The way that gender is performed is a complex process, full of specific expectations that are further complicated by the developments that happen as one grows and comes of age. In this essay I will be analysing how structures of masculinity in Aotearoa New Zealand are upheld, resisted, and rebuilt by the characters of Boy and Rocky, and Alamein in Boy (Waititi, 2010).

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Boy is a comedy-drama that enjoyed massive cultural and commercial success, having had the highest local box office in Aotearoa at the time of its release, and setting the new benchmark for what ‘New Zealand cinema’ can strive to be (Pryor, 2016).  Set in a typical New Zealand rural coastal town in 1984, navigation of the relationships between eleven-year-old Boy (James Rolleston), his six-year-old brother (Te Aho Eketone-Whitu), and their newly returned from prison father Alamein (Taika Waititi), drive the narrative of this film. The 1980s were a defining era for Māori community in terms of reconstructing the indigenous identity and is the nation’s own coming-of-age (Fox, 2017). Waititi blends themes of imagination, dysfunction, cultural identity, pop culture, and coming of age to show diverse indigenous masculinities through Alamein, Boy, and Rocky as they grow through different emotional

and life stages.

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As a social construct, gender, masculinity, and how it is performed is learned primarily through socialisation, and the results can be complex. The construction of New Zealand masculinity has two dominant ideals; the traditional ‘Kiwi bloke’, and the urban Māori warrior. The ‘Kiwi bloke’ is a particularly Pākehā ideal, and is built on traits such as stoicism, rural isolation, practicality, hard work, and the dichotomy of homosocial ‘mateship’ and being a self-sufficient ‘man alone’ (Bannister, 2021). For Māori men, masculinity and masculine subjectivities have been produced through colonial processes. The construction of Māori men as unsophisticated, unintelligent, and in need of enlightenment has led to the ‘physical’ role of Māori masculinity that is athletic, warrior-like, and excels in sport. These ideals have naturalised into representations of Māori men as intrinsically violent, and warrior-like in filmic portrayals such as Te Wheke in Utu (Murphy, 1983), and Jake Heke in Once Were Warriors (Tamahori, 1994) (Hokowhitu, 2004; Hokowhitu 2008). Waititi, however, wrote characters who embodied masculinities outside of what was typical in New Zealand film, since two ideals cannot be representative of all people. He emphasised the importance of the representation of cultural hybridity in an interview, saying that ‘I think actually most people want to see themselves or versions of themselves on screen’ (Miraudo, 2010, as cited in Fox, 2017, p 191).  

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Alamein’s performance of masculinity sits somewhere in between that of the ‘Kiwi bloke’ and the urban Māori warrior and is an example of how modern Māori have constantly transformed, resulting in the presence of hybrid identities (Hokowhitu, 2008). As a main male lead with the tragic backstory of losing his wife and falling into crime, Alamein has the possibility of falling into the ‘man-alone’ narrative, but instead is never completely alone, having recruited two buddies into his ‘gang’ who he is rarely seen without. The three of them avoid the domestic sphere and set up a kingdom in the ‘man cave’ shed where Alamein has control. Alamein intentionally refuses to play the role of the societally traditional Māori man, he is not a warrior, nor an athlete, and when his skill as a wood carver is brought up by Boy, he is uninterested and dismissive (Bannister, 2021). Instead, he aligns himself with international roles such as the Japanese shogun, who he says are better than Māori ariki when questioned by Boy (37:19), and makes constant references to Hollywood films such as E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial (Wright, 2016). Alamein embodies a dominant masculinity, the most celebrated form of masculinity within his setting, which is one of a hybrid identity that holds tension between Māori masculinity, Pākehā masculinity, and global influences (Messerschmidt et al., 2020). It is also a marginalised masculinity, as his race, class, and criminalisation, as he has just escaped from prison, are reasons that he is not capable of fully embodying values of hegemonic masculinity in New Zealand (Connell, 2020). As the adult character, Alamein should be the most mature, however his behaviour to avoid the grief of losing his children’s mother makes him as changeable as his young sons. 

