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willow-nox · 1 year ago

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Lonely

Summary: Hela x Fem!OC

Inspiration from the song This Side of Paradise by Coyote Theory

Warning: physical abuse

The first time Hela and Valora meet.

A/N: First time posting my work on Tumblr. Hope you like it! Thanks for reading if you all do end up reading it-

Day after day and night after night. The same routine, wake up, eat, train, try to impress her father only to have him continue to ignore her and sleep once more. But one day, she couldn’t take it. She left the castle while it was still dark, no one suspected such a thing when it came to loyal young Hela. In human years she could be seen as nine, but she was already a couple of centuries old.

She hid out in a garden, her thoughts eating away at her. Her father trained her to be strong. None of what she was doing at the moment. Her thoughts began to eat away at her. She went to sleep cold and in anguish. She woke up to the sunlight and laughter. She awoke in a frenzy before catching her bearings. From afar she could see glimpses of children her age running around. How she wished to enjoy the day like them… Odin would never allow her to speak to the children of Asgard. Afraid they would taint her fire and strength.

She was alone. Wholly alone. It was eating away at her; no one knew, her father never cared, no one took notice, and she herself was in her own state of hysteria.

But that seemed to change within an instant.

Hela quickly hid in the darker part of the garden as she heard a door open then close. Footsteps making their way throughout the garden. Hela’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight of the Asgardian, she looked about her age, if not younger. Hela’s heart was quickly taken. She was a brunette, hair down to her shoulders, her build was slim fit. Her eyes were a beautiful hazel, she then noticed her eye color closer to her irises were shades of blue and green.

What caught her attention the most was the small wistful smile that played on the girl’s lips as the laughter of children continued. An instrument was then thrown in the garden, causing both of them to jump. It then rolled towards Hela and came to a stop in front of her. Her cover was blown. By a simple toy. Her gaze raised to look at the girl once more. To find the girl looking at her, eyes wide with surprise and awe.

Hela wanted to run. But her body wouldn’t listen to her, her nerves straining as she saw the girl walk towards her, only to stop in front of her and crouch down to her level. She simply stared at her down, eyes beaming. A closed smile was very apparent on her face, she then hit her lip and looked away from her in thought. She looked at the toy, picked it up, turned to where they heard the children, reared her arm back and threw it out. Hela could hear gasps and shrieks from the children. The girl sighed, body posture slumping before quickly returning to its posture. She looked over her shoulder with a big smile.

She then quickly stood up and went back inside. There were a few moments of silence before the door swung open and slammed shut. Padded feet rushed towards her direction. Hela summoned a small dagger into her hand, prepared for anything that could be a danger to her. She curled her form ready to attack, once she noticed the girl with a bowl of fruit in her hands with a big smile on her face, she instantly pacified.

The girl placed the bowl in front of her and crouched down wrapping her arms around her shins as her eyes remained on Hela. Hela was hesitant at first but was quickly calmed when the girl grabbed a strawberry from the bowl and ate it. She then looked at her curiously when she reached for another and held it out to her.

When she spoke, she felt her loneliness ebb away, “I’m Valora. Valora Windstrum.” Hela moved herself forward and took a bite out of the strawberry outstretched to her. Neither of them seemed to be phased with the action. Valora simply giggled, while Hela chewed on her food with a frown on her face.

She spoke after she finished chewing, “The name’s Hela.” She noticed Valora raise an eyebrow, she herself raised an eyebrow in question.

“As in, Odin’s firstborn?” She instantly froze, tensing once again.

“You’d be right.” This caused Valora to grin. “I didn’t expect any visitors, but I’m glad to be graced in your presence, my princess.” She then bowed her head slightly, only to be stopped by Hela.

“Just Hela.” Valora nodded and remained quiet after. “Y’know, I’ve been wondering, why’d they scream, hm?” She quickly caught the sudden change in both her behavior and the weather, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have asked.” Valora shook her head. A slow drizzle began to fall.

“No, I shouldn’t have acted this way. Um, you see… I have certain abilities that I have… developed.” Hela was about to speak, that was until the door slammed open.

“VALORA!” Hela watched as Valora’s color drain from her. Fear settling itself in her soul. The drizzle changed quickly into heavy wind, heavy rain, with thunder and lightning. Valora looked around in panic, “H-here! Hide behind the bushes!” She took Hela by the shoulders and gently guided her into the shadows of the bushes. Hela was too shocked to respond. Waves of euphoria coursed through her from Valora’s touch. But it was quickly taken when Valora left her.

Hela could only watch as a man came into view and grabbed her by the hair. Hela waited for Valora to do anything, but she only let out silent tears. The rain washed them away, but Hela knew better. She didn’t know what she was feeling for the girl.

Everything seemed to fade when the children from outside seemed to appear and take turns beating her. All of them laughed as she held her arms over her head in defense, placed into a fetal position. Hela could only see red after.

