Paul Henry is sitting there with a stuffed ginger cat named Mo. It's weird. It’s glorious. Honestly, if you haven’t sat through an episode of The Traitors New Zealand, you’re missing out on the most chaotic iteration of the global franchise. While the UK version leans into high-stakes melodrama and the US version loves its "reality royalty" peacocking, the New Zealand cut feels like a dinner party where everyone secretly hates each other but is too polite—or too devious—to say it over the entree.
It works because it’s small. New Zealand is a village. In the first season, you had people who literally knew each other's phone numbers before the cameras started rolling. That changes the math of the game entirely. You can't just lie; you have to lie to someone who knows your mum.
What makes The Traitors New Zealand actually worth your time?
The show follows the standard template: a group of contestants stays in a luxury manor (in this case, the stunning Ariki Lodge in Taupō). Most are "Faithful," but a few are "Traitors." The Traitors "murder" someone every night. The Faithful try to banish the Traitors at the Round Table. Simple.
But the Kiwi energy is distinct. Paul Henry, the host, is a massive part of that. He’s not playing a character like Alan Cumming; he basically is that guy. He’s cynical. He mocks the contestants. He seems genuinely delighted when they fail a mission and lose money from the prize pot. It’s refreshing. Most hosts pretend to care if the players win the "silver bars." Paul seems like he’d rather keep the money for a better bottle of wine.
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Then there's the cast. Season 1 was a mix of "celebrities" (in the NZ sense of the word) and everyday people. You had Lachy McLean, a sports broadcaster, and people like Brooke Howard-Smith. But the breakout stars are often the ones you don't expect. Look at season 2, which shifted to a full "civilian" cast. The dynamic changed. It became less about protecting a public brand and more about the raw, desperate desire to win a life-changing sum of money.
The geography matters too. Setting the show in the central North Island provides this moody, volcanic backdrop that fits the "murder mystery" vibe better than a sunny beach ever could. It’s misty. It’s cold. It feels like something bad is about to happen in a shed.
The Strategy: Why Kiwi players are harder to read
There is a specific brand of "Tall Poppy Syndrome" in New Zealand that inadvertently creates a fascinating meta-game. In the US version, players often scream about their loyalty. They make big, grand gestures. In The Traitors New Zealand, if you stand out too much, you’re gone.
Kiwi players tend to value "being a good mate" on the surface while being incredibly calculated underneath. Take someone like Sam Smith from Season 1. He’s a comedian. He’s likable. He uses that "nice guy" energy as a literal suit of armor. People found it almost impossible to vote against him because he was just so pleasant.
- The "Quiet Observer" tactic is king here.
- Aggressive play is usually punished by immediate banishment.
- Social capital is more valuable than logic.
If you look at the Round Table sessions, the logic is often flimsy. People get banished because they "looked at me funny during breakfast" or "didn't seem excited about the porridge." It’s infuriating to watch, but it’s incredibly human. We like to think we’re Sherlock Holmes, but we’re actually just reactive animals who don't like it when someone breathes too loudly.
Season 1 vs. Season 2: The big shift
Season 1 was a bit of an experiment. It relied heavily on the novelty of the format. Seeing Mike Puru or Colin Mathura-Jeffree trying to navigate a game of deception was fun, but it felt a bit like a weekend retreat for broadcasters.
Season 2 took the gloves off. By moving to a non-celebrity cast, the producers tapped into a different kind of hunger. When you aren't worried about your Instagram followers or your next radio gig, you play differently. You play meaner. The "murders" felt more strategic, and the betrayals felt more personal.
One thing the New Zealand production does better than others is the pacing. They don't overstuff the episodes with "coming up" teasers that ruin the surprise. You get the missions, which are often physically grueling—think trekking through bush or dealing with freezing water—and then you get the psychological breakdown at the lodge.
The budget is clearly smaller than the US version. You can see it in the scale of the challenges. But honestly? It doesn't matter. The Traitors is a show about faces. It’s about the twitch in a Traitor’s eye when their name is mentioned. It’s about the crushing weight of being a Faithful who knows they are about to be banished for no reason. You don't need a $10 million helicopter stunt for that. You just need a camera 12 inches from someone's nose.
The Paul Henry factor
We have to talk about Paul. If you aren't from New Zealand, you might not know his history. He’s a polarizing figure. He’s been fired, he’s been a hero, he’s been a villain. This makes him the perfect host for a show about moral ambiguity.
