SYNOPSIS
A Māori Shakespearian tragedy of love, power and madness. The year is 2022. A brutal Pakeha Dictator rules Aotearoa. A Maori Warrior Prophet arises to give the people hope and to try and lead them to freedom.
THE DICTATOR. From the day he was born…it had been his destiny to rule. And it did not matter to him if the people hated him. As long as they feared him more, because then he could control them. But, once their hatred overcame their fear, well, that is when they would rise against him. Which, unfortunately, some of them were doing. Unfortunate that is, for them. Because many had been executed so far, and many more would be, until every last one of them had been wiped from the face of the earth. Especially him. The one they called the warrior. The one who was giving the people hope. A false hope which he was determined to crush. Because the only hope for the people, was the hope that he, the Dictator, gave them. The hope to see his face. The hope to worship him. The hope to praise him. The hope to fall on their knees and bow before him. Before his greatness. His glory. His power.
THE WARRIOR PROPHET. He was the one and had always been the one and would always be the one. The one to lead the people from darkness to light, hate to love, slavery to freedom. And everyone knew that, believed that, except him. Because he was consumed by doubt. A self-doubt that gnawed away at him day and night, like a maggot feasting on a rotten piece of meat. But to them, he was their savior.
Two men. Two destinies. Their lives are on a collision course…from which there will be no escape for either of them.
THE DICTATOR. From the day he was born…it had been his destiny to rule. And it did not matter to him if the people hated him. As long as they feared him more, because then he could control them. But, once their hatred overcame their fear, well, that is when they would rise against him. Which, unfortunately, some of them were doing. Unfortunate that is, for them. Because many had been executed so far, and many more would be, until every last one of them had been wiped from the face of the earth. Especially him. The one they called the warrior. The one who was giving the people hope. A false hope which he was determined to crush. Because the only hope for the people, was the hope that he, the Dictator, gave them. The hope to see his face. The hope to worship him. The hope to praise him. The hope to fall on their knees and bow before him. Before his greatness. His glory. His power.
THE WARRIOR PROPHET. He was the one and had always been the one and would always be the one. The one to lead the people from darkness to light, hate to love, slavery to freedom. And everyone knew that, believed that, except him. Because he was consumed by doubt. A self-doubt that gnawed away at him day and night, like a maggot feasting on a rotten piece of meat. But to them, he was their savior.
Two men. Two destinies. Their lives are on a collision course…from which there will be no escape for either of them.
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MOEMOEA MOHOAWHENUA
MOEMOEA MOHOAWHENUA
