and colour choices extend to Wilbert’s home environment as well, where the warm yellows contribute to a sense of comfort and belonging. This thoughtful application of colour helps to underscore the emotional nuances of the film and highlights the contrast between Wilbert’s internal world and the external environment.

A notable highlight of the film is the simulation sequence, where Wilbert attempts to understand and enact love through mime and interpretative actions. This sequence is not only a brilliant showcase of physical storytelling but is also enhanced by a well-curated stock of sound effects and audio. The result is a dynamic and engaging “action” scene that effectively captures the complexity of Wilbert’s quest.

The sound design in Wilbert Wire is exceptional, blending seamlessly with the visual elements to create an immersive experience. The audio choices complement the film’s quirky tone and help to bring Wilbert’s imaginative simulation to life. The continued footage through the credits is a nice touch, adding an extra layer of engagement and continuity to the film.

Josiah’s portrayal of Wilbert Wire is a standout performance, bringing depth and charm to the character. Wilbert is portrayed with both humour and sensitivity, allowing the audience to connect with him on a personal level. The film includes small comedic elements that are well-placed, adding levity without detracting from the emotional core of the story.

While Wilbert Wire is a delightful and inventive short, there are areas where it could benefit from refinement. The bumpy camerawork in the art room can be distracting at times, though this is a minor issue in the context of the film’s overall charm. Additionally, while the use of stereotypes is handled with care, there is an opportunity to further deepen Wilbert’s character beyond the typical traits associated with autism.

Whimsical and heartfelt, Wilbert Wire successfully combines science fiction elements with a family-friendly narrative. Its creative approach to exploring love through the lens of an autistic student is both entertaining and thought-provoking. With standout performances, effective use of colour and sound, and a quirky, engaging storyline, the film offers a refreshing take on emotional expression and acceptance.

The film’s strong visual and auditory elements, combined with its thoughtful character portrayal, make it a memorable viewing experience. As a fun and inventive exploration of a complex theme, Wilbert Wire is a commendable addition to the world of short filmmaking, and it leaves a lasting impression through its unique approach and endearing storytelling.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

TAUREWAREWA (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

A documentary on bipolar disorder, exploring the highs and lows with a sequence of insightful kōrero framed against the backdrop of Aotearoa’s turbulent oceans.

Taurewarewa, directed by Libby Witherford-Smith, is a poignant and enlightening short documentary that delves into the complexities of bipolar disorder through the stories of three women living with the condition. With a runtime of just 13 minutes, the film provides a powerful exploration of bipolar disorder, framed against the evocative backdrop of Aotearoa’s turbulent oceans.

The documentary is structured around personal narratives, offering viewers a window into the lived experiences of its subjects. Through their stories, Taurewarewa challenges common myths and misinformation surrounding bipolar disorder. The film does an excellent job of breaking down the stigma associated with mental health conditions by presenting real-life accounts of mania, psychosis, depression, and the spectrum of bipolar disorder.

One of the film’s greatest strengths is its ability to humanize its subjects. Rather than reducing them to their diagnoses, Taurewarewa emphasizes that each person is more than their mental health condition. This approach is crucial in fostering a deeper understanding of bipolar disorder as a spectrum, with individuals requiring varying degrees of support at different times. The documentary’s focus on the nuanced and fluctuating nature of bipolar disorder provides an enlightening perspective on the challenges faced by those living with it.

The visual and symbolic elements of the film are notably effective. The recurring imagery of beaches and turbulent water serves as a powerful metaphor for the highs and lows experienced by individuals with bipolar disorder. This imagery not only ties the film together visually but also reinforces the emotional and psychological turbulence depicted in the narratives.

The use of music in the documentary acts as a supportive layer, complementing the imagery and personal stories. While it serves as good filler, it subtly enhances the emotional impact of the film without overshadowing the personal accounts.

However, while Taurewarewa excels in many areas, there are moments where the music and imagery could be better integrated to avoid any potential distractions. The film’s brief runtime also means that some aspects of the stories might feel underexplored, but this is a minor critique given the documentary’s focus on presenting a broad and insightful overview rather than an exhaustive examination.

