1. Aōtearoa’s Patched Folk Devils:
Moral Panic, Māori Gangs and Media
Ngarangi Haerewa
A dissertation submitted in partial fulfilment for the degree of Bachelor of Arts with
Honours in Film and Media Studies at the University of Otago, Dunedin, New Zealand
October 9th
2015

3. i
Abstract
This dissertation explores representations of Māori gangs through James Napier Robertson’s
film, The Dark Horse (2014). This thesis shall explore the history of Māori gangs in
Aōtearoa-New Zealand as well as a history of media representations. Stanley Cohen’s ‘Folk
Devils & Moral Panic: the Creation of the Mods and Rockers’ will be used to explore how
media representations demonize problem groups as inherently and perpetually criminal
through a mobilization of race as opposed to social conditions of urbanization and cultural
disconnect. I shall argue that this history of media representation has contributed to the
denigration of Māori within what I have termed the Māori gang film. Using a post-colonial
approach, I will collate a series of recurrent motifs which often feature within this genre to
explore how these stereotype Māori gangs as problem groups. Ultimately, while The Dark
Horse attempts to challenge these stereotypes, it cannot fully resolve the moral panic
constructed by this genre and history of media oppression. As such, Māori gangs are used to
nominate Māori at large as Aōtearoa-New Zealand’s perpetual folk devils.

4. ii
Acknowledgments
To my family who have been a constant source of encouragement and inspiration, I thank you
for your everlasting love and devotion. Thank you to my parents who have supported me
emotionally and financially through years enduring Dunedin’s scathing winters. I would also
like to acknowledge my cousin Rob Ruha, who has been a well of knowledge on all things
Māori and has never shied away from my irritating questions over the years. I thank also my
supervisors Michael Bourke and Vijay Devadas. I thank Michael who helped nurture my
ideas from the beginning and believed in my ability to carry them right through to fulfilment.
I thank Vijay, the so-called “James Brown” of the MFCO department. Your depth of
knowledge has been invaluable and your belief in me has stirred up a new-found passion for
academia. As a mentor, I could ask for none better. I would also like to thank Holly Randell-
Moon, Catherine Fowler and Davinia Thornley. Your classes have enlightened me in a way
that each has contributed to my thesis in more ways than one. I thank you all for your
stimulating teachings and exciting new theories to unpack weekly. Many thanks also to the
MFCO department at large for making me feel part of the academic environment. Not once
have I felt out of place and the strong communal ties of this department have truly
impassioned my learning throughout this long and arduous year. To my fellow Honours
students who have shared this journey with me throughout. Your ‘bubbly’ personalities have
been soothing at times when stress was overwhelming. Your ‘sparkling’ charismas have
gladdened me when I was often seeing ‘red’. I am grateful for the way in which we supported
and empowered one another in times of crisis. It was never a ‘bring your own’ mentality. For
this, I am truly thankful for all your support. Finally, to the little piece inside of me that has
slowly weltered away as my research has gone by. While at times this work has been soul-
crushing, I am glad to have lost what I will not mourn, because in many ways I have grown
immensely from this experience.
Ngā mihi nui ki a kōutou kātoa

5. iii
Contents
Abstract........................................................................................................................................................... i
Acknowledgments.......................................................................................................................................... ii
Table of Figures............................................................................................................................................ iv
Introduction ...................................................................................................................................................1
Chapter One...................................................................................................................................................3
Cycles of ‘Perpetuality’ - Hinga mai he toa, aramai he toa .......................................................................3
A History of New Zealand Gangs - Ngā hītōria mō ngā kēnge o Aōtearoa ...............................................3
Gangs as Social Deviance - Ngā Kēnge hai waka whakatumatuma-ā-iwi..................................................5
Moral Panic & Folk Devils - Te Hanga-kakama me Ngā Hanariki............................................................6
The First Folk-Devil: The Mongrel Mob - Ngā Hanariki Tuatahi: Te Māpu Manguru .............................6
The Second Folk-Devil: The Black Power - Ngā Hanariki Tuarua: Te Mangu Kaha .............................11
Moral Panic and the Folk-Devil in Contemporary Media - Ngā Hangarau Hanariki me ngā Pūrongo
o te wā.......................................................................................................................................................13
Moral Panic and the ‘Media Inventory’ - Te Hanga-kakama me ngā Taputapu Pūrongo........................14
Chapter Two ................................................................................................................................................18
The Māori Gang Film - Te Kiriata Kēnge Māori......................................................................................18
Māori Masculinity: The Barbaric - Te Tamatāne Māori: Te Taikaha ......................................................18
The Unintelligible - Te Ware ....................................................................................................................19
The Hypermasculine - Te Tamatāne-rukiruki...........................................................................................21
Spaces for Masculinity: The Pub - Te Pa-tamatāne: Te Pāpara-kāuta ....................................................22
The Troublesome Domestic Sphere - Te Ao-taruaitū ...............................................................................23
The Rural-Urban Binary - Ngā Takiruatanga a Te Noho-taone-Noho-tuawhenua ..................................24
The Reconciliatory Rural - Ngā Whakatatūtanga Noho-tuawhenua.........................................................26
The Neoliberalist Falsity - Ngā Tai-whakaronarona................................................................................27
Chapter Three..............................................................................................................................................31
The Dark Horse: Challenging the Māori Gang Film - Te Wero Kiriata Kēnge Māori .............................31
‘Depatching’ the Hypermasculine - Tūrakina te tohu-kēnge a te Tamatāne-rukiruki ..............................32
‘Upskilling’ the Unintelligible - Te Whai-mātauranga a Te Ware ...........................................................34
Chess: Challenging the Black and White of Gang Politics - Whaikīngi: Te wero ki te āhuatanga o nga kēnge
..................................................................................................................................................................34
Travelling back to the Rural - Whakahokia ki te Noho-tuawhenua ..........................................................35
Colonizing the Colonizer - Te Muru Taumanu .........................................................................................37
The Halfway Gang Pad - Te Awhenga......................................................................................................38
Image Sovereignty - Mana-ā-waihanga ...................................................................................................39
Conclusion....................................................................................................................................................41
Bibliography..................................................................................................................................................44

6. iv
Table of Figures
Figure 1 – ‘Bodgies’ and ‘Widgies’ in 1950’s Auckland (Newbold & Taonui, 2014)____ 4
Figure 2 – Mongrel Mob Hastings Chapter President, Rex Timu (Time Magazine, 2007) 6
Figure 3 – Image from controversial Mongrel Mob exhibition by Jono Rotman _______ 8
Figure 4 – Image of Black Power social gathering (Gangscene, 2009) _____________ 11
Figure 5 – Black Power patches incorporating Black Power symbology (Shrader, 2013)11
Figure 7 – Images of house fire in 3 News report ______________________________ 13
Figure 8 – Image of Mongrel Mob members juxtaposed with the house fire in 3 News report
_____________________________________________________________________ 13
Figure 11 – Mongrel Mob members perform Mob Haka in the Marae TV ___________ 16
Figure 9 – Mongrel Mob members performing a traditional ‘hongi’ in the Marae TV piece
_____________________________________________________________________ 16
Figure 10 – Rehabilition centre practices traditional ‘mau rakau’ or martial arts in the
Marae TV piece ________________________________________________________ 16
Figure 12 – Performing a haka in the closing sequence of Boy____________________ 19
Figure 13 – Exploiting the rural for crime in Boy ______________________________ 20
Figure 14 – The picturesque rural as reconciliatory in Boy ______________________ 20
Figure 15 – Jake bashing Uncle Bullie in OWW _______________________________ 21
Figure 16 – Gang brawl at the pub in Boy____________________________________ 21
Figure 17 – The Pub in OWW as, ‘happy-go-lucky’ ____________________________ 22
Figure 18 – The Pub in OWW as musical ____________________________________ 22
Figure 19 – The Pub in Crooked Earth as, ‘whimsy’____________________________ 23
Figure 20 – Jake beating Beth in the ‘troublesome domestic sphere’ _______________ 24
Figure 21 – The traditional marae situated in the rural in OWW __________________ 26
Figure 22 - Boy performing his Whaikoreroro (speech) in Boy ___________________ 27
Figure 23 - Grace finishing a story in OWW __________________________________ 28
Figure 27 - The Eastern Knights practicing in the urban marae in TDH ____________ 36
Figure 28 - The Eastern Knights practicing in a tin shed in TDH__________________ 36
Figure 26 - Māori chess pieces in The Dark Horse _____________________________ 37

7. 1
Introduction
This thesis seeks to address the issue of Māori gangs and their construction within Aōtearoa-
New Zealand (ANZ) film and media practices1
. I argue that New Zealand media and film
outlets persist with typified and myopic representations of Māori gangs as perpetual problem
groups. In considering contemporary representations of Māori gangs in New Zealand, this
thesis will construct the argument that these very representations continue to oppress not only
Māori gangs but likewise, Māori at large. While I set up a mediascape which unfairly
problematizes Māori gangs, I will also analyse James Napier Robertson’s 2014 New Zealand
feature film The Dark Horse. This film I suggest, is the quintessential Māori gang film which
challenges our common understanding of Māori gangs as menacing and criminal. In adhering
to strictly myopic constructions of Māori gangs, ANZ media unfairly favours a colonial
discourse of Māori as ANZ’s perpetual folk-devils despite our ‘supposed’ bicultural ethos.
Chapter 1 illustrates a history of gangs in New Zealand by tracing this history from the youth
culture influences of the 50’s, through to the 60’s and to present day. In tracing the genesis of
these gangs, Chapter 1 will explore why Māori joined gangs and what social, economic,
cultural and historical factors lead to such a large uptake of Māori. Furthermore, I shall
briefly explore the distinctive ethos of both respective gangs so that the reader can appreciate
how the menacing reputation of gangs influences their media reception.
Using Stanley Cohen’s work on ‘Folk Devils & Moral Panic: the Creation of the Mods and
Rockers’, this chapter will examine ANZ’s media construction of a moral panic. Through
their broadcasting of biased journalistic articles, I will explore how these texts reinforce the
moral panic around Māori gangs. Thus, I will evaluate how these articles sway our
understandings of Māori gangs as society’s perpetual folk-devils. Cohen’s work will be used
throughout my thesis as the main tool of critique.
After considering the contemporary mediascape, I will then construct my own understanding
of what is a Māori gang film in Chapter 2. Through an exploration of films: Once Were
Warriors, Crooked Earth, What Becomes of the Broken Hearted and Boy, I will endeavour to
construct a Māori gang film ‘genre’. While I understand this is not a comprehensive list of
1
In the thesis title ‘Aōtearoa’s Leather-Clad Folk-Devils: Moral Panic, Māori Gangs and Media’, media refers
to media platforms generally: from film, television, newspapers etc.

