PROJECT PROPOSAL FOR IN THE LAND OF PO
By Kapi`olani Lee
Second Draft: 04/03/08
Identities are the names we give to the different ways we are positioned by, and position
ourselves within, the narratives of the past.
- Stuart Hall
PROJECT
In the Land of Po (In the Land of Darkness) will be a thirty-minute experimental
narrative and indigenous media project in which a combination of live-action and
animation will be used to explore the impact of colonization on Kanaka Maoli (Native
Hawaiians) through traditional Hawaiian philosophies regarding death and spirituality.
Drawn from both historical and personal family accounts, In the Land of Po will
be an attempt to offer a counterpoint to the traditional historical narrative of colonization
in Hawai’i; a narrative that overemphasizes the success of Western dominance by
focusing solely on the cultural demise and (alleged) passivity of the Hawaiian people. As
a point of contrast, In the Land of Po will present the catalyst for cultural survival:
personal acts of resistance.
SYNPOSIS
A young nineteenth century Hawaiian girl, Nohea, is desperate to find her missing
younger brother before her family is forced to leave their ancestral land – which has been
bought by an American sugar company through Ka Mahele (Land Division Act) of 1848.
Believing her brother to have disappeared in the thick forest behind their kalo (taro) farm,
Puanani embarks on a magical journey to find him…before he becomes lost forever.
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INSPIRATION
In the Land of Po is a fictionalization of the oral histories passed down to me
about my great grandmother, Iwakiloukapu, and the valley in which she and her family
lived.
As a young Native Hawaiian woman born at the end of the 19th century, Iwa was
witness to many of the major events that dramatically altered the course of Hawaiian
history. What is more interesting to me though, is how the impact of these events affected
STYLE AND FORM
In the Land of Po will alternate between dramatic realism and the highly stylized
dramatic form of Hula Kahiko (traditional hula and chant) to convey Nohea’s transition
between concrete and metaphysical spaces (Po).
In doing so, the presence of hula will not simply function as a way to
“Hawaiianize” the film, but will also serve as a mechanism to open up the experience of
storytelling (for both the orator and receiver) to non-Western modes. As a cultural idiom
of expression, Hula Kahiko both performs and refers to many important Hawaiian
spiritual concepts; the most essential one being that the act of speaking (the most basic
component of hula) can connect our consciousness to those of our ancestors.
To translate this idea into practice, I will be experimenting with several methods
of representation. One approach will be to connect the visual language of hula (a fixed
vocabulary of dance positions or moves that can be arranged in endless combinations of
meaning) to actions or events that occur on screen. For example, a hand movement for
wind (signifying remembrance of a loved one) will prompt an ancestor to appear in the
story. In this way, hula will be able to move beyond being just a filmed performance
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VISUAL INFLUENCES
To explore this connection visually between the actual and the supernatural, I will
be drawing aesthetic influences from contemporary films such as Guillermo del Toro’s
Pan’s Labyrinth (2006), and Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams (1990) - both of which use
natural settings as a starting point for creating alternate and magical realities. In
particular, the literal and figurative darkness of Pan’s Labyrinth will be actively
referenced in creating the mystical, uncertain world of Po.
Essential to supporting the visual and narrative structure of In the Land of Po will
be the use of sound design. As mentioned before, oral performance can connect us to our
ancestors – but so can other sounds. In fact, all sounds are believed to have the potential
to transmit information from one realm to another. To emphasize this, I will be playing
extensively with the multiple meanings a sound might hold in Hawaiian spiritual beliefs.
For example, the sound of an owl hooting could occur as a diagetic sound, and/or also
indicate the presence of an ancestor wishing to alert a living descendent to impending
danger.
In constructing the aural landscape of Po, I intend to push the audience
(presumably Hawaiian and/or Pacific Islander) to actively participate in their listening; a
process otherwise known in Hawaiian culture as ho`olono. In doing so, I hope to show
how film can “fit” into oral and performative traditions – becoming a tool for both
cultural preservation and innovation.
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RESEARCH:
CULTURAL MEANING AND SYMBOLISM
Experience and moving into another realm of being is valuable because we don’t believe
the concrete world is the only reality.
