The Fa’a’amu Children: Film Review

Frank Doucet’s short film “The Fa’a’amu Children” is a direct and touching call to the plight of a people displaced from their roots. The film is set in urban, bustling, modern-day France. We follow the story of a young man, Tea, in search of answers, acknowledgment, and accountability on the part of the powers that be. As the film unfolds, we are taken along not only on his journey, but that of an entire people. The story of these children, adopted away from their homeland and cut-off from their roots and cultural identity is not well-known in society at large. Making Doucet’s film all the more pressing and timely for global audiences. It seeks to open the dialogue, make audiences aware, and start shifting responsibility to the ones who can begin to make change.

This film works on so many levels. On the surface, we have a straightforward enough film. A young man seeks a platform for his voiceless people. We learn a bit about the circumstances and what became of the children, but the filmmaker is careful not to go overboard in backstory and explanation. Which is wise, for, though it is subtle, there is a pace and undercurrent of urgency that might otherwise be bogged down and take the viewer out of the story. But as we allow the story to unfold and the imagery to wash over us, we begin to see the film is loaded with symbolism and each character, token, and location has a larger meaning.

We come to understand that this film is a vehicle for all the children that Tea represents. Doucet does a wonderful job of peppering meaningful symbolism throughout the piece. Tea’s small totem that he carries becomes a powerful symbol for him of home, his roots, his ancestry. During a scene of celebration and dance we see the white onlookers, filming and smiling, representing the notion of “other”. In this same scene we even see a little boy of Polynesian decent playing with a toy airplane. He flies it around, smiling, lost in his own imagination. A powerful symbol of flight and freedom, of a longing to connect to a place lost and far away. The film is also filled with imagery of maps, water, ocean, imagery and icons from Tahitian lore- all more direct images but give an overall sense of a place and time that is sorely missing.

As I made mention, Doucet doesn’t go into great detail in explaining who the children are or were and perhaps this is intentional? A call to the viewer to dig deeper themselves. Indeed, a search of the Fa’a’amu Children reveals the concept of a way of life. Of a people who believe in community and the strength of family and close friends. If one may raise another’s child, it should not affect the bonds between the biological family and adoptive family. In this modern predicament, sadly, children of Tahitian decent were adopted away from their homeland and have been cut off from their roots. Being taken to this European country to be raised as Europeans without ties to their true culture and identity, within the community in which they were born.

The film takes a look at the history and culture in a beautiful sequence of scenes. Beginning with a traditional dance celebration, the dancers are clothed in the historical festive garments of their ancestors. It is a tender and joyous scene. We see Tea move past and take it all in with a smile on his face. As he enjoys the performance, we see the juxtaposition of the white on-lookers. Their cameras up and recording, point to the notion that this joyous celebratory dance is “other” to them and to be looked upon as a curiosity for their amusement, rather than a cherished and special part of regular life for a culture steeped in thousands of years of tradition.

Indeed, the Delegation de al Polynesie Francaise is a bastion of sanctitude and comfort for Tea and those of his people who seek to spread awareness and educate. Yet even this reserved place, is set amidst the bustling European city. Despite it all, Tea finds his footing here. A place where he can begin to pay tribute to the Fa’a’amu Children. A place where he can begin to find a voice for his people.

Brilliantly, Doucet seeks to use each character in the story as a figure to represent the larger whole of a group. Tea, for the displaced children, having grown up in France and been disassociated from their roots and traditions. The president’s assistant, who gives Tea the most pushback, seems to represent the powerful men in bureaucracy and politics who stand in the way of truth and justice. The Curator, Frank, becomes the symbol of ally and advocate as well as keeper of the flame, in a way. He creates the space for the stories and history to stay alive. Even the President himself represents an ideal of his people, but an ignorance too. One that must be righted by the misplaced children, now young adults of Fá á ámu.

There is a moment in the film in which Tea clearly and directly explains what the true essence of Fá á ámu is and how it serves and functions (or is supposed to) within their culture. He calmly and warmly delivers this philosophy to Frank at the exhibit. A beautiful concept, grounded in the idea of one family = one heart. But sadly, today, this is not so. And these people are missing their connection to their past and culture.

Tea uses the totem statue, given to him as a baby by his birth mother, as a powerful touch point throughout the film. It is always with him, and as he connects with it, holds it to his heart in moments that test him, he finds strength and courage. Love and connection. It grounds him to his purpose and the audience feels it. It’s as though his ancestors, his mother, the other children for whom he speaks are right there with him. They send him strength and root for him to succeed, celebrating his wins right alongside him.

The last scene in the film is particularly striking and impactful. A lasting way to leave the audience pondering what is the next move. As Tea sets his totem down on the desk, the traditional drums strike up, the gauntlet is thrown. Shot in three close ups, we see the power of choice and responsibility pass from the curator/supporter (Frank), the spokesperson/advocate (Tea), and finally landing with the President. The film ends in an intense close up squarely on the eyes of the President. His eyes filled with the weight of this responsibility. We are left to wonder, what will he do? “The fate of the children is in his hands.”

As the credits roll, we find yet another layer to this film. We see perfectly composed AI generated images of a European couple, the prototypical would-be adoptive parents of these Tahitian children. They smile a little too perfectly while they take little Tea away on a plane. In each photo, they wear crisp, contemporary casual clothes. They wear backpacks, suggesting an outdoorsy energetic healthy couple, as if the child they are adopting will have a perfect, well-rounded, healthy life. The images point to the falsity/hypocrisy of how these children were promised one thing by the very concept of Fá á ámu, but given another. Another culture, whisked away from their own. Indeed, the last image shows a teenage Tea, atop a snowy mountain on skis, surrounded by other white European skiers. He too, smiles a bit too brightly, yet he holds the totem in his gloved hand. Mountain top skiing in the winter, about as far away as you can get from the Polynesian surf and sunshine.

Doucet’s poignant film “The Fa’a’amu Children” is a definite must watch for it evokes empathy and demands attention to the very real global issue of cultural dismantlement and assimilation of an indigenous people into a larger modern culture. For, sadly, and in truth, this is but one story of a culture being erased on a planet full of such stories. “The Fa’a’amu Children” opens the door on this conversation and demands attention.

In January 2026, The Fa’a’amu Children won 6 awards at NYFA, including Best Drama and Best First Time Director.