New Zealand cinema changed forever in 1994 when Once Were Warriors slapped the world across the face. It was brutal. It was visceral. It left everyone wondering where the Heke family could possibly go after such a devastating climax. Then, in 1999, we got the answer. What Becomes of the Broken Hearted isn't just a sequel; it is a gritty, sweaty, and surprisingly hopeful exploration of whether a man like Jake "The Muss" can ever truly outrun his own shadow.
Most sequels feel like cheap cash-ins. Not this one. Directed by Ian Mune instead of Lee Tamahori, the film shifts the lens. We aren't looking at the family unit anymore. Beth is gone, carving out a better life elsewhere. This is Jake’s story. It is a lonely, violent road.
Honestly, the movie is a bit of a miracle because it manages to keep the intensity of the original while pivoting to a completely different genre—the gang thriller. Temuera Morrison returns as Jake, and he’s somehow even more intimidating because he’s trying not to be a monster. It’s that internal friction that makes the film work. You see the muscles, you see the "Muss," but you also see a man who realizes he has absolutely nothing left but his fists.
The Brutal Reality of What Becomes of the Broken Hearted
Five years have passed. Jake is living in a literal shack. He’s still drinking, still fighting, but the fire is different now. It’s cold. The central conflict kicks off when his eldest son, Nig, is killed in a gang shootout. This isn't a spoiler; it’s the catalyst. Nig’s death forces Jake to look at his remaining son, Sonny, played by Clint Eruera. Sonny is drowning in grief and a desperate need for revenge, joining the same gang that basically caused his brother's death.
The film dives deep into the "Moke" and "Black Hat" gang culture. It's stylized, sure, but it feels authentic to the era's anxieties about youth radicalization in Aotearoa.
Critics often compare the two films, usually claiming the first is "better." That's a lazy take. Once Were Warriors was a social drama. What Becomes of the Broken Hearted is a redemption noir. It’s about the consequences of legacy. If you raise your kids in a house of violence, don't be surprised when they seek out a gang that feels like home.
Jake spends a lot of the movie trying to pull Sonny out of the life. The irony is thick. Jake is the blueprint for the very violence Sonny is embracing. Seeing Jake try to use his "mana" for something other than breaking noses is the emotional core here. He meets Rita, played by Nancy Brunning. She doesn't take his crap. She’s the foil he needs—someone who sees the man, not the myth.
Behind the Scenes: From Page to Screen
Alan Duff wrote the novel this is based on. If you’ve read it, you know the movie takes some massive liberties. The book is dense, internal, and arguably even darker. The film version of What Becomes of the Broken Hearted streamlines the plot into a race against time. Can Jake save Sonny before the cycle of violence resets?
- Director: Ian Mune
- Starring: Temuera Morrison, Julian Arahanga, Clint Eruera
- Release Year: 1999
- Key Theme: The rejection of toxic masculinity
Mune’s direction is less "MTV" than Tamahori’s. It’s more grounded. He lets the camera linger on the scars—both the physical ones on the actors' faces and the metaphorical ones on the landscape. The color palette is muddy. It feels like a hangover.
Why the Portrayal of Gang Culture Matters
In the late 90s, the depiction of Māori gangs was a sensitive topic. Some felt the film glamorized the patches and the brotherhood. But if you actually watch it, there’s nothing glamorous about it. The "Mokes" are shown as a dead end. They are a collection of broken boys looking for a father figure, and they find a nightmare instead.
Sonny’s descent into the gang is a tragedy. He thinks he's being a warrior. In reality, he’s just a pawn. The film brilliantly juxtaposes the traditional Māori values—which Jake is slowly rediscovering through Rita’s influence—with the distorted, hyper-violent version of "warriorhood" adopted by the gangs.
The fight scenes are legendary. They aren't choreographed like a Marvel movie. They are clumsy, desperate, and painful to watch. When Jake fights, you feel the weight of every hit. Morrison is a physical powerhouse, but he plays the fights with a sense of exhaustion. He’s tired of being the toughest guy in the room.
