New Zealander Lee Tamahori’s new film offers a note to audiences before the film begins. It briefly establishes the dynamics of life for the Māori in early 19th century New Zealand and warns of the inevitable change that will come when two major things arrive to change their way of life – guns, and Christianity. It’s a provocative start to the film, setting readers up for a historical account into the relationship between British colonisation and indigenous culture. The film’s very title, “The Convert”, suggests that Christianity – and the implications of its relationship with colonial and cultural genocide will be paramount. Unfortunately, little in “The Convert” lives up to the dramatic potential of that initial bit of information, or any of the potential plot-points that the film approaches only to abandon in muted ambivalence.
Gin Loane’s camera introduces us to the world of “The Convert”, shot on the beautiful North Island of New Zealand, with water and land stretching as far as the eye can see. We start on a ship where we meet Guy Pearce’s Thomas Munro. Munro is a lay minister who is destined for Epworth, a British settlement where he’s expected to perform missionary work.
For most of “The Convert” we know little of Munro beyond his insistence on kindness.
His first meaningful act is an empathetic eulogy performed for one of the crewmen who died on board the ship carrying him to Epworth. The captain is taken aback by the sincerity of his words, praise that Munro shrugs off. A few scenes later, after a storm interrupts the ship’s journey landing them on another part of the island, Munro witnesses a clash between two Māori tribes whose chieftains – Maianui and Akatarewa have been enemies for generations. Rather than remain on the sidelines, Munro pleads with Akatarawa to spare the lives of two members of the losing tribe, one of whom is the daughter of Maianui.
This act of courage sets up the major plot-point of “The Convert” when he is given custody of Rangimai, an act of reluctant mercy from Akatarawa that will reverberate through the rest of the film.
Stories of indigenous culture have long been conveyed through the prism of whiteness. “The Convert”, in many ways, joins them except its limitations are more complicated than the typical challenges of films on indigeneity presented through a prism of white saviour hood. In fact, “The Convert” might be a more dramatically agile film if it committed to notions of Munro as a heroic white saviour since that would at least prevent his character with a sharp character arc that could shape the film’s narratives. When Munro arrives in Epworth with an injured Rangimai, who can speak no English, the white citizens are expectedly unhelpful about helping an Indigenous woman even though they live on Indigenous land that that they pay rent for. The screenplay, which Tamahori co-writes with Shane Danielsen, seems to be setting a clash of sorts between the white bigots and Munro’s more empathetic nature. Except, at every turn “The Convert” keeps on declining to offer much depth or nuance to Munro to argue for his role as the film’s lead. Instead, all the sharpest dramatic potential emanates from Tioreore Ngatai-Melbourne as Rangimai, despite the film’s insistence on sidelining her at every turn. When Munro leaves Epworth to Maianui’s clan, Tamahori seems more interested in half-hearted ethnographic observation of the Māori than considering them as worth characters of depths whose emotional dynamics are worthy of investigation.
Late in the film, nudged to a confession by the members of Maianui’s tribe who are suspicious of him, despite his over-kindness, Munro reveals his history as a British soldier and tearfully recounts a moment of battle that changed his outlook on life. It’s meant to act as a fulcrum for his disposition but in structure as well as in effect it feels too weak-willed as a moment of dramatic importance. It’s a moment that emphasises the inherent uncinematic nature of Munro’s journey, at least as told by Tamahori. It’s one thing for a film ostensibly about Indigenous culture to feature a white saviour but it’s even more deflating when the film can’t muster up its own dramaturgical argument for what makes its protagonist worthy of being our protagonist. Munro’s most notable asset as a main character is that he speaks English like most of the audiences where this film will be released. It allows the film to avoid being subtitled, leading to a series of awkward scenes where Munro must have his words translated by Charlotte, his one ally in Epworth, a buoyant woman who the film does not know what to do with.
The film’s decision to resist subtitles and instead have the Māori be translated by these characters, or have their emotions made legible through their faces does little to prevent “The Convert” from seeming to render the Indigenous characters in the most infantile of ways. But it’s not just an ethical dilemma, it’s one that robs the film of necessary dramatic importance. When a long simmering battle between the two Māori tribes takes centre stage for the film’s final act, Munro’s own weakness as a main character becomes even more explicit. It leaves “The Convert” descending into a misshapen film that wants to be thriller, historical drama, action-epic and character study. None of them is effective.
As it moves towards the end, and towards a closing sequence that has its mind firmly rooted in the present dynamics of colonialism it feels much too satisfied with its shoddy storytelling for the inertness of the drama that has come before. It’s impossible to feel truly negative about its good intention and it’s so sincere about its mostly good politics that there is a charm in its emphatically anti-colonial stance. But it’s also impossible to feel true excitement for this story when it’s so careless about its approach to its own narrative. By its end, even Munro’s religion feels incidental to it all. The name, like the opening words to the audience, feel all for naught. “The Convert” could benefit from reassessing what story it wants to tell.
The last major film to try this was Wes Anderson’s “Isle of Dogs”.
But there’s no legible way this does not anything except alienate the audience from the
But if Munro is to be our avatar, then it’s a poor scriptwriter that finds too much of the film with an aimless Munro wading through a narrative that he seems more askance at. And it’s a shame because Guy Pearce, who has been unable to reach the heights of his compatriots, is visibly engaged in his performance.
“The Convert” is playing in cinemas
