Based on the Pike River tragedy of 2010, this drama captures the profound impact of one of the worst mining disasters in New Zealand's history.
When Robert Sarkies’ Pike River opens, the audience is immediately pulled into the sombre atmosphere of New Zealand’s worst industrial disaster in living memory. The film does not overexaggerate the explosions that killed 29 men underground in November 2010. In fact, it never depicts them at all. Instead, it steps back and allows us to experience the catastrophe as the families did: with unanswered calls, rumours, and the agonising drip-feed of official updates that concealed more than they revealed. This restraint is one of the film’s greatest strengths, and it makes Pike River as emotionally bruising as it is respectful.
The narrative focus is on two women; Anna Osborne, played by Melanie Lynskey, and Sonya Rockhouse, portrayed by Robyn Malcolm. Osborne lost her husband, while Rockhouse lost her son, one of the youngest men underground that day. Their shared grief becomes the foundation of a friendship that sustains them through years of campaigning, legal battles, and shattered promises. Rather than being a wide-ranging historical account, Sarkies and writer Fiona Samuel choose to tell the story through the eyes of these two women, which brings an intimacy and focus that a more generalised approach would lack.
The decision not to dramatise the explosions is powerful. In avoiding spectacle, the film denies the audience any easy release or excitement at what is a national tragedy, and keeps them with the waiting families; standing at kitchen benches waiting for phone calls, gathered in school halls as police and politicians offer vague reassurances, or staring into the cold mist rolling off the Paparoa Ranges. The cinematography by Gin Loane captures both the grandeur and the bleakness of the West Coast setting, often framing the characters against skies heavy with rain, visually reflecting the burden of grief and uncertainty.
Performance-wise, the film is anchored by Lynskey and Malcolm. Lynskey imbues Anna with quiet determination, a strength that grows as her trust in the authorities diminishes. Malcolm’s portrayal of Sonya is more openly fierce (away from the cameras), bristling with frustration and a refusal to be silenced. Together they provide a moving portrait of resilience, and the decision of the real Osborne and Rockhouse to allow their grief to be portrayed on screen gives the performances an additional weight.
Supporting roles vary in impact. Roy Billing’s portrayal of mine chief executive Peter Whittall is unsettling, embodying the defensiveness and evasions that came to symbolise corporate negligence. He is a character it is easy to despise, though Billing avoids caricature by grounding Whittall’s responses in self-preservation rather than overt villainy. Lucy Lawless, on the other hand, feels underutilised, her presence more distracting than meaningful, given her stature in New Zealand’s screen industry.
Structurally, the film is deliberate and unhurried. At 138 minutes it demands patience, though the pacing mirrors the endless delays and empty promises endured by the families. Real news footage is woven into the narrative, together with an appearance by Jacinda Ardern as herself, which grounds the film in a sense of documentary truth. Combined with on-location filming in Greymouth, including the mine gates and memorial crosses, the authenticity is palpable.
But Pike River is not without its limitations. By centring almost entirely on two families, the story inevitably narrows its scope. It hints at broader issues, such as the decades-long erosion of industrial safety standards, the complicity of successive governments, the failures of the Department of Labour, but does not explore these fully. For viewers unfamiliar with the history, the systemic causes of the disaster are left largely unexamined placing the blame squarely on the Mine's management.
Yet what it does, it does with great conviction. The film refuses to sensationalise, instead immersing the audience in the exhaustion and rawness of families who were left in limbo. The slow release of communication, the confusion of waiting, and the crushing realisation that accountability would be endlessly deferred are portrayed with sensitivity. The emotional intensity is unrelenting, and at times the film is difficult to watch; because it should be.
The timing of the release is also significant. Fifteen years after the disaster, the legislation and regulator that emerged from its ashes—the Health and Safety at Work Act 2015 and the creation of WorkSafe—now faces being dismantled by the current government. Proposals to reduce enforcement, cut back regulation, and “streamline” oversight risks repeating the mistakes that allowed Pike River to happen. For those working in the health and safety sector, the reminder is sobering: lives were lost before change was made, and those lessons are already in danger of being forgotten.
Pike River is ultimately less about what happened inside the mine, and more about what happened after. It is about families forced to become advocates, about women who channelled their grief into a fight for justice, and about a community scarred by betrayal. It may not tell the full story, but the story it does tell is searing and important.
In the end, Sarkies has crafted a film that is haunting not because of what it shows, but because of what it withholds. By denying us spectacle, it leaves us with silence, absence, and unanswered questions; just as the families of Pike River have experienced. And that, perhaps, is the truest way to honour their story.
Pike River is being released in NZ cinemas on October 30, 2025
Find your nearest screenings here
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