8. 2
New Zealand films which feature gang content, due to the limits of this thesis I have selected
films which feature gangs and Māori content. In analysing this corpus, I will identify the
recurrent motifs and tropes of the Māori gang film.
Finally in Chapter 3, I will conduct a textual analysis for my chosen text, The Dark Horse
(TDH). In considering this a Māori gang film, I will take what I have argued in Chapter 2 as a
template and compare this to my chosen film. Through this comparative analysis, I will
identify which of the recurrent motifs of the Māori gang film can be seen in TDH. Not only
will this provide an opportunity to problematize the notion of a moral panic, it will further
illustrate which of the recurrent motifs TDH challenges. In rejecting some of the stereotypical
constructions of Māori gang films, TDH nominates itself as revolutionary when considering
the representations of Māori gangs on film. This chapter will therefore explore how this film
challenges the myopic constructions of Māori gangs and how it deconstructs the moral panic
which upholds Māori as perpetual folk-devils.
Ultimately through a consideration of Barry Barclay’s and Merata Mita’s work on image
sovereignty, the significance of works like The Dark Horse is that it begins to diversify
stereotypical representations of Māori as inherently menacing and criminal. In reclaiming
‘our own image’, the film refutes the colonial discourse upheld by the moral panic and
reinscribes ANZ’s bicultural ethos, with a more balance image of Māori.

9. 3
Chapter One
Cycles of ‘Perpetuality’ - Hinga mai he toa, aramai he toa
This chapter will explore the emergence of Māori gangs in New Zealand in relation to the
broader socio-cultural contexts that led to the formation of gangs in New Zealand. Māori
gang’s exhibit marked differences to their non-Māori counterparts both here and abroad,
subjected to the 60’s ‘urban drift’, cultural alienation and colonial emancipation via the Maori
Renaissance of the 70’s. The significance of this is to illustrate the historical and social
context in which Māori gangs function. It is important to recognize that Māori gangs do not
operate strictly within a contextual vacuum but instead, have risen and continue to function
within a culture of oppression. This chapter will also use the work of Stanley Cohen’s ‘Folk
Devils & Moral Panic: the Creation of the Mods and Rockers’ to explore the construction of
the Māori gang and by extension, the construction of Māori as ‘folk devils’. It will also
explore the construction of a moral panic surrounding Māori gangs within contemporary New
Zealand media; identifying two news articles as the main case studies. The first will be a
mainstream 3 News article which employs Cohen’s ‘Media Inventory’ to further perpetuate
the moral panic. Contrastingly, the opposing article from a Māori-centric Marae TV will
explore the ideal of ‘image sovereignty’ in relation to their ‘balanced’ portrayal of Māori
gangs. This chapter therefore contextualizes a history of media oppression in regards to
Māori gangs.
A History of New Zealand Gangs - Ngā hītōria mō ngā kēnge o Aōtearoa
Firstly, this chapter will give a brief synopsis of the genesis of New Zealand gangs. Similar to
exploring other counter cultural movements, tracing the origins of gangs in New Zealand is
problematic due to their clandestine nature. Jarrod Gilbert suggests that social factors and the
50’s cultural climate inevitably led to the rise of gangs around New Zealand. According to
Gilbert in his book ‘Patched: A History of Gangs in New Zealand’, New Zealand gang
activity was heavily influenced by the ‘rock ‘n’ roll’ movement of the 1950’s (Gilbert, 2013).
Likewise, the emergence of the ‘teenager’ in the 50’s is also a significant feature of the rise in
New Zealand gangs (Gilbert, 2013). With American pop-culture role models such as James
Dean and Elvis Presley, the so called ‘milk-bar cowboys’ came into existence. Other youth
culture groups including the ‘bodgies’ and ‘widgies’ also became prominent within New
Zealand’s street-gangs. Bodgies refers to the style of dress adopted by youth groups who
“typically wore tight jeans and their hair plastered down with Vaseline or Brylcreem”,
Widgie’s were their female counterparts (Newbold & Taonui, 2014). The ‘bodgies-widgies’
phenomenon occurred post World War II both here and across the Tasman in Australia. As

10. 4
Keith Moore outlines in his paper ‘Bodgies, widgies and moral panic in Australia 1955–
1959’,
In the latter half of the 1950s, concerns that Australia’s teenagers, and especially working-
class teenagers, were becoming delinquent reached a crescendo. Law-abiding citizens
observed with concern bodgies and widgies congregating in milk bars and on street corners.
Violence and sexual licence were their hallmarks, they believed, with alarmist and
sensationalist media reports having established and fuelled these understandings. (Moore,
2004, p. 7)
Simultaneously, New Zealand youths took up the pop culture fad like their Australian
counterparts: “After rock ‘n’ roll commenced in the US around 1954, bodgies and their
female counterparts, widgies, appeared on the New Zealand scene” (Newbold & Taonui,
2014). Similar to their trans-tasman equivalents, New Zealand’s ‘bodgie’ and ‘widgie’ groups
were proving equally if not more problematic for the then government. As a New Zealand
Parliament research paper outlines,
Later concern arose in the 1950s with youth groups called ‘widgies’ and ‘bodgies’ and ‘milk-
bar cowboys’. In 1954 the Special Committee on Moral Delinquency in Children and
Adolescents reported that problems with youth stemmed largely from a decline of traditional
moral values and changing patterns of sexual practice. (Bellamy, 2009)
Thus, with its connotations to
delinquency, violence and
sexual deviance, the ‘bodgie-
widgie’ youth groups became
the ultimate pre-cursor to
rebellious sub-cultures and
New Zealand’s first gangs.
Continuing in the vein of the
American pop culture
influence, the notorious Hells
Angels motorcycle gang
becomes prominent in the rise
of New Zealand gangs. At the end of the Second World War, U.S returned soldiers, armed
with a full pay-packet and no job opportunities bought motorcycles and traversed the
American highways (Gilbert, 2013). Thus, the Hells Angels were born. The Hells Angels
Auckland Chapter is largely recognised as the first established New Zealand gang in 1961
(Gilbert, 2013). This is due to one significant feature that differentiated them from the
Figure 1 – ‘Bodgies’ and ‘Widgies’ in 1950’s Auckland (Newbold & Taonui,
2014)

11. 5
teenage ‘bodgies’ and ‘widgies’ of the 50’s. The Hells Angels’ denominations of rank in a
vice-president and sergeant in arms set them apart (Gilbert, 2013). Likewise, they are the first
noted gang in New Zealand to have taken up a gang patch (Newbold & Taonui, 2014). It is
for these reasons that The Hells Angels are largely recognised as the first established gang in
New Zealand.
Gangs as Social Deviance - Ngā Kēnge hai waka whakatumatuma-ā-iwi
Yet, it is not simply a matter of pop-culture influences that lead to the rise of gangs. In his
article, ‘Understanding social control: deviance, crime, and social order’, Martin Innes (2003)
points to capitalist ideologies which oppress marginalized groups. He argues “that cultures
often teach people to value material success. Just as often, however societies do not provide
enough legitimate opportunities to everyone to succeed” (Innes, 2003, p. 152). The capitalist
system therefore, values symbols of success that only few are able to obtain. The remaining
population are constrained by their limitations and can only adapt in four ways according to
Merton’s ‘strain theory’. Innes cites Merton’s ‘strain theory’ stating that social deviants may
either,
…drop out of conventional society (“retreatism”); they may reject the goals of conventional
society but continue to follow its rules (“ritualism”); they may protest against convention and
support alternative values (“rebellion”); or they may find alternative and illegitimate means of
achieving their society’s goals (“innovation”), that is, they may become criminals. (Innes,
2003, p. 153)
This particular case study of American deviance provides insight into the social ostracism of
ethnic groups at large. What is most significant are Merton’s ideas of ‘rebellion’ and
‘innovation’ that support the poor urbanites feelings of ‘dead-ended-ness’. As is noted, “The
American Dream of material success starkly contradicts the lack of opportunity to poor
youths” (Innes, 2003, p. 152). Here are the social factors which place African-Americans in
opposition to the neoliberalist ideal that ‘through hard work and perseverance, you can
achieve anything’. Comparatively, it draws attention to the reality of,
The low class standing of African Americans [and the] means [by which] they experience
twice the unemployment rate of whites, three times the rate of child poverty, and more than
three times the rate of single motherhood. All these factors are associated with high crime
rates. (Innes, 2003, p. 148).
What becomes obvious within the American context is that cycles of poverty and
unemployment act as pre-cursors to lives of crime and deviance. Speaking on the correlation
between the American and New Zealand context, Robbie Shilliam cites Angelique Statsny in
‘The Polynesian Panthers and the Black Power Gang: surviving racism and colonialism in Aotearoa

12. 6
New Zealand’ stating, “like the blacks in America, they [the black power] will stand outside
society and aggress against it” (Shilliam, 2012, p. 4). Gangs then are a manifestation of a
system that has failed them, who employ modes of ‘rebellion’ and ‘innovation’ as ways of
reacting to an already constraining society.
Moral Panic & Folk Devils - Te Hanga-kakama me Ngā Hanariki
I mention this correlation between criminality and poverty as a means of introducing Cohen’s
work ‘Deviance and Moral Panics’ from his book ‘Folk Devils & Moral Panic…’. This
focuses on the construction of problem groups as deviants via a mediated moral panic. He
opens his book stating,
Societies appear to be subject, every now and then, to periods of moral panic. A condition,
episode, person or group of persons emerges to become defined as a threat to societal values
and interests; its nature is presented in a stylized and stereotypical fashion by the mass media.
(Cohen, 1972, p. 9)
Emerging youth culture groups, the Teddy Boys and the Hells Angels became the ‘Folk
Devils’ of conservative United Kingdom in the 60’s (Cohen, 1972). The moral panic
therefore, constructs those in opposition to mainstream society as societies ‘folk-devils’. This
brings us to a significant turning point when considering Māori gangs. Having been subjected
to both the pop culture influences of the 50’s and submitted to capitalist denigration like their
African-American counterparts; ‘The Mongrel Mob’ and rivals ‘The Black Power’ came to
formation. I will now shift focus to the formation of these two particular groups largely due
to the fact that they are predominantly Māori (Gilbert, 2013). As such, I will investigate the
origins of these respective gangs to further articulate the impact of the gangs driving ethos’
and how it is utilized in the mediated moral panic of Māori as ‘folk-devils’.
The First Folk-Devil: The Mongrel Mob - Ngā Hanariki
Tuatahi: Te Māpu Manguru
Citing the dearth of literature surrounding gang formation,
Gilbert claims the origins of the Mongrel Mob are largely
supported by internal legends, albeit contradictory
versions (Gilbert, 2013). One refers to an instance where
a group of youths are called to court where they are
denounced as ‘mongrels’ by the Hastings Magistrate’s
Court. Gilbert (2013) notes, “it is the belief of many
authors and indeed Mongrel mob members themselves that
the pejorative label appealed to the youths who adopted it
Figure 2 – Mongrel Mob Hastings Chapter
President, Rex Timu (Time Magazine,
2007)

