I’ve seen many movies over the last two years. Nothing I saw inspired me with enough words to express how I felt about what I was seeing… until I saw Taratoa Stappard’s Maori gothic horror film Mārama. A stunning feature film debut that examines female rage, ancestral bonds, and reclaimed indigeneity in post-colonial England.
Mary (Ariana Osborne) is summoned to an island manor in rural England by a mysterious letter claims to have information about her heritage as a Māori orphan raised in Europe. She longs to know where she comes from, so this letter sparks a fire in her to get answers. Upon arrival, she is greeted by Nathan Cole (Toby Stephens), his son Arthur (Jordan Mooney), his right hand man Jack Fenton (Erroll Shand), and his young daughter Anna (Evelyn Towersy). From the beginning, Mary sees visions of violence she doesn’t understand. The cinematography and production design (courtesy of Gin Loane and Nick Williams), convey this place and its people are not what they seem. A haze sits in the air in every visual, while the setting of Cole manor absorbs light, with Black walls, minimal lighting, and few windows. It’s a living mausoleum.
Right away Mary wants to know about her mother, her past, but Nathan continues to deflect, asking her to become the manor governess. She isn’t sold on the offer until Anna reveals that she is also Māori , and wants her to stay so they can speak in the Maori native tongue. With that, Mary reluctantly agrees to stay.
While on a walk with Anna, Mary discovers a hut in the manor garden, something Nathan transported to England from his exploits in New Zealand. Covered with Māori carvings and cultural identifiers, she feels a spiritual pull toward this structure, thus causing violent visions of her family. Things come to light after a high society party where Nathan and Jack discuss their ventures in New Zealand while mocking Māori culture. Sitting rage bubbles up in the moment, ending with Mary declaring war against Nathan, Jack, the manor, and reclaiming her Māori name, Mārama. Once the release of pinned up anger hits the air, pieces of her history finally seep into the present, answering the questions she needed answers to. Mary learns that the price of truth can end in the most violent, yet cathartic ways.
British colonial rule destroyed the world, separating people from their families, histories, identities, homeland–the list goes on. England and New Zealand share deep political, and forced cultural ties due to the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi, which was meant to set rules for the English and Indigenous population of New Zealand to live together in harmony. The problem is, there are English and Māori versions of this treaty, and of course they don’t say exactly the same thing. The English version suggested Māori gave up full sovereignty, whereas the Māori version suggested they kept authority while allowing the British to govern. Of course, all hell breaks loose over these interpretations leading to long term bloody conflict which finds Māori population still fighting for their land. Mārama chronicles only a small fraction of the harm the British empire has done to these people.
Stoppard beautifully inject bits of cultural lore across the visual landscape of the film, particularly the motif of the Whale. In Māori culture, the whale (tohorā) holds space as sacred. More than a spirit animal, but a cultural ancestor, a guide, and a symbol of wisdom. In the film, Mārama sees frequent apparitions of Nathan desecrating a white Whale over and over as a way to link what she sees, to what happened in her past, and what Nathan is up to now. Showing that these ancestral connections keep descendants informed, safe, and aware of the dangers that lurk around them.
The technical aspects of Mārama spotlight particular colors with profound meaning, particularly red, black, white. They stand out among the thick, dewy air of the Cole manor, creating a beauty in darkness vibe. It’s the duality of gothic horror to show wonder and decay, making wide open corridors feel expansive, while shots are tightly framed for that claustrophobic effect making escape feel impossible. The lighting is purposeful, as is such with gothic horror. Faces obscured, darkened spaces, and sharp corners just out of lights reach is where these stories live.
Mārama exists as a preview into the past as a snippet of what the ancestors encountered while fighting their way back to their heritage, showing that the closer you are to the culture, the closer you are to death. There are individuals out there who don’t want you to know who you are, and would rather kill you to deny you that privilege. Fighting against oppression is the only way to regain what is rightfully yours.
