Film review: The architectural partnership of the late Sir Miles Warren and Maurice Mahoney designed many Christchurch institutions and became one themselves. They pioneered and led the “Christchurch modern” school from the 1950s into the 1990s, though much of their legacy was destroyed in the earthquakes.
The Christchurch Town Hall, the building they considered their greatest work – and this terrific, touching and enlightening documentary does, too – still stands. As is evident throughout the latter parts of the film, it has been restored to its 1972 original brutalist glory, its theatres still acoustic marvels, thanks to the pioneering work of Sir Harold Marshall. Marshall’s erudite explanations of concert hall sonics and science meeting art makes Maurice & I effectively about three brilliant minds.
How the town hall went from being on former earthquake recovery minister Gerry Brownlee’s demolition list to a monument of the Warren & Mahoney aesthetic and a symbol of the city’s recovery takes up a fair chunk of the film. It begins with the two long-retired architects at a Christchurch City Council hearing about the town hall restoration before looping back to the origins of their partnership. It was a complementary relationship of different temperaments – Warren the ebullient visionary who brought back modernist ideas from his OE to the UK; Mahoney the quiet, meticulous draughtsman whose working-class family migrated from London at the beginning of World War II. Mahoney took Warren’s design ideas and worked out the details. When told the town hall stage was too small, he plotted the footprint of a symphony orchestra, player by player.
Mahoney died in 2018 and Warren in 2022. Filmed over many years and co-directed by one of Mahoney’s daughters, the film captures some of the final conversations about their parallel professional lives which stretched back to their student days. Even when interviewed separately or drawing on archive footage of Warren in front of the camera, the film’s deft editing gives us the impression we’re eavesdropping on a lifelong conversation.
The film started life as the town hall story and much of its final third relitigates the battle against the plans to replace it. Brownlee is interviewed about his part in its near-downfall and graciously admits the humble pie he was served on visiting the restored building tasted pretty good.
Earlier, footage from the town hall’s history of live performances, which, presumably, came with a heavy music-rights price tag, is remarkable. So is former Press music reviewer David Swift’s memory of shows he saw there in the 80s.
But the film’s biggest noise is the quake itself, two to three minutes’ footage of which might be a little too long for anyone who was there at the time. But it’s an important part of a film that might present itself as a historical architectural doco, but which builds on those foundations to become something else. After the punk coming-of-age drama Head South, it’s the second great film this year about things peculiarly, brilliantly Christchurch.
Rating out of five: ★★★★★
Maurice and I, directed by Rick Harvie and Jane Mahoney, is out now.
