Taika Waititi has this weird, specific magic. Before he was doing massive Marvel blockbusters like Thor: Ragnarok, he made this tiny, scrappy film in New Zealand that basically redefined what a "coming-of-age" story could look like. It’s called Hunt for the Wilderpeople. Honestly, if you haven’t seen it, you’re missing out on what might be the most sincere, funny, and heartbreaking adventure film of the last decade. It’s not just a movie about a kid in the woods. It’s about being an outcast. It’s about how we choose our families when our real ones fail us.
The movie follows Ricky Baker. He’s a "bad egg." Or at least, that’s what the child services lady, Paula, keeps saying. Julian Dennison plays Ricky with this perfect mix of bravado and vulnerability. He’s a city kid who loves hip-hop and haikus, suddenly dropped into the middle of the New Zealand bush with a foster aunt who loves him instantly and a foster uncle, Hec, who... well, Hec doesn't really want him there. When tragedy strikes, Ricky and Hec end up on the run from the law, sparking a national manhunt.
The Weird Alchemy of Ricky and Hec
What makes Hunt for the Wilderpeople work isn't the plot. It's the chemistry. Sam Neill plays Hec, and if you only know him as the heroic Dr. Alan Grant from Jurassic Park, this is a revelation. He’s grizzly. He’s grumpy. He’s a man of few words who clearly has a lot of internal trauma he’s never processed. Put him next to a kid who writes haikus about his feelings and insists on calling their dog "Tupac," and you have gold.
Waititi uses a chapter-based structure, which makes the whole thing feel like a storybook, but a storybook that’s been dragged through the mud and scratched by briars. It’s gritty but whimsical. You’ve got these sweeping shots of the Waitākere Ranges—majestic, green, terrifyingly vast—contrasted with Ricky wearing a bright red hoodie that sticks out like a sore thumb.
There’s a specific scene where they’re sitting by a fire, and Ricky starts talking about his friend who died in foster care. It’s a heavy moment. But Waititi doesn't let it get sappy. He keeps it real. He keeps it human. The dialogue is snappy, often overlapping, and feels remarkably unscripted, even though the screenplay (based on Barry Crump’s book Wild Pork and Watercress) is incredibly tight.
Why the Humor Hits Differently
Most comedies try too hard. They use "bits." Hunt for the Wilderpeople uses character. The humor comes from the absurdity of the situation. You have a massive police force, helicopters, and SWAT teams hunting down a 13-year-old and an old man who just want to be left alone.
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The character of Paula (Rachel House) is a standout. She’s the antagonist, technically, but she’s so convinced she’s the hero of a high-stakes action movie that it’s hilarious. "No child left behind" is her catchphrase, but she says it like she’s about to kick down a door in a Michael Bay film. It’s that tonal dissonance—the "skux life" vs. the harsh reality of the wilderness—that makes it so rewatchable.
Barry Crump and the New Zealand Identity
You can't talk about this film without talking about Barry Crump. He’s a legend in New Zealand. A "man’s man." His writing defined a certain type of Kiwi masculinity—stoic, resourceful, outdoorsy. Waititi takes that archetype and pokes at it.
Hec is the quintessential Crump hero, but the movie asks: what happens when that stoic man is forced to care for a kid who needs emotional connection? It’s a deconstruction of the "Southern Man" myth. It’s subtle, though. It never feels like a lecture. It feels like a hike through the bush where you occasionally stop to realize something profound about yourself.
The film also captures a very specific New Zealand "vibe." It’s the dry wit. It’s the way people say "reckon" or "choice." It’s a film that is deeply proud of its roots while also making fun of the country’s small-town eccentricities.
The Visual Language of the Bush
The cinematography by Lachlan Milne is stunning. Often, low-budget indie films look, well, low-budget. Not this one. The "Manhunt" sequence, where they use a series of whip-pans and 360-degree rotations to show the passage of time, is masterclass filmmaking.
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It makes the bush feel like a character. It’s beautiful but indifferent. If Ricky and Hec don’t figure out how to work together, the environment will kill them long before the police do. This adds a layer of tension that keeps the comedy grounded. You’re laughing, but you’re also worried they might starve or freeze.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Ending
Some folks walk away thinking the ending is just a standard "happy ever after." I'd argue it's more complicated. Without spoiling the specifics for the three people who haven't seen it, the resolution isn't about everything going back to normal. It’s about the fact that "normal" was broken to begin with.
The system—the foster care system, the legal system—doesn't really "win." Ricky and Hec find a way to exist on the margins. It’s a celebration of the "wilderpeople"—the ones who don't fit into the neat boxes society builds for us.
- The Soundtrack: It’s synth-heavy and weirdly 80s-inspired, which shouldn't work for a movie set in the New Zealand wilderness, but it does.
- The Cameos: Look out for Taika Waititi himself playing a very confused minister at a funeral.
- The "Skux" Factor: Ricky’s obsession with being "skux" (cool/urban) is a recurring theme that highlights his struggle to find an identity in a world that keeps rejecting him.
Honestly, the movie is a miracle of tone. It transitions from a slapstick chase scene to a deeply moving conversation about literacy and loss without ever feeling jarring. That’s a hard tightrope to walk.
Breaking Down the "Bad Egg" Myth
The film spends a lot of time showing us that Ricky isn't a "bad egg" at all. He’s just a kid who has been moved from house to house so many times he’s stopped trying to belong. His "crimes" are mostly petty—stealing a biscuit, burning a shed, kicking a fence.
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When Aunt Bella (Rima Te Wiata) gives him a hot water bottle and sings him a terrible birthday song on a toy keyboard, you see the armor crack. It’s a reminder that "problem children" are usually just children who haven't been loved properly. It's a simple message, but delivered with so much heart that it feels fresh.
Impact on Modern Cinema
Since Hunt for the Wilderpeople, Julian Dennison went on to star in Deadpool 2, and Taika Waititi became a household name. But there’s a soul in this film that sometimes gets lost in the giant CGI spectacles of their later work.
It proved that you could make a "small" movie that feels "big." It proved that audiences crave original stories with local flavors. You don't need a 200 million dollar budget to tell a story about a car chase and a giant boar. You just need a director with a vision and two actors who are willing to get very, very dirty.
I remember watching this in a crowded theater and the entire room was silent during the scene where Hec reads the letter. You could hear a pin drop. Then, thirty seconds later, everyone was howling with laughter. That’s the power of this film. It respects the audience enough to let them feel everything at once.
Next Steps for the Ultimate Viewing Experience
If you’re ready to dive into the world of Ricky Baker, start by watching the film on a platform like Netflix or Amazon Prime (availability varies by region). Don't just have it on in the background; pay attention to the background details in the bush scenes.
After that, check out Boy (2010), another Waititi masterpiece that explores similar themes of fatherhood and imagination in New Zealand. If you want to go to the source material, track down a copy of Barry Crump's Wild Pork and Watercress. It's a bit darker than the movie, but it gives you a much deeper look at the character of Hec and the rugged reality of the New Zealand backcountry. Finally, look up the "Making Of" featurettes—seeing how they filmed in those remote locations with a tiny crew makes you appreciate the final product even more.