People talk about the "kitchen scene" in the first movie. In this one, the standout is the final confrontation. It’s not about winning; it’s about survival and sacrifice. It asks a hard question: Can a person who has done unforgivable things ever truly be redeemed? The movie doesn't give a simple "yes." It suggests that redemption is a daily choice, not a destination.
The Impact on New Zealand Cinema
Before these films, NZ cinema was often seen as polite or artsy. What Becomes of the Broken Hearted proved that local stories could be gritty, commercial, and culturally significant all at once. It paved the way for a whole generation of filmmakers to tackle raw, uncomfortable subjects without blinking.
It also solidified Temuera Morrison as a global star. Without Jake the Muss, we might never have had his version of Boba Fett. He brought a specific kind of gravity to the screen—a mixture of indigenous pride and raw, masculine vulnerability that hadn't been seen quite like that before.
Dealing with the Legacy of the "Muss"
You can't talk about this film without acknowledging how Jake Heke became a cultural icon. For better or worse, people quoted him. They imitated his walk. But the sequel tries to deconstruct that. It’s a "de-mythologizing" of the character.
If you're revisiting the film today, the pacing might feel a bit slower than modern thrillers. That’s intentional. It’s a character study masquerading as a gang movie. It takes its time showing Jake’s mundane life—the work, the quiet moments of reflection, the awkward attempts at conversation.
The soundtrack is another layer. It’s filled with local talent, rooting the story firmly in its place. The music doesn't tell you how to feel; it just adds to the atmosphere of a community trying to find its voice amidst the noise of poverty and systemic neglect.
Misconceptions About the Sequel
- It’s just a repeat of the first movie. Wrong. It's a tonal shift toward crime-drama.
- Jake hasn't changed. He has, but change is slow and messy. He's an alcoholic in recovery, essentially.
- You need to watch the first one to understand it. Mostly true, but the film stands on its own as a story of a father and son.
The movie explores the idea of "mana" in a way that feels earned. Jake realizes that his strength shouldn't be used to dominate others, but to protect what little he has left. It’s a powerful message, especially in the context of the domestic abuse themes from the previous installment. It doesn't excuse his past actions, but it shows a path forward.
How to Experience the Story Today
If you want to dive into the world of What Becomes of the Broken Hearted, don't just stop at the movie. The evolution of these characters across the "Warriors" trilogy (including the third book, Jake's Long Shadow) is a fascinating look at New Zealand's changing social fabric.
- Watch the 4K restorations. If you can find them, the visual clarity brings out the grit of the locations.
- Read the Alan Duff novels. They provide the internal monologues that the movies can only hint at.
- Research the social context. Understanding the urban migration of Māori in the mid-20th century adds a whole new level of depth to why these families were "broken" to begin with.
The film is a tough watch. It’s supposed to be. But it’s also deeply rewarding. It reminds us that no matter how far someone has fallen, there is always a chance—however slim—to stand back up.
To truly appreciate the film's impact, look for the subtle performances from the supporting cast. Nancy Brunning as Rita is the anchor the movie needs. She provides a sense of calm that contrasts beautifully with Jake’s chaotic energy. Her character isn't a plot device; she’s a person with her own history and strength, and she challenges Jake in ways a fist never could.
Ultimately, the film asks us to look at the "broken-hearted" not with pity, but with an understanding of the circumstances that broke them. It’s about the hard work of mending. It’s about the fact that sometimes, the only way to save your family is to first save yourself.
Start by watching the film with an eye on the background—the murals, the street life, the small details of the Heke household. These elements tell a story of a culture in transition. Then, compare the ending of the first film with the final shot of the second. The shift from despair to a weary kind of hope is the whole point of the journey.
Check your local streaming services or boutique DVD labels for the best versions, as the cinematography by Allen Guilford deserves to be seen in high definition to capture the true texture of the Auckland suburbs. The legacy of Jake Heke isn't just about the violence; it's about the struggle to finally put the "Muss" to rest.