One of our most successful film and television producers has terminal cancer. In a candid – sometimes scathing – interview over lunch, Steven O’Meagher opens up on an ‘arrogant’ NZ Film Commission, the lack of
a hit NZ movie in eight years – and his outlook on life.

Steven O’Meagher is a storyteller who is navigating – and narrating, over lunch – a devastating and personal plot twist.

The man responsible for bringing to the silver screen the stories of some of our most infamous cases – the Aramoana massacre, the Louise Nicholas police rape case – and a series of successful TV dramas is ill, with terminal cancer.

According to earlier medical reports, the 63-year-old shouldn’t be alive today, sitting across the table at lunch, enjoying bang-bang chicken and noodles.

But he’s on a chemotherapy break – “I insisted on it, my oncologist agreed – it just means I can enjoy conversation and food, you know?” – and he’s now optimistic he’ll be here until “at least” Christmas.

“And I’ll keep postponing my exit after that for as long as possible.”

He’s only a few weeks into eating again and describes his mindset as “interesting”.

He wants to make sure his time left is spent on engaging and purposeful conversation – he’s also not shying away from the cancer he has lived with for four years, diagnosed after collapsing at home and losing a third of his blood. He credits his partner Sarah Barnao with saving his life, as he was rushed to hospital that night.

“I’ve never understood – though I respect everyone’s right to sail their own waka on this issue – the reluctance of people to talk more openly about their cancer,” he emails me a few days after we sat down for lunch at Ponsonby’s Blue Breeze Inn.

“Perhaps they’re embarrassed – though God knows why. I take the opposite view, I think the more we talk about cancer the more we help demystify it.

“In my case, I have stage 4 bowel cancer which has metastasised into my lungs, liver, and peritoneum. Prognosis? Terminal. Am I happy about it? Of course not. It hurts to know I won’t get to see my beautiful boys follow their dreams, meet their kids, or grow old with Sarah. But that’s life. It is what it is.”

It is what it is.

Before he “pops my clogs”, O’Meagher has a few things to get off his chest.

The cancer that is killing him has also given him a newfound perspective, a “grandstand view” of the screen industry that he adores and cares about and that – in turn – has sustained him for the best part of three decades.

He has a deep fear that creativity is being crushed, much of it by a conservatism sweeping through our funding agencies, and in particular the New Zealand Film Commission (NZFC). He is not complimentary of its historic approach to filmmakers.

The industry, he says, is not taking enough genuine creative risks.

“The powers that be – the NZFC, the networks – talk a lot about risk, but the risks they actually take are in spending millions on films or series that are dead on the page… and somehow hope they’ll ‘find’ an audience,” he says.

“If you look at the last 10 years in film and TV, see who’s got the money and see the writers attached, you will see many repeat names.

“If we just go to the same voices telling the same stories, you’re going to get an audience that is going to vote the way they are already are. They are just going to disappear.

“It’s been ages since the general public have talked passionately about a New Zealand film or until recently a New Zealand TV series with any real enthusiasm.”

New Zealand’s last “truly big” hit film – “one that people really loved and urged others they had to see” – was in 2016, he says – Taika Waititi’s Hunt for the Wilderpeople. You have to go back six more years, he says, for another massive and popular hit – another Waititi film, Boy.

Industry figures show Hunt for the Wilderpeople took in more than $12.2 million at the New Zealand box office and Boy took in more than $9.2m – they are the two highest-grossing New Zealand movies of all time.

The next eight on the list – The World’s Fastest Indian, Once Were Warriors, Whale Rider, Sione’s Wedding, What Becomes of the Broken Hearted, What We Do in the Shadows, Footrot Flats and The Dark Horse were all produced more than 10 years ago.

The most successful movies in the last eight years, since Wilderpeople, have been the Richie McCaw movie Chasing Great also in 2016 ($1.8m at the box office) and Cousins in 2021 ($1.59m).

O’Meagher says New Zealand has a new wave of screen talent, but we’re not parlaying that into TV series or films on a consistent basis.

He calls it a “failure of imagination”.

“If we’re making so many stories that aren’t really being seen, then we’re doing a great disservice to the brand of New Zealand storytelling.

“I’ll be more blunt: New Zealand’s storytelling doesn’t excite anyone anymore.

“Our writers and our creators are so scared knowing that there’s such a conservative mindset from the funders that they try to write what they think will get them the money.”