13. 7
as their gang name” (Gilbert, 2013, p. 38). One of the original members Gary Gerbes instead
credits the New Zealand police for inspiring their name. He states:
It [the court case incident in Hastings] probably did [happen], but it happened in Wellington
first and it was from the CIB it used to be in them days. You know as far as I can remember
back, they [the police] just used to think we were a pack of mongrels [and would call us that].
(Gilbert, 2013, p. 40)
The ambivalence seen here very much carries through to the internal structure of the
Mongrels in the early 60’s. Despite ambivalence over its origins, what is more significant are
the ways in which the Mongrels built their reputation2
. As Gary Gerbes explains to Jarrod
Gilbert:
We would fight them [people wanting to join the gang] ourselves and see what they could do,
or else we would send them in against terrible odds, wait a while, and then go in and smash
them [the opposition]. It was all about muscle. We hated bikers and the only other gangs were
the Hells Angels, no n****** [Black Power], no nothing. We just developed utter strength.
We built strength. Our other hate was boat people [seamen] overseas ships. And we
specialised in going out and wiping pubs out. About eight of us. Tough cunts. And we
established such a strong name. If anyone said anything wrong about the Mongrels I would
just smash them. (Gilbert, 2013, p. 40)
Such acts of violence were not only giving members a sense of identity but likewise an order
of signification. In line with Barthes’ interpretation of Ferdinand de Sassure’s semiotics, a
‘myth-ic’ second order of signification allowed the public to read red-clad individuals in line
with social deviance, crime, public disorder and mongrelism (O'Shaughnessy & Stadler,
2008). Mongrelism became directly synonymous with the gang, and as Gilbert (2013) states,
“petty acts of misbehaviour began to define the self-image and actions of its members, which
became more extreme” (Gilbert, 2013, p. 40). Thus, the Mongrel Mob stood for extreme acts
of ‘mongrelism’ made to shock and awe. This has several ramifications for the portrayal of
Māori. In acting out modes of aggression via public brawls and the like, mongrel behaviour is
likened to Māori behaviour. As Bidois states in ‘A genealogy of cultural politics, identity and
resentment: Reframing the Māori-Pākeha binary’,
…it could be argued that such polarizing politics provoke responses of fear, anger, resentment
and, at times, violence. This type of approach has created a political and cultural landscape
that is seen as non-inclusive and racist by some, and is arguably counter-productive to the
greater cause of indigenous rights and aspirations of Māori. (Bidois, 2013, p. 144).
2
When referencing the ‘Mob’ or ‘Mobsters’, this thesis refers to the Mongrel Mob, not the notorious Mafia
syndicate

14. 8
As such, Māori are perpetually constructed as ‘folk-devils’ who threaten the fabric of New
Zealand society.
To become a Mongrel was to embrace the inherent sub-culture of being a public menace.
Again this becomes consequential as it has negative bearings for Māori. Māori are nominated
as deviants simply by association. Consider this from Devadas (2008) who investigates the
media portrayal of Tame-iti (a renowned Māori activist) who was implicated in the national
terror raids on the 15th
of October, 2007. Devadas (2008) states, “Iti is used to stand in for the
discourse of terror as part of larger cultural practice of visualizing identity, and testifies to the
power of visual culture in the politics of reproducing notions of race, terror and criminality”
(2008, p. 7) . This model of visualized identity can also be applied to gang culture. Consider
this from an original Mongrel who recounts to Gilbert and also appears on Sky Television
UK in the television series Ross Kemp on Gangs,
…him [original member] and another member of the gang drinking at the Provincial Hotel in
Napier, when a female associate made a snide insult about the group. In retaliation, Gerbes
grabbed her legs and held her up by her ankles, ripping her underwear off with his teeth. After
discovering she was menstruating, he pulled her tampon out with his mouth and shook his
head smearing blood over his face. The other Mongrel then licked the blood off his face and
then both tore at the tampon and ate it. (Gilbert, 2013, p. 41)
Much like Tame-iti who stands in as a figure of terror, Māori gangsters as figures of sexual
deviancy and social disorder stand in for Māori at large. Subsequently, these images reinforce
the colonial discourse which re-imagine Māori as deviants.
The greatest implication for Māori is when Pākeha
‘imagine’ the Mongrel Mob and ‘mongrelism’, they
automatically attribute antisocial behaviour to Māori.
What the Mongrel Mob provides is a ready stereotype of
anti-social behaviour or ‘mongrelism’ that feeds both
mainstream media, and public imaginations. More
pressing is this disavowal of the social mistreatment of
gang members by state funded government institutions
including adoption houses. As Gary Gerbes adds,
A lot of those guys [early Mongrels] went through the same
place – Levin Training Centre and Epuni Boy’s Home... It was
pretty sad and pretty demoralising – there was sexual abuse by
the people that ran the place [and] absolutely shocking violence. I was just a kid and I ran away once.
I was made to stand on a square at strict attention and talk to myself. If I stopped saying “legs, legs
Figure 3 – Image from controversial
Mongrel Mob exhibition by Jono Rotman

15. 9
why did you run away” I would be beaten and thrown in a shed – locked in a shed... Those places
destroyed our fuckin’ heads, man [So we said] fuck the system. If that was the way they were going to
treat us, then we will treat them the same way. We were going to give them what they gave us – and
[via the Mongrel Mob] they got it all right. (Gilbert, 2013, p. 42)
This is what Cohen would note as ‘secondary deviation’ which “occurs when the individual
employs his deviance, or a role based upon it, as a means of defence, attack or adjustment to
the problems created by the societal reaction to it. The societal reaction is thus conceived as
the ‘effective’ rather than ‘original’ cause of deviance” (Cohen, 1972, p. 14). Gerbe’s
retrospective statement exemplifies the lack of self-reflexivity that the institution takes to
their treatment of deviants. Consequently, social mistreatment and other urban factors as
common threads of criminality are traded in place of simplistic media linkages to race.
Relative to the surge of New Zealand gang membership and the context by which members
take up gangs, Payne points out in his book ‘Staunch: Inside New Zealand’s gangs’,
It’s a complex issue and there’s a lot of oversimplification in terms of statements in that area.
I don’t believe the gang structure in New Zealand is racist at all, that is not the way to look at
it. It is caused by a socioeconomic situation. It has to do with the current values and trends,
the problems of our society. It has to with the enormous changes that are occurring in society.
It has to do with the inability of some groups and individuals in society to cope with that
change, groups who are going to be left behind. Gangs, and the people in them, are casualties
of society, that’s the truth of it. We must understand that and develop an infrastructure to
ensure that they are not casualties. We must minimise the risk so they can play a full part in
society. (1991, p. 115).
This lack of self-reflexivity on the part of the institution upholds the moral panic. Through
disregarding societies treatment of gangs and gang members own suffering, the New Zealand
mediascape frequently label gangs as perpetual folk-devils and extends this label to Māori at
large.
It is not simply a series of social factors which re-occur cyclically that draw Māori to gangs.
The movements of Māori to gangs must be contextualised within New Zealand’s own history
and perhaps an appropriate starting point is 6th
February 1840. This day marked the ‘formal’
assimilation of The British Crown and the Maori Chieftains of Aotearoa in what saw the
signing of The Treaty of Waitangi and the forging of a nation — what we now know as New
Zealand (Hokowhitu & Devadas, 2013). Here marks the forging of the civilised, uncivilised
binary, where the Crown are the civilised and Māori the uncivilised. More significantly, is the
rate at which Māori were assimilated into colonial discourse and not vice versa. In Brendan
Hokowhitu and Vijay Devadas’ Introduction to their book, ‘The Fourth Eye: Maori Media in
Aotearoa New Zealand’ they note, “In New Zealand, the official narrative of Indigenous
urbanization is quite well known. Prior to World War II, 90 percent of Māori were rural.”

16. 10
(2013, p. xxi). Contrastingly, the urban environment belongs to the modern colonial settlers.
However, Māori would soon become contemporary urbanites, trading the idyllic rural in
favour of the cities,
Māori and Pākeha societies essentially lived and worked in separately located communities
until the Māori urban migration after the Second World War... this urban migration was
stimulated by the situation for Māori in the Depression years of the 1930s. Māori were often
the first to lose work, and were paid lower unemployment benefits than Pākeha... In 1956,
nearly two thirds of Māori lived in rural areas; by 2006 84.4 percent of Māori lived in urban
areas. (Hokowhitu & Devadas, 2013, p. xxii)
Thus, the urban drift of the 60s paved way for a sudden shift in Māori spatial identities.
Despite the Crown’s desires of assimilation, the distancing of Māori from their typically rural
settlements had a contrasting effect. The urban space of the 1970’s provided Māori with new
subjectivities and a “politically informed academic metropolitan culture, leading to what
became popularized as a process of ‘conscientization’ and, later, ‘decolonisation’”
(Hokowhitu & Devadas, 2013, p. xxiii). This sudden shift to political activism introduced
Māori to organisations with a particular focus on colonial emancipation. Such activists
formed groups such as the “Māori Organisation on Human Rights (MOOHR), Waitangi
Action Committee (WAC), He Tauā (literally “a war party”), Māori People’s Liberation
Movement of New Zealand, and Black Women: ‘The political ethos of the groups was based
on the liberation struggle against racism, sexism, capitalism, and government oppression’”
(Hokowhitu & Devadas, 2013, p. xxiii). What is obvious here is a culture that marginalizes
Māori, where changing geographical identities represent a cultural disassociation with
ancestral homelands or turangawaewae (Ka'ai, et al., 2004). Much like African-Americans
responding to the capitalist system and their symbols of success, Māori gangs emerged in
light of increased urbanization, capitalism and cultural oppression. What sets the formation of
Māori gangs apart is the direct response to colonialism. As Shilliam (2012) states, “I consider
the Maori gang phenomena to be fundamentally political because even if the gangs did not
consciously ascribe to e.g. a 10 point political plan, their very existence is testament to a
basic collective survival strategy against the genocidal effects of urbanization and
assimilation policies” (Shilliam, 2012, p. 7). The political activism of the 70’s Māori Cultural
Movement responds to a biculturalism that supposedly captures Māori and Pākeha harmony
but does not reflect this reality.

