In the modestly charming Every Day in Kaimukī, a young Hawaiian man is determined to find meaning and his place in life beyond the borders of his small hometown, even if it means leaving behind everything he’s ever known.
Away from the surfing and sunny beaches usually depicted on film lies an altogether different Hawaii, one filled with late night drives, skateparks, and a low-key indie arts scene. This is the Hawaii of local twenty-something Naz Kawakami, who plays a fictionalized version of himself in Every Day in Kaimukī. Directed by Alika Tengan, a Hapa Hawaiian/Asian filmmaker based out of Honolulu, and written by Tengan and Kawakami, the two friends present an authentic slice-of-life story that incorporates Kawakami’s real experiences and inner discord.
Set in O’ahu, the fictional Naz works as a DJ at a local late night radio station, lives with his girlfriend Sloane (played by Rina White) and his cat, and spends his free time skateboarding with friends (played by non-professional actors from Kawakami’s friend group). It seems like Naz has a great life set up for himself, and yet he feels strongly that something is missing. Throughout the film we learn this stems from an identity crisis and a general desire to experience the world outside the only town and community he’s ever known.
When we meet Naz, he’s in the process of organizing a move to New York with Sloane, where she’s been offered a spot in a prestigious arts program. Naz begins selling his things, training his replacement at the radio station, and making numerous, detailed inquiries to the airline about how to take his cat with him. He berates Sloane for not having started packing, and yet, whenever he’s asked about his departure date, or if he’s found a job or even simply a place to stay, his answers are evasive—always along the lines of “not yet” or “soon.” From jokes his friends make, it’s clear this is not the first time Naz has insisted he’s moving abroad. We also quickly realize Naz is driving the move and simply using Sloane as the excuse to leave, having pushed Sloane to apply for a program she isn’t really interested in. Throughout the film, viewers wonder alongside Naz’s friends whether he’ll actually make the move this time.
The film deals with emotional discord and shifting relationships in an honest, simplified way. Although Naz’s earnest nature is sometimes grating, it’s nevertheless refreshing to see his character experience a realistic journey of frustration, fallout, and picking up the pieces by apologizing and moving forward together with the other characters. The drama isn’t overblown, it’s modest even at its peak, reflecting the film’s humble vision. For example, as Naz’s romantic relationship falls apart, it fizzles out instead of blowing up—just two adults realizing they want different things and have reached the end. Naz has one night where he outwardly crumbles and lashes out at friends, but the film doesn’t linger there, neatly tidying up the mess through honest apologies and forgiveness, something rarely seen onscreen.
Every Day in Kaimukī gives urban indie vibes through its portrayal of small-scale community and use of natural lighting. There are no dramatic effects or fancy locations, and the film uses its urban setting to highlight its differences from Hollywood’s version of Hawaii. In fact, the only time we even see the ocean is through an airplane window. The film also features emerging local musicians on the fictional radio station and in the film’s score, and depicts a thriving arts and music culture. Some of the best scenes in the movie are when we’re with Naz’s friends at the skatepark. Their natural performances and humble charisma invite us in and make us feel at home.
Tengan’s melodic feature debut has it world premiere at this year’s Sundance festival as part of the NEXT program, which showcases films distinguished by their innovative, forward-thinking approaches to storytelling.