Mareta, grieving her daughter's death in the Christchurch quakes, becomes a substitute teacher at an elite school. Unexpectedly, she discovers students lacking guidance and care, prompting her to provide inspiration and support.
Miki Magasiva’s Tinā is a film that wears its heart on its sleeve. It follows a well-established formula—grief, healing, and unexpected connections—but does so with sincerity, making it a deeply moving cinematic experience. Though predictable in its structure, it is a film that resonates, offering a poignant look at loss, cultural identity, and the power of community.
At the centre of Tinā is Mareta Percival, played by Anapela Polataivao in a stunningly heartfelt performance. Mareta is a woman struggling to rebuild her life following the tragic loss of her daughter in the Christchurch earthquakes. In an attempt to regain a sense of purpose, she takes on a temporary teaching position at an elite private school, where she crosses paths with Sophie (Antonia Robinson), a student dealing with personal struggles of her own.
The relationship between Mareta and Sophie is at the film’s emotional core, and their dynamic unfolds in a way that is both touching and familiar. Mareta’s affection for Sophie suggests she sees in her a reflection of the daughter she lost. This is solidified in a moment of crisis, where Mareta offers Sophie a keepsake from her late child. While this storyline risks falling into well-worn tropes—where a character of colour’s narrative supports a white protagonist’s journey—the film remains grounded by its strong performances and genuine emotional depth.
One of Tinā’s greatest strengths is its portrayal of Samoan culture. While the film doesn’t entirely centre the Pacific Islander experience in a way that redefines the genre, it does offer a warm introduction to Samoan traditions, language, and values. The dialogue naturally moves between English and Samoan, immersing audiences in a bilingual experience that adds authenticity. Some Samoan phrases are left untranslated, allowing Pacific Islander viewers to feel an added layer of recognition and connection.
The cinematography deserves praise, with beautifully composed shots that capture both the warmth of Samoan community gatherings and the stark contrasts of Mareta’s world in an elite New Zealand school. The film’s use of music is another highlight. The formation of a school choir not only brings Mareta and Sophie closer but also serves as a metaphor for collective healing. Music is a universal language, and here, it becomes a tool for resilience and transformation.
For all its emotional impact, Tinā does little to surprise. The narrative unfolds exactly as one might expect, with few deviations from the standard arc of a grief-driven redemption story. The racial and class prejudices depicted in the film feel familiar, and while they are handled sensitively, they don’t necessarily offer fresh insights.
That said, the film’s predictability does not lessen its emotional power. There is something inherently comforting about a story that delivers exactly what it promises—one that tugs at the heartstrings, elicits tears, and ultimately offers hope.
Much of the film’s success can be attributed to Polataivao’s performance. She carries the film with grace, exuding warmth and wisdom, making Mareta feel like a real, lived-in character. Antonia Robinson also delivers a compelling performance, and their on-screen chemistry is genuine. The supporting cast, while sometimes bordering on caricature, helps maintain a balance between the film’s heavier themes and its moments of levity.
The title Tinā holds significant meaning in Samoan culture, representing a mother figure, a respected elder who nurtures and guides others. Mareta embodies this role not only for Sophie but for the entire school choir, offering them support and wisdom as they navigate their own struggles. The film gently addresses cultural stigmas around emotional expression in Samoan communities, highlighting the importance of openness and support in the healing process.
While Tinā may not reinvent the genre, it is a deeply affecting film that succeeds in what it sets out to do—deliver an uplifting, heartfelt story about grief, healing, and the strength found in community. It ticks all the boxes, and sometimes, that’s exactly what’s needed.
Tinā will be released in NZ cinemas from February 27, 2025