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(SIFF Review) MĀRAMA (2026) is a Māori Gothic in a Beautiful House Haunted Mostly by the Past

By. Radek Velicka

Published with permission. Original article is posted HERE

 

Taratoa Stappard’s New Zealand horror film has a strong atmosphere, beautiful production design, and a fascinating cultural layer, but its slow pace sometimes lulls more than it unsettles.

 

For my first review from this year’s Seattle International Film Festival, I chose the gothic horror film MĀRAMA, directed by Taratoa Stappard, for whom this is also a feature debut. The story takes place in 1859. A young Māori woman, Mary Stevens (Ariāna Osborne), travels from New Zealand to North Yorkshire in England. The reason for her journey is a letter from a man who claims to know the truth about her parents. After a long and exhausting trip, however, Mary discovers that the man she came to find is no longer available. Instead of answers, her path leads her to Hawkser Manor, where its owner Nathaniel Cole (Toby Stephens) offers her work as a governess.

 

This gothic ghost story opens a window into Māori traditions and a stolen identity. MĀRAMA is haunted not only by the walls of the house, but also by the artefacts of her ancestors, which are scattered throughout the manor like decorative objects. Mary begins to experience visions, voices, and images from the past, forcing her to piece together the truth about her own family and about what really happened at Hawkser Manor. The deeper she enters the secrets of the house, the further she moves away from the name Mary and returns to what the colonial world tried to suppress in her.

 

For more festival coverage from Radek Velicka, check out “The Horror Guru’s Advice: Write Nightmares, Not Formulas,” a piece about why atmosphere, rhythm, and tension matter so much in horror storytelling.

 

The strongest scene in the whole film, for me, is the party at the manor. Nathaniel hosts a social gathering, and Mārama watches as the English guests stare at a Māori man performing his own heritage for them like a party trick. Erroll Shand plays him with the right amount of slimy discomfort, as a man surviving in this world at the cost of his own dignity. Mārama sits among the guests, watches their smiles, and her anger grows with every second.

 

 

Her frustration finally explodes into a haka, the ceremonial Māori dance that can have many forms and meanings. Here, it becomes an expression of rage. But when she finishes, the guests applaud. To them, it is just another exotic display of a culture they consider inferior.

 

Technically, MĀRAMA is genuinely impressive. Gin Loane’s cinematography works beautifully with cold, muted tones, dark interiors, fog, and striking architecture. Nick Williams’ production design and Sarah Voon’s costumes create a world that looks elegant on the surface but feels oppressive underneath.

 

The casting works very well. The film is carried above all by Ariāna Osborne, who plays Mary/Mārama as a woman trapped between fear, grief, and slowly growing anger. Her transformation from Mary back into Mārama is the film’s strongest acting arc. Toby Stephens presents Nathaniel as an educated admirer of foreign cultures, but in reality he treats them as possessions. And Erroll Shand, as Jack, brings a slimy and painful ambivalence to a man who belongs to an oppressed culture himself, yet has become part of its humiliation.

 

The problem is that MĀRAMA often works better as a series of images than as a film. The pacing is very slow, and not always in a hypnotic or deliberate way. At times, I felt as if I was watching a beautifully designed exhibition rather than a fully functioning horror film.

Slow-burn horror can, of course, be great. Gothic stories often rely on tension that does not rush forward. But here, many scenes last a few seconds, sometimes even minutes, longer than they should. The jump scares work, the atmosphere is strong, but the storytelling never held me as firmly as I wanted it to.

 

Even so, I think Taratoa Stappard has a lot ahead of him. MĀRAMA is a beautiful and ambitious debut with several genuinely striking moments, especially the haka scene. It works best when it brings together the physical and the spiritual, body and space, culture and anger, into one powerful image. With a tighter script and slightly sharper pacing, it could have been one of the biggest genre surprises of the year. As it stands, it remains “only” a distinctive debut.