Three members of Alien Weaponry stand on stage doing pūkana and devil horns with their hands
Kia Tupu Te Ara chronicles the rise of te reo Māori metal band Alien Weaponry

Pop CultureFebruary 14, 2025

Review: Kua Tupu Te Ara tells Alien Weaponry’s coming-of-rage story

Three members of Alien Weaponry stand on stage doing pūkana and devil horns with their hands
Kia Tupu Te Ara chronicles the rise of te reo Māori metal band Alien Weaponry

Troy Rawhiti-Connell reviews Kua Tupu Te Ara, a documentary chronicling the meteoric rise of Aotearoa’s groundbreaking metal band.

“Two brothers attempt to storm the world of thrash metal with the Māori language, despite the fact they’re both still teenagers,”  reads the synopsis of Kent Belcher’s documentary, Kua Tupu Te Ara.

It might be too late to suggest “A coming of rage story” as a tagline, but the existing line is a fair hook to lure you in and see Kua Tupu Te Ara for what it really is: an intimate, cheeky, charming portrait of a Northland family making their way in the universe.

“It’s so virtuosic,” says an NZSO principal as her “slightly nerdy” orchestra works to keep pace with the complex songwriting of Waipu brothers Henry and Lewis de Jong. “That they did this as kids freaks me out.”

The whole world has been freaked out by Alien Weaponry’s youth, plus their reo lyrics, fiery social commentary, and advanced musicianship. And yet, though they’ve been in the public eye for a decade, this is the first chance for most to watch Alien Weaponry mature while all those headlines were still freaking out over how young they were.

The complete reality of growing up on tour is probably more of a wild ride than we’re allowed to see, but the signposts are clear enough when the boys go away for the first time without dad Niel, their audio producer, and mum Jette, tour manager.

As metal icons Randy Blythe (Lamb of God), Chuck Billy (Testament) and the Duplantier brothers (of Gojira, that band from the Paris Olympics opening ceremony) talk about the temptations and frustrations of the touring life, we see Henry describing his love-hate relationship with beer while Lewis, holding a joint, leans into the camera with some blunt advice for Snoop Dogg.

Two brothers stand with arms crossed in front of a house
Lewis de Jong and Henry de Jong of Alien Weaponry. (Image: Supplied)

The Alien Weaponry bass players avoid such scrutiny. Longtime member Ethan Trembath is seen preferring to chill backstage rather than seek adulation after a gig, and his replacement Tūranga Morgan-Edmonds isn’t shown with anything more controversial than a pie, the film leaving only the brothers to bear any moral panic.

That said, the bassists do influence the story. A comparison to Some Kind of Monster, the 2004 indie blockbuster that captured Metallica’s midlife crisis in excruciating detail, is inevitable not because this is a metal doco and that’s just the rule, but because Kua Tupu Te Ara itself opens the door to the heavy metaverse.

Trembath quits in 2020, unwilling to maintain the level of “crazy” required to live the touring life. During the search for a replacement, which we know to be Morgan-Edmonds, Kua Tupu mimics Monster’s bass auditions almost shot for shot. This could be handwaved away as coincidence, until the next scene references it directly, complete with a well-baked satire of the new Metallica bassist’s welcome party.

Alien Weaponry’s first and strongest claim to fame is their fusion of metal and te reo, taking Māori language and culture to global audiences. Accordingly, Kua Tupu Te Ara has a Māori heartbeat that is both fire and comfort in one. The de Jong whānau’s aroha is the thread that binds this story. Niel has Dutch and Māori whakapapa (Ngāti Pikiao, Ngāti Raukawa), passing his matauranga Māori to his boys, as well as his passion for heavy music.

A man with dreadlocks sings into the microphone on stage
Lewis De Jong performs on tour. (Image: Supplied)

While Lewis is the face of the band and the voice screaming rage into his reo, it’s the more reflective Henry who speaks loudest between gigs. You can feel the mamae and frustration pouring out of him during his interviews (“we can’t even accept Māori”) but also his joy at spreading the word. ‘Tūtira Mai Ngā Iwi’ is heard not once, but three times during the film. When the boys break it out in a dressing room, Henry tells a curious onlooker: “It’s the Māori version of ‘We Are The World’.”

Niel is there with a karakia when Henry gets his first tattoo at age 18. Later, he bares his pūhoro with pride as Henry receives his own buttocks spirals for his 21st. At Lewis’ 21st, it’s Jette who shines during the formalities, telling the large gathering of whānau and friends: “There are two things we can give our children in life. The first is roots, the second is wings.”

Kua Tupu Te Ara should do just fine with the tagline it has, but no sentiment captures its heart better than this. 

Kua Tupu Te Ara is in nationwide cinemas now.

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