Popular Culture Review Vol. 11, No. 1, February 2000 | Page 18

10 Popular Culture Review the countryside. No solution was found in the city, in journalism, or in studies — but in an unlikely rural and unexplored prospect. However, through it all, the Maori knew who they were — which was more than you could say for the typical Pakeha of the time. Like Tom Sullivan, he barely knew where he was going or what he was buying into if he married a Maori girl. Actually — and ironically — the film was made as Maoridom was about to be plunged into wholesale urbanization which was to radically alter their whole way of life. For the young man in Runaway, a dozen years later, there was more definition about identity. He did display that nascent spark of enquiry starting to mark Pakeha New Zealanders, the conscious search for identity that had run through the literature of the previous two decades, notably with the poets — Cumow, Mason, Glover, Fairbum — and the novelists Frank Sarageson and John Mulgan. In Runaway, young David Manning was very consciously trying to find out what it was all about — and this time he knew neither an ordinary Kiwi city girl nor a Maori girl were for him. Lured by the seductive if superficial enticements of a European woman, he got singed by the flame of her deception in much the same way the country was finding Britain’s links with Europe were going to damage the country’s trade and prosperity. We’d made a film about New Zealand and the EEC before the screenplay — though not the concept — for Runaway was written and the allegory was, we thought, fairly direct. So few people got the point I wondered myself whether I’d missed it. (O’Shea 44) Following the commercial debacle of Runaway, O ’Shea needed to find a way to put Pacific Films back on an even financial footing. Ironically, it was an angry conversation with Sid Odell, head of the National Film Unit at the time, that provided the spark for O ’Shea’s next project, the musical Don’t Let It Get You (1966). Furious at the pessimistic picture of New Zealand life shown in Runaway, Odell promised O ’Shea at a meeting to discuss “future projects” that “you’ll never make another feature film in this country. Never!” (O’Shea 46). Furious, O’Shea vowed that his next film would be both a commercially viable film, and one that would further the cause of race relations in New Zealand. The result was a pop musical reminiscent o f Richard Lester’s A Hard Days Night (1964), full of flash, flair, and cheerfully upbeat pop performances, from a thoroughly racially-integrated cast. When one considers that it was not until 1970 that New Zealand television allowed Maori and white performers to appear in the same television commercial (for Gregg’s Coffee, made by Pacific Films, and directed by Runaway's cinematographer, Tony