A Tongan church group formed a marching band to get into a Rugby World Cup match

He was bad. The idea was crazy. But he pulled it off. As new movie Red, White and Brass is released, Mike White discovers the fantastic true story behind the film, and how a Tongan church group formed a marching band to get into a World Cup rugby match.

When it came to being naughty at church, Halaifonua (Nua) Finau was in a class of his own.

Running around, being smart, skipping services, he racked up any number of misdemeanours each Sunday – baptised but badass.

"He wasn't a bit of a rascal," says his mother, Valeti, "he was a rascal."

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"All the aunties and uncles said there has never been a kid as misbehaved as Nua," remembers his older brother, Lupeti.

"But he was a cute kid, so he got away with so much."

The brothers were part of the Tongan community attending Wellington's Wesley Church, where their father, Tevita, was a minister.

In 2011, with the Rugby World Cup looming, Wellington's council approached Tevita about finding pre-match entertainment for the Tonga vs France match.

The church had a fledgling brass band, which accompanied the congregation during hymns.

They’d borrowed instruments from the Tawa Boys’ Brigade, and used a Tongan in town on a music scholarship to teach them absolute basics.

But somehow an idea emerged of creating a marching band that could play and parade before the big match, which was just a couple of months away.

"I was amazed the thought even came up," recalls Lupeti. "It was a crazy idea."

But there was powerful motivation.

"It was free tickets," says Nua. "We’d do anything."

Getting to the match had been virtually impossible until then. A lucky few had succeeded in a ticket ballot, but even then, prices were hefty.

So when his father suggested Nua might like to reacquaint himself with the church, and be the new band's drum major, Nua realised he’d been thrown a lifeline to see his beloved Tongan team play at the World Cup.

It wasn't that simple, though.

"I went to the first practice, and I was like, ‘this sucks’.

"I was practising with a mop, and I thought, ‘this is really, really dumb’, and we were marching up and down the hall in literally straight lines."

The music was terrible too, he reckoned.

"I was just like, ‘I can't believe we’re going to go out and perform this in front of the world.’"

Nua had studied dance, and performed around the world, so gradually tried changing up the band's routine, while styling his own moves with the drum major's mace.

But what he possessed in natural skill, he lacked in commitment.

He skived off most practices.

At a crucial dress rehearsal, he simply didn't show up, leaving his parents and brother furious, and someone else to hastily fill his role.

There was a second dress rehearsal a few days before the big match.

Nua didn't turn up to that one either.

"I was real bad. I was like, ‘I’m only doing the World Cup, and get my ticket – and then I’m out.’"

"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer boomed across Wellington's regional stadium, "please welcome to the forefield today, Wesley Wellington Taulanga Ū Brass."

And out of the tunnel marched the red and white band, Nua at the front, 30 band members in loose step behind him.

It was October 1, 2011 and the sporting world was watching as the band formed up on the halfway line.

When Nua turned to face them and command the band to get ready, he suddenly realised what it meant to everyone.

"I saw them crying, nervous, fear, excitement.

"And that's when I realised how special it was to be Tongan."

Staring back at him was his brother Lupeti, tuba in hand.

Trying his best not to wave back to their supporters in the crowd (they’d managed to get tickets for the whole church), Lupeti also struggled with the idea they were now in the hands of the family's naughtiest member.

"Never in a million years did we think my mischievous younger brother would be in a position that so many would rely on him.

"And he ended up doing an awesome job – which caught us off guard too."

What Nua led them through in the next six minutes was a medley of mace-twirling, dancing, and lung-sapping renditions of everything from Joy to the World, to Pōkarekare Ana.

It was fun, full of high-stepping and high jinks, brimful with what Tongans call māfana – passion, enthusiasm, go with your heart.

And what followed that, after the band slipped into their seats, was just as incredible, as Tonga upset France 19-14, in perhaps the country's greatest sporting moment, cheered on by painted, flag-waving, heart-on-sleeve fans who’d fast become legends at the World Cup.

For Nua, it was one of the best days of his life – 100%.

"I think if you could pinpoint a moment that made it all right to be Tongan, it was that moment."

Five years later, working in the film industry, Nua returned to the stadium, this time as a reluctant plus-one at the Edinburgh Tattoo show.

But he was blown away by the performers, including Tongan musicians, and immediately began concocting a story in his head about a Tongan rugby player in Scotland, who returns to New Zealand to form a brass band, which he then takes to Edinburgh.

When he ran it past friend Danny Mulheron, an actor, writer and director, Mulheron asked where the idea came from.

Nua mentioned his own experience, and told Mulheron how his church played at the World Cup.

"And he was like, ‘Just tell the real story – that's wild in itself.’"

After writing a script, Nua showed it to Piki Films (Jojo Rabbit, Hunt for the Wilderpeople) producer Morgan Waru, who leapt at the chance to put it on the big screen, along with executive producer Taika Waititi.

