THE STYLE AND GENRE
We have a film that touches intense, complex and violent issues. We chose to treat them with a gentle hand, seeking to create lyrical beauty not only in the images but also in the pace, the dialogue and the dramatic composition of the story.
In terms of the work with the actors, a naturalistic style, an almost whispering fashion of acting, creates the precise emotional tone for this film. This, I believe, allows the audience to connect with the emotional journey of the characters, beyond the brutality of their experiences.
The basic form of a psychological thriller served as an inspiration during the process of writing and imagining the film White Lies — Tuakiri Huna. This provided me with a simple and clear reference for how this film would function, the emotional place it would take us, and the tools with which it would be built. Two pivotal points of this film adaptation are the intense dynamics between the hidden faces and purposes of our three very strong characters and the narrative rhythm through which the unexpected mysteries of the film unfold.
THE FINAL CHANGE: THE END OF THE FILM
Cinema is a living, collective and utterly magical process. The duty and the pleasure of being a film director is to know how to listen to the inner voice of the story and allow it to flow towards the encounter of the characters and their true destiny, even if that means restructuring the narrative of the film itself. That is the indescribable miracle of filmmaking.
I was blessed to have the most fascinating change of direction in the story while shooting the scenes of the delivery of Rebecca’s baby. The unique and amazing chemistry the actresses produced brought to the story a quality that was not in the original novella, nor in my script. The place where Rebecca, Maraea and Paraiti arrived at the end of their stories was the perfect closure to their journey and has given to this film the silent coherency it deserves.
I can only be grateful to all those who made this happen and helped me listen and find the way from the beginning all the way to the true ending to this film.
Dana Rotberg
Scriptwriter and director of White Lies — Tuakiri Huna
Auckland, Aotearoa New Zealand
* Tuakiri Huna: Tua: Beyond, on the other side of. Kiri: skin. Tuakiri, which combines both words, becomes: Identity, personality. Huna: To conceal or hide.
SOURCE: ANI PRIP
EXT. MAORI VILLAGE BY THE EDGE OF A
LAKE — DAY
PARAITI, a girl of barely 10 years, is seated on the ground in front of an orderly row of flowers, herbs and leaves of different colours and sizes, which are unfolded at her feet like a book. She is intently examining the design of the petals of a flower which she holds in her hands.
The girl gently crushes the flower with her fingers, and brings her hands to her nose. She inhales the aroma given off by the broken, moist petals.
Sitting beside the girl is her GRANDFATHER, who observes her with full concentration.
Not far from them, the girl’s MOTHER and BROTHER are occupied sorting a pile of potatoes.
The grandfather takes a bunch of dark green leaves out of an old kete and offers them to Paraiti.
The girl smiles at her grandfather, takes the leaves from his hands and finds the right place to put them among the rest of the flowers and herbs lined up at her feet.
It is the sound of hoofbeats forcefully hitting the ground that breaks Paraiti’s reverie.
The nearly idyllic silence is extinguished by the cries of her mother and the sound of gun fire.
In barely a few seconds, the landscape is confused, filled with a desperate disarray of people and animals racing in all directions.
Paraiti sees a WHITE MAN thrust a flaming branch into the small patch of potatoes, which immediately bursts into flame.
Paraiti tries to gather her bundle of herbs, but the hooves of a horse trample them.
Paraiti watches as her grandfather is beaten and shoved along by TWO WHITE MEN.
GRANDFATHER
Paraiti!
Suddenly, a hefty branch, licking with brilliant orange flames, violently slashes across her face.
Stunned by the impact, Paraiti drops to the ground.
Galloping close to her, the group of white men disappear on their horses as quickly as they came.
The fury of the hoofbeats fades away, leaving behind only smoke and silence.
DISSOLVE TO:
The pile of potatoes is still smoking.
Close by, the burned bodies of the mother, brother and sister.
Not too far away, the body of her grandfather.
There is nothing left …
Very slowly, as if emerging from a bad dream, Paraiti opens her eyes. Her face is damaged; her skin is charred and burnt.