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Boy’s sense of masculinity is built from what has been represented to him, but at eleven years old, he exists halfway in imagination. His relatively young age for a coming-of-age narrative is significant, as it marks the start of a journey to adulthood and autonomy, yet he is burdened with the responsibility of his family and longs to relinquish this power (Reji and Nandha, 2022). As a result, Boy’s sense of self is an amalgam of the ideal lives he tries to mirror. Much of what he aspires to emulate is the hero that he imagines Alamein to be, and he does this through copying his clothing and mannerisms, and behaviours such as drinking beer and smoking marijuana (Wright, 2016). The drinking and smoking are seen as rites of passage in coming-of-age behaviours, especially for young men who acknowledge substance use as an achievement of masculinity (Sanders, 2011). There is further nuance for Boy, as the behaviours he partakes in to impress his father and prove himself, are instigated by his father and his ideal of masculinity. The fantasy world Boy has built draws from overseas pop culture, Michael Jackson in particular. This is a subversion of hegemonic New Zealand masculine culture, with its emphasis on stoicism and sport, as Boy draws from globalized youth culture, the arts in particular, to understand his world and empower himself (Wright, 2016; Fox 2017). His love of Michael Jackson, a pop star known for his androgynous and transformative presentation and performances, mirrors coming-of-age narratives of pop star obsession typically associated with female characters, paints him as an outlier of hegemonic masculinities. However, as it is a common interest for children in his town, it places him more into the dominant ideal (Izod, 1995; Connell, 2020).   

Boy’s sense of self and masculinity go through a visible change when Alamein decides that cutting his longer, shaggy hair off is quality father-son bonding (30:54). The style of hair that he ends up with is uneven and short, and could be interpreted in two ways; a coming of age ritual of sorts as men conventionally minimize hair on their heads, or a nod to the 1980’s  overlap between street gang and Punk style, as the hair styles reflected shocking and rebellious ideals (Synnott, 1987). While cutting, Alamein comments on how dark Boy’s scalp is, exclaiming ‘shit, everyone will think Michael Jackson moved into town’ (31:09). Which creates a conflict for Boy, who looks uncomfortable throughout the process. He idolises both Michael Jackson, who is known for his longer hair and a trademark ‘wet look,’ and his father who he comes to see does not understand him, or his interests, deeper than surface level. A quick shot over to his younger siblings all sporting youthful shaggy heads of hair creates a stark contrast of their unconcern and freedom that contrast the expectations weighing on Boy. This scene exemplifies the unease that builds during coming of age, as children begin to question the power that adults hold over them.   

Rocky is an outlier to the dominant masculinity emulated by both Boy and Alamein, and embodies a quiet, spiritual, and introspective masculinity. Subvertant Māori masculinities typically lie outside of mainstream focus in both media and reality, so his is an unusual representation (Hokowhitu, 2004). He spends much of his time alone and at his mother’s grave, who he believes he killed due to his powers being too strong during birth. This isolation, initial disinterest in his father, and silent suffering of guilt could be seen as an early stage of the development into the stoic ‘man-alone’ trope, however his willingness to make connections with others such as the town ‘weirdo’, and belief that his powers could heal others disrupt this possibility (Fox, 2017). While his brother and father appear to be doing everything to leave his mother’s memory behind, Rocky remains connected to it through visiting her grave, and therefore also to the past and his ancestral environment. This bond with his whakapapa, or genealogy, forms a sense of spiritual belonging, yet without anybody who willingly shares this connection, Rocky channels his Māori spirituality into imagined powers to bolster his sense of identity (Rua, 2015).    

Rocky exits in a transitional space between life and death, between his mother and his living family, which complicates his relationship to Alamein, who refuses to directly acknowledge death. This liminal space that Rocky occupies is evident in specific scenes where he is symbolically depicted through a mirror. Over the course of the narrative, Rocky slowly begins to try to get to know his father and accompanies Alamein and Boy on their missions. One such excursion is a trip to the pub that results in Alamein and his gang buddies being beaten up. On the car ride home, Rocky is pictured stuck in the middle back seat, and is filmed specifically in the rearview mirror, while the others in the car have the camera trained directly on them (01:03:32). Rocky does not say anything, but his reflection looks contemplatively between Alamein and his buddy as they fight. The use of the mirror here is used as a tool to constrict the space and focus in on Rocky’s confined position in the back seat, observing how his father is behaving and reacting (Hanich, 2017). Alamein asserts that ‘I’m all alone on this planet, shit man, I’m ET’ (01:03:49), a moment of irony, seeing that ET is a character with healing powers, and aligns more with Rocky than Alamein (Spielberg, 1982). This point is immediately proven as Alamein hits and kills Boy’s pet goat, starkly contrasting Alamein’s destructive nature with Rocky’s desire to heal. The way that Rocky is depicted in the mirror therefore symbolises the boundary between worlds, a reflection of the physical and spiritual, and ultimately of life and mortality (Lee, 2018).    