When the red faded, she could see her necro-swords impaling some of the offenders. While the others were heavily wounded. She couldn’t find Valora though, panic raised within her but as soon as she turned around, she was enveloped in warmth. Her body moved on its own as she embraced the person holding her.

“Th- -ou-” What a familiar voice. “Hela?” Valora. Hela’s gaze went to the girl. Smile prominent even with the bruises and wounds that littered all over her body. Hela hummed slightly before hugging her and rolling her eyes. She swiftly lifted Valora into her hold, having her straddle her as she began to leave the garden.

“W-wait!” Hela stopped and slowly looked over her shoulder.

“Best if you keep quiet. You dare not speak to me, you filthy commoner…” Her voice conveyed she wasn’t joking, it seemed to her that these people weren’t well informed about who she was.

“Now, kid… just who do you think you're talking to?”

“How dare you address I, Odin’s firstborn, with such disrespect.” The man seemed to finally realize his error.

“I-I apologize to you, your highness…it’s just…”

“NO.” Everything is still. She could hear the man’s breath hitch in fear. A smile unknowingly crept onto Hela’s face. “You have no say in what I do with her. For all I care, you can forget about her.” With that she turned to face forward once again and made her way out, back to the castle. It was quiet throughout the time it took to get there.

Hela suddenly stopped, “I’m sorry, I wanted to ask you this earlier, but I was wondering… if you’d come be lonely… with me?…” Hela felt her face heat up at how idiotic she asked the question. But she couldn’t find the right words for it. She’s never not been lonely, she didn’t even know what to call the connection of people, for she never experienced it.

Her thoughts were suddenly taken with Valora’s grip tightening around her. She felt the girl nod into her shoulder slowly before moving towards her ear.

“I would love to be lonely with you, thank you, Hela.” Hela hummed before continuing on her path.

“Hela!” A young brunette woman around the age of twenty waved towards Hela’s direction. It has been centuries since that fateful day their souls met, and it seems that they continue to teach each other. Hela could feel herself smile as the woman approached.

She held her arms out for her, the brunette quickly understood and began to run her way. When she felt she was close enough to Hela she threw herself at her, making Hela laugh, “Oh… Valora…” Hela began to spin while holding Valora. When she began to feel dizzy, she stopped. Valora giggled as they came to a stop.

It then fell silent between them, their gaze remained on the other’s eyes. Valora’s eyes still had their beautiful gleam to them. They still showed what she found to be the firm love and admiration she held for her as well.��

Hela would admit, without Valora by her side, she wouldn’t have known what compassion and love was. But she felt every ounce of it when it came to Valora.

Hela let out a hum, “How is your training as both the Goddess of Seasons and Weather?” Hela smiled when Valora gave a pout.

“Not as easy and fun as training with you…” She grumbled. Hela raised an eyebrow as a smirk began to form.

“Fleeing from practice, are we?” Valora laughed and shook her head.

“We both know who’s the one more capable out of the two of us to flee successfully…” Hela hummed in agreement. “After all, it was just a break, I was growing frustrated, meaning…” She then looked away. Hela quickly took her by the chin and turned her to face her.

“You caused a drought to occur…” She could see that Valora was quite shaken, so she pulled her into her form. Running her hand through her soft tresses to help her relax, as well as, placing kisses on her forehead in comfort and understanding.

Bit by bit she felt Valora relax in her hold. That was until she tensed again. Hela felt it too, the change in the atmosphere, they were being watched. Valora nuzzled her head into Hela’s neck in hopes to hide away, Hela allowed her to do so. Her attention then went to the castle to find a familiar face watching them from the balcony. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her father.

Surprisingly, it was never Valora afraid of her, but Valora was terrified of Odin. From the moment Hela brought her in, he seemed to have a vendetta against her. Hela explained why he did so, but it seemed that as their relationship grew stronger, he seemed to target her more and more.

He seemed to hate the strength Valora gave to Hela. Since bringing Valora into their home Hela seemed to stop seeking his approval. No longer chasing her father but instead feeling cared for and appreciated by Valora. Where she could not find strength and support in her father, she found it with Valora. Many from Asgard have spoken that she may be even stronger than her own father.

“I think that’s enough training for today, don’t you?” She felt Valora nod. She made the initiative to lift her into a bridal style hold. With one last look at her father as walked inside, heading for their shared chambers.

They’d officially completed their training as goddesses. Hela was now Odin’s Executioner and right hand when it came to conquering more of the cosmos, and Valora was now given the duty to keep Asgardians crops plentiful. Valora being able to rein in her emotions from affecting her abilities.

Their bond is ever so strong. Though Valora began to feel as though they were growing distant. That Hela was growing distant the more she left for conquering other lands. The once happy woman now looked as if she was the shell of who she once was. When Valora came to greet her with open arms Hela just walked past her as if she meant nothing to her.

Hela knew she shouldn’t have done it. But after what her father told her, she needed to make sure that Valora wouldn’t be deemed associated with her and her actions. It hurt her more than anything not to hold her tightly, but they needed the distance so Valora wouldn’t be brought into the middle of things.