Taurewarewa is a compelling and heartfelt documentary that successfully sheds light on bipolar disorder through personal narratives and symbolic imagery. By highlighting the individual experiences of its subjects, the film offers valuable insights into the condition while challenging societal misconceptions. It stands out as a significant contribution to the conversation about mental health, demonstrating that understanding and empathy are key to supporting those affected by bipolar disorder.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

LEMONS (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

A young wahine is given her estranged birth mother’s ashes and whilst figuring out her lost grief, has to figure out what to do with them.

Lemons, directed by India Fremaux and written and produced by Caitlin Fremaux, is an evocative short film that delves into the emotional complexities of grief and family estrangement. With an 11-minute runtime, this indie dramedy presents a powerful narrative through its subtle storytelling and poignant character interactions. Consulting Producer Angela Cudd’s contributions further enhance the film’s depth and authenticity.

The central plot of Lemons revolves around a young wahine who is confronted with her estranged birth mother’s ashes. As she grapples with her unresolved grief, she faces the daunting task of deciding what to do with them. The screenplay is masterfully crafted, employing the "show, don't tell" technique to convey emotional depth. Long periods of silence allow the audience to engage with the characters' actions and mannerisms, such as the nervous fiddling with a coffee mug or avoiding eye contact, which speaks volumes about their internal struggles.

The film’s strength lies in its ability to communicate the awkwardness and hesitancy of the protagonist’s situation without overt exposition. The subtleties of the characters' interactions, coupled with the minimalist dialogue, create a raw and authentic portrayal of personal and familial conflict.

The camera work in Lemons is both stable and deliberate, providing a clear view of the characters while allowing their emotional states to come through naturally. The use of focus and blur is particularly impressive, as it effectively highlights or obscures elements within the frame without disrupting the overall balance of the scene. This technique enhances the film's emotional impact, drawing the audience's attention to the nuances of the characters’ expressions and interactions.

Lighting in the film feels natural, with muted colours that reflect the sombre tone of the narrative. The film's visual style complements its themes, creating a subdued and contemplative atmosphere. The naturalistic lighting and muted colour palette work harmoniously to support the film’s emotional landscape.

Lemons stands out as a distinctly Kiwi film, incorporating elements of local culture that ground the story in its setting. The use of swandrys and breadbags as makeshift plastic bags adds a touch of authenticity and local flavour. Additionally, the film’s exploration of the Te Reo language and Māori tradition adds another layer of cultural richness, enriching the narrative with a sense of place and identity.

There is a minor visual distraction involving the red reflections from an offscreen TV, which alters the colour hue of the actors’ faces in a certain close-up scene. While this is a small issue, it momentarily detracts from the film’s otherwise smooth visual presentation.

The intimacy of Lemons makes it feel like a glimpse into a larger, untold story. The film's exploration of grief and reconciliation is poignant and relatable, and it leaves the audience with a sense of longing to see more of the characters' journeys. The emotional resonance and depth of the narrative suggest that there is much more to be explored beyond the film’s current length.

Lemons is a thoughtfully crafted short film that effectively combines subtle storytelling with strong cinematic techniques. Directed with sensitivity and written with keen insight into human emotion, the film offers a compelling portrayal of grief and familial connection. Its stable camerawork, naturalistic lighting, and cultural nuances create a rich and engaging viewing experience.

The film’s ability to convey deep emotions through minimal dialogue and the effective use of visual techniques underscore its strength. Despite minor distractions, such as the red colour reflections, Lemons succeeds in capturing the essence of its characters and their emotional journey. It leaves viewers with a desire for a longer exploration of the story, highlighting the filmmakers' ability to create a profound and intimate narrative within a brief runtime.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

HOLY GHOST (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

A queer relationship falls out of sync as one woman loses touch with what is real and what may or may not be coming to her from the divine. 

Holy Ghost, directed by Hannah Lynch and produced by Esaú Allemora, is a striking exploration of mental unravelling and the complexities of a queer relationship under strain. This 12-minute short film blends drama and horror with an artistic flair, leaving viewers questioning the reality of the events unfolding on screen. It’s a film that draws strength from its ambiguity and unsettling atmosphere.