– Rubellite Kawena Johnson
In the Hawaiian language, the word Po has two overlapping meanings: it can refer
to literal darkness or nighttime, and (or) refer to the metaphysical realm in which the
spirits of our ancestors dwell. In the origin/genealogy chant for all Hawaiian people, the
Kumulipo, Po is named as the deep darkness from which the world was born.
In creating the title, In the Land of Po, I am referring to the belief that Po as
nighttime opens up Po, the realm (or land) of spirits. This transition occurs through
dreaming. In the story, Nohea falls asleep one night and dreams of being drawn into the
forest (a realm also considered to be magical) by a talking ‘iwa (a black frigate bird) who
offers to help her find her missing brother, Aka.
In Hawaiian spirituality, dreaming is described as moe’uhane, or “spirit sleep.” It
means that during one’s sleep, the soul or ‘uhane leaves the body and wanders, “seeing
persons and places, encountering other spirits, experiencing adventures, and most
important, passing on messages from the ancestor gods, the ‘aumakua. (Puku’i, Haertig,
Lee, 1972, p. 170) More importantly, “Dreams (are used) to direct immediate actions,
solve existing problems, and forecast events and behavior.” (Puku’i, Haertig, Lee, 1972,
p. 205)
Once in the forest, Nohea is guided by the ‘iwa through the genealogy of her
family, illustrated with re-enactments (via Hula Kahiko) of traditional stories of creation,
love, and war. But as Nohea’s journey into the past begins to return to the present, these
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stories begin to shift to those of overwhelming destruction and loss. When the ‘iwa bird
guides her through the last story, in which she is the protagonist, Nohea is forced to recall
that her own “missing” younger brother is in fact dead.
At this point, it is important to clarify the spiritual significance of being forced
from ancestral land (the result of Ka Mahele). Hawaiian history is traditionally recalled as
a genealogy beginning from Po. From this beginning to the present, the resulting chain of
generations is called ‘au (navel cord). To help sustain this connection, umbilical cords of
newly born children were buried on land of their ancestors, tying them to the larger ‘au.
In one traditional village, there might be thousands of ‘au connecting families to their
ancestors. Hence, being forced from ancestral land means a disruption in that link.
However, one connection that can be maintained regardless of place is the
concept of ‘aumakua. ‘Aumakua are ancestral spirits that have taken residence in the
physical forms of animals, plants, rocks, and various other natural entities, as a way to
maintain relationships between ancestral spirits and their living descendents.
Confronted with the memory of Aka’s death from smallpox, Nohea is asked by
the ‘iwa to decide how she will end the dream. Will he reside forever on the land that is
no longer hers, thereby lost? Or is there an alternate possibility? As the magic of Po
begins to slip away as morning comes, Nohea turns to the ‘iwa and asks him who he is.
The ‘iwa doesn’t reply. When she asks him if he is Aka, the ‘iwa flies away. As the film
concludes with Nohea’s family moving their belongings into a plantation camp, Nohea
takes notice of an ‘iwa soaring above them.
While the ending is somewhat ambiguous, it implies that the ‘iwa is Nohea’s
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‘aumakua – whose spirit might possibly belong to Aka. While it is not a direct act of
resistance, it suggests that Nohea actively reframed the telling or remembering of her
own story in a way that acknowledges her loss without giving up hope.
HISTORICAL CONTEXT
Davida Malo, a famous scholar of Hawaiian history and culture in the 19th
century, was also a keen observer of current events. Of the increasing presence of
Western missionaries and businessmen in Hawaiian political and national affairs, he
wrote of them as being “big fish” intent on devouring the smaller one (Hawai`i). His
metaphor proved to be apt, echoing the prophecies made by Hawaiian priests at least two
centuries before: the annihilation of the Hawaiian people at the hand of a foreign power.
If a big wave comes in, large fishes will come from the dark ocean which you
never saw before, and when they see the small fishes they will eat them up. The
ships of the white man have come, and smart people have arrived from the great
countries which you have never seen before. They know our people are few in
number and living in a small country. They will eat us up.”(David Malo, 1837)
These visions of a doomed culture continue to be reflected in many of the
contemporary media work made by Native Hawaiian artists, such as Dr. Elizabeth
Kapu`uwailani Lindsey’s 1990 documentary, Then There Were None. In fact, they have
shaped and influenced much of Native Hawaiian artwork, which places “true” or
authentic Hawaiian culture in a remote, idealized past – ignoring almost completely the
politically and spiritually complex Hawaiian culture of the present.
