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Apple TV+’s Riveting Hawaiian Epic Chief of War is Part Shogun, Part Game of Thrones, and All Jason Momoa

Apple TV+’s Riveting Hawaiian Epic Chief of War is Part Shogun, Part Game of Thrones, and All Jason Momoa
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When most people think of Hawaiʻi they picture pristine beaches, palm trees swaying in the breeze, surfboards slicing through turquoise waves, leis draped over sunburned shoulders, and sitting at a luau with an unlucky pig that died eating an apple. Toss in a few mai tais and a ukulele, and you’ve got the version of paradise sold to tourists everywhere. You probably also recall that Hawaiʻi is the 50th U.S. state, it was the site of the Pearl Harbor attack, and its flag is the only state banner to feature the Union Jack, a nod to its long relationship with England. For many Americans, that’s where their knowledge of Hawaiian history ends. But the real story of Hawaiʻi is far more layered and compelling. 

The islands are shaped by a rich indigenous culture, a legacy of resistance, and centuries of geopolitical upheaval. It’s this deeper, often-overlooked chapter—the unification of Hawaiʻi told from a native perspective—that Apple TV+’s Chief of War brings to the screen with cinematic intensity and cultural authenticity. The historical drama opens with the steely stare of Jason Momoa, and from the first frame makes clear this isn’t the Hawaiʻi you see in postcards.

When we first meet Kaʻiana (Momoa), he’s in a canoe off the coast of Kauaʻi hunting sharks. It’s the late 18th century, and he’s the leader of a small, close-knit family. A skilled warrior, Kaʻiana has turned his back on the violence of his home island, Maui, in search of peace. Naturally, what little he’s managed to find doesn’t last. 

He’s soon summoned by Maui’s ruler, King Kahekili (Temuera Morrison), who needs his particular set of skills. A high priest is manipulating the young king of Oʻahu, and Kahekili wants to strike before Maui becomes a target. According to an ancient oral legend known as the Prophecy of Kapihie, Kaʻiana is destined to play a key role in uniting the islands. It’s a detail that looms large throughout Chief of War, even if the show mostly refers to it simply as “The Prophecy.”

In the late 1700s, Hawaiʻi was divided into four often-warring kingdoms—Oʻahu, Maui, Kauaʻi, and Hawaiʻi—and Chief of War taps into this volatile era. Kahekili believes he’s the ruler foretold by the prophecy and sees Oʻahu as the next piece in his power grab. But Kaʻiana soon realizes Kahekili is unhinged and manipulating him. Fearing for his family, he flees to the Big Island, where a struggle between rival chiefs Keōua (Cliff Curtis) and Kamehameha (Kaina Makua) is already brewing.

At this point, you might be thinking: “That’s a lot of history (and apostrophes and letter K’s) to unpack.” And you’d be right. Chief of War is steeped in Hawaiian history, but thanks to co-creators Momoa and Thomas Paʻa Sibbett, it’s also loaded with cinematic style and big-budget drama. Think Game of Thrones by way of Shōgun, with spears instead of swords and a lot more lava.

From the stylized opening credits to its brutal battle scenes, the Game of Thrones’ influence is undeniable. Combat is visceral and often massive in scale, mostly with hand-to-hand or traditional Hawaiian weapons, and it results in graphic, well-choreographed chaos. There’s even a dash of mysticism, thanks to a riddle-speaking priestess who can see the future. There may not be any dragons, but there are plenty of power struggles, betrayals, and morally complex characters.

While comparisons to Game of Thrones are inevitable, Chief of War felt, to me, like a Hawaiian version of Shōgun, a series I love. With dialogue almost entirely in Hawaiian and featuring a predominantly Polynesian cast, it’s deeply immersive. As someone who lived on Oʻahu for years, is an alum of Hale Kula Elementary, visits the islands regularly, and considers himself fairly knowledgeable in Hawaiian history and culture, I was floored by how much I still had to learn.

Although Chief of War is “based on true events” (Apple makes sure you know that in all its press materials), it’s not a documentary. But it is grounded in truth and elevated by an outstanding cast. Morrison (Book of Boba Fett, Aquaman) and Curtis (required by law to be in every other Hollywood production) are reliably great. While Mainei Kinimaka, Siua Ikale’o, Te Ao o Hinepehinga, and Te Kohe Tuhaka bring warmth and authenticity as Kaʻiana’s family. Their bond with Momoa and each other feels sincere, and their interactions with each other are powerful. 

But the heart of the series is Momoa himself, who not only stars but is also a writer, director, and producer on the series. While most viewers know him as Aquaman, Khal Drogo, or more recently, the guy from Minecraft: The Movie, Chief of War gives him the space to deliver something deeper. He’s still the fierce warrior, that’s to be expected, but we also see him as a conflicted man, deeply devoted to family, and someone who suffers real emotional loss. It’s the most layered and compelling performance of his career. Chief of War is a stunning, culturally rich epic, and Momoa’s finest work to date. I can’t wait for season two.

Chief of War premieres August 1 on Apple TV+.


Terry Terrones is a Television Critics Association and Critics Choice Association member, licensed drone pilot, and aspiring hand model. When he’s not dreaming of being on Survivor, you can find him hiking in the mountains of Colorado. You can follow him on Twitter @terryterrones.

For all the latest TV news, reviews, lists and features, follow @Paste_TV.

 
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