I haven’t been on many set visits, but I love them. It’s as if you get a chance to step out of the cinema and into the film itself, like in Last Action Hero. Though in the case of my set visit to Mahana, it went the other way around – I stepped out of my real-world life of explosive gunfights with Charles Dance and into the movie-world of a mid-1900s cinema on New Zealand’s East Coast.
After a 40-minute drive, I arrived to a few old establishments, greenery that belonged on an NZ infomercial, and a heap of buzzing, filmmaking worker bees. If there’s anything that can stomp some perspective onto the job of a local film critic, a person hired to judge the quality of a film, it’s the sight of hard-working people in plentiful numbers all hired to make ‘the moving image’.
I had to wait a while before going into the old hall where the scene was being filmed, as there had been a delay with the shot. A behind-the-scenes camera man showed me what happened with footage of the stunt horse bailing on the slippery, sandy surface during a test run. It hit the ground – hard – with the surrounding crew rightfully worried about the horse’s health. But, like an absolute professional, the horse shrugged off the damage and moseyed on out of there with a strut.
Eventually, I was taken inside the old hall, which had been transformed into a makeshift cinema lit up by a massive, beautiful, ancient film projector. OK, so they didn’t ACTUALLY use that projector to do the projecting (a modern one was sneakily doing the deed on the other side), but you don’t honour the great Colin Meads by throwing tackle bags at him.
The extras were all dressed in the dapper styles of the 1960s, as if all the portraits in my family’s photo album has suddenly turned into animated gifs. That sight alone is surreal, but it’s only when you start taking in the aroma – the homely scent of the wood, the simulated second-hand smoke from the fog machine – that the reality of the situation starts playing with your mind, like your brain wants you to believe that you’re in that moment of time.
This is why I love set visits.
The illusion was easily broken by the intimidating number of cords and cables that lie bare on the ground, almost beckoning for a clumsy foot to trip. Even more intimidating was the sight of a Kiwi filmmaking legend – Lee Tamahori – who directed one of the greatest, most devastating films in New Zealand history. Not wanting to give the worst first impression imaginable, I carefully stepped over the cables with a wedgie-like walk until I got to my seat.
This is when I was told that I was the closest I could be to seeing the scene unfold without being in shot. All I had to do was not move.
Someone yells “Action!” A kid rides the professional horse into a cinema. He circles around. A member of the audience yanks the kid off the horse. A brawl ensues. About a dozen people exchange tussles. They don’t sugarcoat the conflict either, with the brawlers giving everything they’ve got to make the slams look convincing as hell. It’s awesome.
During the brawl, a dude was thrown to the ground a little more than a metre away from where I was sitting. My natural instincts told me to leap out of the way, but I fought against them least I risked ruining the shot. I’d much rather face the weight of a hurtling stuntman than the undying wrath of Mr. Tamahori.
They did a few more takes, then cut for a break. The extras poured out of the old hall with a scatter, as if God was emptying 1960s New Zealand from a cereal box. And that’s when I made my exit, stepping out of a cinema time machine and praying to the very same God that my sneaker doesn’t appear in the final cut of Mahana.
‘Mahana’ hits cinemas nationwide from Thursday, March 3rd. Check here for movie times near you.