One of the most notable aspects of Holy Ghost is its artistic direction. The film is split into three distinct acts, each marked by a biblical phrase that sets the tone for the events that follow. This structure lends a religious undertone to the narrative, hinting at themes of faith, morality, and divine intervention, but never offering clear answers. The viewer is left to ponder the protagonist’s experiences; spiritual, psychological, real and imagined. This ambiguity is the film's greatest strength, as it creates an intense sense of unease.

Visually, the film draws inspiration from modern horror aesthetics, reminiscent of Midsommar. There’s a creeping discomfort in the way seemingly ordinary scenes are shot. The film opens with soft lighting and serene imagery, but as the protagonist's mental state deteriorates, the tone becomes increasingly unsettling. The contrast between calm and chaos keeps the audience on edge, unsure of what will happen next.

The narrative revolves around a woman who begins to lose touch with reality after missing her medication. This triggers a rapid descent into paranoia and mania, with the line between the divine and the imagined blurring further with each passing moment. The film’s use of various narrative devices—dreams, visions, montages, and shifts between black-and-white and colour imagery—adds layers of complexity to the storytelling.

The pacing of the film accelerates as the protagonist’s grip on reality slips. A series of events unfolds, each one more extreme reaction than the last, swinging the viewer from paranoia to moments of eerie serenity. The film never allows the audience to get comfortable; just when you think you understand what’s happening, it veers in another direction. This unpredictability is central to the film’s effectiveness as a psychological horror.

While Holy Ghost does not offer a clear resolution, this lack of closure is intentional. The story thrives on its uncertainty, and it’s this uncertainty that keeps the audience engaged. You’re never quite sure what’s real, what’s imagined, or what might be the result of divine intervention. The film leaves you questioning, which is precisely where it wants you to be.

The film’s sound design is key to its unnerving atmosphere. Reverberative and dissonant music and sounds are used to great effect, amplifying the sense of unease as the protagonist’s mental state deteriorates. The soundscape is designed to unsettle the viewer, with each jarring noise heightening the tension. Combined with the film’s visual style, the sound design creates an immersive experience that pulls the audience into the protagonist’s disoriented world.

Camera positioning also plays a significant role in building tension. The film frequently adopts the protagonist’s point of view, giving the audience a direct line of sight into her perspective. This makes the film’s more disturbing moments feel even more personal and invasive as if we are witnessing the events through her eyes. The close-up shots, particularly during moments of physical discomfort, such as the gruesome nail cuticle-picking scene, add a visceral quality to the horror.

The performances in Holy Ghost are strong, with the lead actress delivering a compelling portrayal of a woman on the brink of losing control. Her gradual descent into paranoia is believable and emotionally charged, grounding the film’s more surreal elements in a relatable human experience. The dynamic between her and her partner also adds depth to the narrative, exploring the strain that mental health issues can place on a relationship.

Holy Ghost is a promising short film that blends drama and horror with an artistic sensibility. Its strength lies in its ambiguity, creating an unsettling atmosphere that keeps the audience on edge. The film’s use of visual and auditory techniques effectively conveys the protagonist’s deteriorating mental state, while the strong performances add emotional depth to the narrative.

Though the film leaves many questions unanswered, this is part of its charm. It doesn’t seek to provide clear explanations but rather to immerse the viewer in a world of uncertainty and discomfort. Holy Ghost is a haunting and thought-provoking piece that demonstrates the potential of its filmmaker, Hannah Lynch, and leaves the audience eager to see more from her in the future.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here

DETANGLING THE STIGMA (2024) [DAY ONE SHORTS]

A documentary on Jzayla and her’s (and others) relationship with her hair.

Detangling the Stigma, a short documentary directed by Jzayla Marcya and produced by Jennifer Onyeiwu, explores the deeply personal and often painful relationship that Jzayla and others have with their hair. In just under 11 minutes, the film attempts to tackle the intersection of beauty, identity, and systemic racism, focusing on how outdated principles in predominantly Caucasian societies have forced ethnic minorities to conform to a narrow and damaging standard of appearance.

