“Kia whakatōmuri te haere whakamua (I walk backwards into the future with my eyes fixed on the past).”
– A Māori proverb.
There’s this strange belief coursing through some in the United States that European culture is being threatened by immigrants who move to the country. Amid the many things wrong with this statement (diversity is statistically proven to improve a community), the one that stands out the most is the absolute hypocrisy of it. European culture is largely appropriation culture. It’s entirely consumptive, desiring what others have, taking it and stripping it for parts, while proclaiming themselves as superior (in art, in religion, in wealth). Museums are full of the artifacts stolen from various cultures and histories have been absolutely pilfered due to European greed. One need only look to Greek and Roman history to see how outward expansions resulted in murder and slavery, but we can also look to the United Kingdom’s lustful gaze on Scotland and Ireland or even American claims of sovereignty against Indigenous communities for centuries resulting in their forced assimilation or reduction to plotted lands. This sort of cultural violence forms the foundation for writer/director Taratoa Stappard’s (Taumanu) feature film directorial debut Mārama, a period Māori gothic tale having its Louisiana premiere during The Overlook Film Festival 2026. Filled with isolating atmosphere and justifiable seething rage, Mārama borrows from the real pain of past tragedies; however, rather than offer typical horror, Stappard instead provides satisfying revenge.
Ariāna Osborne as Mary in MĀRAMA. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films.
1859, North Yorkshire, England: orphan Mary (Ariāna Osborne) arrives at the behest of a letter that offers her all the answers she desires about her lost parentage. However, instead of finding the letter’s author, Thomas Boyd (Elliot Blakely), she’s approached by Peggy (Umi Meyers), the servant of whaler magnate Nathaniel Cole (Toby Stephens), who offers her a place to rest. Very quickly and quite warmly, Nathaniel welcomes Mary into his home, even going to far as to invite Mary to become his granddaughter’s governess, which should make any guest feel welcome. As idyllic and welcoming as everything is, there’s something that Mary can’t quite shake about this place — something that feels dangerously like it wants to swallow her whole.
L-R: Evelyn Towersey as Anne and Ariāna Osborne as Mary in MĀRAMA. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films.
Much in the same way that Columbus “found” the “New World” and the travelers aboard the Mayflower “settled” the “untamed” land that would become the United States of America, so did Britain acquire control of New Zealand after a series of colonial attacks on Māori land. This is the historical basis from which Stappard’s narrative is born as it takes place 19 years after the 1840 Treaty of Waitangi that gave Britain some control of New Zealand land while also taking place during the 27-year period in which the Māori fought back against said control (1845 – 1872 New Zealand Wars). None of this information is immediately provided or established. Instead, Stappard opens the film with a declaration in two languages (Māori and English) that the narrative is grounded in the trauma of the past, which, rather than avoiding, must be confronted in order to process it. This tells the audience that what will follow shall involve pain, of what size and shape we cannot predict, allowing those who need to steel themselves the chance to do so. From this point forward Stappard continues to hold things back from us, which may put those without historical or cultural context on their back feet; however, audiences will find themselves rewarded because each teased mystery, each tool of the horror trade incorporated, not only serves a precise purpose, but does so in a manner that defies a typical gothic horror tale that seeks to consistently reduce its protagonist.
Ariāna Osborne as Mary in MĀRAMA. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films.
Reduction, isolation, misdirection — all of these are tools of the trade of subjugation. They are also the tools of horror. When we first meet Mary, she’s exiting a carriage in the presumed middle of nowhere and Gin Loane’s (The Convert) cinematography is almost entirely washed-out, the whites elevated so that we can’t get a sense of the kind of climate she’s in (warm or cold? summer or fall?), and we are immediately made aware that the tale we’re about to experience will, itself, be heightened. The sense of elevated reality in the cinematography continues as Nathaniel’s estate is shot with a great deal of natural lighting so that the predominately night sequences are oppressively dark, amplifying the sense that there are secrets lurking everywhere, just outside of eye’s perception. This becomes all the more important to divine contrast of characters during a celebratory sequence as Mary wears a dark scarlet dress while Nathaniel and his right-hand, Jack Fenton (Erroll Shand), wear white, each standing out in clear distinction to the rich browns of the house panels and the other guests (some costumed, some not). Though the film does incorporate instances common in gothic horror, or horror in general, such as reflections that seem to have autonomy of their own or intrusive dreams which may/may not be prophetic, their incorporation here is supported by cultural belief systems and the raging assertion that dominance doesn’t mean superiority or that domination does not equate to fully-realized control.
L-R: Toby Stephens as Nathaniel Cole and Erroll Shand as Jack Fenton in MĀRAMA. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films.
Even with the history coursing through the background and the technical elements conveying the artifice of sophistication upheld by European standards, what pulls us forward is the performance by Osborne. For the bulk of the film, sans perhaps one scene, her Mary is our primary perspective. Osborne’s ability to convey quiet desperation in wanting to know what Thomas promises to reveal, her ability to communicate the thousand injustices brought about by social dynamics, and the seething rage that flows underneath it all is absolutely remarkable. Even in the early portions of the film when Mary, like us, is unsure of where she is, she remains incredibly sensitive to the power undercurrents within the Nathaniel household and, therefore, moves trepidatiously through the space. Osborne imparts a figure who is, at once, keenly aware of just how out of her depth she is while also fully cognizant that she is consumed by rage at what’s been taken from her. It’s a performance that rewards patient audience members as the third act not only delivers the blood-soaked goods a horror thriller promises, it does so without Osborne’s Mary shrinking in the process. Instead, Stappard offers retribution and reclamation without making space for false righteousness.
Ariāna Osborne as Mary in MĀRAMA. Photo courtesy of Dark Sky Films.
History informs us of many things, the greatest of which is that the victor tends to tell the stories. If considered with a bit of skepticism, one can deduce that not all victors were, in fact, the proper side to have done either. This is a long way of saying that the U.S. government has a massive track record of betraying the people to whom they’ve made promises from the original Indigenous peoples who lived on the land being settled to the immigrants that were farmed in to work on projects expanding said country (through various promises), only to then have almost all of the promises revoked. This doesn’t even get into the Residential School systems or other legal means used by the victors to forcibly assimilate others. And where did the burgeoning U.S. learn such tactics? From their European traditions, which had committed untold and, in some cases, still unacknowledged damage on countries like New Zealand and the Māori people. To that end, Stappard’s Mārama is more than just a gothic tale told through a Māori lens, it’s a reminder that there are cultures across the world that have been trampled, enslaved, stripped for parts, and assimilated over and again. It’s therefore a choice to stop the cycle of violence. It’s also to be expected that the subjugated will rise up and their enslavers will desire what’s coming if not.
Screening during The Overlook Film Festival 2026.
In theaters April 17th, 2026.
For more information, head either to the official Mārama The Overlook Film Festival webpage or theatrical website.
Final Score: 4 out of 5.
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Categories: Films To Watch, In Theaters, Recommendation, Reviews
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