sustain:if:able kiwi

theological film review of We Are Still Here

Monthly I write a film review for Touchstone (the New Zealand Methodist magazine). Stretching back to 2005, some 165 plus films later, here is the review for March 2023.

We are still here
A film review by Dr Steve Taylor

We Are Still Here offers a powerful cinematic experience. Over 90 minutes, ten indigenous directors offer an imaginative response to the arrival of James Cook and the realities of 250 years of colonialism.

We Are Still Here moves across geographies – between Aotearoa, Australia and Gallipoli in 1916 – and shifts between times. Narratives swiftly switch – from Arrernte lands near Mparntwe (Alice Springs) to Tuhoe lands around the 1860s, between Invasion Day protests and a post-apocalyptic Auckland in 2274.

These distinct narratives are delightfully held together by an unfolding animated rendering as a mother and daughter search for connection. The use of visual metaphor is compellingly beautiful; the rope that dredges Cook’s ship from the deep is the twine that seeks a daughter lost in urban exile.

Together the episodes offer a powerful portrayal of colonisation, not as a past event, but as a present and relentless structuring of power and economics. Colonisation is police beatings inside prisons named after Queen Victoria and the greedy hunger for indigenous taonga by a merchant working for Cook Ltd in 2274. Power and privilege is etched into a copper’s repeated request for ID from a young Aboriginal man and the shop assistants’ apology. ‘Sorry you had to go through that yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.’

Christian faith is notably absent from We are still here. This is not unexpected. By accident and design, Christianity in Aotearoa and Australia has found itself entwined in the structures of colonisation. In Sydney, Samuel Marsden was known as the flogging parson, while in the New Zealand Wars, Bishop Selwyn offered chaplaincy to soldiers, seemingly oblivious to the ways the churches’ presence with the military becomes an absence for those caught in the horrors of Rangiaowhia in 1864.

These legacies generate transforming questions. Can we imagine a 2274 future in which indigenous peoples might be glad Christians also are still here? Could the liberating story of oppressed midwives in Exodus resisting the death cult of Pharoah’s empire create any dialogue within an Invasion Day protest camp? Such are the questions provoked by We Are Still Here.

Amid the multiple absences, Christian faith is clearly present as the Lord’s Prayer is uttered in the trenches of Gallipoli. A Māori soldier ponders the temptation of death by suicide as a way to escape the hell of World War I trench warfare.

This moment of prayer brought to mind a recent class on pastoral care offered by Anglican Māori Pihopa (Bishop) Te Kitohi Wiremu Pikaahu. Pihopa shared the story of a widely respected Māori kaumatua who asked to be buried beside those of his people who had chosen to commit suicide. The request for burial was made in response to how some Christian communities choose to separate those who commit suicide from those buried in what is considered the sacred ground of the cemetery. Such acts of Christian presence, in life and through death, offer ways of transforming what it might mean to be here still.

Rev Dr Steve Taylor is the author of “First Expressions” (2019) and writes widely in theology and popular culture, including regularly at www.emergentkiwi.org.nz.