He admires veteran screen producers such as Great Southern Television’s Phil Smith and South Pacific Pictures founder John Barnett and a range of next-generation others like Miss Conception’s Georgina Conder, but he says there are many other, especially smaller, production companies “who, it appears, simply exist to exist”.

A recent NZ on Air funding round attracted almost 100 applications. “There’s a lot of people going for very limited money.”

O’Meagher was at Communicado at a time it was making Once Were Warriors. He’d sneak into the production office at the end of each day and in the dark watch the “dailies” – the unedited footage – on VHS.

The film had a perfect mix of ambition, talent and, in the case of Alan Duff’s book, a brilliant story.

“A lot of people didn’t think it could translate. But Robin Scholes, like a good producer – come hell or high water – was going to get it made.

“But what really swung the deal was that [director] Lee Tamahori, who had made decent money in commercials, had a personal ambition to make film his future. He poured his soul into it.”

With actors such as Temuera Morrison and Rena Owen, “you had this perfect storm of people busting their arses to really deliver something special”.

“When you have that hunger for anything, whether it be a sports team, a new business, it doesn’t matter the industry – if you have that hunger and enthusiasm and it’s backed up by talent, it’s not a surprise you’re going to get something exciting.”

O’Meagher is also puzzled about falling television viewership, beyond the well-versed trend away from linear viewing. He believes there’s more to it.

One of the big problems, he says, is the quality of commissioning. Another is the lack of creativity in what the networks are asking for, or being presented by producers. And some projects, he says, are being funded simply because they tick politically correct and cultural boxes.

“I don’t want to come across like some f***ing right-wing nut because I’m definitely not. My father-in-law for instance thinks I’m a terrible liberal. But go through the list of all the titles funded in film or TV in, say, the last five years and honestly ask yourself ‘How on Earth did so-and-so get made?’ They’re terrible. And it’s absolutely no surprise no one saw them.”

There have been some well-known TV and film flops – millions-of-dollar projects like Nude Tuesday.

“I couldn’t comment, Shayne,” says O’Meagher.

Historically, he says, the same names have been continually funded, on a misguided belief that because they have had hits in the past, they’re a winner for the future. It also gives funding agencies an out, if a project fails. It’s harder to justify the failure of an aspiring name.

O’Meagher runs through a list of recent weekly NZ on Air-funded TV shows, each of them with fewer than 100,000 linear viewers per episode, some not even half that audience size. Even taking streaming into account, he says, the numbers reflect New Zealand stories hold too little appeal.

“There’s got to be other factors at play there, and for me it’s all around quality of product.

“Kiwis love local – look at our best ads, songs, books. So why aren’t our latest films or TV shows connecting? The problem isn’t they’re ‘Kiwi’, or a 2024 version of cultural cringe. The problem is dull, mediocre, unimaginative storytelling.

“I’m convinced that when we get it right – take Outrageous Fortune, although that’s eons ago – we connect in vast droves. But now there’s probably too much product – and I call it product – too thinly spread. And it really doesn’t engage New Zealanders.”

A friend – a big wig at Spark – told him about three or four years ago that New Zealand viewers’ habits had changed dramatically.

“He said that at 7 o’clock every night after their dinner people would either switch to Netflix or they’d go to YouTube. Fundamentally, that is our audience, that’s where the majority of people go.”

He worries there are too many decision-makers who aren’t responding to audience trends or demands but run their own personal agendas instead.

He praises the ones who he thinks are outstanding – Sky chief executive Sophie Moloney, for example. “She really knows what she wants; she understands her budget has a ceiling and makes some really smart choices around it.”

He’s less certain about others. “Without going into any names, there’s some really average executives out there.”

He also acknowledges there are encouraging flashes in the production pan including Cousins, the powerful film from Patricia Grace’s novel. After the Party – which screened on TVNZ and TVNZ+ earlier this year – enjoyed strong audiences, rave reviews and was exported to Australia and the UK.

But hits like that have become a rarity, he says. “Where’s our Bad Sisters, our Squid Games, our Boy Swallows Universe?”

O’Meagher is a delightful and fun lunchtime companion – “wanker”, he says as a quick aside, while in full flight about a particularly prominent industry individual.

His storytelling skills are on full display.

O’Meagher originally thought he’d follow other family members into law but an OE to London at the age of 21 instilled in him his love of journalism. He would lap up the writing in the massive UK daily newspapers. “That just awoken in me this great desire for stories.”

That and the book The New Journalism by Tom Wolfe, an anthology of writing.

Unsolicited, he wrote and offered freelance articles to The Auckland Star and Metro and was soon offered roles at both publications. He joined the Star.

