Hunt for the Wilderpeople

After the cult success vampire mockumentary What We Do in the Shadows, New Zealand filmmaker Taika Waititi returns with a decidedly more mainstream coming-of-age comedy that’s nonetheless every bit as charming, deftly told and sweet-natured as its predecessor. Adapting his screenplay from a book by the late Kiwi author Barry Crump, Waititi mines a well-worn return-to-the-wild narrative, but it never feels warmed over thanks to its many clever but not cloying quirks of style and character. The film’s biggest strength is its two leads, Sam Neill, as the gruff and grumpy ex-con 'Uncle' Hec, and (especially) newcomer Julian Dennison as his wannabe gangster, haiku-spouting foster child, Ricky.

Rotund 13-year-old Ricky fancies he lives the 'skux life' on the mean streets of Wellington. When he’s taken to a bucolic farm to live with his new 'Auntie' Bella (who’s fond of fuzzy cat jumpers and slaughtering wild pigs), he balks, but eventually is seduced by the unlimited pancakes, new dog (who Ricky names Tupac, natch) and Bella’s unmitigated love. Her ornery husband Hec, however, just wants Ricky to leave him alone. When Bella dies suddenly, Ricky flees for the farthest reaches of the Bush, with Hec chasing close behind. Once the police decide that Hec has kidnapped Ricky, the two go on the lam, desperately evading a crazed social worker (the wild-eyed and hilarious Rachel House) while surviving in the mountains by their wits.

Quirky outsider comedy is clearly Waititi’s forte, and here it’s polished to an effortlessly funny, confident and crowd-pleasing shine. Aside from Rhys Darby’s disappointing appearance as a boilerplate conspiracy theorist, Waititi manages to colour even the goofiest characters with lived-in nuance. He’s also a technically assured and visually inventive filmmaker. Wilderpeople is full of New Hollywood homages, including an Apocalypse Now–style flash of red during a particularly violent yet comic scene and an ingenious snowy montage (that appears as one continuous long take) set to the melancholy lament of Leonard Cohen’s The Partisan – a family-friendly shout-out to McCabe & Mrs Miller.