Shattered, Paraiti manages to stand.
She walks slowly, observing the blackened carcass of what is revealed to have been a small Maori settlement that, until now, had basked in a vast and magnificent landscape on the edge of a beautiful blue lake.
Paraiti runs away.
EXT. FOREST — AFTERNOON
Her face caked with dark mud, a blinded Paraiti runs, trying to find her way through a field of tall grasses.
Her steps are guided only by the sound of the water of the unseen lake.
Still blinded, she lowers herself down the lake’s bank, branch by branch, gripping whatever falls into her hands.
Her feet sense the dampness of the lake’s edge.
She slows her pace, and thrusts her face into the water to feel the lake’s cold embrace.
FADE OUT.
“WHITE LIES”
FADE IN:
EXT. MOUNTAINS / BUSH — DAY
As if the gods can’t stop crying, an immense rain falls over a majestic range of mountains.
Hurled by a furious wind, the drops of water rush from the tops of the ancient trees all the way down to the tender and humble moss that covers a narrow path of dirt.
Everything is sprouting and green.
Paraiti is now an older woman. From her forehead to her cheek, an enormous scar marks her aging face.
Silently, she slowly walks through the bush in the rain, her only company a horse and a dog.
Paraiti observes the greenery. She stops to pick some herbs, strangely enlaced in the branches of a bush.
The work of her hands is subtle and careful, and she makes sure she does not disturb or damage the bush.
She murmurs, seeming to converse with the plants as she tucks them away inside her father’s old kete.
Then she continues her languid journey.
EXT. TOP OF THE MOUNTAIN — AFTERNOON
Paraiti emerges from the bush, followed by her dog and her horse.
In the distance, down in a valley, a column of grey smoke rises from a small village into the intensely blue sky.
Paraiti smiles and rides in the direction of the village.
EXT. VILLAGE — EVENING
Paraiti and her animals approach a small village.
EXT. GATE OF HORIANA’S
HOUSE — EVENING
Paraiti and her animals arrive at the gate of a house surrounded by flowers.
A young boy runs to her.
YOUNG MOKOPUNA
Kei te tomuri koe, Paraiti. Kua tae ke a Kuia Horiana ki te marae.
SUBTITLE:
You are late, Paraiti. Horiana’s already gone to the meeting house for the service.
Knowing she is late, Paraiti moves as quickly as she can.
EXT. ROAD TO MARAE — SUNSET
Paraiti hurries towards the grounds of the marae.
EXT. WHARE NUI — SUNSET
The PIRIHIMANA is just about to go inside the meeting house when he sees Paraiti running late. He walks back to where the bell is and rings it again a few quick times.
Paraiti approaches him as he gives her a welcoming blessing.
As the blessing finishes, Paraiti rushes to the entrance of the meeting house.
INT. WHARE NUI — SUNSET
Aware she is late, Paraiti waits by the door for a second. She glances about until she spots a short, smiley, grey-haired woman, HORIANA, who is saving her a place.
WIREPA, the Tohunga, is waiting to begin the service inside the meeting house.
Paraiti sits beside Horiana.
Only then does Wirepa begin the liturgy.
WIREPA
Ka whakakitea a Te Matua Tangata ki te maramatanga pono, ko te maramatanga pono ko te Anahera. E kakahu ana ki te kakahu ma ano tona rite ki te hukarere, ana makawe he whetu piataata, he karauna koura i te upoko, he parirau ana, tona hanga ki nga tai o te kopere.
SUBTITLE:
An angel appeared into the light to the prophet Te Kooti, and the angel was clothed in garments white as snow, his hair like twinkling stars, a crown of gold upon his head, his wings the colour of a rainbow.
The people listen to the words of Wirepa.
Women and men, old and young, are all submerged in sacred silence.
WIREPA
Katahi ka korero, E kore au e whakarere i taku iwi, me taku iwi ano. Koinei te maramatanga pono o te Haahi, Kororia tona ingoa tapu.
SUBTITLE:
And the angel said to the prophet, ‘I will not forsake my people nor will my people be forsaken.’ This is the revelation of our faith. Glory be to Thy holy name.