She hoped Valora would follow her but when she looked back, she found that she hadn’t. Later throughout the night she’d hope that Valora would come into their shared chambers, only to be disappointed when she didn’t. Instead, she came in the morning, Hela had been up the whole night; missing Valora’s warmth. When she heard the door open and close, she played as if she were truly sleeping. She didn’t hear any footsteps but, in the end, she did hear a sniffle. She felt a hand caress her cheek, she couldn’t help but lean into the warmth, a small smile coming across her face, she then felt water droplets fall on her face, stopping her smile.

She knew she needed to explain her behavior. She couldn’t do this to her lover. She slowly placed her hand on the one caressing her cheek and opened her eyes. Her heart was wrenching in pain at the sight of anguish within her eyes.

She took a deep breath before speaking, “My dove… I hope you know I don’t mean to be so distant…” Her curiosity began to spark. “I’m planning something… I can’t tell you because if it backfires, I will not have you be seen as an accomplice…” A new wave of tears began to trickle down Valora’s face. Hela sat up and moved to the edge of the bed to hold her.

She realized what needed to be done. Her father was heavily against it but at this point she couldn’t care less. She stood up and moved forward to only kneel down, holding onto her hand with both of hers.

“If you wish… I ask that you marry me and marry me now, my love… Once linked you won't have to question where my loyalties lie, for we will be able to hear and feel each other's thoughts and emotions.” Hela removed her right hand and held her palm up, slowly manifesting an onyx ring with an emerald gem. “What do you say?” Valora had become speechless at Hela’s confession, relief coursing through her. The marriage proposal was an added bonus. Valora could only throw herself at Hela in joy. Enveloping Hela’s lips with her own.

“Yes…” She noticed Hela’s smile widened, she took Valora’s left hand and placed the ring on her ring finger. A silk string began to wrap itself around their hands.

“We need to complete the ceremony… we need to bind our blood together and then we’d be considered wed by our ancestors.” Hela manifested a dagger and sliced her palm first, blood pooling on the floor between them. She then offered it to Valora to which she accepted and followed.

They then placed their bleeding palms together. It was silent for moments; they then began to feel a burning sensation throughout their bodies. Just as it began, it ended, the string melding into their skin. When their eyes met, they knew that they would never be alone again. For they had each other, forever. No matter what were to change in the near future, for Hela would leave something of hers behind.

Life.

#Hela #hela odinsdottir #marvel #cate blanchett #original character #wlw #lesbian #one shot #cate blanchett icons #thor ragnarok #Spotify #thor #odin #Hela x OC

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rhysdarbinizedarby · 1 year ago

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Couch surfer in his 30s. Oscar winner in his 40s. Why the whole world wants Taika

**Notes: This is very long post!**

Good Weekend

In his 30s, he was sleeping on couches. By his 40s, he’d directed a Kiwi classic, taken a Marvel movie to billion-dollar success, and won an Oscar. Meet Taika Waititi, king of the oddball – and one of New Zealand’s most original creative exports.

Taika Waititi: “Be a nice person and live a good life. And just don’t be an arsehole.”

The good news? Taika Waititi is still alive. I wasn’t sure. The screen we were speaking through jolted savagely a few minutes ago, with a cacophonous bang and a confused yelp, then radio silence. Now the Kiwi filmmaker is back, grinning like a loon: “I just broke the f---ing table, bro!”

Come again? “I just smashed this f---ing table and glass flew everywhere. It’s one of those old annoying colonial tables. It goes like this – see that?” Waititi says, holding up a folding furniture leg. “I hit the mechanism and it wasn’t locked. Anyway …”

I’m glad he’s fine. The stuff he’s been saying from his London hotel room could incur biblical wrath. We’re talking about his latest project, Next Goal Wins, a movie about the American Samoa soccer team’s quest to score a solitary goal, 10 years after suffering the worst loss in the game’s international history – a 31-0 ignominy to Australia – but our chat strays into spirituality, then faith, then religion.

“I don’t personally believe in a big guy sitting on a cloud judging everyone, but that’s just me,” Waititi says, deadpan. “Because I’m a grown-up.”

This is the way his interview answers often unfold. Waititi addresses your topic – dogma turns good people bad, he says, yet belief itself is worth lauding – but bookends every response with a conspiratorial nudge, wink, joke or poke. “Regardless of whether it’s some guy living on a cloud, or some other deity that you’ve made up – and they’re all made up – the message across the board is the same, and it’s important: Be a nice person, and live a good life. And just don’t be an arsehole!”

Not being an arsehole seems to have served Waititi, 48, well. Once a national treasure and indie darling (through the quirky tenderness of his breakout New Zealand films Boy in 2010 and Hunt for the Wilderpeople in 2016), Waititi then became a star of both the global box office (through his 2017 entry into the Marvel Universe, Thor: Ragnarok, which grossed more than $1.3 billion worldwide) and then the Academy Awards (winning the 2020 best adapted screenplay Oscar for his subversive Holocaust dramedy JoJo Rabbit, in which he played an imaginary Hitler).

