Madeleine Sami Great Kiwi Bake Off host. Photo / Supplied by TVNZ
OPINION:
Madeleine Sami is a woman of many talents. An actor, musician, writer and director, Sami has created many successful screen projects, including The Breaker Upperers, a critically acclaimed, crowd-pleasing box office success. Currently writing on various local and international projects, Madeleine can also be seen hosting The Great Kiwi Bake Off, onscreen from October 14 on TVNZ 1 and OnDemand.
I come from a big family. Mum's one of seven, and dad had lots of siblings, which means I have heaps of cousins. Mum grew up in Porirua which was very multi-cultural in the late '70s, early '80s and she and her sisters all had a penchant for beautiful brown men. Three sisters married Māori men, and the other three had kids with Indian men, so we're all half-Irish, then either half-Māori or half-Indian. I describe it by saying, everyone can speak a bit of Māori and cook a bit of curry.
With much of dad's family in Fiji, I was closer to mum's family growing up, and because dad assimilated when he got to New Zealand - it was easier to fit in than stand out - he didn't pass on much of his culture, and we don't speak Hindi. It wasn't till more of dad's family came out in the late '80s, after the first coup, that we learnt more about our Indian heritage. Being mixed race, nobody has ever really been able to pin down where I'm from. Growing up in Onehunga, I also had a lot of Polynesian friends and my last name, Sami, is Samoan for ocean, so people often assumed I was Samoan. I had lots of influences from all sorts of places and perhaps that's partly what led me to acting.
I've always loved entertaining people. When I was really little, about 18 months old, I'm told I would run into walls to amuse people, and get that fix of laughter from a crowd. At high school I did all the plays, but I was never the lead. I loved doing characters, mimicking voices and doing Kylie Mole impressions. Then I got into improv and Auckland Theatresports had a scheme where they paired up-and-coming performers with experienced improv actors like Kevin Smith and Cal Wilson. At 14, I was getting paid 50 bucks to do Sunday night improv shows, and that was my training ground.
After high school I told my parents I was going to take a year off and give acting a try. And I'm still in that year off. I did lots of odd jobs. I worked at The Sky Tower when it opened, playing Xerox Warrior Princess - a knock-off version of Xena - in a home-made tinfoil costume, taking people up in the lifts. I was the Kinder Surprise egg at Auckland Zoo and I did improv at The Basement. Then I auditioned for a play called Bare which was a big hit, and through that I got an agent and a part on Shortland Street. Number 2 came along next and it was an even bigger hit and I toured it for years. It was a delightful play - about a Fijian grandmother who wakes up one morning having had a premonition that she's going to pass away so she decides to gather all her grandchildren for one last party, and I played all the characters. Doing it for so long, I had to challenge myself to keep it interesting.
During a season in London, I had to catch three trains to get from my accommodation to the theatre in Islington, and I'd purposefully delay my journey to get some adrenaline going. Will I make it to the theatre on time, I wondered, as I sprinted down Upper Street.
I enjoyed a lot of success in my early 20s. Earning money, touring a hit show, but I had nothing to compare it to. The play was universally loved and I became accustomed to full houses and lovely reviews so I was in this blissful state of naivety. Then, during my mid to late 20s, reality hit. I stopped doing the plays. I ended my first significant relationship and my father died unexpectedly. That was a lot to deal with, emotionally and professionally, and things felt like they were falling apart.
Losing a parent when you're young makes you grow up really fast. You ask yourself big questions about the meaning of life and what you're doing. It deepens your identity and while it was horrific at the time, having to confront real life, I learnt a lot about myself. Those experiences really gave me some character. I actually thought I had heaps of character, but I'd been coasting along, having a wonderful time, and that difficult period made me a better, stronger person and I developed a thicker skin. It was also a really important time because I started to branch out and make my own work. The seeds for writing and directing were planted. Actors are often beholden to other people, but when I started making my own stuff, I loved it, because I didn't have to wait for work to come to me.
When I started writing, for many years I had to keep telling myself I wasn't an imposter. Super City was the first thing, and I co-wrote it with Tom Sainsbury. I came up with the characters, and at first we wrote on Microsoft Word, because we couldn't afford Final Draft. Over the course of two seasons, I learnt how to work with a network, how to take notes, how to redraft. That's how I learnt to be a writer. Occasionally now, I have a pang of missing acting, but writing's quite handy to fall back on during a pandemic, because I can sit in bed and type. I don't need to leave the house.
Since the #metoo movement, most women in the arts, in music, in life in general, have reflected on their memories. I've also done that with the racism I've faced as a woman of colour. I've often ignored things that have been said, to get by and survive, to not rock the boat or lose a job - but more recently I've reflected on a lot of that casual racism. Going into shops and being followed around. Doing the promo tour of The Breaker Upperers, I'd get stopped and searched way more than Jackie [co-creator, Van Beek] and it was eye-opening. I realised that I'd spent my life ignoring a lot of that stuff and repressing how it made me felt. Over a really fast and condensed period of time people have become hyper-aware of things like that, which is great because if it happens now, I don't feel fearful of losing a job or a friend, I call it out.
Satisfaction wise, The Breaker Upperers was massively exciting. To work on this funny feminist diverse thing with a mate, to tell the story of two women close to our age who are less than perfect. The success was very gratifying. and it opened a lot of doors.
I've never really officially come out. I've always felt like it's a double standard that straight people don't have to come out. My view on sexuality is that it's very fluid. I'm married to a woman but I've never put a label on what I am, and that's probably another reason why I haven't "come out". I do understand the importance of coming out for some people, but I'm just not sure what I'd come out as. One thing's for sure though, I'm definitely queer as f***.
I was in LA for work at the same time Taika was doing publicity for JoJo Rabbit. He was at the height of his thing, and he asked me and Jackie if we wanted to go to a party. It turned out to be Seth MacFarlane's birthday party at Chateau Marmot. We literally got off the plane - I was wearing denim overalls and no make-up - and it was ridiculous for us to go. But we said yes and were chopper-dropped into this massive Hollywood party. It was super surreal. We were drinking champagne when we looked down and saw Taika talking to this guy who is with the most beautiful woman. And we're like, shoot that's Leonardo de Caprio, talking to Taika. It looked like a big serious conversation, which Jackie and I found hilarious, so we decided to interrupt, to just tell Taika we needed to go to the toilet. So we went up and we're like, "Sorry Leo, sorry, we're just going to the toilet. For a quick poo. But we'll be back." They both looked at us like WTF. For some reason we found that very amusing, especially their confused faces. The nicest friendliest person I met that night was Paris Hilton.
Going to party like that and being a no-one, it is the best possible thing, because no one wants anything from you. No one notices you, so you can be the observer. For a couple of 40-something Kiwi comedians who've just stepped off a plane, it was a bit of a thrill. Although I wish I'd put on some eyeliner. And some deodorant.
The 61-year-old rocker and style icon will perform in New Zealand for the first time.