Reel Reviews | Chief of War

by Tim Gordon

Apple TV+’s Chief of War is nothing short of a revelation, a sweeping, blood-soaked epic that reclaims the story of the Hawaiian Islands’ unification and reframes it through an Indigenous lens.

Created by Thomas Paʻa Sibbett and Jason Momoa, who also stars, executive produces, and even directs one of its most powerful episodes, this nine-part series is more than a period drama. It is an act of cultural restoration a vivid, unapologetic exploration of myth, legacy, and the human cost of forging a nation.

Set at the turn of the 19th century, the series follows Kaʻiana (Momoa), a noble warrior of Kauaʻi who has turned his back on violence and lives in self-imposed exile with his family. But the peace he’s carved for himself is short-lived. As foreign threats loom and tribal tensions among the islands boil over, Kaʻiana is pulled back into the conflict forced to confront his past, his fractured loyalties, and the question of whether unification will save Hawaiʻi… or destroy it.

Momoa gives the most mature and emotionally complex performance of his career. Known for his physical presence and charisma, here he channels something deeper: quiet dignity, weariness, and soul. His Kaʻiana is not just a warrior but a philosopher, a man torn between the blood that runs in his veins and the peace he craves. Every glance and gesture feels lived-in, every scene infused with reverence for the story he’s telling. As a Native Hawaiian, Momoa isn’t just performing, he’s preserving.

What makes Chief of War so extraordinary is how it refuses to separate the earthly from the divine. The series explores not just politics and battle strategies but the spiritual weight of every decision. The looming presence of Kūkaʻilimoku, the Hawaiian god of war, hovers over every choice made, and Kaʻiana often feels less like a man leading the charge than a vessel caught between the expectations of gods and the burdens of humanity.

The supporting cast brings layers of richness to the story. Temuera Morrison commands the screen as Chief Kahekili, a leader shaped by legacy and haunted by consequence. Cliff Curtis delivers one of his finest performances as Keōua, a rival chief whose nuanced portrayal blends menace with deep melancholy. Kaina Makua brings quiet gravitas as Kamehameha I, the future unifier of the islands, while Luciane Buchanan, Moses Goods, and Te Ao o Hinepehinga add emotional resonance to the series, showing how war, tradition, and sacrifice ripple far beyond the battlefield.

Visually, Chief of War is stunning. The Hawaiian islands have rarely been captured with such grandeur, lush green cliffs, black-sand beaches, and sacred valleys rendered with cinematic splendor. But this paradise is intentionally contrasted with brutal, unflinching depictions of war. The later episodes deliver battles that are not for the faint of heart, the hand-to-hand combat is brutal, visceral, and brilliantly choreographed, a physical testament to the stakes at play.

In one of the series’ defining moments, Jason Momoa steps behind the camera, directing a pivotal episode and proving he is as commanding behind the lens as he is in front of it. The result is an hour of television that blends raw, bone-crunching combat with lyrical, almost operatic storytelling. It’s a showcase of Momoa’s vision, immersive, unrelenting, and deeply human.

Visually, Chief of War is breathtaking. The Hawaiian islands are captured in all their epic contrasts, lush cliffs and black sand beaches rendered alongside brutal warfare and spiritual ceremonies. The juxtaposition between paradise and violence is jarring by design, reminding viewers that colonization was not the only battle; unity itself came at a steep price.

Though comparisons to FX’s Shōgun are inevitable, Chief of War stands apart in its focus. Where Shōgun grapples with foreign influence, this series is about an internal reckoning. The enemy isn’t just an invader, it’s pride, betrayal, and ambition, the fractures within the hearts of men who must decide whether unity is worth the cost.

Despite minor pacing lulls in the middle episodes, Chief of War never loses its emotional grip. It is epic without being hollow, spiritual without being heavy-handed, and dramatic without sacrificing historical authenticity. For Pacific Islanders, it is more than a show, it’s a mirror, a reclamation of a story too long told by others.

In the end, Jason Momoa’s fingerprints are everywhere, in the performance, in the vision, and in the soul of the series. Chief of War is his legacy project, and he delivers with power, precision, and heart. It’s not just one of the best things Apple TV+ has produced, it’s one of the boldest, most resonant pieces of historical storytelling in recent memory.

Chief of War premieres August 1, 2025, on Apple TV+.

Grade: A