Waititi playing Adolf Hitler in the 2019 movie JoJo Rabbit. (Alamy)

A handsome devil with undeniable roguish charm, Waititi also slid seamlessly into style-icon status (attending this year’s Met Gala shirtless, in a floor-length gunmetal-grey Atelier Prabal Gurung wrap coat, with pendulous pearl necklaces), as well as becoming his own brand (releasing an eponymous line of canned coffee drinks) and bona fide Hollywood A-lister (he was introduced to his second wife, British singer Rita Ora, by actor Robert Pattinson at a barbecue).

Putting that platform to use, Waititi is an Indigenous pioneer and mentor, too, co-creating the critically acclaimed TV series Reservation Dogs, while co-founding the Piki Films production company, committed to promoting the next generation of storytellers – a mission that might sound all weighty and worthy, yet Waititi’s new wave of First Nations work is never earnest, always mixing hurt with heart and howling humour.

Waititi with wife Rita Ora at the 2023 Met Gala in May. (Getty Images)

Makes sense. Waititi is a byproduct of “the weirdest coupling ever” – his late Maori father from the Te Whanau-a-Apanui tribe was an artist, farmer and “Satan’s Slaves” bikie gang founder, while his Wellington schoolteacher mum descended from Russian Jews, although he’s not devout about her faith. (“No, I don’t practise,” he confirms. “I’m just good at everything, straight away.”)

He’s remained loyally tethered to his origin story, too – and to a cadre of creative Kiwi mates, including actors Jemaine Clement and Rhys Darby – never forgetting that not long before the actor/writer/producer/director was an industry maven, he was a penniless painter/photographer/ musician/comedian.

With no set title and no fixed address, he’s seemingly happy to be everything, everywhere (to everyone) all at once. “‘The universe’ is bandied around a lot these days, but I do believe in the kind of connective tissue of the universe, and the energy that – scientifically – we are made up of a bunch of atoms that are bouncing around off each other, and some of the atoms are just squished together a bit tighter than others,” he says, smiling. “We’re all made of the same stardust, and that’s pretty special.”

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We’ve caught Waititi in a somewhat relaxed moment, right before the screen actors’ and media artists’ strike ends. He’s sensitive to the struggle but doesn’t deny enjoying the break. “I spent a lot of time thinking about writing, and not writing, and having a nice holiday,” he tells Good Weekend. “Honestly, it was a good chance just to recombobulate.”

Waititi, at right, with Hunt for the Wilderpeople actors, from left, Sam Neill, Rhys Darby and Julian Dennison. (Getty Images)

It’s mid-October, and he’s just headed to Paris to watch his beloved All Blacks in the Rugby World Cup. He’s deeply obsessed with the game, and sport in general. “Humans spend all of our time knowing what’s going to happen with our day. There’s no surprises any more. We’ve become quite stagnant. And I think that’s why people love sport, because of the air of unpredictability,” he says. “It’s the last great arena entertainment.”

The main filmic touchstone for Next Goal Wins (which premieres in Australian cinemas on New Year’s Day) would be Cool Runnings (1993), the unlikely true story of a Jamaican bobsled team, but Waititi also draws from genre classics such as Any Given Sunday and Rocky, sampling trusted tropes like the musical training montage. (His best one is set to Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears.)

Filming in Hawaii was an uplifting experience for the self-described Polynesian Jew. “It wasn’t about death, or people being cruel to each other. Thematically, it was this simple idea, of getting a small win, and winning the game wasn’t even their goal – their goal was to get a goal,” he says. “It was a really sweet backbone.”

Waititi understands this because, growing up, he was as much an athlete as a nerd, fooling around with softball and soccer before discovering rugby league, then union. “There’s something about doing exercise when you don’t know you’re doing exercise,” he enthuses. “It’s all about the fun of throwing a ball around and trying to achieve something together.” (Whenever Waititi is in Auckland he joins his mates in a long-running weekend game of touch rugby. “And then throughout the week I work out every day. Obviously. I mean, look at me.”)

Auckland is where his kids live, too, so he spends as much time there as possible. Waititi met his first wife, producer Chelsea Winstanley, on the set of Boy in 2010, and they had two daughters, Matewa Kiritapu, 8, and his firstborn, Te Kainga O’Te Hinekahu, 11. (The latter is a derivative of his grandmother’s name, but he jokes with American friends that it means “Resurrection of Tupac” or “Mazda RX7″) Waititi and Winstanley split in about 2018, and he married the pop star Ora in 2022.

He offers a novel method for balancing work with parenthood … “Look, you just abandon them, and know that the experience will make them harder individuals later on in life. And it’s their problem,” he says. “I’m going to give them all of the things that they need, and I’m going to leave behind a decent bank account for their therapy, and they will be just like me, and the cycle will continue.”