17. 11
The Second Folk-Devil: The Black Power - Ngā Hanariki Tuarua: Te Mangu Kaha
This influence of political
initiatives can be seen within
the Black Power’s own
structure. In contrast to the
Mongrel Mob, rivals the Black
Power gang boast a differing
central mantra. Unlike the
Mongrel Mob’s driving ethos
of ‘mongrelism’, the Black
Power adopted indigenous
sovereignty as their driving
mantra. Whilst initially apolitical and enacting stereotypical gang notions of alcoholism and
public disorder, the Black Power began adopting emancipatory ideologies via the Black Civil
Rights movements seen in the States (Gilbert, 2013). Black Power member Bill Maung states
to Payne,
We got the name Black Power through guys like Martin Luther King and Malcom X in the
60s. Rei was a young fella growing up and seeing all this civil rights stuff in the media. And
as a young, maturing man he related to that and adopted the name from the Black Power
movement in America. (1991, p. 122)
Unlike the Mongrel Mob, the Black Power provides a stark contrast, advocating self-
empowerment and emancipation from oppressive government and judicial forces. Inherent in
Black Power symbolism is the
incorporation of the clenched fist within
the gang patch, referencing the recurring
motif of the Black Power movement.
Continuing with themes of self-
empowerment, the Black Power began
incorporating significant leaders who
could further their ethos of emancipation.
Denis O’Reilly was a Pākeha man from
Timaru who had a stint in seminary
training before moving to Wellington and
becoming an activist,
Figure 4 – Image of Black Power social gathering (Gangscene, 2009)
Figure 5 – Black Power patches incorporating Black Power
symbology (Shrader, 2013)

18. 12
An intelligent and quick-thinking man with a strong social conscience, O’Reilly sympathised
with the plight of urban Māori ... O’Reilly saw Black Power as a modern urban tribe that
could be a vehicle for positive social change in the lives of its members. (Gilbert, 2013, p. 63)
Likewise, Bill Maung, a Buddhist who had previously been a magistrate in colonial Burma
joined the cause. After being forced to flee his homeland, “he saw Black Power as a voice of
the frustration felt by the Māori community and felt compelled to help them. He set about
becoming a mentor and advisor to the group” (Gilbert, 2013, p. 63). What this best
exemplifies is the complexity of gangs. In the case of the Black Power who were initially
apolitical and antisocial in the stereotypical gangster sense (Gilbert, 2013), they began
enacting their own political ethos. This is embodied within their group symbology which
incorporates elements of the Black Power Movement in America. Likewise, a conscious
effort was made to include activists and those with professional backgrounds to lead the gang
into a more political direction. Payne (1991) again asserts, “Black Power are a very definite
example of a group of people who, through education, training, organisation and leadership,
changed their image” (1991, p. 133). Likewise, Gilbert concedes that, “this early positive
direction certainly shaped Black Power in significant ways, but the gang nevertheless
struggled to rein in many of its antisocial elements” (2013, p. 64). Thus, despite a consensus
to move toward a cause of empowerment, the gang nonetheless was met with resistance from
its own members.
What the Mongrel Mob-Black Power binary provides is a platform for confrontation3
, not
between each other but media producers. While the ‘mongrelism’ ethos that drives the
Mongrel Mob is representative of their gang mantra, it is projected to encapsulate the
character of Māori. At its heart are themes of disestablishment which occur as a result of a
system that is forever failing them. Similarly, it provides a self-reflexive platform to confront
the media who attempt to substitute race as a figure for criminality and deviance where social
factors are the primary cause. The political movements attempted by the Black Power are
omitted by media producers who construct them as nothing more than antisocial thugs and
criminals. Cohen cites Becker in his work stating,
…deviance is created by society. I do not mean this in the way that it is ordinarily understood,
in which the causes of deviance are located in the social situation of the deviant or in ‘social
factors’ which prompt his action...The deviant is on to whom the label has successfully been
applied; deviant behaviour is behaviour that people so label. (1972, p. 13)
3
It should be noted that the conflict between the two gangs is infamous for their public displays of aggression,
often resulting in near death encounters

19. 13
In the instance of Black Power, media texts substitute political motives and leave only
incriminating connotations to these groups. Ultimately, the media producers refuse to accept
these groups as ‘complex’ and essentializes them as societies perpetual ‘folk-devils’.
Moral Panic and the Folk-Devil in Contemporary Media - Ngā Hangarau Hanariki me ngā Pūrongo o
te wā
This mode of essentialism becomes
prominent within contemporary media,
where news producers attempt to do the
same. Few media stories present the internal
complexity surrounding gang politics which
involves their own political ethos and
personal and social mistreatment. Take for
example a 2009 3 News piece on the
notorious Mongrel Mob. The story heavily implicates the Mongrel Mob in an arson attack on
a rival gang. Despite the affirmation of one gang member who confessed to the reporter that
the gang has given up a life of lawlessness, the report continues to implicate them. Coupled
with several shots of the fire, juxtaposed with images of the Mongrel Mob the piece
nominates the Mongrel Mob as the main perpetrators. As the reporter states, “the Mob have
vowed to change their criminal ways, just yesterday returning an arsenal of firearms to the
police” (Glass, 2008). Yet this point is not explored any further. It is simply disregarded as
the report continues its ‘demonization’ of the
Mongrel Mob. While we cannot contest the
legitimacy of the Mongrel Mob’s innocence,
I believe greater concern should be directed
toward the reporter’s affixation with the
Mongrel Mob as the main suspects.
Consider this report in its temporal context
of 2009 New Zealand, where gang-related
articles litter media headlines. One NZ Herald article published in May 2009 entitled, ‘New
Law bans gang patches in public’ outlines measures taken by the Whanganui District Council
to ban gang insignia and patches in the central city (Gower, 2009) . A similar article
published by the Wanganui Chronicle in November of the same year reads, ‘Palmy and
Whakatane eye gang patch bans’ (Wanganui Chronicle, 2009). This article expresses an
Figure 6 – Images of house fire in 3 News report
Figure 7 – Image of Mongrel Mob members juxtaposed with
the house fire in 3 News report

20. 14
interest by both the Palmerston North and Whakatane District Council to implement the
Whanganui District Council (Prohibition of Gang Insignia) Bill approved by national
parliament on the 9th of May of the same year (New Zealand Parliament, 2009). Thus, the 3
News report draws on the established moral panic mediated by reports of gang insignia. The
report exemplifies a similar case study of Hall et al’s ‘Policing the Crisis: Mugging, the State,
and Law and Order’. This work critically investigates the ‘panic’ constructed by the media
around the 70’s crisis of mugging in Britain. I believe Hall and his colleagues would argue
that the New Zealand media of 2009 are acting from a similar position in constructing an
equally problematic ‘panic’. They state,
The mass media are not the only, but they are among the most powerful, forces in the shaping
of public consciousness about topical and controversial issues… The signification of events,
in ways which reproduce the interpretations of them favoured by those in power, therefore
takes places – as in other branches of the state and its general spheres of operation – through
the formal ‘separation of powers’; in communications field, it is mediated by the protocols of
balance, objectivity and impartiality. (Hall, et al., 1978, p. 220)
Therefore, the media’s obsession with gang criminality reflects 70’s Britain, publishing a
plethora of articles to further the crisis and moral panic. The greatest dilemma that the
saturation of gang articles provides is again the ‘image’. As Payne quite pertinently outlines,
Image is all about perception in societies such as ours, and I would certainly like to think that
other gangs, such as the Mongrel Mob which has, justifiably so, a dreadful image – could use
the Black Power as a role model for improvement. (Payne, 1991, p. 130)
Payne’s comments outline how the moral panic works to problematize gangs through image
construction. Further, it outlines the significant role of the media in constructing these images
and upholding gangs as perpetual folk-devils.
Moral Panic and the ‘Media Inventory’ - Te Hanga-kakama me ngā Taputapu Pūrongo
The implication of the 3 News report is even more significant when situated in light of
Cohen’s notion of the ‘Inventory’. Cohen’s media inventory is a tool for recognising and
breaking down media articles which uphold the moral panic through specific features. These
features include the following, “(i) Exaggeration and Distortion; (ii) Prediction; (iii)
Symbolization” (1972, p. 31). What the ‘media inventory’ provides is a model to analyse the
construction of news articles and the means by which they implicate deviant groups through a
series of elaborated drama. Put simply, “inventories in modern society, are elements of
fantasy, selective misperception and the deliberate creation of news. The inventory is not
reflective stock taking but manufactured news” (Cohen, 1972, p. 44). For Cohen, “The major
type of distortion in the inventory lay in exaggerating grossly the seriousness of the events in

21. 15
terms of criteria” (1972, p. 32). An element of this exaggeration relevant to this study is the
reliance on unconfirmed rumours as reliable sources (Cohen, 1972). Through the juxtaposing
of images of the fire and the mongrel mob the reporter continues with, “Witnesses say a large
group of mongrel mob members arrived just minutes after the fire began” (Glass, 2008).
Cohen also places an emphasis on the element of ‘Prediction’. He states, “This is the implicit
assumption, present in virtually every report, that what had happened was inevitably going to
happen again” (Cohen, 1972, p. 38). The notion that this crime is not a one off event is re-
affirmed in the 3 News article as the reporter states: “Nevertheless they [the mongrel mob]
were clearly on heightened-alert when 3 News visited, raising fears gang tensions in the city
are on the rise” (Glass, 2008). Finally, the article completes the media inventory in its use of
the ‘symbolization’ element. As Cohen points out,
There appear to be three processes in such symbolization: a word (Mod) becomes symbolic of
a certain status (delinquent or deviant); objects (hairstyle, clothing) symbolize the word; the
objects themselves become symbolic of the status (and the emotions attached to the status).
(Cohen, 1972, p. 40)
Thus, the word gang symbolizes the status of deviance and more significantly, crime. As well
as gang patches, traditional facial tattoos that are Māori in origin instead symbolize the word
gang where they are traditionally rooted in Tikanga Māori or Māori cultural lore. Finally, the
object of the gang patch symbolize the status and the emotions attached to it, which are often
fear and intimidation.
The cumulative effect of the inventory can be summarized as,
…all the elements in the situation had been made clear enough to allow for full-scale
demonology and hagiology to develop; the information had been made available for placing
[the Mods and Rockers] in the gallery of contemporary folk devils. (Cohen, 1972, p. 44)
There is no further exploration of the Mongrel Mob’s new law-abiding direction (however
legitimate it may be) as mentioned earlier in the 3 News report. Instead, there is an affixation
on re-affirming old stereotypes of Mobsters as inherently and perpetually criminal. Again I
must re-iterate that I am not interested in the legitimacy of the Mongrel Mob’s claim of
innocence. I am more interested in the affixation of the reporter on manufacturing a
correlation between gangs and crime. Her recourse to Cohen’s media ‘inventory’ is nothing
more than a means of upholding the moral panic surrounding gangs. The articles readiness to
symbolically and implicitly nominate Māori gang members via its obvious demonology, only
furthers the notion of Māori as societies ‘folk-devils’, where gangs stand in for Māori as
criminals.

