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1 August 2025

With Chief of War, Hawaii gets the Game of Thrones treatment

You can’t fault the world-historical ambition of Jason Momoa’s period action drama.

By Nicholas Harris

When it comes to subtitles, I’m in tune with the times. Like most young people, I use them a lot. It’s something to do with “dynamic range compression”, and the audio being lower quality online than on DVDs or traditional TV. But equally, it’s nice to be able to double-check mumbly dialogue, especially since TV shows are so well written these days. And when trying to impress a cultured companion by watching a Fellini down the BFI, they’re obviously a must-have.

That said, I was still struck by the ballsiness of Apple TV’s Chief of War, the first two episodes of which are almost entirely in the language known as ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘i. As Hawaii’s biggest televisual exports to date are Hawaii Five-0 and Lilo & Stitch, and that in Britain the word “Hawaiian” normally occasions an argument about fruit on pizza, I understand the urge to deepen our understanding of the islands’ culture. And Chief of War has reportedly been headed by an entirely indigenous creative team. Still, this is what TV in 2025 amounts to: not just watching, but reading too.

We’re in late-18th-century Hawaii, long before the high-rise Honolulu of our time – before even the eponymous “Hawaiian” shirt. This is a land of geometric tattoos, spears and lads in scanty loincloths (about as revealing as thongs). In this period, the archipelago was split into four major kingdoms which try to keep themselves to themselves, but also occasionally feud. Overhanging this is a prophecy, introduced via voiceover, that “a star with a feathered cape will signal the rise of a great king”, destined in turn to unify all of Hawaii. The series is the story of that prophecy coming true – though not in the way anyone expected, since it becomes quickly entangled with European colonialism.

We open with Jason Momoa (you’ll know him as Khal Drogo, a loinclothed warlord in Game of Thrones). He plays Ka‘iana and executive-produced the series, so I have a feeling his character might have something to do with this prophecy. He’s in exile from his home kingdom, where he had been a famed warrior. He’s living his best life, catching sharks on rafts with his brothers, and considering starting a family. But Hawaii has different plans for him. He is summoned back to his homeland by King Kahekili (Temuera Morrison, familiar as Jango and Boba Fett in the Star Wars saga), who believes the time of the prophecy is upon them.

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Ka‘iana is soon press-ganged into taking up the office of Kahekili’s “Chief of War” and together they attack the nearby kingdom of O‘ahu, massacring its inhabitants. (The subtitles during these scenes read, “[grunting]”, “[shouting]”, “[clamouring continues]”; they may as well have said “[throat-slitting]”, “[skull-splitting]” and “[head-clubbing]”.) But it soon becomes apparent that Kahekili is even more bloodthirsty than Ka‘iana had accounted for, and he and his family find themselves on the run, pursued as traitors.

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I’m not ashamed to admit that this was all a bit tricky to follow. There are lots of warriors racing through grassy forests (barefoot, despite the obvious risks of thorns and thistles), and lots of slow-motion punching and pummelling, set to a pounding drumbeat soundtrack. There are – at least for the time being – some baffling side-characters, such as a dead-eyed priestess who apparates into scenes to explain what the gods are thinking, or to deliver vague prophecies.

Midway through episode two, the main plot complication looms into view: a British galleon, spied through a storm. Some furtive googling (one eye always on the subtitles, of course, though the arrival of these scraggly sailors and their more familiar speech patterns lent some relief) informs me that the real-life Ka‘iana was among the first Hawaiians to travel beyond Polynesia after encountering British explorers. Pursued by Kahekili’s men, we see Ka‘iana swept out to sea and rescued by the British ship. By episode three, one year on, he’s in Alaska, being shown how to work a musket.

I was sufficiently gripped by Chief of War to push on. It’s nice to see the production values of Troy given to a forgotten, world-historical narrative. The islands look amazing (VisitHawaii will be happy): great green volcanic crags, half-misted in low cloud, lapped by white, splashy beaches. And, thanks to the subtitles, I think I even picked up some ‘Ōlelo Hawai‘ian. So have a good weekend, folks, and hui hou koke iā oe!

Chief of War
Apple TV+

[See also: 150 years of the bizarre Hans Christian Andersen]

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This article appears in the 30 Jul 2025 issue of the New Statesman, Summer of Discontent