Savage
madman
Amidst all the blood, brawn and profanity, there’s an undercurrent of warmth in Savage, a feature-debut by New Zealand director Sam Kelly. Based on stories from Wellington gang-warfare, this brooding character study looks at the pivotal points of a man’s life, examining the consequences of a violent vicious circle and rampant masculinity.
The action begins in 1989, focusing on a predominantly Tongan-New Zealand gang called The Savages, a name conjured in response to what they are deemed in an unequal world. The notable exception in this pack is Damage (Jake Ryan): a brute of a man sporting face tattoos and a shaggy mullet, who is the enforcer and second-in-command to Moses (John Tui). After botching a hook-up with Chelsie Preston Crayford’s Flo, in which we catch the first glimpse of his volatile temper, he reveals that the face coverings aren’t a mask, but rather “who he really is”.
Kelly tries to unpick the myth from this point, focusing on the criminal’s formative years in the form of two flashbacks. The first such portion, set in 1965, shows Danny’s (Olly Presling) troubled upbringing, with the whole family shackled by an abusive and domineering father. After some petty theft lands him in Borstal, he befriends Moses (Lotima Pome’e), forming a bond that helps him get through harsh conditions and maltreatment. The second part jumps ahead seven years, showing both Danny and Moses (now played by James Matamua and Haanz Fa’avae-Jackson respectively) as they descend into more serious criminality. This catches the attention of rival gang Satan’s Horde, in which belongs Danny’s brother Liam – Jack William Parker here, later Seth Flynn – leading to both inter-gang and familial tensions.
These sections, with effective production design and an excellent use of music, are an engaging mixture of coming-of-age and crime-drama tropes. Whilst no character is fully fleshed-out, there’s enough power in individual scenes to further the notion of defining moments, causing long standing damage, either physical or emotional. Where the film struggles is providing a compelling resolution to these themes, with the return to 1989 being overstuffed yet undeveloped. Damage, who is constantly reminded of his social awkwardness, begins to doubt the morality and purpose of his life, with the allure of traditional family life increasing by the day. He becomes a father figure to one of the group’s young recruits, gradually realising the dangerous nature of indoctrination when he urges his prodigy to channel his inner rage.
Amidst all this, there’s a growing rebel faction within the Savages, leading Moses to double down on aggression and demand more from his closest circle. This aspect of the narrative is by far the weakest, failing to establish the core ideals of the uprising, whilst also neglecting to play up the satirical potential inherent in it; with virtually every sentence containing multiple expletives, the film rarely exposes just how ridiculous the whole endeavour is. Savage is most successful focusing on the emotional toll this lifestyle takes on individuals and families, with Kelly managing to generate emotion in key scenes. His debut might not be wholly successful or original, but it is a largely sturdy work in a time of great uncertainty. Like its central character, the film has a beating heart buried under its rough surface.