Lee Tamahori’s picture of faith in war-torn Aotearoa is a conventional period drama elevated by its quietly grounded central performances.

★★★☆☆

Over the past decade, there has been a resurgence in films about complex men of faith wrestling with their beliefs. From Calvary (2014) to Corpus Christi (2019), Silence (2016) to First Reformed (2017): in an age where religiosity falls further out of the mainstream, there is something in these stories that allows us to tap into the deeper questions of what it means to be human. Now, with The Convert, iconic Kiwi director Lee Tamahori (Once Were Warriors), adds a Māori stamp to the oeuvre.

The Convert begins in 1830, and follows Thomas Munro (Guy Pearce), an English lay-minister—and former soldier—who finds himself shipped to the town of Epworth, on an island in what we would today call New Zealand. He is a man of few words but great warmth, and is ready to take on his vocational call to the community of British ex-pats on the island. However, en route, he witnesses a horrific massacre between two tribes and steps in, pleading mercy on behalf of Rangimai (Tioreore Ngatai-Melbourne), the chieftain’s daughter in the attacked tribe. Akatarewa, chief of the opposing tribe, relents, passing Rangimai into the care of Munro. With the blessing of her father, Rangimai, alongside Pahirua (Duane Evans Jr), a fellow warrior from her tribe, is sent to Epworth with Munro to learn about Western culture and Christianity under his tutelage. 

Once Munro arrives in Epworth, the townspeople are not receptive to the minister’s fellow travellers. Where Munro sees his calling as being a missionary to the indigenous people, the leaders in Epworth make it decisively clear: he is there to serve Brits, and Brits only. The only one to welcome and embrace them fully is Charlotte (Jacqueline McKenzie), who herself has been outcast from her community due to her ties with the Māori people. As the hostility of the British community ramps up and Munro’s care for his ward Rangimai grows, he finds himself caught up in an ancient battle of tribes, trying to instil peace in any way possible.

While on the surface it may seem like a standard ‘crisis of faith’ film, Munro’s wrestling is less with his religion and more with those who use it as a shield for behaviour that is contradictory. This is further paired with the confusion of not knowing how his faith fits in with a new culture, so different to that which he is used to. At times, The Convert drifts into the usual pitfalls of colonial cinema, mainly in its focus on the white Western characters rather than the indigenous folks of the setting. However, this imbalance is in and of itself interesting, given how much of the film is centred around Munro’s guilt regarding his history with the islanders.

Shane Danielson and Lee Tamahori’s script is often on the nose, but thankfully, there are plenty of gaps left between the dialogue to let the landscape itself, and the body language of those who inhabit it, narrate this story. The central performances, particularly from Pearce, Ngatai-Melbourne and McKenzie, are powerful due to their quiet resonance. So much is said through the eyes—speaking the language of the heart, regardless of whether the dialogue is in English or Māori at that given moment. All three depict strength in its varying forms: Munro showing a persistent gentleness in the face of adversity; Rangimai having the strength of a warrior, and learning how to wield that; and Charlotte having the strength to keep going despite loss. It is these characters that form the heart of the story and make it worth watching.

 Also notable is the stunning cinematography by Gin Loane, which captures a beautiful land yet to be plundered by humanity and technology. The sweeping score by Matteo Zingales punctuates this further, continuing this beauty most gracefully in the moments where nobody is saying anything. The music also feeds into the film’s an  unsettling atmosphere. Despite taking a slower pace, allowing itself to ruminate on its own philosophy, The Convert is never far from bouts of brutal and graphic violence. As such, the film has the tendency to lose its sense of self, in trying to deliver its philosophical ponderings amidst sudden tonal shifts. 

The combination of all these elements leads to something uncertain and unevenly delivered, but nevertheless moving. The film ends on a note of unity, a marriage of communities and of cultures. It’s a touching note to end on, given that the narrative has fought hard against itself to provide that happy ending. However, as one comes to the end, they are left only with moments of thoughtfulness and intrigue, rather than a holistically engaging experience. 

The Verdict

Grounded central performances and the beauty of Aotearea elevate what could otherwise be another standard colonial history drama. The film sometimes loses its way in its balancing of faith and violence, but offers something human underneath. 

Words by Rehana Nurmahi

The Convert is available for digital download now.

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