When Te Ao o Hinepehinga first stepped onto the Hawaiian set of Chief of War, she wasn’t just entering a role—she was stepping into a living history. The Apple TV+ drama, premiering August 1, 2025, tells the sweeping, rarely-seen story of the unification of the Hawaiian Islands from an indigenous perspective, blending adventure and historical epic with intimate human drama.
The series, led by Jason Momoa—who also co-created the project—traces the bloody and complex journey of Native Hawaiian warrior Ka‘iana as he seeks to unite the islands in the late 18th century to resist the threat of colonization. Te Ao plays Kupuohi, Ka‘iana’s wife, anchoring the story with a performance that carries equal parts tenderness and steel.
A Role Rooted in Culture and Connection
For Te Ao, the project is more than a career milestone—it’s a personal calling. Born in Gisborne, New Zealand, in the Te Tairāwhiti region of Aotearoa, she is proudly Polynesian and Māori, with deep roots in indigenous activism. “This story is a chance to honor the resilience and brilliance of our ancestors,” she reflects. “To tell it through our eyes, with our voices, feels like reclaiming a piece of history that has too often been told for us rather than by us.”
Her path to this moment has been as dynamic as her screen presence. A trained dancer and musical theatre performer, Te Ao spent her early career as a Latin dancer and showgirl in Australia, before stepping into acting full-time. She made her television debut in Black Hands (2020), followed by a breakout as a series regular in Head High (2020-2021), and most recently led the drama Breakwater (2022). But Chief of War marks her most global stage yet—and the role of Kupuohi lets her fuse her activism, artistry, and cultural pride into a single performance.
Beyond the Screen
When she isn’t filming, Te Ao channels her energy into yoga, swimming, gardening, and reading, as well as indigenous land restoration and activism. She is a founding member of ICAN (International Culture Art Network), which provides free workshops for aspiring artists in Hawaii, equipping local creatives with the tools they need to step into the entertainment industry when opportunity knocks.
This dedication—to craft, to community, and to cultural integrity—infuses her performance in Chief of War. Standing alongside a powerhouse cast that includes Luciane Buchanan and Cliff Curtis, Te Ao emerges not just as a co-star, but as a force of authenticity in a series built on reclaiming narrative.
A Story That Echoes Beyond the Islands
In a year crowded with franchise fare and historical dramas, Chief of War stands apart: a series unafraid to confront colonization, indigenous resilience, and the brutal costs of unification, all while delivering the kind of visual spectacle audiences expect from an Apple TV+ epic. For Te Ao o Hinepehinga, it’s a moment to bridge the personal and the cinematic—her journey from the dance floor to the global screen mirroring the larger story of indigenous voices taking center stage.
As the world meets Kupuohi on August 1, Te Ao is ready to share not just a character, but a lineage of strength. Or, as she puts it simply: “Every frame is a love letter to our people.”
You grew up in a political household, trained as a dancer, became a showgirl, and now you’re leading a dramatic series—has your journey ever felt linear, or are you most at home in the in-between?
My family can tell you, nothing in our life has ever been linear. It’s probably why our mother calls us kids her “little wildlings.” We were raised by a Wildwoman, taught us to trust our instincts and go where the wind takes us. And we’ve been given the upbringing that allows us to roll with whatever comes and thrive in it.
From Māori to French to movement to screen—language seems to be a core part of how you express yourself. What kind of “language” does acting offer you that activism or dancing doesn’t?
I’m fascinated by the human experience. There’s something so unique to learn in every story, culture, or people I find and it’s a beautiful thing to witness. Acting has become this place where I can celebrate that, it’s pure in its appreciation and such an intimate way to experience life. I’m very grateful for the days I get to spend telling beautiful stories.
Your grandfather was a politician, and you’ve spent your life in the Indigenous rights space. Was choosing the arts a rebellion—or just another form of resistance?
I think my Papa wondered if it was an act of rebellion HA! The after-effects of a mother who dreamed of being a dancer… but no, the arts are a natural part of the Māori experience. It’s how we keep our history, I just happened to like it more than following in my Papa’s footsteps—at first, anyway. I think he always knew I’d find my way back to working for the people. I’ve just chosen a different approach than he imagined for me. I’d like to think he’s proud of how it all worked out.
Breakwater explores themes of trauma, resilience, and identity. How did playing Mai push you emotionally or spiritually—and did it ever blur into your real-life self?
No, Mai was pure indulgence! Zach Craley wrote a colourful and layered world and the other artists behind the show did an amazing job bringing his vision to life. Dystopian drama is such an interesting space to explore world issues, it puts the ideas into a human experience and really takes you on a ride. Zach took great care with that work, it really was a wonderful production.
We’re obsessed with artists who don’t choose between performance and purpose. How do you stay politically grounded in an industry that often thrives on surface-level representation?
Come back to the Marae with me, you’ll learn pretty quickly there’s no danger of getting lost with that place to come home to. My family are my compass, living off the land where I can, being amongst the community that raised me. There’s a whakatauki, Maori proverb, back home that explains it best.
“Ehara taku toa i te toa takitahi, engari he toa takitini” – Success is not the work of an individual, but the work of many.
You’re a founding member of ICAN, offering free workshops for artists. Why was it important for you to build something that gives back rather than just chasing spotlight?
ICAN came from a promise I made to someone when I said yes to “Chief of War.” Taking on this role wasn’t simply a job to me, it was a commitment to uplifting and supporting my Hawaiian cousins across the way. I didn’t know what that looked like at the time, if anything, the idea found me. Like the ‘akua heard my promise and set me on the path to meeting Angela Laprete, Brian Keaulana and Robert Suka so we might see that promise become something. ICAN was what came out of that meeting of the minds, a space that would support indigenous artists on the ‘aina and provide them with more tools to build on what “Chief of War” has done. I’m proud of the work we’ve done together.
There’s something sacred in the way you talk about land restoration and indigenous protest—what keeps you tethered to that work, especially as your platform grows?
My family. Sorry, I probably sound like a broken record at this point. But my family is so tied to our community and its development that they really are the best resource and greatest inspiration. Especially as more children are born into our family. It becomes that much more important to maintain our indigenous practices and identity for them, so they can grow in this world proud and more certain of their place in this beautiful cycle of life.
From Latin dance stages in Australia to sets in Aotearoa—what lessons from your time as a showgirl still show up when the director yells “action”?
Never break character! Between costume malfunctions, a rowdy crowd and dangerous lifts, a lot can go wrong dancing in front of a live audience so I’ve gotten very good at tuning out distractions. Something my co-stars take immense pleasure in challenging. Jason tried pretty hard while we were filming Chief of War but he never got me, I certainly got him back for his attempts though! I hope that blooper makes it out into the world…
What’s one story—indigenous, personal, or historical—that you’re dying to tell onscreen but haven’t seen done right yet?
I would love to see a modern take on deities, like Netflix’s Kaos but let’s bring more cultures into it! I’d love to see Shiva and Maui have a powwow or give me a disagreement between Anubis and Hades. Something that expresses the unique humour and stories that come from each culture packed into a dramedy that explores issues of today. A great group of writers could make something with that idea. I’m not a great writer…
Outside of all the causes, camera work, and choreography—what’s something small and grounding that makes you feel like Te again?
I’ve gotten really into gardening again lately. We used to have a massive garden when I was growing up and though my dislike of weeding has not changed, there is something so satisfying in the process of growing your own food. I previously failed miserably at growing tomatoes but I am ecstatic to say I grew the most beautiful tomatoes last season that would knock your socks off! I even have photos, like the proud plant mum I am.