22. 16
In contrast, consider a piece by Marae TV, a Māori-oriented subsidiary of Television One (a
mainstream New Zealand television company). Here, a reporter attends a Mongrel Mob
rehabilitation centre for gang members who have become addicted to methamphetamine.
What the reporter uncovers is the return to
Tikanga Māori as a form of reconciliation.
The reporter details the intimate
attachments of members to their gang.
What the gang provides for its members is a
surrogate family, or whanau. One member
responds, “we use to be patch first, now we
are whanau first” (Tumoana, 2012).
Another gang member states to a crowd, “I
want to get educated in addiction treatment,
counselling, so one day I can work on this,
or other programs for my people, The
Mighty Mongrel Mob” (Tumoana, 2012).
Thus, the former ethos of ‘mongrelism’ is
disregarded in place of more Māori-centric
values of whanau (family) and kotahitanga
(unity). In this sense, the individual places
the wider community at the forefront,
where formerly they were disregarded in
favour of public disorder and anti-social
behaviour. Unlike the 3 News report which
openly invites the reader to judge the
Mongrel Mob as criminals and deviants,
the central theme of the Marae TV report is
one of reform, providing alternatives to a
life of addiction and deviance exemplified in the title, ‘Breaking the Cycle’. It is almost as if
Marae TV is attempting to re-legitimate Māori gangs. Some might argue that these gangs still
predominantly endorse crime, however, they are not simply criminals. As is exemplified in
this instance, internal gang politics are severely complex, and to essentialize these gangs as
inherently criminal is unjust.
Figure 9 – Mongrel Mob members performing a traditional
‘hongi’ in the Marae TV piece
Figure 10 – Rehabilition centre practices traditional ‘mau
rakau’ or martial arts in the Marae TV piece
Figure 8 – Mongrel Mob members perform Mob Haka in the
Marae TV

23. 17
Māori gangs are not a social phenomenon that have suddenly appeared within a contextual
vacuum. On the contrary, they have been impacted by a series of socio-cultural factors which
constitutes ANZ’s history. The ‘bodgies-widgies’ fad of the 50’s was in and of itself the
preeminent pre-cursor to a culture of rebellion and New Zealand gangs. The 60’s ‘urban drift’
that saw Māori rapidly migrate from their traditionally rural homelands to urban centres saw
issues of cultural alienation, where Māori became socially ostracized in what were
dominantly Pākeha centres, claiming to be bicultural. As a response to such polarizing
politics, urban Māori responded within the Maori Renaissance of the 70’s which saw political
movements toward Māori sovereignty. Māori gangs the Mongrel Mob and the Black Power,
began to shape their own respective ethos in response to this culture of oppression. The Black
Power boasted emancipatory ideologies in the form of gang insignia as well as the inclusion
of significant political leaders within their leadership. Contrastingly, the Mongrel Mob
simply condemn society’s oppression and reprise their own social mistreatment through
modes of public aggression, sexual deviance and menace. It is these ideologies which New
Zealand media have continued to perpetuate throughout their history of representing Māori
gangs. Like Britain’s 70’s ‘mugging’ phenomenon, New Zealand media have too utilized this
model to construct a moral panic, identifying Māori as inherent ‘folk-devils’. However,
within a culture of oppression there are some media producers who attempt to rectify the
moral panic, challenging the ‘folk-devilry’ by exploring cycles of poverty and cultural
disassociation.
In the case of Māori gangs, it is not simply Māori gangsters who are the losers, it is Māori at
large. As Corrin Columpar (2007) notes, “it is often said that history is written by the victors.
It might also be said that history is forgotten by the victors. They can afford to forget, while
the losers are unable to accept what happened and condemned to brood over it, relive it, and
reflect how different it might have been” (p. 466). History and media discourse back Māori
into a corner which is seemingly impossible to contest. Māori are forced into action, either
they simply lament or respond to media and social oppression. In pursuing this, Māori
recognise that they are contributing a more balanced interpretation of biculturalism through a
diverse Māori media image. In the next chapter I will examine the ways in which New
Zealand films have represented Māori gangs and develop the genre of the Māori gang film. I
do this to underscore the reductive construction of Māori gangs before engaging with The
Dark Horse in Chapter 3, which challenges some of the stereotypical motifs of the Maori
gang film.

24. 18
Chapter Two
The Māori Gang Film - Te Kiriata Kēnge Māori
Having considered the contextualization of Māori gangs in New Zealand, I will now move
toward a critical review of significant N.Z films to illustrate how the reductive media
depictions of Māori gangs continue in N.Z cinema. This chapter will illustrate some of the
recurrent motifs seen within filmic constructions of Māori. I will also unpack Māori
masculinity from the unintelligible, primitive ‘Other’, and the often criticized
hypermasculine. Likewise, I will investigate the spaces in which these identities appear. In
constructing an urban-rural binary, this chapter will argue that certain modes of Māori
identity operate within the ‘troublesome’ domestic sphere and the local pub or, what I call
‘arenas of alcoholism’. These ‘arenas of alcoholism’ re-appear in what I term the hybrid gang
pad, which acts as another space for masculinities to function. The films that shall be
investigated within this chapter are Lee Tamahori’s Once Were Warriors (1994) (OWW), Ian
Mune’s What Becomes of the Broken Hearted (1999) (WBOTBH), Sam Pilsburry’s Crooked
Earth (2004) and Taika Waititi’s Boy (2010). I have chosen these films as they feature
considerable gang imagery and explore significant themes both in line and in opposition to
the film, The Dark Horse (TDH), which I will unpack in Chapter 3. By the conclusion of this
chapter, the reader shall be able to more clearly recognise some of the common tropes of a
Māori gang film as a genre of its own4
. The chapter shall illustrate the re-presentation of the
myopic Māori media image and explore the lack of diversity in representing Māori gangs
and by extension Māori, as perpetual ‘folk-devils’.
Māori Masculinity: The Barbaric - Te Tamatāne Māori: Te Taikaha
The notion of Māori masculinity is heavily debated when considering their representations in
contemporary N.Z cinema. One of the most common depictions of Māori masculinity
engages images of violence, primitiveness and barbarism. Hokowhitu makes note of this
Māori ‘Other’ under the colonial discourse as barbaric, inferior or childlike (Hokowhitu,
2004). Waititi’s Boy is laden with common illustrations of Māori barbarism and primitivism.
Waititi’s closing homage to Michael Jackson’s Thriller intermingles local pop culture
including the popular Poi-E as well as the iconic haka, which reproduces the colonial
discourse in its representations of Māori as barbaric and primitive. As Hokowhitu notes, the
colonial discourse depicted Māori as primitive and barbaric through prevalent depictions of
4
Due to the limitations of this dissertation, this will not be an exhaustive list of recurrent tropes scene in the
Māori gang genre

25. 19
Tāmoko (tattoo) and Haka (Hokowhitu, 2012). Similarly, Jo Smith cites Linda Tuhiwai Smith
in her article stating,
In decolonizing methodologies (1999) Linda Tuhiwai Smith argues that anthropological
accounts of the warrior race of New Zealand focused on practices such as the haka and
cannibalism to produce a collective colonialist imaginary of Māori as the primitive other
(Smith, 2012, p. 3).
This closing sequence exceeds its comical
intent and perpetuates the Māori masculine
as the primitive and barbaric ‘Other’
through the colonial construction of the
‘noble savage’. Melanie Wall in her article
‘Stereotypical Constructions of the Māori
‘Race’ in the Media’ draws on this universal
discourse of colonialism as one which
inherently oppresses indigenous bodies. She states, in relation to Māori’s Native American
counterparts,
Jackson (1992) profiles the similar experience of the American Indians who while initially
conceived of as primitive, were also considered industrious and amiable. With the arrival of
the colonisers en masse, however, they were conversely portrayed as uncivilisable, inhumane,
and savage with an ‘inbred desire for bloodshed’. (Wall, 1997, p. 41)
Such stereotypes facilitate ideological sovereignty over the ‘Other’ (Wall, 1997) and
nominates Māori as inherently inferior via a colonial moral panic. While the primitive ‘other’
construction becomes denigrating and oppressive for Māori, through its mobilization via
colonial discourse it remains a recurrent motif within Māori gang films including Once Were
Warriors and Crooked Earth.
The Unintelligible - Te Ware
Hokowhitu also makes note of the unintelligible Māori masculine that is so often perpetuated
within N.Z film. He explains the stereotyping behind the Māori masculine as the physical
manual labourer, who do not occupy intelligible income positions and academic roles. In an
examination of Te Aute College (Mori Boys’ School), Hokowhitu explains how the then
government openly discouraged intellectual pursuits and heavily advocated for agricultural
subjects: “Māori boys could be taught agriculture, market gardening, stock farming, poultry
keeping and bacon curing” (Hokowhitu, 2004, p. 268). This is evident in Waititi’s Boy as the
Figure 11 – Performing a haka in the closing sequence of Boy

26. 20
natural setting seen in the text places the Māori masculine within their typified workspace. In
Boy, Alamein, Rocky and Boy are wandering around a maze paddock. This scene goes
further with its implication of Māori as agriculturalists. When we realise they are not there to
procure corn, it becomes apparent they have ventured into the paddock to uproot a crop of
marijuana. This scene suggests that when
Māori cannot uphold their typified
positions as labourers they will exploit
their natural advantages as agriculturalists,
to pursue a life of crime.
This construction of Māori men as self-
deprecating only perpetuates Māori as
incapable of occupying an intelligible
position in society. Hokowhitu further this
lack of intelligent Māori which he argues
finds recourse in colonial discourse,
perpetuated within postcolonial N.Z. He
states, “accordingly, Maori were [and
continue to be] represented as an
intellectually inferior race” (2004, p. 266).
In one particular sequence, Boy imagines
his father as a deep sea diver, captain of the rugby team, master carver and holds the record
for knocking out the most people with one hand. Notice there is no fantasy around his father
occupying intelligible roles as a lawyer or doctor. I believe this ‘disneyfies’ the Māori
masculine condition in commodifying the menial and unintelligible; a character figure more
easily grasped as opposed to an intellectual one. Drawing on Moreton-Robinson’s theory of
whiteness as epistemological a priori, this intellectual inferiority complex becomes
naturalized. Whiteness as a priori not only positions itself as a superior subject position, it
simultaneously ‘others’ the indigenous as abnormal primitive, backward, unscrupulous,
untrustworthy and savage (Moreton-Robinson, 2004). As such, where the colonial discourse
positions itself as rational through an epistemological a priori, Māori can only occupy its
binary opposite as irrational bodies. Hence, the construction of Māori as unintelligible is
achieved through their depiction as ‘Black’ (as in not colonial whiteness) which signifies
Figure 12 – Exploiting the rural for crime in Boy
Figure 13 – The picturesque rural as reconciliatory in Boy