When so much of Hawaiian history has been omitted, misrepresented, and/or
dominated by Western writers, it has become increasingly important for Native Hawaiian
scholars, activists, and artists to articulate and document their own points of view about
how colonization has impacted the original people of Hawai`i – which includes
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discussion and reference to earlier expressions of Hawaiian thought. But in doing so, it
has also become increasingly important to make sure that what we write or present about
ourselves does not unintentionally conform to the same colonial ideology that oppresses
us.
Because what if the small fish got away?
In the Land of Po is my counter-response to these ancient prophecies and their
subsequent narratives of cultural demise and defeat, stories that coincide all too neatly
with Western proclamations of Hawaiians being a “vanishing race.” For the question still
remains if these historical forecasts were actually realized; has Hawai`i truly been
consumed or “devoured” by the United States? In Decolonizing Methodologies: Research
and Indigenous Peoples, Maori scholar Linda Tuhiwai Smith suggests that total
consumption (or devouring) is not so easy:
The arguments of different indigenous peoples based on spiritual relationships to
the universe, to the landscape and to stones, rocks, insects and other things, seen
and unseen, have been difficult arguments for Western systems of knowledge to
deal with or accept…Concepts of spirituality which Christianity attempted to
destroy, then to appropriate, and then to claim, are critical sites of resistance for
indigenous peoples. The values, attitudes, concepts and language embedded in
beliefs about spirituality represent, in many cases, the clearest contrast and mark
of difference between indigenous peoples and the West. It is one of the few parts
of ourselves which the West cannot decipher, cannot understand and cannot
control…yet. (Smith, P.74)
If this is true, then it means Native Hawaiians have at least one resource available
to them that can’t be depleted or destroyed by Western culture. As the ability to imagine
is a part of Native Hawaiian spirituality (in the sense imagination opens us up to
perceiving the world around us differently from what is concrete), then this same skill
can be used to envision new possibilities for the future, as well as for finding ways to
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cope with the trauma of the past: “The power of indigenous peoples to change their own
lives and set new directions despite their impoverished and oppressed conditions speaks
to the politics of resistance.” (Smith, P.153)
INDIGENOUS MEDIA: A POSSIBLE METHODOLOGY
Every indigenous community has considered and come up with various innovative
solutions to problems. That was before colonialism. Throughout the period of
colonization indigenous people survived because of their imaginative spirit, their ability
to adapt and think around a problem.
(Smith, 1999, 158)
To expand on the political potential for In the Land of Po, I will be exploring how
an indigenous methodology might be identified in structuring the film. As a starting
point, I have chosen to have the script translated into the Hawaiian language – making it
both an artistic piece and language preservation project. This task I will be (hopefully)
sharing with ‘Aha Punana Leo, an organization which helps fund and develop curriculum
for Hawaiian language immersion schools. I also hope to share distribution rights with
‘Aha Puanana Leo so that copies of the film may be sold to support Hawaiian language
programs.
CREATING AN INDIGENOUS AESTHETIC STRATEGY
One of the techniques I will employ to decolonize the filmic process visually will
be to disrupt the use of phenotypes as cultural signifiers; which may mean including
actors who do not “look” stereotypically Hawaiian. Hopefully, de-racializing Hawaiian
identity (which is actually genealogy-based) will not only challenge colonial notions
about the authenticity of indigenous communities (and who gets to define them), but also
the internalized racism of many Hawaiians about how their community should appear.
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Another approach will be to invert the expectations of what representations of
Hawai`i as a physical place should look like. Most of the film will be shot on a kalo (taro)
farm in a dense, green valley – not an idyllic beach with palm trees. The film will also be
extremely dark in palette, reflecting the overcast and moody atmosphere of inland
Hawai’i. This distinction is important to make, as the physical environment of Hawai’i is
as diverse as its inhabitants. Additionally, it will also point to a different set of cultural
associations regarding the dark/light dichotomy. For in In the Land of Po, darkness will
be a place of refuge; a realm that is indefinable, mysterious, and complex.
Ultimately, I hope that these strategies will help de-simplify and complicate
presentations of Hawaiian culture – lending itself to opening up the discourse on
Hawaiian identity and history.