Leading to the climactic scene is a moment alone with Rocky that reinforces the power of his awareness (1:08:22). While Alamein is ransacking the house for valuables, Rocky walks into the bathroom. He has to stand on a stool to see himself in the mirror, a reminder of how young he is despite his maturity which contrasts with his father’s immature actions, still audible, in the background. Rocky makes angry faces, snarling at his reflection in the mirror.  The sound of Alamein crashing around continues into a hand-drawn animation of the house crying, then transforming into a red-eyed, sharp-toothed man who charges forward into black scribbles. The use of the mirror here is once again to act as a gateway between worlds, of the mediums of live action and animation, between imagination and reality. Additionally, the symbolism of the mirror enhancing self-awareness extends to mirror neurons, specialized brain cells that allow one to become conscious of others and therefore understand them (Lee, 2018). Rocky is becoming conscious of the reasons behind his father’s destructive actions and coming to understand his role in how Alamein’s grief manifests and is reflecting on how to confront it. Female voices singing waiata in the background serve both as a connection back to fundamental cultural belonging, and a reminder of his deceased mother (Shallenkammer 2019). As Rocky imitates his father’s anger in the mirror, he becomes the bridge between them.    

A key scene displays the changes that occur as the tensions that Boy and Rocky have developed with Alamein come to the surface (01:10:40 – 01:13:35). Alamein is drinking liquor on his throne in the shed, then Rocky comes in with a sparkler in is hand, gliding towards Alamein in roller-skates. A medium closeup of Alamein shows confusion on his face, and the whimsical background music along with Rocky’s smooth glide into the shed make the scene seem unreal, almost dreamlike. Rocky rolls into a two-shot with Alamein, who is leaning forward, then reaches up and touches his forehead with his hand. The action resembles that of a hongi, the act of pressing noses that signifies sharing of a deep spiritual connection, peace, and unity between the two (Barlow, 1991). Rocky’s sparkler sparks out, leaving a trail of smoke, and the twinkly music and dream-like atmosphere leave with it, the trance is broken. Rocky shifts, then says matter-of-factly, ‘Sorry for what I did to mum’ (01:11:49). This is a moment of taking responsibility more mature than most six-year-olds, and is an example of how children like Rocky who experience hardship often ‘grow up faster’ and behave with greater maturity than expected in their age group (Johnson & Mollborn, 2009). This direct, gentle communication is immediately juxtaposed with Boy’s confrontation, as he steps between Rocky and Alamein and begins to beat Alamein, saying ‘I don’t remember you. You weren’t there. You weren’t there when he was born. You weren’t there when she died’ (01:12:48). The scene ends with Boy and Rocky walking away, leaving Alamein defeated on his throne, his head hanging. It is a powerful action of the combination of two kinds of confrontation, and abilities to communicate, from young boys coming together to challenge their father. It questions the rigid divisions of power by age and expectation of masculinity in Aotearoa by showing that men’s hurt can be confronted and ‘fixed,’ before becoming lifelong or even generational traumas.   

In conclusion, the representation of changeable, fluid New Zealand masculinities, and specifically Māori masculinities in Boy is significant for the depiction of Māori experiences. With the range of life stages that Rocky, Boy, and Alamein encompass, the importance of challenging traditional assumptions, and celebrating masculinities that are hybrid, marginalised, subvertant, and spiritual is clear. Boy has set a standard for the future of imaginative, light-hearted yet meaningful representations of navigating life, and coming of age into masculinity in Aotearoa New Zealand. It would be interesting to one day see a story starring one of the female characters in the film, to have young girls and femininity in New Zealand cinema and society represented with the same interest and respect.