27. 21
educational low achievers (Wall, 1997). Thus, the unintelligible Māori is naturalized and
recurring within Māori gang films.
The Hypermasculine - Te Tamatāne-rukiruki
Even more than the unintelligible masculine is OWW’ focus on the violent hypermasculine.
OWW is noted for its harsh critique of domestic violence in New Zealand where “Māori men
are constantly represented as rapists, as wife beaters, as child abusers and as gang members”
(Hokowhitu, 2012, p. 54). The film
constantly depicts archetypal antagonist
Jake ‘the muss’ (Temuera Morrison) as
violent and evokes notions of the Māori
masculine as inherently ‘warrior like’.
Hokowhitu affirms this stating, “important
New Zealand films with significant Māori
content such as Utu, Once Were Warriors,
What becomes of the Broken Hearted, and
Crooked Earth recast the physically
violent savage” (2004, p. 263). This can
be seen in OWW when Jake beats and
bashes Uncle Bullie (Cliff Curtis) in a
horrific scene of bloodied anguish. This
occurs in Boy when Alamein’s (Waititi’s)
Crazy Horses Gang, represents the
prominence of Māori gangs and the savagery associated with them. As Wall again affirms,
Black has come to represent a masculinised notion of social deviance, whether it is sexual or
criminal. The latter is particularly predominant in popular imaginations of Blackness and is
rooted in the supposedly bestial primitivism of the uncivilisable Black warrior/savage. (Wall,
1997, p. 42)
Thus, Wall’s notion of ‘Black-ness’ contributes to the violent imaginings of the
hypermasculine upholding the moral panic and its connotations to gangs as savages.
One scene which exemplifies this savagery features in Waititi’s Boy. Alamein takes his gang
to the pub where they encounter an opposing gang. Here they are brought into direct conflict
in a Michael Jackson inspired show down. Although the overt glamorization dampens the
social commentary to an extent, the prominence and danger of gangs in Māori communities is
Figure 15 – Gang brawl at the pub in Boy
Figure 14 – Jake bashing Uncle Bullie in OWW

28. 22
evident when the scene cuts to a bloodied Alamein after the fight. Prior to the pub showdown
scene, Dynasty (Moerangi Tihore), daughter to the leader of the opposing gang, is captured in
frame with a blackened and bruised eye. Thus, the text implicitly negotiates the notion of the
Māori masculine as an unruly violent entity. Jo Smith retorts likening Alamein to socio-
pathic father figure Jake Heke in OWW, “Boy, in its own gentle way, delivers an indictment
as powerful as that launched earlier in respect to urban Maori in Lee Tamahori’s Once Were
Warriors” (Smith, 2012, p. 6). Where OWW is explicit with its depictions of violence,
Waititi’s implicit suggestions solidify a universal theme of Māori as inherently violent and
society’s folk-devils.
Spaces for Masculinity: The Pub - Te Pa-tamatāne: Te Pāpara-kāuta
The pub therefore is a significant space for the expression of Māori masculinity. In all of the
films explored in this chapter, the pub or ‘arenas of alcoholism’ is used as the space which
settles the Māori man’s grievance. The pub becomes another significant space for Māori
masculinity to be fully realised and expressed. As is explored in Wells et al’s article ‘Not Just
the Booze Talking: Trait Aggression and Hypermasculinity Distinguish Perpetrators from
Victims of Male Barroom Aggression’,
Of particular interest in the present paper is the idea that bars tend to attract certain types of
individuals who are more likely to engage in aggression, such as heavy drinkers and people
with a proclivity for aggression. (Wells, et al., 2011, p. 614)
The pub acts as the space where “young
men who endorse traditional masculine
norms affirm their masculinity by
engaging in violent behaviour” (Wells, et
al., 2011, p. 614). Not only does the pub or
‘arenas of alcoholism’ become domains
for the Māori hypermasculine, it also
provides a space for the ‘happy-go-lucky’,
musical masculine. In OWW the pub
becomes a scene for violent revolt as well
as an arena for music. So too does alcohol
provide an outlet for musical whimsy in
the Heke’s urban abode as Jake and Beth
sing their combined rendition of The
Nature of Love. Crooked Earth also
Figure 16 – The Pub in OWW as, ‘happy-go-lucky’
Figure 17 – The Pub in OWW as musical

29. 23
engages with ‘arenas of alcoholism’ as spaces which cater to both violence and whimsy.
Feuding brother’s Kahu (Lawrence Makaore) and Will Bastion (Temuera Morisson) join arm
in arm, singing Māori folksongs, while also settling heated verbal debates between police and
kaumatua (elders) alike. WBOTBH features this motif as well, where the gang pad acts as
hybrid nightclub and domestic dwelling. The pub or ‘arenas of alcoholism’ as a recurrent
motif affirm old stereotypes of Māori who are subject to the drink and who can only realise
all dimensions of their masculinity within the pub.
The Troublesome Domestic Sphere - Te Ao-taruaitū
Having discussed the pub as a space for fully realising masculinity, I would also like to
confront the issue of the troublesome “domestic space”. This space allows for two significant
practices to take place: (a) to investigate the violent politics of gender and race and (b) to set
up the significant rural-urban binary which will be unpacked later. I would like to draw
attention to the element of violence that the
film engages with. Scholars such as
Columpar address this stating,
First, it raised awareness around the issue of
domestic violence, sparking a national
dialogue on what has come to be known as
“the warrior problem” and encouraging both
men and women to enlist the services of
hotlines and counselling centres in order to
address their roles in abusive situations. (2007,
p. 463).
It is important then to address some of the more unruly scenes of domestic violence to better
grasp the troublesome domestic space. One of the most striking scenes of violence within the
film is when Beth (Rena Owen) is brutally beaten by Jake after an altercation at their house
party. As Columpar states,
Prior to [the beating Jake gives Beth], the film seemed to be arguing that the difficulties
facing the Heke family – unemployment, depression, imprisonment, alcoholism, and
interfamily violence – arose from the past and represent discrimination, but now Once Were
Warriors tempts viewers to read the Heke’s troubles as springing from the incontestable
differences between bad men and good women. Surreptitiously, a symptom of colonialist
oppression becomes the origin of modern-day Maori misery. (2007, p. 465)
Figure 18 – The Pub in Crooked Earth as, ‘whimsy’

30. 24
As within our common conceptions of
violence, violence within the domestic sphere
becomes a common trope within the Māori
gang film.
The unruly, unstable nuclear family plagued
by social hardships is another recurrent motif.
The sequence in which Jake confesses that he
has been “laid off” exemplifies this.
Likewise, the opening scene which captures the idyllic natural backdrop of N.Z, where a lake
merges seamlessly with a range of snow-topped mountains is also significant. The scene is
suddenly punctuated with the juxtaposition of a derelict industrial space, revealing the
stunning natural backdrop as a facade. This scene symbolises the driving mantra of the film
being, ‘things aren’t always as good as they seem’. Deborah Walker Morrison in ‘A Place to
Stand: Land and Water in Māori Film’ also emphasises this juxtaposition stating,
The film opens with a seven second static shot of an idyllic rural landscape: pasture lands,
framed by snow-topped mountains, reflected in a calm, blue lake… however, this is no
pastoral paradise beside a screaming motorway and neighbouring suburban slum…
Tamahori’s clearly establishes the cruel contrast between the tourist myth… and the ugly
realities of urban life for working-class Māori. (2014, p. 27)
Furthermore, the scene in which Jake unloads a heap of cash on Beth exemplifies Jake’s
gambling addiction. Jake reassures Beth claiming, “Horses babe... Honest” (Once Were
Warriors, 1994), as if we were lead to believe he procured the money in some other
incriminating manner. Here, Jake is the incapable domestic entity or father figure. His
unemployment exemplifies a wider discourse of Māori as incapable urbanites. The symbolic
opening sequence, coupled with Jake’s unemployment and penchant for gambling solidifies
not only the violent domestic space but moreover, the unruly nuclear family which dwells
within the troublesome domestic sphere as a common motif within Māori gang film.
The Rural-Urban Binary - Ngā Takiruatanga a Te Noho-taone-Noho-tuawhenua
In addition to the troublesome domestic space the film illustrates, it also constructs a
significant rural-urban binary. Within Western discourse are the allusions of affluence and
thrift that the post-industrial urban space provides. As Short notes in ‘Imagined Country:
Environment, Culture and Society’, “The city is a metaphor for social change, an icon of the
present at the edge of the transformation of the past into the future. Attitudes about the city
reflect attitudes about the future” (Short, 1991, p. 41). In contrast, the rural represents
Figure 19 – Jake beating Beth in the ‘troublesome domestic
sphere’

31. 25
backwardness and stagnation. Johnson refutes this notion in ‘The Countryside Triumphant:
Jefferson's Ideal of Rural Superiority in Modern Superhero Mythology’ and instead insists
that this binary stands to problematize the city space as opposed to the rural within
‘Jeffersonian’ era America. Therefore, the city can only attempt to mimic the thrift and
affluence that belongs to the rural space (Johnson, 2010). The favouring of the rural
nominates itself as a wholesome place where rustic values mould ethical citizens. This can
also be seen within an English context. In ‘Representing the Rural’, Andrew Higson argues
that the rural also occupies a certain wholesomeness. He says, “the first tradition is the
contemporary realist drama set in an industrial city for whose inhabitants the country is a
place of temporary refuge, the fleeting fulfilment of a wish to escape the city and all its
problems” (2006, p. 242). Hence, in English representations on film, the rural provides a
reconciliatory function to the incivilities of the city. I have explored both the American and
English context so that I may propose that the rural in the Māori gang film performs an
identical function. Much like the American ‘Jeffersonian’ perspective which emphasises the
rural as wholesome and the English which attends to rural as escapist, N.Z film also deploys
the rural as wholesome and reconciliatory space, while the urban represents vice and
incivility.
What this challenge to rural and urban identities provides is a platform to confront the spatial
identity politics occurring in OWW. By mobilizing rurality as wholesome, OWW suggests
Māori within the urban are deviant. This is the dominant narrative of the film. Violent
protagonist Jake ‘the muss’ Heke ironically, provides an insightful critique of the rural as
‘wholesomeness’. He states in reference to the ancestral marae or cultural complex (Ka'ai, et
al., 2004), “fucking Maori’s who think they’re better than the rest of us, I hate them, bastards
living in the fucking past” (Once Were Warriors, 1994). Certainly, an argument could be
made that OWW mobilizes an outdated industrial economy portrayal of the urban space as
being riddled with crime. Nonetheless, the depiction of the urban in OWW is situated within a
space for crime and vice to thrive. This is also the recurrent motif seen in the sequel
WBOTBH.