He doesn't offer comfort. When a Faithful realizes they’ve just banished one of their own, Paul usually has a quip ready to twist the knife. He treats the whole thing like a grand, absurd play. His chemistry with the "living" and the "dead" is what grounds the show. He represents the audience—the ones sitting at home on the couch, drinking tea, and judging everyone for being so blind.
Why the "Homegrown" feel works
There is something inherently funny about watching people plot a murder in a lodge that looks like a high-end Airbnb in Taupō. It feels accessible. It feels like a game you could play with your cousins, which makes the stakes feel weirdly higher.
When a Traitor like Dan or Brooke makes a move, you aren't just watching a reality star; you’re watching a reflection of the person you might be if you were offered $70,000 to lie to your friends. New Zealanders pride themselves on being "straight shooters." The Traitors New Zealand proves that’s a total myth. We can be just as snakey as the Brits or the Americans when there’s silver on the line.
Common misconceptions about the NZ version
People often think the Kiwi version will be "light" or "polite." It isn't. It’s actually quite dark. The psychological toll on the players is evident by the time they reach the final three or four.
Another misconception is that you need to know who the celebrities are to enjoy it. You don't. Within ten minutes, they are just players in a game. Their "fame" outside the house becomes a liability inside it. In fact, being a known entity often makes you a target because people think they already know your "tells."
- Is it scripted? No. You can see the genuine frustration in the eyes of the losers.
- Is the prize money real? Yes, though it’s modest compared to international versions.
- Are the missions boring? Occasionally, but they serve as a necessary pressure cooker for the social game.
The missions are mostly there to tire the players out. A tired brain is a bad liar. That’s when the cracks start to show.
How to actually win this game (The Kiwi way)
If you’re ever cast on a future season, here is the blueprint. First, don't be the smartest person in the room. Or at least, don't look like it. The "Smart Person" is usually murdered by Traitors in week two because they are a threat, or banished by Faithfuls because they are "suspiciously clever."
Second, find a "ride or die" but be ready to throw them under a bus the second the wind shifts. In the NZ version, loyalty is a currency that devalues quickly.
Third, listen more than you talk. The loudest person at the Round Table is usually the one who has no idea what’s going on. The winners are usually the ones who sit in the middle of the pack, nodding along, and only speaking when they have a name that everyone else is already thinking of.
The impact on NZ television
For a long time, NZ reality TV was stuck in the "Home and Garden" or "Cooking" phase. We did The Block, we did MasterChef. The Traitors New Zealand represents a shift toward high-concept social strategy. It’s proved that New Zealanders will watch a show that isn't about renovation or Pavlova.
It’s about the "social experiment" aspect. We are a small country. We value "fitting in." This show weaponizes that cultural trait. It asks: "How much are you willing to break the social contract for a paycheck?"
The production quality has also set a new bar for local networks. The cinematography is sharp. The editing is tight. It doesn't feel like "cheap" TV. It feels like a prestige product that happened to be made in a country with more sheep than people.
What’s next for the franchise?
With the success of the first two seasons, the appetite for more is high. There’s talk of more "themed" seasons or perhaps a trans-Tasman crossover. Imagine Kiwis vs. Aussies in a game of Traitors. That would be actual war.
For now, the show remains a masterclass in local casting and atmospheric storytelling. It’s the kind of show you watch with your phone in your hand, texting your friends about how "Susan is obviously a Traitor, why are they so dumb?!"
It’s great TV. It’s messy. It’s awkward. It’s very, very New Zealand.
Next Steps for Fans and New Viewers
If you want to get the most out of the series, start with Season 1 just to see Paul Henry find his footing and to watch the "celebrity" egos clash. It provides the necessary context for how the NZ game differs from the UK or US versions. Once you’ve finished that, jump into Season 2 for a much more ruthless, "civilian" experience where the stakes feel significantly higher for the participants.
Pay close attention to the "Breakfast" scenes. That is where the real game is won and lost. Look at who enters the room last and how the others react. The micro-expressions in those five minutes usually tell you exactly who is going to be banished at the next Round Table. If you're outside of New Zealand, look for it on streaming platforms like ThreeNow or specialized reality TV services—it is arguably the most underrated version of the global franchise.