INDIGENIZING NARRATIVE STRUCTURE
In terms of narrative structure, I will be using the specific time period of In the
Land of Po to further emphasize the fluidity and adaptability of Hawaiian culture. For
example, the presentation of Hula Kahiko will be done according to how Hawaiians
understood and viewed Hula Kahiko at the time. This Hula Kahiko will look different
from the Hula Kahiko that is currently performed – highlighting the fact that Hawaiian
culture is not static, but changes with each generation that takes stewardship of it. In
doing so, I hope to (again) illustrate that there is no “pure” Hawaiian culture; while Hula
Kahiko is uniquely Hawaiian, it is also an art form that has been influenced by centuries
of interaction with other Polynesian cultures; particularly those of Tahiti and the
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Marquesas. In short, Hawaiians never passively existed within their culture; they were
active agents and producers of it – even in a time of profound loss.
Highlighting this fluidity is an especially important task because it also
complicates the notion of cultural authenticity. For many indigenous communities who
have been colonized, the desire to locate or identify their “real” culture can become both
a psychological and political trap.
The process of ‘essentializing’ cultural recovery (the only way out of gross
socioeconomic and political disadvantage for Maori, is to reject the dominant
colonial legacy and to recover the cultural dimensions, knowledge and practices
of our ancestors) has led predictably to aggressive and unrealistic claims of racial
authenticity. (Te Paa, P.67)
My film will not suggest that traditional Hawaiian spiritual concepts are the only
means of cultural recovery, or that Hawaiian culture must be “pure” and free of Western
influence to be authentic. The reality is that Hawaiians have a long tradition of
appropriating and adapting Western concepts as they have seen fit. Rather, I am more
interested in showing how traditional culture can be a centering point; a guide perhaps,
for what an indigenous person will choose or not choose to incorporate in their
knowledge systems. For example, many Native Hawaiians who practice Native Hawaiian
spirituality are Christians; Christianity has reaffirmed their traditional beliefs, and is
thought of as a continuation of those beliefs (rather than as a replacement).
Additionally, I chose to create a period piece because it offers the opportunity to
understand how Hawaiians traditionally viewed their relationship to time and history.
While the Western view of history produces a singular, coherent narrative that progresses
in a linear way; Polynesians view(ed) their position in time as witnesses to the past,
which unfolds in front of them, rather than the future. Another way to think of it is to
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imagine a Western person facing the future with the past behind them. A Hawaiian would
have their back to their back to the future, with the past in front of them. This alternate
position of looking at how time and space progresses, lends itself to resisting historical
emplotment. If every Hawaiian has their own way of relating to the past, then there must
exist multiple ways to tell their story – and in this multiplicity lies not only a space for
resistance, but also a space for healing. On this, Hopi filmmaker Victor Masayesva
writes:
I insist on stories about Native Americans, by Native Americans. I do recognize
America…but there’s another point. There’s a point of different value and
different viewpoint. But we’ve had enough of that. Right now, we need to start
with stories from Native Americans. There is such a thing as the sacred hoop,
which includes all the different races. And there is ceremony that [includes]
everybody, not just skin color. But, we have a responsibility to ourselves first. We
need to take of ourselves first…That’s where we’re at as Indian filmmakers. We
want to start participating and developing an Indian aesthetic. And there is such a
thing as an Indian aesthetic, and it begins in the sacred. (Leuthold, P.122)
PRODUCTION PLAN
In the Land of Po will be shot using a HD digital camera, which will then (if
funding permits) be transferred to a 35mm print.
Inspired by Atanajurat (The Fast Runner) by Inuit director Zacharias Kanuk, I
have decided to not shoot on film because I am hoping to also exploit the sense of
immediacy a digital look suggests. In Atanajurat, an ancient legend becomes very “real”
precisely because it looks digital. My expectation is that a similar approach will help
personalize the events which occur in my film as lived experiences, not just statistics of
Native population decline.
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CASTING
An important component of my casting is negotiating how my Kanaka Maoli
(Native Hawaiian) characters will be presented. While I want to disrupt using phenotypes
to “authenticate” their ethnicity, I don’t want to my experimentation to disrupt the
viewing experience for my primary audience. Nor do I want to dismiss or ignore the very
real of experience of racism that many Native Hawaiians have endured.