32. 26
The Reconciliatory Rural - Ngā Whakatatūtanga Noho-tuawhenua
In nominating the urban as the cause for the strife the family suffers, OWW simultaneously
nominates the rural space as the means of reconciling the families’ misfortunes. As Martens
states in ‘Māori on the Silver Screen’, the film “depict[s] Maori culture as a dynamic and
transformative force … Maori community, in whatever form provides orientation and
steadiness in times of crisis” (Martens, 2012, p. 11). What this represents is a return to
Tikanga Māori as a means of reconciliation. As Beth states in her closing monologue: “Our
people once were warriors. But not like you Jake, they were people with mana; pride. People
with spirit” (Once Were Warriors, 1994). Beth’s statement adopts Māori notions of authority
or mana, as well as spirit or wairua. In doing so, the film makes obvious the resolution of
their urban dilemmas through Māoridom. After Jake’s brutal bashing of villainous Uncle
Bullie, Huata Heke asks his mother Beth, “Where are we going mum?” She responds, “We’re
going home” (Once Were Warriors, 1994). Seemingly destined for the marae, Beth’s
ambiguous closing statement invites the reader to conclude for themselves as to where home
is. It would seem, given Beth’s return to
cultural customs such as mana and
wairua that they are returning to the
marae. Martens draws attention to this
point stating,
The first part of the film shows how Jake’s
pursuit of male mateship annihilates Beth’s
pursuit of familial ideal. Jake’s violent
outbursts greatly unsettle the lives of the
other family members. In the second part,
however, Beth gains the strength to overcome Jake’s abuse and to restore her
household to a productive state. She ultimately resolves the conflict through a return
to the traditional marae, leaving Jake behind defeated in front of his local pub.
(Martens, 2012, p. 11)
Toon Van Meijl states the importance of culture as a means of reconciliation, “The promotion
of traditional Māori culture is accordingly claimed to be the solution to improving the socio-
economic situation of the Māori” (Meijl, 2006, p. 130). This provides a conflicting dilemma.
Where in a contemporary society the urban space represents affluence and progression, this
trope suggests Māori can only thrive within the rural sphere functioning under traditional
values, incapable of being modern.
To continue with the notion of reconciliation via culture, it is interesting to note Jake’s role in
WBOTBH. With no family, no job and an empty home, he begins to realise his ineptness.
Figure 20 – The traditional marae situated in the rural in OWW

33. 27
Jake meets Māori brothers Kohi (Anaru Grant) and Gary Douglas (Warwick Morehu) who
are both successful within urban and rural spaces. They are successful construction workers
and learned in traditional values of pig hunting and exemplify the ideal that Māori are able to
negotiate dual spatial identities. Jake sees this and takes it upon himself to remedy his own
ineptness through securing a steady job and also reconciling his Tikanga Māori through pig
hunting. The pig hunting scene acknowledges Jake’s seemingly long journey of
reconciliation: when they are chasing after the pig, Jake is left in the wake of the brothers,
who flow effortlessly under ferns, vines and the rugged bush. When Jake is confronted head
on with the pig he is left dumbfounded, unsure of what to do and is, in the end, saved by the
brothers who shoot the pig before it is able to get at Jake. This particular example, manifested
in the Douglas brothers and Jake’s own journey contradicts the ideal that Māori cannot thrive
in a post-industrial society under traditional values. Quite on the contrary, Māori can
successfully negotiate dual identities between the progressive urban and traditional rural.
While the Douglas brothers momentarily challenge the ideal of reconciliation only being
achieved through the rural, the reconciling of archetypal hypermasculine Jake represents a
nuance ideal that Māori can be modern.
The Neoliberalist Falsity - Ngā Tai-whakaronarona
Another important issue that
problematizes representations of Māori
is the notion of ‘potential’ seen in
Waititi’s Boy. Smith suggests that the
film places heavy importance on
“storytelling, fantasy and the notion of
potential in relation to the three main
boys” (Smith, 2012, p. 8). The issue
remains that Māori are unable to utilize
their potential and self-nominates as lazy and lethargic. During the encounter between Boy
and Mr. Langston (Craig Hall), Mr. Langston credits Boy with having a lot of potential, just
like his father. The opening sequence of the film establishes Boy’s obvious potential as a
kaiwhaikorero (orator); however the rest of the film questions the character and whether he is
able to realise his potential. OWW’s Grace signifies potential with the written word. The
audience realises her potential in storytelling when she escapes her troubled domestic
dwelling to confide in her drug-addicted confidant Tu. Cornelis Renes states that, “Grace [is],
Figure 21 - Boy performing his Whaikoreroro (speech) in Boy

34. 28
the Heke’s 13 year-old- daughter, [who] represents the novel’s crushed seed of hope and this
awareness amongst the family members becomes the catalyst for structural change” (Renes,
2011, p. 93). Protagonist Will Bastion becomes Crooked Earth’s seed of hope as he, by the
right of tuakana (eldest born), possesses the authority to negotiate a forestry deal with the
government for the people of Ngati
Kaipuku. In WBOTBH Nig’s
girlfriend exhibits an obvious
musical talent, stunning a music store
as they revere in her stirring vocal
rendition of Renee Geyer’s, It Only
Happens.
Perhaps what is the most troubling
space which hinders the potential of
Māori within this corpus of films is the hybrid gang pad. I reference the hybrid gang pad as
that which encapsulates dual characteristics. As Doreen Massey notes in, “Concepts of space
and power in theory and in political practice’,
Space is a complexity of networks, links, exchanges, connections, from the intimate level of
our daily lives (think of spatial relations within the home for example) to the global level of
financial corporations, for instance, or of counter-hegemonic political activists. (Massey,
2009, p. 16)
Space acts as an arena which engages multifaceted individuals and exchanges of power. In
WBOTBH, the gang pad is constructed in a way that dissolves the peripheries between
domestic and social. The cobra’s gang pad acts as both domestic dwelling for the gang
members, a place to sleep and live. The gang pad is also a nightclub as it transforms into the
gangs local ‘arena of alcoholism’ to cater to their social needs. In this manner, it is caught
between the peripheries as a domestic dwelling which boasts all the accoutrements of a pub.
This is also seen in Boy where Alamein sets up the old tin shed as a place for the boys to
‘crash’ (sleep) as well as a place to which they can party. Crooked Earth functions in the
same way as the old family house which has been turned into a headquarters for Kahu and his
renegade gang, is also a domestic dwelling and the gangs preferred party palace. As such, the
gang pad as hybrid space is an arena which features a multiplicity of dimensions from the
domestic to the social. Through these dual functions, the hybrid gang space provides an
insight into the intricate politics of gangs and exchanges of power which occur within their
space. However, this corpus of films does not explore the hybridity of the gang pad and
Figure 22 - Grace finishing a story in OWW

35. 29
instead reverts to stereotypical images of Māori consuming alcohol and blaspheming the
sacrality of the home. It is these images which viewers cling to, in imagining Māori gangs as
perpetual folk-devils.
In each of these films, the characters are confronted as to whether they can fulfil their
potential. In the case of Grace, despite a penchant for the written word, she is unable to
negotiate her surroundings in favour of her obvious talent. Ultimately, she claims her own
life. Renes quite poignantly claims, “Right before she launces herself, Grace is undone by the
meaning of ‘potential’ in the context of a Māori ghetto girl” (Renes, 2011, p. 94). The
squandering of potential seen in this corpus solidifies the theme of unrealized potential and
upholds the moral panic of inept Māori who cannot adapt to social conditions. Moreover,
these particular examples outline the oppressive gang and the means by which it hinders
those caught within their controlled sphere from realizing their talents. Speaking on his
encounter with Mongrel Mob members in prison, Payne notes,
But it would be too easy to dismiss the Mob as a bunch of losers and deviants. I saw some
excellent musicians and athletes in the gang, people who had become so used to hiding their
talents on the outside that they were often unaware of their own capabilities. I saw potentially
brilliant artists in the Mongrel Mob, men who were happy to use home-made tattooing guns
fashioned from ballpoint pens and hat-pins as their brushes, and the skin of a bro for their
canvas. (1991, p. 19)
In constructing the gang space as a forum which prohibits those caught within its sphere from
realizing their potential, these films refute the so called neoliberalist ‘happy-ending’. Instead
of inscribing the typified, ‘through hard work you can claim what is yours’ the Māori gang
film suggests that their harsh domestic realities have got the better of them and play into what
some might agree is a realistic outcome.
These recurrent tropes that have featured throughout the chapter become significant when
considered in conjunction with Māori gang films at large. The troublesome domestic space
explores the unruly nuclear family plagued by social hardship. Likewise, the rural sphere
encompasses notions of Māori reconciliation as contemporary Māori issues are medicated by
traditional Māori values. Ideas of the violent Māori personified through Jake and Alamein
are another dimension of Māori masculinity that is explored throughout films — OWW and
Boy. So too is the unintelligent Māori masculine who occupies agricultural positions within
the rural sphere prevalent within the Māori gang film. Equally as problematic is the lethargic
Maori who squanders their potential and trades this for a life of crime, riddled by alcoholism
and drug abuse. Each of these dimensions of Māori masculinity in conjunction with the rural-

36. 30
urban binary and the pub as male domain are not only stereotypical of the Māori condition
but moreover, become recurrent motifs within the Māori gang film genre. These masculine
conditions uphold the moral panic which surround Māori gangs, criminality and deviance.
Ultimately, it is these very motifs of space and masculinity that maintain polemic colonial
imaginings of Māori as opposed to contributing diversity to the Māori media image. This
only perpetuates not just Māori gangs but moreover, Māori at large as society’s folk-devils.

37. 31
Chapter Three
The Dark Horse: Challenging the Māori Gang Film - Te Wero Kiriata Kēnge Māori
Now that I have established what resembles a stand-alone genre of its own (the Māori gang
film), this chapter will mobilize what I have proposed to be the recurrent motifs of such a
genre, in regards to my chosen text, The Dark Horse (TDH). In positioning this genre in
relation to TDH, this chapter proposes that the film sets-up the genre conventions only to
eventually break them down. The motifs this chapter will interrogate are the hypermasculine
and the unintelligible, intellectually inferior Māori masculine which is mobilized by
Hokowhitu as discussed in Chapter 25
. Furthermore, it shall also investigate the construction
of the hybrid gang space, the rural and urban marae, and the use of chess as a vehicle for both
challenging the perpetuation of Māori intellectual inferiority and the rural as reconciliatory.
In comparing the Māori gang genre to TDH, this chapter shall illustrate how the films
revolutionary constructions of Māori as ‘diverse’ reinitiates a long advocated tradition of
‘image sovereignty’. To use the words of Barry Barclay, “It is claimed that the pen is a thing
of power. I think that – when among strangers – it can be useful to have the power of
production control behind that pen as well” (Barclay, 1990, p. 64). Thus, TDH, I argue, lives
up to Barclay’s aspirations of image sovereignty which mobilizes Aōtearoa-New Zealand’s
(ANZ) bicultural ethos through diverse images of Māori that challenge monolithic colonial
depictions.
TDH follows the journey of bi-polar stricken Genesis Potini (Cliff Curtis), as he seeks a
stable society life. Having been released to the care of his gang-patched brother Ariki (Wayne
Hapi), Genesis discovers a new nephew, Mana, who seems destined for the gang lifestyle. As
a means of escaping the troubles of an unruly home life, Genesis looks to reassume his role as
a once heralded chess player and coach. He discovers a youth group called the Eastern
Knights and with the help of friends, coaches them to the national chess championships in
Auckland. Genesis is troubled by his problems at home where his nephew struggles to deal
with the violent initiations of the gang and his brother who is slowly dying by some form of
terminal illness. Even more, Gen (as he is affectionately named) must also manage
homelessness when he is kicked out of the gang pad and his own mental illness. In his
ultimate search for stability, Genesis realises that he is willing and able to care for his dying
brother’s son when Ariki inevitably reaches his end. Although it takes prolonged convincing,
5
Considering the limitations of this dissertation, this chapter will not revisit each of the recurrent motifs
explored in Chapter 2

