‘I’m bloody lucky... I could have died’
Three strokes left him struggling to speak, but veteran actor Rawiri Paratene is determined to take the stage one last time. The Whale Rider star tells Chris Schulz why.
FRESH black paint is splashed across the walls. The venue’s floorboards were laid just last night, and the stage goes in tomorrow.
Seats are stacked in neat rows out back, waiting to be installed.
Soon, this cavernous new West Auckland venue will buzz with hundreds of people as Te Pou’s brand new Tokomanawa Theatre opens in style.
Today, the room contains just four people rehearsing for the theatre’s opening night – John Gibson, the theatre’s musical director and composer, is conducting a young band through rousing, rollicking songs.
Music echoes off the empty walls, rattles out the doors and spills around the picturesque Corban Estate Arts Centre.
Sitting on a chair nearby is the star of the show.
Rawiri Paratene, the humble veteran of New Zealand stage and screen, is a picture of concentration. His knee bounces up and down in time with the music as he hollers at the top of his lungs. At the end of each song a big grin spreads across his face. He is content.
‘‘I feel pretty good at the moment,’’ he’ll later say. ‘‘I am happy.’’
Paratene has a good reason to be smiling, because he almost didn’t make it here.
In 2018, the actor suffered the first of three strokes – each with the potential to end his life.
‘‘I’m bloody lucky to be alive,’’ he says. ‘‘I could have died, easily.’’
Those strokes left Paratene with aphasia, a common strokerelated ailment that delays the neural pathways between brain and speech.
Paratene’s gift of the gab, something his school teachers would tell him off for, had disappeared.
For 50 years, Paratene has used that gift to his advantage.
Performing, he says, ‘‘is the only thing I’ve done; it’s the only thing I can do.’’
From hosting Play School to acting in iconic, award-winning Kiwi films like Whale Rider, Footrot Flats: The Dog’s Tale and the Once Were Warriors sequel, What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?, he has added depth, heart and mana to every role he has appeared in.
Paratene has given so much to TV, to film, to music and to theatre. No-one would blame him for quietly exiting stage left and retiring.
But three strokes aren’t enough to hold the 67-year-old back.
He is determined to return to the stage one final time to say goodbye to the crowds that have supported him over the years.
In this venue where Paratene is rehearsing with the small band, he’ll appear on stage for just seven nights.
His show, the genre mash-up Peter Paka Paratene, will open Te Pou’s new theatre, a metaphorical passing of the torch to a new generation of artists.
Different every night, the performance will encompass music, poetry, spoken word and audience questions in a homage to his lengthy and illustrious career.
Despite his struggle with words, Paratene is refusing to let aphasia stop him from giving back to the community that gave him so much.
Ask him about his ailment and he will point out that other stroke victims have suffered far worse injuries than him.
‘‘My mother always said: ‘You’re a lucky boy.’ Yes. I am. I’ve always been lucky.’’
When the first stroke hit him, Paratene was fully committed to his magic carpet ride of a career.
He’d flown to Perth to attend rehearsals for Aladdin, the bigbudget stage musical based on the Disney movie.
Paratene was cast as The Sultan, and was relaxing in his hotel room the day before rehearsals began. That’s when the stroke happened.
Paratene didn’t understand what was happening so he went to bed. Like he’d done so many times before, he showed up to rehearsals bang on time the next day. He slurred his words, and seemed to be drunk. It became apparent something was very wrong.
‘‘The stage manager knew straight away,’’ says Paratene. ‘‘They know.’’
In the months following, he suffered two more strokes. They left him barely able to talk and battling constant fatigue.
The road to getting his speech back has been long and difficult. Unable to hold a conversation, he started by acting out the words he was trying to say, pretending to kick a ball around when he wanted to say ‘‘soccer’’.
As his speech slowly returned, he’d go for walks around his St Heliers home, naming things as he went: ‘‘Chair, table, light’’.
His daughter, the Green Party co-leader Marama Davidson, recently said: ‘‘He communicates differently now ... it has been a journey for our wha¯ nau to see him work so hard to be able to speak again’’.
One day during his recovery, Paratene showed up in Te Pou’s West Auckland office and announced he wanted to return to the stage.
He wanted to perform one final time, a reboot of a career best-of that had originally played to rave reviews in 2017.
At first, Tainui Tukiwaho, who is directing Paratene’s final stage appearance, couldn’t believe his ears. He is in awe of his bravery.
‘‘From not being able to verbalise at all ... to being confident enough to get up in front of everybody as a different man ... that’s a really brave call,’’ says Tukiwaho.
But the show is more than just a goodbye. Tukiwaho believes Paratene is finishing his career by setting an example for younger generations to follow.
‘‘It’s really beautiful modelling ... of how to sit in a space as rangatira. It’s a really clear pathway.’’
Everyone is nervous about how these final shows are going to go. No-one wants to admit that it’s the end.
Musical director Gibson, who’ll be on stage for every performance, first met Paratene in 1981 when he was working in a Dunedin restaurant. They became best friends, and have worked together ever since.
‘‘I just love him. He’s such a great writer. We just fell into it straight away,’’ he says.
Their performance in
Paka Paratene can, and does, go anywhere. ‘‘You just want to go out with a bang and celebrate,’’ says Gibson.
He promises many detours, side tracks and rabbit holes – especially once the audience starts asking Paratene questions.
After a 50-year career, the actor has amassed many stories. He might talk about his appearance in the London Globe’s performance of Hamlet ,a demanding two-year tour that visited 197 countries, and saw President Barack Obama request an audience with the cast. When he greeted Paratene, Obama leaned in and said: ‘‘I know who you are ... my kids loved The Whale Rider.’’
Paratene may also discuss the time he was dressed in character to play a patched gang member in What Becomes of the Broken Hearted? He looked so convincing, he scared the real-life gang members involved in the shoot.
‘‘They all moved away from me,’’ he says. ‘‘They said: ‘Aw s..., who’s this guy?’’’
The show could also cover Paratene’s role in the 1970s activist group Nga¯ Tamatoa, whose campaigns led to Te Reo returning to New Zealand schools, and resulted in Ma¯ ori Language Week.
Or it may take in his groundbreaking graduation from Toi Whakaari, the first Ma¯ ori actor to do so.
‘‘Yes, I’m nervous,’’ he admits about his return to the stage.
But he’s already planning his future. Once these shows are over, Paratene is set to complete his Masters in performing arts, English and art history. He wants to mingle with other students, attend lectures and study.
Is this really it? Can Paratene keep away from the stage and stop doing the thing he’s done for the past 50 years?
Ask him that question and another smile will creep across his face. He’s due back at rehearsals, and after that, he’s going home for a nap.
But before he departs, he’ll nod his head and declare: ‘‘It’s my last show. It’s my swan song.’’