Later, he worked at Metro’s sister magazine North & South as a senior writer, but was sacked, he says, when he stood up for a colleague and threw down a pen that came close to hitting an editor.

He’s written one book, the number one best-selling biography of All Black captain Sean Fitzpatrick.

He joined Communicado as a writer when the company was led by Scholes, Garry McAlpine and Neil Roberts. “They were irreverent, ambitious, cocky, charismatic – a great bunch of people.”

Most of all they were fearless, he says, as evidenced by Once Were Warriors.

It kicked off a new golden era of New Zealand movies that extended into Hollywood with Sir Peter Jackson’s Heavenly Creatures and – of course – the blockbuster Lord of the Rings trilogy.

“It didn’t just turn his career into superstardom, it sent confidence throughout the storytelling industry. Everyone wanted to be like him, it just gave a boost.”

There are three types of producers, says O’Meagher – those who come from a production background and know the nuts and bolts; the financially adroit; and the creative storytellers.

“I’m biased, I admit, but the storytelling producers are the most important.

“Now, that will really piss people off.

“I’m not saying they are better – there are a lot of good physical operatives and there are a lot of smart people with money who are highly successful producers but it doesn’t automatically translate that those skills also mean they will be good at storytelling.

“At the end of the day, we go to watch films and we watch TV shows because of the story.”

He cites the Netflix sensation Baby Reindeer.

“I’m not saying a physical producer or a financial producer couldn’t come up with an idea like Baby Reindeer but if storytelling is not your core skill, it’s going to be a lot harder.

“And I’d say a lot of people who go to the networks or the Film Commission for money, I would question how strong the storytelling teams really are.”

O’Meagher started his own production company Desert Road in 2004.

“Desert Road was named by Tre [actress Theresa Healey] – who I later married – when we waiting at the lights by the Civic. We were tossing around possible names for the new production company and Tre threw out ‘Desert Road’. I grinned at her: ‘That’s it’.”

The Aramoana film, Out of the Blue, originated from a visit to a Ponsonby Rd secondhand book store. O’Meagher discovered a dog-eared copy of police officer Bill O’Brien’s account of the 1990 massacre in which gunman David Gray killed 13 people.

“It wasn’t so much about David Gray… it was the valour and the heroism of so-called ordinary people. It was just so appealing.”

The story jumped out but it took time to win the community over. Initially, many of them didn’t want a bar of the project.

O’Meagher presented the proposal in a local hall. “All I could say, and it sounds pretty lame, is that ‘we hear you, we respect you’. We’re not trying to do any of the things that you’re afraid of. Trust us.”

O’Meagher agreed to allow two representatives of the community to read the script beforehand, to highlight any factual inaccuracies. Community members were later invited to a secret premiere in Dunedin, before the official launch and public release.

“We did not get one objection from all of those people who came out. Some passed us crying, some said nothing and others shook our hands. It really was a powerful, moving experience.”

And like Once Were Warriors, he had people willing to embrace the films. Out of the Blue starred Karl Urban, working on a fraction of the money he could earn in Hollywood.

The Louise Nicholas film stemmed from a visit to court and seeing what O’Meagher describes and believes was the “dual arrogance and power” of assistant police commissioner Clint Rickards in the dock. The incongruity stood out.

Based on the book Louise Nicholas: My Story by Nicholas and journalist Phil Kitchin, “the 2014 tele-feature presented a very different take on the police from Out of the Blue”, says NZ on Screen’s biography on O’Meagher.

O’Meagher considers Desert Road as “story agnostic”.

“We’re only interested in the uniqueness of a particular story’s appeal, not in endlessly revisiting the same old genres.

“To that end… Desert Road has produced an eclectic range of series and profiles from New Zealand’s leading tenor (Simon O’Neill), the world of Kiwi art, behind the scenes with the NZSAS, Willie Apiata VC, the global history of rugby, crime, the day after tomorrow, and, ironically, a documentary on cancer.”

He is especially proud that his “little company” has won a “Grand Slam” of New Zealand screen awards – best film (Out of the Blue), best drama (Consent: The Louise Nicholas Story); best documentary (Million Dollar Tumour); and best series (This Is Not My Life). Desert Road is also the only New Zealand producer nominated for an International Documentary Emmy (The Golden Hour).

But there are also regrets. “More than a few!”

Amongst a portfolio of work, Desert Road’s TV drama series Harry – starring Oscar Kightley and Sam Neill – stands out.

