Rūrangi: NZIFF Review

Director Max Currie's webseries Rūrangi is a sharply-lensed story that in many ways is a very familiar one.

A breakout performance from Elz Carrad as trans-activist Caz anchors the story that in fairness hints at times in what may come in a sequel. 

Caz starts the film/ webseries happy, helping the gender community post activism, and try and take on the walls of bigotry within Auckland. However, Caz is living a lie, dating a sportsman and apparently slightly conflicted over identity.

When tragedy strikes, Caz is forced home to a rural community once left behind and has to deal again with old prejudices anew - as well as trying to reconcile with a father who doesn't want to know.

Rūrangi starts with a blast of energy, and joie de vivre, that it feels obvious to know what's coming - such happiness can't last. However, Carrad carries Caz with such charisma that the central performance lifts the script from beyond its trope trappings, and its all-too-familiar reconciliation narrative.

Scenes with Arlo Green feel real, personal and hint at pasts gone but not forgotten - the characters here are fully drawn and fleshed out within minutes of appearing on screen, and draw audiences in right away. 

Born of a need to tell a story of a community not be about one, Rūrangi has lofty ambitions over its 5 part series. And it rightly deserves plaudits for its use of diversity in front and behind the camera.

Director Max Currie has an eye for the intimate, and the script from Cole Meyers has a penchant for character moments that ring with veracity. And some of the bucolic backgrounds look wondrous, taking in both the beauty and stifling nature of rural lifestyles.

However, in the wider writing, the film/ webseries feels a little light on the heft, shoving in topics that are current concerns but are narratively left wanting, hinting frustratingly at future dalliances on the screen yet to come.

An early suicide is treated heavily in the beginning, but disappears into the background, a catalyst of the return home, but also burdened with hints of what's gone unexplored threatening to bubble up later on; a Māori woman struggles to connect with the language once forgotten, and talk of phosphates within the land simmer in the background.

A final sequence feels more cliched than celebratory, riddled as it is with stereotyped prejudice and awkward exposition (though, while granted this may be the reality of rural life and acceptances, a little more subtlety would have left the end feeling less rushed and ultimately more transcendent.)

There's much to love in Rūrangi, however, one can't help but feel the second series will make a more effective companion piece, picking up some loose ends and tightening the focus more. 

When the film's centred around Caz, thanks to an Aaron Paul-like Elz Carrad, it soars; when it tries to bring in other issues, it flounders and flails.

Rūrangi is a film of a personal nature, and it's this connection that lasts - coupled with the launch of Elz Carrad as a bona fide star, it remains watchable and a welcome sign that New Zealand stories are widening their sights.