Tinā is the feature debut from writer/director Miki Magasiva. The film might appear on the surface a classic underdog tale, but it quickly proves itself to be something richer and more resonant; coming off earlier contributions to Teine Sā and We Are Still Here, Magasiva brings a fresh, heartfelt perspective to this deeply communal story.
At the centre is Mareta (Anapela Polataivao), a strong-willed mentor grappling with her own grief, given the task of leading a group of misfit women in a community choir. While it’s easy to expect the typical “band of outsiders makes good” arc, Tinā wisely dodges the formula. There is a competition, yes, but it’s barely the point. We’re not asked to care about winning or losing, or even the opposing teams. Instead, the spotlight is firmly on the bonds that form within the group, and how healing can happen not in triumph over others, but in solidarity with one another.
Mareta herself isn’t a mentor on a journey of redemption or discovery. She doesn’t need to be taught a lesson, and she certainly isn’t here to soften her edges. The film respects her as she is flawed, loving, and powerful, and dares you to do the same.
What sets Tinā apart is how intentionally it centres the collective. This isn’t a story of individuals standing out, but of voices merging. The choir scenes are gorgeously shot and beautifully performed, but what makes them so moving is the shared breath, the shared presence. These women are all from different cultures and backgrounds, and all come together to form something greater than themselves. And the result is extremely powerful.
Magasiva, along with cinematographer Andrew McGeorge, captures this emotional terrain with restraint and care. There’s a lot these characters carry – grief, body image struggles, challenges to their faith and identity, not to mention the everyday bite of casual racism – but the film doesn’t always spell these out. Instead, it lets moments speak for themselves, often saying more with a glance or a breath than a monologue ever could, and it is with this less is more approach that the film is elevated.
Polataivao is magnetic, commanding attention without ever overshadowing her ensemble. Antonia Robinson also shines as Sophie, the reluctant lead with a voice that cuts through hesitation and into something transcendent. Every performance feels lived-in and generous, a gift to the group rather than a play for the spotlight.
Tinā might not fit the outline of a traditional crowd-pleaser, but that’s exactly what makes it so rewarding. It doesn’t ask you to root for the team to win, it asks you to feel what it means to belong. To sing together, to grieve together, to laugh and cry and remember together. And that collective spirit, that shared humanity, is where the film truly soars.
Bring tissues. Bring your people. Tinā is best experienced together.
FOUR AND A HALF STARS (OUT OF FIVE)
Tinā is screening in Australian theatres from May 1st, 2025, following Advance Screenings between April 25th – 27th.