Jokes aside – I think he’s joking – school holidays are always his, and he brings the girls onto the set of every movie he makes. “They know enough not to get in the way or touch anything that looks like it could kill you, and they know to be respectful and quiet when they need to. But they’re just very comfortable around filmmakers, which I’m really happy about, because eventually I hope they will get into the industry. One more year,” he laughs, “then they can leave school and come work for Dad.”

Theirs is certainly a different childhood than his. Growing up, he was a product of two worlds. His given names, for instance, were based on his appearance at birth: “Taika David” if he looked Maori (after his Maori grandfather) and “David Taika” if he looked Pakeha (after his white grandfather). His parents split when he was five, so he bounced between his dad’s place in Waihau Bay, where he went by the surname Waititi, and his mum, eight hours drive away in Wellington, where he went by Cohen (the last name on his birth certificate and passport).

Waititi was precocious, even charismatic. His mother Robin once told Radio New Zealand that people always wanted to know him, even as an infant: “I’d be on a bus with him, and he was that kind of baby who smiled at people, and next thing you know they’re saying, ‘Can I hold your baby?’ He’s always been a charmer to the public eye.”

He describes himself as a cool, sporty, good-looking nerd, raised on whatever pop culture screened on the two TV channels New Zealand offered in the early 1980s, from M*A*S*H and Taxi to Eddie Murphy and Michael Jackson. He was well-read, too. When punished by his mum, he would likely be forced to analyse a set of William Blake poems.

He puts on a whimpering voice to describe their finances – “We didn’t have much monneeey” – explaining how his mum spent her days in the classroom but also worked in pubs, where he would sit sipping a raspberry lemonade, doodling drawings and writing stories. She took in ironing and cleaned houses; he would help out, learning valuable lessons he imparts to his kids. “And to random people who come to my house,” he says. “I’ll say, ‘Here’s a novel idea, wash this dish,’ but people don’t know how to do anything these days.”

“Every single character I’ve ever written has been based on someone I’ve known or met or a story I’ve stolen from someone.” - Taika Waititi

He loved entertaining others, clearly, but also himself, recording little improvised radio plays on a tape deck – his own offbeat versions of ET and Indiana Jones and Star Wars. “Great free stuff where you don’t have any idea what the story is as you’re doing it,” he says. “You’re just sort of making it up and enjoying the freedom of playing god in this world where you can make people and characters do whatever you want.”

His other sphere of influence lay in Raukokore, the tiny town where his father lived. Although Boy is not autobiographical, it’s deeply personal insofar as it’s filmed in the house where he grew up, and where he lived a life similar to that portrayed in the story, surrounded by his recurring archetypes: warm grandmothers and worldly kids; staunch, stoic mums; and silly, stunted men. “Every single character I’ve ever written has been based on someone I’ve known or met,” he says, “or a story I’ve stolen from someone.”

He grew to love drawing and painting, obsessed early on with reproducing the Sistine Chapel. During a 2011 TED Talk on creativity, Waititi describes his odd subject matter, from swastikas and fawns to a picture of an old lady going for a walk … upon a sword … with Robocop. “My father was an outsider artist, even though he wouldn’t know what that meant,” Waititi told the audience in Doha. “I love the naive. I love people who can see things through an innocent viewpoint. It’s inspiring.”

After winning Best Adapted Screenplay Academy Award for JoJo Rabbit in 2020. (Getty Images)

It was an interesting time in New Zealand, too – a coming-of-age decade in which the Maori were rediscovering their culture. His area was poor, “but only financially,” he says. “It’s very rich in terms of the people and the culture.” He learned kapa haka – the songs, dances and chants performed by competing tribes at cultural events, or to honour people at funerals and graduations – weddings, parties, anything. “Man, any excuse,” he explains. “A big part of doing them is to uplift your spirits.”

Photography was a passion, so I ask what he shot. “Just my penis. I sent them to people, but we didn’t have phones, so I would print them out, post them. One of the first dick pics,” he says. Actually, his lens was trained on regular people. He watches us still – in airports, restaurants. “Other times late at night, from a tree. Whatever it takes to get the story. You know that.”

He went to the Wellington state school Onslow College and did plays like Androcles and the Lion, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Crucible. His crew of arty students eventually ended up on stage at Bats Theatre in the city, where they would perform haphazard comedy shows for years.

“Taika was always rebellious and wild in his comedy, which I loved,” says his high school mate Jackie van Beek, who became a longtime collaborator, including working with Waititi on a Tourism New Zealand campaign this year. “I remember he went through a phase of turning up in bars around town wearing wigs, and you’d try and sit down and have a drink with him but he’d be doing some weird character that would invariably turn up in some show down the track.”