From the outset, Detangling the Stigma is clear and direct in its messaging. Within the first two minutes, the audience is introduced to the core issue: a system built on uniformity, where anything outside the Eurocentric beauty standard is devalued and oppressed. The film succinctly illustrates the impact of this on generations of people, specifically those with Afro-textured hair, who have been forced to straighten or otherwise alter their hair just to conform to institutional norms. Schools and workplaces have often mandated these changes, stripping away the ability of individuals to care for and embrace their natural hair.

The documentary excels at revealing how something as seemingly simple as hair can carry such heavy social and cultural implications. By focusing on personal stories, the film humanises the issue, showing that this is not merely about aesthetics; it's about control, identity, and the long-lasting effects of racial discrimination.

The interviews are the heart of Detangling the Stigma. Emotionally strong and deeply personal, these segments allow the interviewees to share their experiences with both pain and triumph. Jzayla herself is a standout, her confidence and warmth radiating through the screen. Her smile and openness create an immediate connection with the audience, making it easy to empathise with her journey. These moments of vulnerability offer a powerful counter-narrative to the idea that natural hair is something to be hidden or ashamed of. Instead, the film presents natural hair as a source of pride and beauty.

The interview locations are thoughtfully chosen, with great attention paid to lighting and composition. The bright, warm settings mirror the positive emotions that Jzayla and the others express as they speak about embracing their natural hair. This visual warmth contrasts sharply with the cold, institutional environments that have historically demanded conformity.

One notable aspect of the documentary is its mix of current-day interviews and older home video footage. While this juxtaposition can create a sense of personal history and continuity, the drastic difference in picture quality between the two types of footage can be jarring. The grainy, lower-quality home videos stand in stark contrast to the polished interview segments, creating a visual shock that may take some viewers out of the film's otherwise cohesive flow.

Though the home videos show children happy with their natural hair, their inclusion feels somewhat out of place within the film’s broader narrative. It’s unclear what these clips are meant to add beyond reinforcing the positive emotions surrounding natural hair. Without further context or connection to the main storyline, these moments can come across as filler, rather than a meaningful addition to the documentary’s message. It might have been more effective to film additional footage of children today, maintaining a visual consistency while still capturing the joy of embracing natural hair.

Detangling the Stigma tackles a big topic for a short film, and its time constraints inevitably limit the depth it can achieve. While the film touches on the transition from straightened hair to natural Afro-style hair, this is a topic that could have been explored in greater detail. The emotional weight of this transition, and the psychological impact of reclaiming one’s natural appearance after years of conforming to societal expectations, are areas rich with potential that the film begins to explore but doesn’t have the time to fully unpack.

Despite these limitations, the documentary succeeds in its primary goal: encouraging others to embrace their natural hair. While it doesn’t attempt to tackle the systemic issues at the heart of the problem – such as institutional racism or the rigid beauty standards that persist in many parts of society – it makes an important contribution to the ongoing conversation around destigmatisation and acceptance. Simply seeing happy, smiling individuals with Afro-textured hair on screen is a step toward normalising and celebrating natural beauty in mainstream media.

Detangling the Stigma is a well-structured and impactful documentary that brings attention to a significant issue in a short amount of time. Through a mix of interviews, personal stories, and visual elements, the film effectively highlights the long-lasting effects of racism and control over something as personal as hair. While it may leave viewers wanting more in terms of depth and exploration, especially regarding the transition from straightened to natural hair, it serves as an important reminder of the power of self-acceptance and the importance of representation.

Detangling the Stigma is not just about hair; it’s about identity, pride, and reclaiming what has been lost through years of societal pressure. For Jzayla and others like her, embracing natural hair is an act of defiance, a statement of confidence, and a step toward undoing the stigma that has long surrounded Afro-textured hair. In doing so, the film contributes to a much-needed shift in the narrative, one that celebrates diversity and encourages others to do the same.

Day One Hāpai te Haeata provides rangatahi with the tools, guidance and opportunities to share stories on screen.

The entire series of the eight short films premieres at Hollywood Avondale on Tuesday 3rd September, with all films then released online the following day - and socials thereafter. 

View the shorts here