Everyone in the meeting house repeats the words, raising their hands.
WIREPA AND EVERYONE
Amine.
SUBTITLE:
Amen.
FADE OUT.
FADE IN:
EXT. WHARE NUI — MORNING
It’s pouring with rain.
Horiana is seated by the entrance of the meeting house.
Not too far away, Oti, the dog, attentively waits.
A YOUNG GIRL limps from the meeting house, holding a gourd bowl which she has used to clean the wound on her foot. She hands the gourd to Horiana who steps away and pours the bloody water into a larger container.
The young girl goes away and Horiana sits by the large container, guarding it.
INT. WHARE NUI — MORNING
Paraiti sits by the pou tahu, the centre-front post of the meeting house. By her side, on a low table, rest a variety of medical utensils, some clearly European, others Maori. Visible are a mixture of scalpels, shells, obsidian shards, clean rags, dried gourd pots, potions, pharmaceutical concoctions, herbs and compositions.
An EMACIATED OLD MAN, a CHILD with an eye infection, a WOMAN with swollen legs, a PREGNANT GIRL and a MATURE COUPLE sit patiently waiting to be seen by the medicine woman.
Paraiti reviews the waiting group. She turns to the pregnant girl, AROHA, and motions for her to approach.
The old woman with swollen legs reacts, upset, but one sharp look from Paraiti shuts her up.
Aroha, not even 14, is pale with sunken eyes. In her childish, almost inaudible voice, she tells Paraiti:
AROHA
Koinei taku haputanga tuarua. Engari i whakatahe te mea tuatahi i mua noa atu i te tonga hanga o taku puku.
SUBTITLE:
This is the second time I have had a baby inside me.
Paraiti listens as she examines Aroha’s fingernails and hair, the texture of her skin, the colour of her eyes.
PARAITI
He aha te korero a too whaea mo tenei? He aha ia i kore ai e haere mai ki too taha.
SUBTITLE:
What does your mother say about this?
AROHA
E whakawhanau ana taku mama i a ahau ka mate ia.
SUBTITLE:
My mother died when I was born.
With care and tenderness, Paraiti helps Aroha recline on the cot and begins to auscultate [listen to] the girl’s lower belly.
PARAITI
Ehara koe i te tuatahi, otia i te whakamutunga o te pani whakawhaanau. Heoi ano, ko te mea tika kia whakawhiwhia koe ki tetahi kaiako. Ko ahau tena.
SUBTITLE:
Lay back. You are not the first, nor will you be the last orphan to give birth. All you need is someone to teach you. I am that teacher.
Paraiti begins to softly massage Aroha’s belly.
PARAITI
O tatau ringaringa … he ako i a tatau pepe ki te korero otira maaku koe e ako. Na kua mohio koe ki te korero ki too tamaiti, ki te whakarongo hoki ki a ia. Ara ma o ringaringa katoa eena ahua.
SUBTITLE:
With our hands … We teach our babies to speak to us … And I will show you how.
Aroha gives her full concentration, paying attention to the movements Paraiti makes on her belly as if she wants to imprint them in her young memory.
Paraiti invites Aroha to place her hands on top of Paraiti’s old and dry hands.
Like fragile little paper ships, Aroha’s tiny hands make their way around her belly.
PARAITI
Ko te koopu o te wahine ko te ao tonu tena. Ko te kohao tena o te timatanga me te whakaotinga o nga mea katoa.
SUBTITLE:
The womb of a woman is the universe. The dark space where all things begin and are completed …
Paraiti observes Aroha, then closes her eyes in silence.
Aroha also closes her eyes.
After a few seconds, feeling unsure, Aroha opens her eyes to check if Paraiti still has her eyes closed; she does. The doubting girl quickly closes her eyes again.
Paraiti smiles and draws her hands away, leaving the girl’s hands poised on her own belly.
PARAITI
Ma too koopu e pae here too tamaiti ki te whenua ki te iwi. Otira mo ake tonu atu.
SUBTITLE:
Through your womb you will bond your child to the land and to the people. Forever.