He met more like-minded peers at Victoria University, including Jemaine Clement (who’d later become co-creator of Flight of the Conchords). During a 2019 chat with actor Elijah Wood, Waititi describes he and Clement clocking one another from opposite sides of the library one day: a pair of Maoris experiencing hate at first sight, based on a mutual suspicion of cultural appropriation. (Clement was wearing a traditional tapa cloth Samoan shirt, and Waititi was like: “This motherf---er’s not Samoan.” Meanwhile, Waititi was wearing a Rastafarian beanie, and Clement was like, “This motherf---er’s not Jamaican.”)

With Jemaine Clement in 2014. (Getty Images)

But they eventually bonded over Blackadder and Fawlty Towers, and especially Kenny Everett, and did comedy shows together everywhere from Edinburgh to Melbourne. Waititi was almost itinerant, spending months at a time busking, or living in a commune in Berlin. He acted in a few small films, and then – while playing a stripper on a bad TV show – realised he wanted to try life behind the camera. “I became tired of being told what to do and ordered around,” he told Wellington’s Dominion Post in 2004. “I remember sitting around in the green room in my G-string thinking, ‘Why am I doing this? Just helping someone else to realise their dream.’ ”

He did two strong short films, then directed his first feature – Eagle vs Shark (2007) – when he was 32. He brought his mates along (Clement, starring with Waititi’s then-girlfriend Loren Horsley), setting something of a pattern in his career: hiring friends instead of constantly navigating new working relationships. “If you look at things I’m doing,” he tells me, “there’s always a few common denominators.”

Sam Neill says Waititi is the exemplar of a new New Zealand humour. “The basis of it is this: we’re just a little bit crap at things.”

This gang of collaborators shares a common Kiwi vibe, too, which his longtime friend, actor Rhys Darby, once coined “the comedy of the mundane”. Their new TV show, Our Flag Means Death, for example, leans heavily into the mundanity of pirate life – what happens on those long days at sea when the crew aren’t unsheathing swords from scabbards or burying treasure.

Waititi plays pirate captain Blackbeard, centre, in Our Flag Means Death, with Rhys Darby, left, and Rory Kinnear. (Google Images)

Sam Neill, who first met Waititi when starring in Hunt for the Wilderpeople, says Waititi is the exemplar of a new New Zealand humour. “And I think the basis of it is this,” says Neill. “We’re just a little bit crap at things, and that in itself is funny.” After all, Neill asks, what is What We Do in The Shadows (2014) if not a film (then later a TV show) about a bunch of vampires who are pretty crap at being vampires, living in a pretty crappy house, not quite getting busted by crappy local cops? “New Zealand often gets named as the least corrupt country in the world, and I think it’s just that we would be pretty crap at being corrupt,” Neill says. “We don’t have the capacity for it.”

Waititi’s whimsy also spurns the dominant on-screen oeuvre of his homeland – the so-called “cinema of unease” exemplified by the brutality of Once Were Warriors (1994) and the emotional peril of The Piano (1993). Waititi still explores pathos and pain, but through laughter and weirdness. “Taika feels to me like an antidote to that dark aspect, and a gift somehow,” Neill says. “And I’m grateful for that.”

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Something happened to Taika Waititi when he was about 11 – something he doesn’t go into with Good Weekend, but which he considered a betrayal by the adults in his life. He mentioned it only recently – not the moment itself, but the lesson he learnt: “That you cannot and must not rely on grown-ups to help you – you’re basically in the world alone, and you’re gonna die alone, and you’ve just gotta make it all for yourself,” he told Irish podcast host James Brown. “I basically never forgave people in positions of responsibility.”

What does that mean in his work? First, his finest films tend to reflect the clarity of mind possessed by children, and the unseen worlds they create – fantasies conjured up as a way to understand or overcome. (His mum once summed up the main message of Boy: “The unconditional love you get from your children, and how many of us waste that, and don’t know what we’ve got.”)

Second, he’s suited to movie-making – “Russian roulette with art” – because he’s drawn to disruptive force and chaos. And that in turn produces creative defiance: allowing him to reinvigorate the Marvel Universe by making superheroes fallible, or tell a Holocaust story by making fun of Hitler. “Whenever I have to deal with someone who’s a boss, or in charge, I challenge them,” he told Brown, “and I really do take whatever they say with a pinch of salt.”

It’s no surprise then that Waititi was comfortable leaping from independent films to the vast complexity of Hollywood blockbusters. He loves the challenge of coordinating a thousand interlocking parts, requiring an army of experts in vocations as diverse as construction, sound, art, performance and logistics. “I delegate a lot,” he says, “and share the load with a lot of people.”

“This is a cool concept, being able to afford whatever I want, as opposed to sleeping on couches until I was 35.” - Taika Waititi

But the buck stops with him. Time magazine named Waititi one of its Most Influential 100 People of 2022. “You can tell that a film was made by Taika Waititi the same way you can tell a piece was painted by Picasso,” wrote Sacha Baron Cohen. Compassionate but comic. Satirical but watchable. Rockstar but auteur. “Actually, sorry, but this guy’s really starting to piss me off,” Cohen concluded. “Can someone else write this piece?”

