[Rating: Solid Rock Fist Up]
Available to rent or own on all major platforms on January 11.
It’s hard to do something new and fresh with a documentary, for even the best ones, the docs that DON’T spoon-feed their audience a pre-packaged narrative and theme, often follow a familiar roadmap. Introduce the audience to a person, place, or thing, give the background of it, bring in experts to explain why it is special, then wrap up by recounting all of the things that make it/them noteworthy. Dawn Raid doesn’t succeed because it bucks this trend, but rather because it leans into it, offering up a floor model documentary that does all the expected things, yet does them exceptionally well.
Slick animation sequences, the participation of the principal players, an engaging story, and a tight, concise timeline move this one along with ease, telling the story of New Zealand record label “Dawn Raid” and its two founders, Andy Murnane and Tanielu “Brotha D” Leaosavaii. A couple of scofflaws from south Auckland’s poorest neighborhood, the pair explain in talking head interviews that they met in a college business course and formed a quick bond over hip-hop and a shared desire to get rich. Starting with some family loans and an independent clothing line, Andy and Brotha D rolled the profits from that endeavor into their own record label by the early-2000s.
A few key signings of local artists and some savvy marketing got them to the industry’s big-boy table in just a few short years, yet before long, the pair’s lack of experience and naivete got them jammed up and in a tight spot (Andy’s explanation of his misunderstanding of publishing rights is simultaneously terrifying and hilarious). By 2007, just 8 years after the formation of “Dawn Raid,” the ride was effectively over, something director Oscar Kightley, Andy, and Brotha D are refreshingly candid about.
The documentary’s strength is born out of its honesty, which allows it to be equal parts fan and critic of Andy and Brotha D. It celebrates their meteoric rise, sure, but it also offers up a gentle warning to others who might be inspired to head out on their own music industry dream-chasing adventure using nothing but chutzpah and enthusiasm. What these two men accomplished with the resources available to them is amazing and indeed an inspiring example of what’s possible when one has the audacity to dream big, yet Dawn Raid is also forthright about the toll fame, money, and success take on even the best-intentioned people. While this isn’t surprising in and of itself, Kightley should be commended for allowing his documentary to apply the same polished lens on the downslope as was used when glamorizing the ascent.
And the deeper one gets into Andy and Brotha D’s story, the more one realizes that these two never actually had a chance. As well-intentioned as they were/are, the people running a major record label need more than a rudimentary understanding of finance, business, and international A&R, and Brotha D and Andy are the first to admit that they quickly got in over their heads. But that’s part of the story as well, and an important one, as this isn’t just a book report about some scrappers who defied the odds and went from rags to Wu Tang riches, it’s an examination of the full cycle of sudden success and eventual liquidation.
And it is done with spectacular aplomb. Kightley’s use of archive footage documenting the label’s rise and fall in conjunction with dynamic animation sequences and key talking head interviews from not just Andy and Brotha D, but also “Dawn Raid” artists like Mareko and Aaradhna, paint a full, rich picture. And while it is somewhat one-sided, the lack of competing interviews never feels deceptive. Sure, it would have been nice to get differing perspectives from rival record company execs or even big-name hip hop artists from outside New Zealand, but a lack of this never seriously handicaps the credibility of the film.
Honest, inquisitive, efficient, and interesting: Dawn Raid is the complete package. Never venturing too deep beneath the surface, sure, yet the film and Kightley have more than enough to play with on the top layer, exploring a fable familiar to anyone who has heard some version of the Icarus adventure. And while the documentary isn’t especially groundbreaking or innovative, it’s just as fun and interesting to watch during the quick, soaring climb as it is during the inevitable wing-melting.
“Obvious Child” is the debut novel of Warren Cantrell, a film and music critic based out of Seattle, Washington. Mr. Cantrell has covered the Sundance and Seattle International Film Festivals, and provides regular dispatches for Scene-Stealers and The Playlist. Warren holds a B.A. and M.A. in History, and his hobbies include bourbon drinking, novel writing, and full-contact kickboxing.
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