small groups of present-day Maoris in a variety of situations—at work, relaxing, at a party—sense ‘something’ from the past which has an effect on their actions, feelings, and attitudes, and this is summed up in a sweet and simple song … ‘Yesterday I knew my name and my beginning … … I look down to the valley Once my ancestors were owning And I search around tall buildings … … I search those city faces Either love or hate they're showing … … So I look up to the morning Where the first daylight is shining … …And the voices all around me Seem to know what I am knowing And they can give me nothing but myself.’ The main part of the play is the enactment of the separation of Rangi and Papa, Sky Father and Earth Mother, dramatically and beautifully accomplished. As the story unfolds, the children one by one detach themselves from the muddled heap of offspring, and explain their characters, the reasons why their parents must be separated, their plans for the future and their relationships to one another. Modern expressions—even some highly topical quips, and sometimes very funny demonstrations of their talents, interpolated into the deities' poetic prose relieve the dramatic tension, until with the youngest son Ruamoko's anguished but futile objection to his brothers' plan, and his determination to make his presence felt after the plan is fulfilled, the drama is heightened once more and the portrayal of the separation is completed. The story of Te Rauparaha which occupies the second half is so different from the dramatic legend that at first it seems tame by comparison. The terrible deeds credited to Te Rauparaha are only briefly mentioned, and he is shown as a young warrior, a great leader surveying the land he has conquered and finally as peacemaker and friend of the missionaries. Highlights are two deathbed scenes and the episode of the kumara pit. It seems that in this second half James Ritchie is trying to show that at various times in his life, Te Rauparaha is exemplifying in turn the chief attribute of each of the deities, from Tane to Ruamoko. After the death of Te Rauparaha, his son Tamihana is shown as the wavering victim of two cultures, being at the same time a laughing stock to his people and the prime example of a ‘failure’ to the missionaries. Tamihana is an almost farcical character, and the play seems to be drifting towards banality. However, in the last glimpses of Tamihana, as the ‘spirit of the warriors’ begins to develop in him and he shows the glimmerings of leadership, and in the singing again of the song from the prologue, the atmosphere of the mysterius knowledge of ‘something’ within the young Maori is regained. So much for the play, which in spite of some weak links and poor lines has moments of great insight and wonderful drama. But what of the players? The most exciting thing about the whole production was the realisation that here was an immensely talented group of young New Zealanders showing the theatre-going public the potential in two fields. First, the rich cultural heritage of our country, a virtually untapped reservoir of traditional stories awaiting dramatic presentation. Second, the people best qualified to present these stories. I say this unhesitatingly. It was a pleasure to hear from almost every member of the cast such pure, unaffected English, spoken with unforced power or warmth as the occasion demanded; to see such natural dignity and graceful movement; and to recognise in these young players an added sense of pride that they were portraying their own heritage, part of themselves. Outstanding among the performers were Don Solomon and Karin Jurgensen (making her first stage appearance) as Sky Father and Earth Mother, George Henare as Tangaroa, Chief Elkington as Ruamoko, and Joshua Gardiner as Te Rauparaha. Other members of the cast were Tom Ihaka, Ross Waters, Ron Lynn, Auntie Millie Clark, Tawhai Richmond, Sue Hansen, Ngarangi Mill and Donas Nathan. Production, designing and lighting effects were the work of Don Selwyn, Peter Keiha and Lionel Willison, and Koro Dewes narrated legend and story. The Maori Theatre Trust has so far had no success with its application for financial backing for a planned major production, and has been forced to ‘start small’. Although perhaps frustrating to the keen founders of the trust, this disappointment has possibly made them more than ever determined to suceed. He Mana Toa, ‘Spirit of the Warriors’, was thus