A HISTORY OF VIOLENCE
THE families we make are sometimes healthier and more supportive than the ones we are born into. Writer-director Sam Kelly delivers that harsh lesson in the unflinchingly brutal drama Savage. Divided into three bleak and bloodspattered chapters – childhood (1965), adolescence (1972) and adulthood
(1989) – Kelly’s film exposes the fraternal bonds and toxic masculinity of New Zealand gang culture.
It is inspired by true stories of gang culture on the North Island, where the dispossessed and alienated find a sense of belonging in the cultural and economic divide between neighbouring white and Maori communities.
Jake Ryan and John Tui are well matched as battle-scarred brothers in gang warfare, whose reign may be coming to an end after almost 25 years. Blood flows freely from the opening image of Danny (Ryan), the heavily tattooed sergeant of street gang president Moses (Tui), taking a hammer to the hand of gang member Dice (Dominic Ona-Ariki) for failing to pay his dues.
The bone-crunching rebuke is also a warning shot across the bow of Moses’ sworn rival Tug (Alex Raivaru), who is lining up a leadership coup.
As tensions escalate, banker’s daughter Flo (Chelsie Preston Crayford) challenges Danny’s snarling hard man act.
In pain-soaked flashbacks we see how as a young boy in 1965, Danny (Olly
Presling) fails to protect his mother (Renee Lyons) and siblings from a bullying, devoutly religious father (Matthew Sunderland).
Danny is sent to borstal where he endures physical and sexual abuse.
“We’ll look after each other, me and you,” pledges roommate Moses (Lotima Pome’e).
Seven years later, Danny (James Matamua) and Moses (Haanz Fa’avaeJackson) angrily form their gang.
Sifting through these memories, Danny reconsiders his position as enforcer.
“If you quit, you’re gonna take me down with you,” snarls Moses.
Savage lives up to its title from the opening scene as Danny and Moses’ shared history comes into queasy focus.
Ryan, Tui and a gifted young cast simmer with rage.
The threat of violence hangs in the air like a foul stench, demanding we hold our breath until a brutal crescendo.