In Million Dollar Tumour Dave Bowman narrates the “very personal tale” of his battle with cancer. The small town policeman was diagnosed with a brain tumour in 2005, aged 35. Bowman took on funding agency Pharmac and the bureaucracy of the public health system to try to get a treatment drug subsidised for himself and other sufferers. Although his efforts partly prevailed, Bowman died in mid 2006, after this Inside New Zealand documentary screened. Directed by Dave Crerar (Here to Stay), Million Dollar Tumour won Best Documentary at the 2006 Qantas TV Awards.
The decade of fondue and flares also cooked up colour television. Our black and white living room icons — from Selwyn Toogood to Space Waltz — melted into a Kiwi kaleidoscope of Top Town, Grunt Machine, and Close to Home. And 'our stories' and rights fights — boks, hikoi, nukes and 'nam — echoed onscreen (Sleeping Dogs, Tangata Whenua). Ready to roll?
Five years of NZ screen culture = 3,550,000 visits (now 110,000+ a month), a Qantas Media Award and 2,150+ titles. This collection honours our most-watched titles (to Oct 2013). Choose from Billy T to topless newsreaders, Snell to Patu!, Kimbra to Kea, meat pies to motorheads, Bob Jones biffo to Thingee’s eye pop, in this sampler pack of NZ On Screen goodness.
After countless romances, breakups and revelations — plus the odd psycho and crashing helicopter — Shortland Street turned 25 in May 2017. Made on the run, sold round the globe, the Kiwi soap opera juggernaut has provided a launchpad for dozens of actors and behind the scenes talents. Alongside best of clips, the very first episode, musical moments and favourite memories from the cast, Shortland star turned director Angela Bloomfield writes about how the show has changed here, while Mihi Murray backgrounds how it began — and how it reflects New Zealand.
More than 100,000 New Zealanders served overseas in World War l. Over 18,000 died; at least 40,000 more were wounded. Campaigns involving Kiwis, from Gallipoli to the Western Front, were identity-forming, and the war's effects on society were deep. The World War l Collection is an evolving onscreen remembrance. Military expert Chris Pugsley writes about the collection here.
Great adverts are strange things: mini works of magic, with the power to make viewers smile, cry, and even buy. Kiwi directors have shown such a knack for making them, they've been invited to do so across the globe. But this collection is about local favourites; dogs on skateboards, choc bar robberies, ghost chips. NZ On Screen's Irene Gardiner backgrounds the top 10 here.
This collection celebrates more of the legendary TV moments that Kiwis gawked at, chortled with, and choked on our tea over. In the collection primer Paul (Eating Media Lunch) Casserly chews on rapper Redhead Kingpin’s equine advice to 3:45 LIVE! and mo’ memorable moments: from a NSFW Angela D'Audney to screen folk heroes Colin McKenzie and the Ingham twins.
In these never-aired commercials, comic genius Spike Milligan urges New Zealanders to sign the Campaign Half Million petition against the introduction of nuclear power. Instead he advocates wind power while standing in breezy Wellington. The ads were never shown, though they did end up in a TV news story on the decision to ban them, thus gaining prime time exposure. The petition, organised for the Campaign for a Non-Nuclear Future, eventually gained 333,087 signatures, representing 10% of New Zealand's population at the time.
New Zealand is said to have earned its prosperity "off the sheep's back", and our relationship with sheep is a renowned and intimate one (as many a sheep shagger joke attests). The national flock has dropped recently but we still have a hellava lot of them (30 million). This collection features 21 titles celebrating and sometimes making fun of Kiwis and our ovine kin.
This episode of current affairs show Close Up offers a fascinating portrait of the early days of New Zealand's foreign exchange market. Reporter Ted Sheehan heads into "the pit" (trading room), and chronicles the working life of a senior forex dealer, 25-year-old accountancy graduate John Key. The "smiling assassin" (and future Prime Minister) is a calm and earnest presence amongst the young cowboys playing for fortunes and Porsches, months before the 1987 sharemarket crash. As Sheehan says, "they're like addicts who eat, breathe and sleep foreign exchange dealing".