It “broke my heart” that Harry didn’t get the sign-off for a second series, says O’Meagher.

It missed out to Westside – Three could apparently only afford one drama series.

“[It is] is a particular sore spot. Think about it: we had Oscar Kightley and Sam Neill as our leads in a homegrown crime drama that some likened to a ‘Kiwi Happy Valley’. That’s Sam Neill, Oscar Kightley. Two of the most recognisable and loved actors in the country.

“It had a swag of fabulous critical praise – Harry is always cited as one of the local series that deserved a long screen life. Yet TV3, in their wisdom, wouldn’t back us for another season.”

O’Meagher does have another regret. It stirs in his belly now, with ferocity.

He says he has been a victim of what he describes as a betrayal from people he considered close.

“People I thought I knew well acted with great hypocrisy and grossly unethical behaviour to gain control of a project Desert Road originated and was developing. This has played out during my cancer treatment – which heavily restricted my ability to respond. I hope they sleep well.”

It is, he says, the perfect example of what he views as an unholy level of nastiness within the industry.

O’Meagher and Theresa Healey have two boys – Zac, 23, a director at Kea Kid News and Xavier, 20, a law student at Victoria.

His and Healey’s marriage ended 10 years ago; his partner Sarah Barnao works in healthcare.

She is, he says, amazed by the level of animosity in the screen industry, and she gives him perspective of what audiences are really watching, outside an industry bubble.

It’s given him pause for thought, and why he considers people like Phil Smith and John Barnett are visionaries. They know instinctively what audiences like.

O’Meagher is a big fan of a merger of NZ on Air and the Film Commission into one agency, similar to what’s happened across the Tasman, with Screen Australia.

It’s obvious he has little time for the Film Commission in the time preceding new chief executive Annie Murray.

He believes they have meddled too much in the past, creatively.

“They’re an incredibly arrogant organisation. They are so politically correct. ‘We know better but it’s ultimately you who carries the can if it doesn’t work’.

“They are notorious for obsessing over minutiae.”

He says processes such as audience testing after production clearly haven’t worked, “otherwise why have there been so many failures?”

“Once you make your decision, it like picking the All Blacks… let’s see how they go. I wonder if that’s why some of our stories are so forgettable. The filmmakers were trying to please the Film Commission – instead of their audience.”

He acknowledges that local production values are usually of a very high standard: “You’re not wincing at poor camera techniques”.

“But while it looks and sounds like an international film, in terms of capturing hearts and minds – which ultimately is what a series or a film is there to do regardless of whether the story is tragic, happy-go-lucky, light, or deep and meaningful – we just don’t do it now.”

Rather than making a whole lot of movies, we should be focusing on fewer, higher-quality productions.

That’s why O’Meagher is so strongly in favour of the industry having only one government screen agency.

“You’d only be dealing with one set of people, one set of bureaucrats. Whether your story is a film, a digital release, or a TV show is irrelevant.”

As we wrap up lunch, I return to asking O’Meagher about his health and mindset.

“It’s a cliche but it’s the quality of the people around you I’m going to miss growing old with,” he says.

“My biggest sadness is going to be with my boys because I won’t get to see their lives play out. They’ve got the whole world ahead of them.

“Sarah, my partner, is my rock. Apart from her saving my life, she’s also shown me something I’ve never really quite understood before.

“With a lot of the industry, we’re friends with each other or personal partners.

“Sarah is in the health industry and it’s really fascinating watching something with her because she, in a sense, would be the general public. She’ll judge a New Zealand show with the same standards she would a Netflix or Neon series – on its merits.

“The things I think are so important or my industry friends think so important are not. It’s like we’ve almost got the wrong end of the stick.

“Through Sarah, I’ve understood the power again of popular storytelling.”

Editor-at-Large Shayne Currie is one of New Zealand’s most experienced senior journalists and media leaders. He has held executive and senior editorial roles at NZME including Managing Editor, NZ Herald Editor and Herald on Sunday Editor. As well as a weekly media column, he has a regular interview series featuring noteworthy and leading New Zealanders including Wayne Brown, Ruby Tui, Paddy Gower, Dame Kiri Te Kanawa, Scotty Stevenson, Chlöe Swarbrick, Simon Power, Josh and Helen Emett, Sir Ian Taylor, David Kirk, Sir Ashley Bloomfield, Paul Henry, Simon Barnett, Sophie Moloney, Brian and Hannah Tamaki, Sir Grahame Sydney, David Lomas, Carrie Hurihanganui and Sir Russell Coutts.