Directing Chris Hemsworth in 2017 in Thor: Ragnarok, which grossed more than $1.3 billion at the box office. (Alamy)

I’m curious to know how he stays grounded amid such adulation. Coming into the game late, he says, helped immensely. After all, Waititi was 40 by the time he left New Zealand to do Thor: Ragnarok. “If you let things go to your head, then it means you’ve struggled to find out who you are,” he says. “But I’ve always felt very comfortable with who I am.” Hollywood access and acclaim – and the pay cheques – don’t erase memories of poverty, either. “It’s more like, ‘Oh, this is a cool concept, being able to afford whatever I want, as opposed to sleeping on couches until I was 35.’ ” Small towns and strong tribes keep him in check, too. “You know you can’t piss around and be a fool, because you’re going to embarrass your family,” he says. “Hasn’t stopped me, though.”

Sam Neill says there was never any doubt Waititi would be able to steer a major movie with energy and imagination. “It’s no accident that the whole world wants Taika,” he says. “But his seductiveness comes with its own dangers. You can spread yourself a bit thin. The temptation will be to do more, more, more. That’ll be interesting to watch.”

Indeed, I find myself vicariously stressed out over the list of potential projects in Waititi’s future. A Roald Dahl animated series for Netflix. An Apple TV show based on the 1981 film Time Bandits. A sequel to What We Do In The Shadows. A reboot of Flash Gordon. A gonzo horror comedy, The Auteur, starring Jude Law. Adapting a cult graphic novel, The Incal, as a feature. A streaming series based on the novel Interior Chinatown. A film based on a Kazuo Ishiguro bestseller. Plus bringing to life the wildly popular Akira comic books. Oh, and for good measure, a new instalment of Star Wars, which he’s already warned the world will be … different.

“It’s going to change things,” he told Good Morning America. “It’s going to change what you guys know and expect.”

Did I say I was stressed for Waititi? I meant physically sick.

“Well…” he qualifies, “some of those things I’m just producing, so I come up with an idea or someone comes to me with an idea, and I shape how ‘it’s this kind of show’ and ‘here’s how we can get it made.’ It’s easier for me to have a part in those things and feel like I’ve had a meaningful role in the creative process, but also not having to do what I’ve always done, which is trying to control everything.”

In the 2014 mockumentary horror film What We Do in the Shadows, which he co-directed with Jemaine Clement. (Alamy)

What about moving away from the niche New Zealand settings he represented so well in his early work? How does he stay connected to his roots? “I think you just need to know where you’re from,” he says, “and just don’t forget that.”

They certainly haven’t forgotten him.

Jasmin McSweeney sits in her office at the New Zealand Film Commission in Wellington, surrounded by promotional posters Waititi signed for her two decades ago, when she was tasked with promoting his nascent talent. Now the organisation’s marketing chief, she talks to me after visiting the heart of thriving “Wellywood”, overseeing the traditional karakia prayer on the set of a new movie starring Geoffrey Rush.

Waititi isn’t the first great Kiwi filmmaker – dual Oscar-winner Jane Campion and blockbuster king Peter Jackson come to mind – yet his particular ascendance, she says, has spurred unparalleled enthusiasm. “Taika gave everyone here confidence. He always says, ‘Don’t sit around waiting for people to say, you can do this.’ Just do it, because he just did it. That’s the Taika effect.”

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Taika David Waititi is known for wearing everything from technicolour dreamcoats to pineapple print rompers, and today he’s wearing a roomy teal and white Isabel Marant jumper. The mohair garment has the same wispy frizz as his hair, which curls like a wave of grey steel wool, and connects with a shorn salty beard.

A stylish silver fox, it wouldn’t surprise anyone if he suddenly announced he was launching a fashion label. He’s definitely a commercial animal, to the point of directing television commercials for Coke and Amazon, along with a fabulous 2023 spot for Belvedere vodka starring Daniel Craig. He also joined forces with a beverage company in Finland (where “taika” means “magic”) to release his coffee drinks. Announcing the partnership on social media, he flagged that he would be doing more of this kind of stuff, too (“Soz not soz”).

Waititi has long been sick of reverent portrayals of Indigenous people talking to spirits.

There’s substance behind the swank. Fashion is a creative outlet but he’s also bought sewing machines in the past with the intention of designing and making clothes, and comes from a family of tailors. “I learnt how to sew a button on when I was very young,” he says. “I learnt how to fix holes or patches in your clothes, and darn things.”

And while he gallivants around the globe watching Wimbledon or modelling for Hermès at New York Fashion Week, all that glamour belies a depth of purpose, particularly when it comes to Indigenous representation.

There’s a moment in his new movie where a Samoan player realises that their Dutch coach, played by Michael Fassbender, is emotionally struggling, and he offers a lament for white people: “They need us.” I can’t help but think Waititi meant something more by that line – maybe that First Nations people have wisdom to offer if others will just listen?

