AUGUST 3 2019 LISTENER 49
and her siblings.
The film begins by joining her retired
dad, Saia, on his weekly paper run, which
he does to raise money for his church.
Mafile‘o and the rest of her family have
spent years struggling to understand why
he continues to donate money when he
has very little to give.
“He’d ring all of us kids up: ‘It’s Misi-
nale on Friday, do you have $1000 or
$2000?’ We’d have to scrape together
[the money],” she says. “We’re like, ‘Dad,
you’re doing a paper run. Why are you
giving all your money to the church?’ It
was so upsetting to see how ridiculous he
was being.”
Mafile‘o’s film not only addresses the
problem, but also tries to understand
it, heading to Tonga to dig into her
father’s beliefs. It’s here her film opens
up, discovering just how deep, and how
complicated, the church’s ties to the com-
munity are.
“Church and culture can’t be sepa-
rated, they’re intertwined,” says Mafile‘o.
“They’re in the fabric of society.”
As her film travels from South Auckland
to Tonga for her father’s school reunion,
she reopens plenty of old family wounds.
Saia’s refusal to leave Tonga and join his
family in New Zealand as his children
grew up is a particularly painful memory.
An emotional discussion between Saia
and his adult son, shown near the end of
the film, includes an apology. It was the
first time the pair had discussed it. “Island
dads don’t talk – they don’t talk to their
sons,” says Tauamiti, who was behind
the camera. “I’ve never heard an Island
man say sorry – for anything. When I saw
[that], I was crying.”I
t was important that her family – both
parents, now separated, and siblings
Robert, Emily and Elizabeth – agreed to
take part in her film, says Mafile‘o.
Back in 2015, before shooting began,
she told them: “You know what this
entails. We’re not going to do it half-
hearted. If we put all our shit out there,
we’re going to do it properly. Because
what’s the point of doing something if it’s
going to be weak or half-pie?”
They agreed, and the results are intense
and intimate. Saia’s charismatic personal-
ity adds a lighter touch, but several scenes
show the kind of grief and anguish most
families keep firmly behind closed doors.
“I didn’t realise how personal and howdeep [we] would have to dig to get an
authentic story, and a story that wasn’t
coming from a place of telling-off, or
saying, ‘Our way is better than your way.’”
It’s a dramatic family affair on-screen,
but there was plenty going on behind
the scenes as well. During the 18-monthshoot, Mafile‘o and Tauamiti had their
third son. The baby joined mum and dad
on the shoot. “There was no separation
between work and life.”
Mafile‘o relied on those she was filming
to help make her movie.When she was heavily pregnant, her
brother carried sound equipment for her.
Late one night, while he was shooting
the preparation for a church feast, Taua-
miti fell asleep after a long day behind the
camera. She picked it up and kept filming.
“I just took over. I’m a hoarder. I’m like,
‘Film everything, now,’” she says.
With many family members invested in
her film, combined with the touchy sub-
ject, Mafile‘o says the stakes are high. She
hopes the right people see it, that it sparks
discussion and that it helps shift attitudes.
“Church plays a very special, importantrole in Tonga, but there needs to be not
so much pressure on the community. We
could just give what we actually have ...
not take out loans to do this.”
Mafile‘o says discussion has already
been happening following a few preview
screenings. Several church elders haveseen the film, she says, and given it their
approval. It’s had her father’s blessing, too.
“It was about understanding him, and he
was all for that,” she says.
After a screening for family and friends,
Saia told her: “I’m going to go visit my
ministers and make sure they come.”
She and Tauamiti are now used to
seeing people burst into tears once the
credits roll. Viewers have told them it’s
sparked discussions and reunions within
their own families. A film that opened
wounds for the Mafile‘o family has helped
close them in others.
Mafile‘o welcomes it, and often ends up
crying with them.
“I feel like we’ve been crying for the last
three years,” she says. “We’ve been sitting
behind the camera bawling our eyes out.”
She says it’s been “cathartic”, but, “there
are no answers. It’s not like we’re healed
now – it’s an ongoing thing.”
Reaching for another tissue, Mafile‘o
says: “It’s still really raw. Look at me, I’m
crying just talking to you about it.” lFor My Father’s Kingdom screens at the NZ
International Film Festival (Auckland from
July 30 and Wellington from August 6 before
heading to NZIFF events in other centres).“He’d ring all of us
kids up: ‘It’s Misinaleon Friday, do you
have $1000 or $2000?’We’d have to scrape
together [the money].”