After a few seconds a smile comes across the girl’s face. Aroha laughs aloud, happy.
AROHA
Kai te whana pera i te whiore o te ika!
SUBTITLE:
It’s jumping around like a little fish!
Amused, Aroha opens her eyes to see Paraiti returning a genuine, joyful smile. Paraiti reaches out and softly caresses the girl’s face.
PARAITI
Kai a koe ra te hua mana wahine o te whaea! A, mea rawa ake kua whakawhiwhia koe ki too tama … ki too kotira raanei … Hei tauawhi ki roto i o ringa.
SUBTITLE:
Soon you will have your child wrapped in your arms.
Aroha closes her eyes once again and continues to massage her belly.
Paraiti watches her for few moments.
AROHA
Kia tata atu ki taku whakawhanau mau pea ahau e awhina, e atawhai hoki.
SUBTITLE:
You can be with me the day my baby is born.
PARAITI
Ehe. Kaare e whakaae tia tena. He ture pakeha.
SUBTITLE:
No. That is forbidden … It is the white man’s law.
The girl responds naturally.
AROHA
He aha ai kaare ano koe i mauhere hia?
SUBTITLE:
So why have they not put you in jail?
Paraiti deflects.
PARAITI
Ko aaku mahi he maama noa iho, ara he waewae pupuhi, maruu, poroiwi whati, motu …
SUBTITLE:
What I do is only the very simple things, swollen legs and bruises, a broken bone, or a cut …
Aroha turns her face away, disturbed and disappointed.
PARAITI
Kia kaha te kai, te katakata me te whakamahi i o ringaringa. Koina te ara e pakari ai to tu i te tu a te whaea otira e ora makohakoha ai too tamaiti.
SUBTITLE:
Eat well and laugh a lot and don’t stop with your hands. Your child will grow strong and healthy.
She tenderly readjusts Aroha’s dress, helping her back to her feet.
PARAITI
He uaua tera ki te noho pani, te kore matua, engari kai too taha anoo o tipuna. Ahakoa kaare koe I te kite i a ratau. Ka manaaki tonu-hia koe e raatau, e marama ana ahau ki tena.
SUBTITLE:
I know how hard it is not having parents, but you have to know that your ancestors are with you. Even if you cannot see them, they are here, taking care of you.
Aroha tries to smile.
Paraiti returns her smile.
AROHA
Kia ora rawa atu, Paraiti.
SUBTITLE:
Thank you, Paraiti.
The girl’s embrace catches Paraiti off-guard. She is evidently quite unused to such closeness.
Paraiti separates herself from the girl’s embrace and walks her to the door.
PARAITIK
a pai noa iho nga mea katoa.
SUBTITLE:
Everything will work out fine.
Before leaving the meeting house, Aroha briefly turns her childish face back to Paraiti and smiles at her with trust and gratitude.
Paraiti watches the young girl leaving. There is sorrow in Paraiti’s smile.
Seconds later, Horiana pokes her head in.
Paraiti is lost in her thoughts.
Horiana gives her a ‘wake-up’ sound.
Paraiti snaps out of it and then calls Horiana to her side.
PARAITI
Me mau o taua whakaaro ki te kootiro ra. Me noho piri ia ki nga waahine, kia aro ai ki te kaupapa o te wharetangata. Maaku e waiho tena kia koe.
SUBTITLE:
We need to keep an eye on that girl. She must be among women and will need attention with her pregnancy. I’ll leave that to you.
Horiana nods, kisses Paraiti’s hand with love and respect and motions for her to come out and have some fresh air.
The two friends walk out away from the meeting house.
PARAITI
He ahua rite ia kia ahau, i te wa i ahau e pena ana te pakeke … Ahakoa kaare ahau i whiwhia hua.
SUBTITLE:
She reminds me of myself, when I was her age … Although I have never had a baby.
Horiana smiles and gently rubs her friend’s hands.
HORIANA
Koia koia, he aroha tonu kore ki nga panipani!
SUBTITLE:
All orphans remind you of yourself!