While this dilemma points to, among many things, how colonial notions of blood
quantum and cultural authenticity have impacted indigenous communities, it also exists
because Kanaka Maoli locate, identify, and confirm one other as Native Hawaiians
through questions about genealogy. This traditional exchange is an exclusively oral
process, and takes precedent over any visual signifier of (alleged) Hawaiian identity.
For example, a Kanaka Maoli audience will likely accept a Native Hawaiian actor
who is not stereotypically “Hawaiian-looking” if they know their genealogy beforehand.
Similarly, they might dismiss a film entirely because the “Hawaiian” actors were
revealed to be non-Kanaka Maoli. This is not just a reflection of cultural beliefs, but also
an indication that many Native Hawaiians actively understand that racial signifiers can
mislead or infer false meaning. In this context, continuing emphasis on genealogy-based
identity can become a form of resistance.
In approaching this particular issue, perhaps exploiting its potential, my strategy
will be two-fold. To fill the leading and secondary roles, I will be seeking participants
from Hawaiian-language immersion schools on Maui and Hawai’i. By preferencing
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language fluency and cultural participation over physical attributes, I hope to minimize
the possibility of actors merely “performing their race” or ethnicity.
Secondly, I will workshop with interested community members and “feel out”
who will be appropriate matches for my project. Not only will I be looking to disrupt
racial notions of Hawaiian identity, I also want to be sensitive to how other Native
Hawaiians respond and engage with the story. Perhaps in doing so, I will be able to
develop an alternate, culturally guided set of criteria for casting.
CREW
Tentatively, my crew will comprise of members of ‘Aha Puanana Leo, as well as
Native Hawaiian media students from Maui Community College and the University of
Hawai’i at Hilo. As an indigenous media project, I would like to use my film as an
opportunity to give support (via training and experience) to other aspiring Native
Hawaiian and Pacific Islander artists.
To help bring this to fruition, I will be bringing over an experienced DP who has
worked with indigenous communities in both India and South America. Because I have
characterized my project as an indigenous media project, the common expectation may
be that my crew will be exclusively indigenous (my DP is Polish-American) but I feel
that it is in how my project is centered that will effectively “indigenize” it.
LOCATION
Due to the intimate family structure of my story, as well as what will be
supplemented via animation, my location plan will be fairly simple. I will be shooting
partly on my family’s kalo farm in Waiehu (Maui), as well as sites chosen on Hawai’i.
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My preference is to use locations that are associated with my own genealogy (my
family is from both Maui and Hawai’i) to help convey the spiritual connection between
ka ‘aina (the land) and cultural identity. I feel that my personal relationship with the sites
I choose will have an impact on how they are depicted on screen.
Locations:
1. Kalo (Taro) fields
2. Small, wooden house
3. House interior
4. Forest, exterior
5. Forest, interior
5. Valley road
6. Sugarcane plantation
BIBLIOGRAPHY
First Peoples Theology Journal (Vol.1, No. 1) (Honolulu: The Indigenous Theological
Training Institute, 2000)
Kepelino, Traditions of Hawai’i (Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 2007)
John Papa I’i, Fragments of Hawaiian History (Honolulu: Bishop Museum Press, 1959)
Manulani Aluli Meyers, Ho`oulu: Our Time of Becoming (Honolulu: ‘Ai Pokahu, 2003)
Linda Tuhiwai Smith, Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples
(New York: Palgrave, 2001)
Moke Kupihea, The Seven Dawns of the Aumakua: The Ancestral Spirit Tradition of
Hawaii (Rochester: Inner Traditions, 2001)
Haunani-Kay Trask, From a Native Daughter: Colonialism and Sovereignty in Hawai’i
(Honolulu: Common Courage, 1993)
His Majesty King David Kalakaua, The Legends and Myths of Hawai’i (Honolulu:
Mutual, 1990)
Steven Leuthold, Indigenous Aesthetics: Native Art, Media, and Identity (Austin:
University of Texas, 1998)
Richard G. Fox and Orin Starn, Between Resistance and Revolution: Cultural Politics
and Social Protest, (New Jersey: Rutgers, 1997)
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Donald R. Browne, Electronic Media and Indigenous Peoples: A Voice of Our Own?
(Ames: Iowa State, 1996)