TINA (2024) Written & Directed by Miki Magasiva / Cinematographer: Andrew McGeorge (2.35:1) / Design: Sam Evans & Liz Thompson-Nevitt / Editor: Luke Haigh / Composer: Sebastien Pan / Acted by: Anapela Polataivao, Antonia Robinson, Beulah Koale, Nicole Whippy, Dalip Sondhi, Jamie Irvine, and Alison Bruce / Distributor: Madman Entertainment / New Zealand / Not Rated / Length: 124 mins.
The title isn’t in deference to the lead character’s name, or any other figure in the picture, for that matter. Tinā is Samoan for "mother" and serves to emphasize the overriding importance of a maternal figure as the life’s blood of the community, raising not just their own children, but the entire village. What better job for Mareta Percival (Anapela Polataivao), a single, middle-aged grammar school teacher currently between jobs, than an unforeseen upgrade to substitute teacher/choir director at a majorly upper crust (and unprogressive) private school?
As written by newcomer Miki Magasiva, the problem with Tinā lies in an undersized exploration of the larger-than-life Mareta; as directed by Magasiva, Polataivao’s performance is all bodily presence, shorn of visual wit, snappy without much bite. Awkwardly placed jokes, a student body weaned on milquetoast, and Mareta’s PG cursing to be cute were equally uninspired touches.
Too often, old chestnuts, not in need of dusting off, pass for plot. With her unemployment running out, Mareta has to at least go through the motions of looking for work. Stop me if you’ve heard this one: after spending the day in the reception room, it’s clear that the powers that be want no part of the giant brown woman giving the staid waiting room a bad look. At the close of business day, Mareta barges headlong past the receptionist's desk into an interview room where three members of the college board look on aghast. She then proceeds to set the board back on their heels by telling them the type of person they should be interviewing and why she fits the role. In the name of moving things along, one of the three interrogators, taken by her earthy (yet adorable) spunk, convinces the school to give her a try.
Never one to be mistaken for an easy fit, on the first day of work, she finds her colleagues uniformly clad in black; Mareta shows up wearing a bright orange/pineapple Polynesian ensemble. When informed that the staff is expected to dress in a more formal way, she replies, “When I come from, this is formal.” A sartorial mood ring at heart, the worse things get for Mareta, the darker her garb turns.
A feel-good lick of a puppy-dog film, as sure as a football movie ends with a big game, Tinā climaxes in a choral competition. For reasons I won’t disclose, the prize player on the team returns to belt out a showstopper while Mareta arrives on the scene with just enough time to slip into her Samoan conductor garb. Nothing was rehearsed, but who cares? The spontaneous performance was good enough to win the competition.
With but a moment before taking to the stage, another earthquake strikes and wipes out the entire group. I’m kidding, of course, but it’s a lot more original and unexpected compared to the formulaic manner in which Tina plays out. *
TINA (2024) Written & Directed by Miki Magasiva / Cinematographer: Andrew McGeorge (2.35:1) / Design: Sam Evans & Liz Thompson-Nevitt / Editor: Luke Haigh / Composer: Sebastien Pan / Acted by: Anapela Polataivao, Antonia Robinson, Beulah Koale, Nicole Whippy, Dalip Sondhi, Jamie Irvine, and Alison Bruce / Distributor: Madman Entertainment / New Zealand / Not Rated / Length: 124 mins.
The title isn’t in deference to the lead character’s name, or any other figure in the picture, for that matter. Tinā is Samoan for "mother" and serves to emphasize the overriding importance of a maternal figure as the life’s blood of the community, raising not just their own children, but the entire village. What better job for Mareta Percival (Anapela Polataivao), a single, middle-aged grammar school teacher currently between jobs, than an unforeseen upgrade to substitute teacher/choir director at a majorly upper crust (and unprogressive) private school?
As written by newcomer Miki Magasiva, the problem with Tinā lies in an undersized exploration of the larger-than-life Mareta; as directed by Magasiva, Polataivao’s performance is all bodily presence, shorn of visual wit, snappy without much bite. Awkwardly placed jokes, a student body weaned on milquetoast, and Mareta’s PG cursing to be cute were equally uninspired touches.
Too often, old chestnuts, not in need of dusting off, pass for plot. With her unemployment running out, Mareta has to at least go through the motions of looking for work. Stop me if you’ve heard this one: after spending the day in the reception room, it’s clear that the powers that be want no part of the giant brown woman giving the staid waiting room a bad look. At the close of business day, Mareta barges headlong past the receptionist's desk into an interview room where three members of the college board look on aghast. She then proceeds to set the board back on their heels by telling them the type of person they should be interviewing and why she fits the role. In the name of moving things along, one of the three interrogators, taken by her earthy (yet adorable) spunk, convinces the school to give her a try.
Never one to be mistaken for an easy fit, on the first day of work, she finds her colleagues uniformly clad in black; Mareta shows up wearing a bright orange/pineapple Polynesian ensemble. When informed that the staff is expected to dress in a more formal way, she replies, “When I come from, this is formal.” A sartorial mood ring at heart, the worse things get for Mareta, the darker her garb turns.
A feel-good lick of a puppy-dog film, as sure as a football movie ends with a big game, Tinā climaxes in a choral competition. For reasons I won’t disclose, the prize player on the team returns to belt out a showstopper while Mareta arrives on the scene with just enough time to slip into her Samoan conductor garb. Nothing was rehearsed, but who cares? The spontaneous performance was good enough to win the competition.
With but a moment before taking to the stage, another earthquake strikes and wipes out the entire group. I’m kidding, of course, but it’s a lot more original and unexpected compared to the formulaic manner in which Tina plays out. *
Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p39afPLXALw
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