38. 32
Ariki too realises his potential and releases Mana from the gang to be cared for by Uncle
Gen.
‘Depatching’ the Hypermasculine - Tūrakina te tohu-kēnge a te Tamatāne-rukiruki
The first motif I would like to confront in regards to TDH is the hypermasculine. In Chapter 2
I explored the hyper-aggressive and archetypal masculine, Jake ‘the muss’, who, according to
Hokowhitu (2003) are those “Māori men [who] are constantly represented as rapists, as wife
beaters, as child abusers and as gang members” (2012, p. 54). Shogun also encapsulates this
figure of the masculine in Boy as a father who neglects the welfare of his children in favour
of his gang. As proposed in Chapter 2, this hypermasculine has been one who is quick to
anger and readily calls his fists into action to resolve his problems, both seen in the pub and
troublesome domestic sphere of OWW and Boy.
In TDH Ariki fulfils this role as the male figure who is caught between the role of fatherhood
and managing gang-life like Shogun in Boy. He is both paternal father with the potential for
aggression and simultaneously gang leader. When he discovers his son has been taken to a
chess tournament in Auckland, Ariki pursues his son Mana to return him in time for his gang
initiation. Choosing not to verbally resolve his problem, Ariki chooses the much typified
hypermasculine recourse of punching his brother. Interestingly, this is Ariki’s only physically
violent outburst. On other occasions where he is positioned in confrontational situations,
Ariki refuses to engage his fists, whereas OWW’s Jake would naturally start swinging. As
stated by Thornley (2001) in her article ‘White, Brown or “Coffee”?: Revisioning Race in
Tamahori’s Once Were Warriors’, “Jake, .. is marked as a hardened alcoholic and a ‘mere
slave to his fists’” (Thornley, 2001). Furthermore, Ariki as an affront to the hypermasculine,
breaks down the ‘invincibility’ notion inscribed by the Jake archetype. In a scene where
Genesis seeks permission to take Ariki’s son Mana to the chess tournament, Ariki reveals two
personal vulnerabilities. He implicitly reveals that he is plagued by his own terminal illness
as well as the prospect of a futureless child.
When Genesis petitions for a week of Mana’s time away from the gang to play in a chess
tournament, he implores with, “Just a week, one week, why can’t he have one week”. Ariki
replies, “Cause I ain’t got one more fucking week! You blind bro?” (The Dark Horse, 2014).
What this scene reveals is that the so-called invincible Maori masculine does indeed have
their own vulnerabilities. Physically, Ariki is vulnerable where his supposedly unbreakable
body is plagued by disease. Emotionally, his son seems destined to live a life without a parent

39. 33
or guardian figure. It is the prospect of a futureless life with no family that drives Ariki to
appeal to the Vagrants for a position in the gang for his son. Realising his impending death,
the Vagrants provides brotherhood and security for Ariki’s son Mana after his death. The
gang as a surrogate family is the solution Ariki comes to. Ariki’s own conception of the gang
is not simply a criminal organisation who endorse folk-devilry, but moreover, a family and a
brotherhood. In one way, it is his last dying act of love that fuels his decision rather than the
spectacle of the gang as tough and dominant. In this way, TDH contributes to the notion of
image reclamation. As Merata Mita (1992) states in ‘The Soul and the Image’, “the
expectation of positive imagining means the destroying of stereotypes that come from
cultural appropriation, and clearing the colonial refuse out of oneself in order to make a fresh
new start.” (p. 46). The positive imaginings of the gang as family destroys the stereotype of
Māori gangsters as invincible and showcases new vulnerabilities where Māori men do care
for their family. Contrary to what we have seen in OWW and Boy, Ariki provides a
counterpoint to the invincible hypermasculine, consequently, Māori gangs are more than a
menacing face or folk-devils.
It is not simply Ariki who challenges the stereotype of the invincible hypermasculine.
Genesis in himself, personifies a direct contradiction to this particular hypermasculine. His
mental incapacity and bi-polar represent his own vulnerability. It is also Genesis’
purposelessness that constructs his fragility. In Crooked Earth Kahu Bastion (Lawrence
Makaore) is the leader of the renegade gang who terrorise Ngati Kaipuku. He is undeterred in
his motives, seeking justice for the wrongdoings of the colonial government onto his people.
He is unflinching in his pursuit of sovereignty over their tribal lands to the realisation of his
own death. Within Kahu as the hypermasculine is his sense of direction and purpose.
Contrastingly, Genesis is his polar opposite where he is purposeless and lacks direction. He
confesses to his friend and confidant Noble (Kirk Torrance), “The doctor said this would be
good for me, give me something to focus on, a sense of direction” (The Dark Horse, 2014).
Genesis’ own pursuit of a purpose challenges the invincible hypermasculine who is assured
of his destiny and future or simply is not riddled by uncertainties. In this sense, Genesis
embodies a wider discourse of Māori who have lost their way. As Noble quite poignantly
states to Genesis, “Remember Gen, Stability” (The Dark Horse, 2014). It is not only Genesis’
own purposelessness that challenges the assured hypermasculine, his own mental illness
further problematizes the idea of the hypermasculine. In one scene, Genesis aimlessly
wanders the streets speaking to himself. As the wide shot oscillates between sharp and soft

40. 34
focus we begin to better understand the state of Genesis’ mind. The focus or lack of
represents Genesis’ internal struggle with his bi-polar. This projects a discourse of Māori
mental illness, where not all Māori men are healthy in heart and mind. Genesis’ mental
illness challenges the invincible hypermasculine like Ariki who challenges this figure
emotionally and physically. In this way, the invincible hypermasculine becomes one who is
not invincible and is fraught with a plethora of vulnerabilities.
‘Upskilling’ the Unintelligible - Te Whai-mātauranga a Te Ware
Perhaps the most important masculine construction this film contests is the figure of the
unintelligible Māori. This is done through the mobilization of the game of chess. To recollect
Hokowhitu’s point, the figure of the unintelligible Māori is a colonial construction that
remains entrenched in post-colonial New Zealand. This depiction is evidenced in my analysis
of Boy, where Shogun represents an imagination by his son as a spectacularized individual,
adored as a gang leader and for his typified hobbies. These traits include the rugby captain, a
master carver and a deep sea diver. Again, none of these professions mobilize intellectual
discourse as much as say a position as a lawyer or doctor would. Within TDH, chess becomes
a vehicle for Māori to realise their intellectual capacity. The Eastern Knights who are a
collection of troubled youths stand as a metaphor for the future, where the children are able to
use their minds to overcome their domestic troubles. Even more, chess as a game of tact,
patience and knowledge employs a new mode of Māori masculinity that has yet to be seen in
the Māori gang film. While commonly Māori men do not engage in intellectual forums, TDH
challenges these stereotypes via chess, nominating Māori as intellectually capable. This
challenge to the trope of Māori as unintelligible decolonizes the colonial imaginings of Māori
as an intellectually inferior race deconstructing the moral panic of Māori irrationality; which
fuels the primitive and aggressive hypermasculine.
Chess: Challenging the Black and White of Gang Politics - Whaikīngi: Te wero ki te
āhuatanga o nga kēnge
Chapter 2 also explored the notion of the ‘Neoliberalist Falsity’. That is the idea of potential
as (a) being squandered and (b) a mode of escapism. In Boy, Boy possesses obvious oratory
potential and in OWW Grace is gifted with an ability for story-telling. In this way, their own
personal gifts are their modes of escaping their unruly violent households. TDH functions in
the same way where chess it is not simply used to signify Maori’s potential but also as a
means of escapism. Throughout the film, chess is the vehicle for escaping the hardships of
their domestic circumstances as Eastern Knights founder Noble states, “These kids are fucked

41. 35
up enough as it is” (The Dark Horse, 2014). In Boy, the lead character’s own fantasmatic
daydreams escapes the reality of a father who is obsessed with his gang and fails to live up to
the pedigree Boy imagines him as. In the case of TDH chess functions in the same way for
Mana to escape a violent gang household. TDH breaks down the falsity of this trope and
reinscribes it, stating instead that these children are able to realise their potential. Where
Grace succumbs to her circumstances and claims her own life in OWW, TDH challenges this
trope when Michael Manihera wins the chess championships and overcomes the trope of
squandered potential. Chess in TDH then provides an arena for positive imaginings, where
potential can be realised and also acts as a method of escapism. However, Thornley in her
article ‘Global Cinema: Cinema and Globalization’ warns against the positive imaginings of
Māori much like this imagining of realised potential. She states,
That said, I am not simply suggesting replacing problematic images with an abundance of
positive representations would ‘right the balance’. I have problems with this suggestion – one
frequently put forward by stereotype analysts – simply because an excess of positive images
can be as paralysing as an excess of negative images or an absence of representation
altogether. (Thornley, 2013)
Thornley’s contribution to Barclay’s and Mita’s ideal of image sovereignty reminds us that
positive imaginings can be just as debilitating as negative ones, as they can conceal the reality
of Māori’s situation. While TDH certainly challenges the idea that Māori eventually squander
their potential, we should remain vigil to the fact that this is not the case in many
circumstances.
Travelling back to the Rural - Whakahokia ki te Noho-tuawhenua
Chess as a means of escapism goes further as not only a pursuit for escaping the troublesome
domestic sphere but is also an arena for whanau and community. In OWW Grace revels at the
sight of her ancestral marae which represents the Māori sub-tribe and extended family. In this
way, Graces longs for a family as she evidently cannot fulfil this desire within her own home.
Likewise, in another fantasmatic daydream, Boy dreams of the day his father will take him
and his brother to their mansion in the city, because “that’s what families do” (Boy, 2010).
The illusion of the city as Boy’s dream of family is swiftly demystified in a scene where he
witnesses his father’s violent tendencies at home. He quickly realises that his family is at
home within the rural space. After exploring representations of rurality in the American and
English context, New Zealand also deploys the rural as the space for reconciling Māori urban
dilemmas. As suggested in Chapter 2, the rural is the sphere which provides a return to
stability as well as family via the hapu (sub-tribe) and marae.