“Weeelllll, a little bit …” he says – but from his intonation, and what he says next, I’m dead wrong. Waititi has long been sick of reverent portrayals of Indigenous people talking to kehua (spirits), or riding a ghost waka (phantom canoe), or playing a flute on a mountain. “Always the boring characters,” he says. “They’ve got no real contemporary relationship with the world, because they’re always living in the past in their spiritual ways.”

A scene from Next Goal Wins, filmed earlier this year. (Alamy)

He’s part of a vanguard consciously poking fun at those stereotypes. Another is the Navajo writer and director Billy Luther, who met Waititi at Sundance Film Festival back in 2003, along with Reservation Dogs co-creator Sterlin Harjo. “We were this group of outsiders trying to make films, when nobody was really biting,” says Luther. “It was a different time. The really cool thing about it now is we’re all working. We persevered. We didn’t give up. We slept on each other’s couches and hung out. It’s like family.”

Waititi has power now, and is known for using Indigenous interns wherever possible (“because there weren’t those opportunities when I was growing up”), making important introductions, offering feedback on scripts, and lending his name to projects through executive producer credits, too, which he did for Luther’s new feature film, Frybread Face and Me (2023).

He called Luther back from the set of Thor: Love and Thunder (2022) to offer advice on working with child actors – “Don’t box them into the characters you’ve created,” he said, “let them naturally figure it out on their own” – but it’s definitely harder to get Waititi on the phone these days. “He’s a little bitch,” Luther says, laughing. “Nah, there’s nothing like him. He’s a genius. You just knew he was going to be something. I just knew it. He’s my brother.“

I’ve been asked to explicitly avoid political questions in this interview, probably because Waititi tends to back so many causes, from child poverty and teenage suicide to a campaign protesting offshore gas and oil exploration near his tribal lands. But it’s hard to ignore his recent Instagram post, sharing a viral video about the Voice to Parliament referendum starring Indigenous Aussie rapper Adam Briggs. After all, we speak only two days after the proposal is defeated. “Yeah, sad to say but, Australia, you really shat the bed on that one,” Waititi says, pausing. “But go see my movie!”

About that movie – the early reviews aren’t great. IndieWire called it a misfire, too wrapped in its quirks to develop its arcs, with Waititi’s directorial voice drowning out his characters, while The Guardian called it “a shoddily made and strikingly unfunny attempt to tell an interesting story in an uninteresting way”. I want to know how he moves past that kind of criticism. “For a start, I never read reviews,” he says, concerned only with the opinion of people who paid for admission, never professional appraisals. “It’s not important to me. I know I’m good at what I do.”

Criticism that Indigenous concepts weren’t sufficiently explained in Next Goal Wins gets his back up a little, though. The film’s protagonist, Jaiyah Saelua, the first transgender football player in a FIFA World Cup qualifying match, is fa’afafine – an American Samoan identifier for someone with fluid genders – but there wasn’t much exposition of this concept in the film. “That’s not my job,” Waititi says. “It’s not a movie where I have to explain every facet of Samoan culture to an audience. Our job is to retain our culture, and present a story that’s inherently Polynesian, and if you don’t like it, you can go and watch any number of those other movies out there, 99 per cent of which are terrible.”

*notes: (there is video clip in the article)

Waititi sounds momentarily cranky, but he’s mostly unflappable and hilarious. He’s the kind of guy who prefers “Correctumundo bro!” to “Yes”. When our video connection is too laggy, he plays up to it by periodically pretending to be frozen, sitting perfectly still, mouth open, his big shifting eyeballs the only giveaway.

He’s at his best on set. Saelua sat next to him in Honolulu while filming the joyous soccer sequences. “He’s so chill. He just let the actors do their thing, giving them creative freedom, barely interjecting unless it was something important. His style matches the vibe of the Pacific people. We’re a very funny people. We like to laugh. He just fit perfectly.”

People do seem to love working alongside him, citing his ability to make productions fresh and unpredictable and funny. Chris Hemsworth once said that Waititi’s favourite gag is to “forget” that his microphone is switched on, so he can go on a pantomime rant for all to hear – usually about his disastrous Australian lead actor – only to “remember” that he’s wired and the whole crew is listening.

“I wouldn’t know about that, because I don’t listen to what other people say about anything – I’ve told you this,” Waititi says. “I just try to have fun when there’s time to have fun. And when you do that, and you bring people together, they’re more willing to go the extra mile for you, and they’re more willing to believe in the thing that you’re trying to do.”

Yes, he plays music between takes, and dances out of his director’s chair, but it’s really all about relaxing amid the immense pressure and intense privilege of making movies. “Do you know how hard it is just to get anything financed or green-lit, then getting a crew, getting producers to put all the pieces together, and then making it to set?” Waititi asks. “It’s a real gift, even to be working, and I feel like I have to remind people of that: enjoy this moment.”

Source: The Age

By: Konrad Marshall (December 1, 2023)

#rhys darby #taika waititi #next goal wins #our flag means death #hunt for the wilderpeople #interview

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