This docuseries is a lively and personal look at what it’s like to be queer in New Zealand today. Hosted by the really charming Aniwa Whaiapu Koloamatangi, it feels like you're being invited into all these different parts of the rainbow community that usually don't get much time on TV. The first season is made up of six episodes, each about 30 minutes long, and they all dive into different topics like family, faith, and the specific experience of being Takatāpui, which is the Māori queer identity. It does a really nice job of balancing the tough history of the LGBTQ+ community with a lot of modern-day happiness and pride. The show starts with Aniwa traveling all over the place to meet folks from every walk of life to see how their background and identity mix together. In the first episode, Aniwa actually takes his first HIV test, works through some stuff from his childhood by playing rugby with the NZ Falcons—one of the country’s gay teams—and checks out what Rainbow Youth is d...
The documentary arrives at essential truths about suffering and loss through abstract means. At a coffee shop, François’s sister relives the day she told her parents about her brother’s death. But the mother corrects her, probably with a hint of bitterness that suggests resentment for not having learned of her son’s death first or, more likely, an attempt to compensate for the fact that she will never know the full extent of what her son suffered during the last five minutes of his life. Once we witness the family's pain, the focus moves to the legal proceedings and the three day trial. The perpetrators were sentenced to 20 and 15 years respectively after recounting of what really happened that night. But the overarching theme is when 6 months after the trial, Francois' parents send an open letter to the youths who murdered their son in which they advise them to move beyond hatred. The camera eavesdrops on discussions between the attorneys, social workers and, most importantly, documents the Chenu family's sorrow and their noble, yet frustrated, attempts to understand how the killers' racist and xenophobic upbringings could result in such pointless, and hate-fueled, violence.
I feel the overarching theme of this documentary was more around tolerance and forgiving rather than sensationalizing. The open letter at the end is a healing act which contains a genuine sense of forgiveness and reconciliation. In a world where hatred and revenge are tolerated, this documentary shows that there is another path that can be taken, one that cherishes and reverences human life no matter what. This documentary is highly recommended for its positive modeling of the spiritual practice of forgiveness. The equanimity with which Francois' family handle the trial and its aftermath offers a heroic example. And thankfully the documentary director also stays away from any kind of sensationalism, which in my opinion is the biggest win of this documentary. The subject needs respect and a dignified approach and the documentary does exactly that putting the case into a wider socio-cultural context. camera eavesdrops on discussions between the attorneys, social workers and, most importantly, documents the Chenu family's sorrow and their noble, yet frustrated, attempts to understand how the killers' racist and xenophobic upbringings could result in such pointless, and hate-fueled, violence. (6/10)
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