‘KŌKĀ’ – Review
Aotearoa’s cinematic renaissance continues to blaze ahead, and at the centre of it stands KŌKĀ — a deeply affecting, meditative road movie that weaves together Māori spirituality, feminine strength, and the aching human need for connection. Marking a powerful debut from writer-director Kath Akuhata-Brown, KŌKĀ is a lyrical, visually rich experience that resonates long after the credits roll.
Under the celestial guidance of Matariki, Māori elder Hamo (Hinetu Dell) and local delinquent Jo (Darneen Christian) form an unlikely bond on a road trip. As they confront past traumas and each face their demons, their shared path becomes a journey of healing, community and reconciliation.
Structured as a modern-day wāhine-on-the-road journey, KŌKĀ brings together two wildly different women: Jo (Darneen Christian), a volatile and untethered street kid navigating the chaos of urban life, and Hamo (Hinetu Dell), a revered Māori elder nearing the final chapter of her life. Their paths cross by fate, or perhaps guided by the stars of Matariki, and what follows is a quietly profound exploration of guardianship, healing, and rediscovery of identity through aroha and whakapapa.
This is a film where the silences speak loudest. Dialogue is sparing, with Akuhata-Brown favouring emotion, atmosphere, and visual poetry to guide the narrative. Every frame hums with spiritual resonance; mist rolling over maunga, the crackle of a fire beneath the stars, the quiet hum of ancestors guiding from beyond. It’s a dreamlike tapestry of mood and meaning, a film that feels less like a story and more like a ceremony.
Hinetu Dell is the soul of KŌKĀ, delivering a performance that radiates wisdom, stillness, and mana. As Hamo, she is grace personified: a kaitiaki of culture, spirit, and story. Her presence is grounded yet ethereal, and her scenes are like karakia in motion, calling audiences home to the sacred and the ancestral. Dell’s portrayal of a woman facing mortality while fiercely nurturing life in another is nothing short of transcendent.
Counterbalancing Hamo’s calm is the wild energy of Jo, brought to life by an unrecognisable Darneen Christian. Raw, impulsive and emotionally jagged, Jo is chaos wrapped in street-tough exterior. But Christian digs deep, revealing the aching loneliness and cultural disconnection that drives Jo’s rebellion. Watching her slowly unravel and rebuild herself under Hamo’s guidance is a heart-wrenching journey, and Christian meets it with ferocity and vulnerability in equal measure.
Rounding out the cast is Te Kohe Tuhaka as Marcus, Hamo’s stoic neighbour and local policeman. Tuhaka brings serious mana to the role, embodying strength, integrity, and quiet compassion. His scenes act as a stabilising force in the film’s emotional storm, and his character’s connection to both women adds extra emotional weight.
Visually, KŌKĀ is stunning, almost painterly in its composition. The use of natural light, primary colour palettes, and rich textures creates an immersive cinematic canvas. It’s a film that washes over you, drawing you into its dreamlike spiritual plane. Composer Ranea Aperahama’s score — steeped in taonga pūoro and waiata — adds another layer of emotional depth, further rooting the story in the heartbeat of te ao Māori.
KŌKĀ is a quiet triumph — not loud or flashy, but profoundly powerful in its stillness. It’s about redemption, intergenerational healing, and the sacred bond between women. For Māori audiences, this is a film that speaks to the soul. For international viewers, it’s an intimate and authentic invitation into the world of Aotearoa’s indigenous spirit. KŌKĀ is not just a film. It’s a karanga — a call to remember who you are, where you come from, and who walks with you.
Imahge: StudioCanal
