I was 16 when I first watched Taika Waiti’s ‘Two Cars, One Night’. It’s the story of two boys and a girl, waiting for their parents in a parking lot of a rural New Zealand pub. The short film was different to anything I had seen before. It was equal parts hilarious, poignant, and distinct.
Years later, I’d see this distinct humour all over the big screen: in Boy, Hunt for the Wilderpeople, Jojo Rabbit, and Thor: Ragnarok. It was, of course, the work of the inimitable Taika Waititi—possibly the most exciting and irreverent director in Hollywood at the moment.
I recently learnt a bit more about Taika’s story. He spent his twenties making art, making music, and performing comedy. Two Cars, One Night was his first experience with film, and that was in his thirties. He never went to film school, so much of his craft and work is guided by intuition.
In particular, Taika’s refinement process stood out to me: he watches scenes and he’ll rework whatever makes him feel embarrassed.
It’s difficult to look at your work with a fresh pair of eyes, especially when you’ve already given it so much time and attention. But if you can manage it, it’s a superpower that unlocks a higher standard of work. You can see this superpower in action by seeing Taika’s finished products.