"You tell anybody about this story," says Waru, "and they smile and want to see the movie."

On Wellington's waterfront, between Michel Tuffery's kina sculpture, and an Elizabeth Knox quote about evening light in the Capital that's inlaid into wooden steps, the first bars of Scribe's Not Many rumble from a speaker.

"How many dudes you know roll like this/How many dudes you know flow like this/Not many, if any..."

And suddenly there are actors and a brass band moving and miming to it, big bass notes rolling seaward.

Coffee-clutching suits pause and stare at the energy and incongruity, kids dawdling between classes hang over bridge railings, and lunchtime joggers miss their step.

It's late 2021, the fifth week of filming Red, White and Brass, and Nua is helping director Damon Fepulea’i choreograph a million moving parts into a movie retelling Nua's 2011 World Cup story.

As the crew sets up for another take, he wanders over to chat with lead actor John-Paul Foliaki who plays Maka, the character based on Nua.

The pair met a few years previously when Foliaki was auditioning for Nua's TV miniseries, The Panthers.

Nua went to the kitchen for a drink and found Foliaki searching for the keys to his dad's car that he’d borrowed – and now lost.

"And just in that interaction I knew straight away that this guy was Maka," Nua remembers, "because I was like, ‘You’re a frickin’ klutz.’"

Foliaki says there are a lot of similarities between himself and Nua, both having a "black sheep personality" in their families, both being very determined to achieve their aims.

"And I know Nua wanted someone that had a deep understanding of what it means to be Tongan, and that love for Tonga.

"I really wanted to make sure I did the role justice, and make him and his family proud."

Alongside a core ensemble of actors, many of Nua's family and community have crucial roles in the movie.

His brother Lupeti plays a character based on several of their uncles.

And perhaps the most remarkable casting decision was getting his parents to play cine-versions of themselves, as Maka's mother and father.

Nua says he resisted auditioning them for ages, but eventually sent his mum, Valeti, a script.

A few days later, sitting beside director Fepulea’i, Nua FaceTimed her and asked her to read it to them.

"And she was ironing my Dad's church clothes or something, and she got really angry at me and growled me off in Tongan for being a stupid idiot and I should have given her warning so she could practise her lines, and bloody introducing her to the director when she was in her pyjamas.

"It was all in Tongan – Damon couldn't understand a word.

"And then Damon goes, ‘Oh yeah, she's good, let's cast her.’

"And I turned to her and said, ‘Oh, the director likes you, do you want to do the role?’ And she said, ‘I’ll only do it if your Dad does it.’

"My Dad didn't even want to audition, but she just told him he was doing it.

"And the rest is history."

Growing up in Tonga, Valeti says movies were things that people like Elvis Presley and Rock Hudson starred in – "not an ordinary Tongan from an ordinary family and ordinary upbringing. It was unbelievable, it was my wildest dreams coming true."

Also hard to believe was her rascal son giving her directions during filming.

"I thought to myself, he gets away with things here he wouldn't get away with at home – telling me what to do, bossing his bossy mother around on set."

But both she and Tevita say they’re incredibly proud of the movie Nua has helped make, and the window it opens onto Tongan life and "straight māfana".

One of the joys of making Red, White and Brass was the chance for Nua to involve so many people who were part of the original story: his family; his church; the wider Wellington Tongan community; and the Taulanga Ū brass band which is still going strong. (Lupeti remains a member, along with his two sons. Nua only performed with the band that one time, "and then that was it".)

When Nua first mentioned he was making a film about the band's genesis, many thought it was bluff or bullshit.

Even Lupeti doubted it was real until funding for the movie was announced.

"It was amazing to hear that this guy who could never get anything right, or would always be causing havoc, had turned it into a film script."

Another thrill for Nua was filming on home ground around Wellington and Porirua: Tawa where he grew up and played rugby; Waitangirua Mall where he used to go to the flea market and buy pies; Wellington College where he went to school; Tītahi Bay where he lived for years.

"The hood, the streets, the hills that raised me."

Ever since that World Cup performance he's regarded being Tongan as his superpower in achieving his goals.

"One of the things I say to myself in all my work is, ‘I want to make being Tongan mean.’ Because that's what that performance did for me – it reminded me how mean it is to be Tongan."

He's already screened the film for Tonga's Queen and Crown Princess, an event that left him strangely shy and speechless.

"Like, I’ve met Prince Harry, and Prince William, and Kate, and I didn't really think that was that cool. It was way better, for me, meeting our queen."

As the film reaches our screens this week, Nua says he hopes it brings smiles to everyone around the country, especially those who’ve been hard hit recently.

"I think the events of the last few weeks and month have reminded a lot of us Kiwis that our communities are pretty special and important parts, especially in times of need."

Red, White and Brass premieres at Wellington's Embassy Theatre on Tuesday March 21, and opens in cinemas on Thursday March 23.

Sunday Magazine