The three-part docuseries Live and Let Dai shares his cancer journey. In the first episode, Henwood penned himself a goodbye letter; in the second talks about realising something was seriously wrong.
Dai Henwood openly weeps as he’s told his heart has stopped. And it’s time to let go of his wife.
In an emotionally wrought scene in the third episode of Live and Let Dai, the comedian is taking part in a Tabidachi ceremony in target="_blank">Japan. It’s a departure ceremony or a simulation of death, led by a monk, during what he’d earlier described as a “full funeral” for himself.
There’s pure, unfiltered, raw emotion when all that remains are the names of his wife and kids on small pieces of paper.
Still, experiencing that simulation helped him evade the fear of death. And without fear of dying - he tells the camera toward the end of an emotional episode based around letting go in Japan and soaking up love at a special gig in Wellington - the “joy of living is all that remains”.
Henwood told the New Zealand public in 2023 that he had been diagnosed with incurable bowel cancer in 2020. In the third hour of the beautifully filmed series about his journey, he travels to Japan to find ways to deal with it.
The episode kicks off with an early, self-filmed video, made shortly after diagnosis and filled with emotion. At the time there was still an “intent to cure”, but the fear is heartbreakingly clear.
Describing his long-standing love of Japan - Henwood has made multiple visits over the years - it feels appropriate that it would be the spot he’d travel to in the hope of finding “mental tools” to help him deal with his diagnosis. It’s that trip, and that Tabidachi ceremony, that fill the focus of this hour.
During that departure ceremony, the audience is given the context of the tear-filled letter the comedian penned to himself in the first episode. It’s the first of many steps.
Dai Henwood shares emotional journey of his battle against cancer.
The camera focuses on Henwood’s tear-filled face. His words - telling himself he’s a good person and doesn’t deserve his cancer - roll across the screen.
It’s a moment that made the comedian realise the day was going to “escalate quickly”. It’s a moment that makes the viewer realise the same about what we’re watching.
But immersed among the intense Tabidachi scenes are moments of peace, love and the sense of unbridled joy that comes from Henwood’s life on stage. In this case, the viewer is taken back to a truly special gig in November 2023 - Dai Hard at Wellington’s State Opera House.
It feels like, “coming home” he says. It’s the same venue where Henwood stood on stage in 2019, tearfully speaking a eulogy for his father Ray and telling him “You made me a better man”.
That knowledge he is a good man, he says elsewhere in the episode, weighs him down. The question: “Why do I have cancer?” is difficult - perhaps impossible - to reconcile.
There are more scenes from Henwood’s talk with oncology students with Dr Ben Lawrence, where he fields questions and opens up about what cancer has taught him. He recalls a difficult conversation with his son, who asks if he’s going to die.
In a heartbreaking moment, the comedian admits he feels he’s brought a “heaviness” to the house and feels he needs to apologise for having cancer.
But much like the first episode, the audience is given moments of a joyous public Henwood, who loves making people laugh.
Henwood takes the stage to share his experience and thoughts while battling cancer.
On stage at the Opera House, he tells jokes about bathtubs and his upcoming trip to Japan. Behind the scenes, we’re told about breathing issues leading up to the show, about heightened cancer markers, about how - when your cancer affects your breathing - it’s on your mind with every breath.
But then, with his arms raised, he’s shown soaking in an immense standing ovation from that Opera House crowd. It’s an emotionally poignant moment that, “filled my bucket up massively”.
It’s that love and support from the public that helps give him strength.
“To anyone watching, a massive thank you. It honestly changes everything for me,” he tells the camera.
That Tabidachi ceremony, and the emotion within it, is what’s truly memorable here.
We see Henwood being told he needs to let go of his worldly possessions. On small pieces of coloured paper he’s tasked with writing the names of important people, experiences, dreams and other items close to his heart.
He does it with his Dad’s pen, which he carries with him everywhere. In one of many heart-wrenching moments, he doesn’t get to write his mum’s name, as he’s only permitted three.
Outside of family, Henwood notes his dog, his dream of watching his kids grow into adults, his dad’s pen and his Seiko watch.
Each one is removed as he’s guided through diagnosis, fear, anger and various stages of dying, before - crying freely - Henwood holds two of the final three names - his two children.
A ringing bell dings, he’s told his heart is slowing. His tears get more intense. Then it’s time to release that final name: Joanna, his wife.
In a truly difficult and heartfelt watch, he’s finally given 10 minutes - cloth over his face - to talk with his closest family member and passes on messages to his wife, children and mum.
To the camera, he describes the feeling of watching over himself at that moment and feeling a deep sense of his soul being “at peace”.
He knows how deep his love is for his family, friends and humanity.
“It was a feeling of, shit, you’re a good dude, mate.”
