SERIES REVIEW – Apple TV Plus’s latest historical epic, Chief of War, takes its time — unspooling the clash between 18th-century Hawaiian kingdoms and incoming European colonizers at a deliberate, tension-filled pace. Momoa isn’t just the face of the series; as co-creator, he treats Ka’iana’s story as a personal mission, delivering it with moments of grandeur, flashes of raw intimacy, and the occasional dose of overblown solemnity. Brimming with passion and immersive detail, the show opens a window into a world rarely given the spotlight. It’s a sweeping historical canvas, clearly crafted with deep affection and ambition.

Based on historical accounts, the series navigates the intersection of war and romance in Hawaii’s precolonial era. Premiering Friday, Chief of War casts Momoa as Ka’iana, a legendary late-18th-century warrior caught in a web of fragile alliances, bitter rivalries, and the looming threat of foreign conquest. It’s unmistakably a labor of love — and like many personal passion projects, it occasionally tips into excess, packing scenes to the brim or leaning heavily into reverence. Still, the conviction is undeniable, and the setting alone makes it a journey worth taking.

Hawaii Through Pop Culture’s Eyes – and Momoa’s Roots

Long before it became the 50th U.S. state, Hawaii had a starring role in the American imagination: ukuleles, steel guitars, Elvis crooning in Blue Hawaii and Paradise, Hawaiian Style, the satellite-broadcast spectacle of Aloha from Hawaii. The Brady Bunch vacationed there. So did Dennis the Menace — in a dog-eared comic book I once owned. Magnum P.I., Hawaii Five-0, the first season of The White Lotus. Hawaiian Punch, that neon-colored blend of tropical fruits first mixed in 1934 and still on shelves in more than a dozen varieties. Tiki bars. Backyard luaus. Disney’s Enchanted Tiki Room, where the birds sing and the flowers harmonize, courtesy of Dole. The list goes on.

Born in Honolulu, raised in Iowa, and later returning to the islands for college, Momoa first broke into TV with Baywatch Hawaii. Then came the Oahu-set drama North Shore, four seasons as an alien in Stargate Atlantis, a turn as Conan the Barbarian, his definitive Aquaman, and hosting gigs on Saturday Night Live — twice. (He also recently appeared at Ozzy Osbourne’s farewell concert, Back to the Beginning.) It’s hardly a surprise that after years of superheroes and sword-and-sorcery epics, he’d want to reclaim a piece of his heritage and render it with dignity. Chief of War is painstakingly researched and lavishly staged, though keeping track of the political chessboard — shifting allegiances between islands, factions, and districts — might require note-taking. Even then, some of the tangled motives remain hazy.

The inevitable comparison is to Shōgun: subtitled Hawaiian dialogue, encounters with outsiders, scheming rulers, and colliding armies. It also echoes Game of Thrones, where Momoa spent two seasons as Khal Drogo. And like The Lord of the Rings, it opens with a mythic prologue, foretelling a king who will end “an endless cycle of war” while introducing the kingdoms of Kaua’i, Hawai’i, Maui, and O’ahu — lands “divided by cunning chiefs and powerful gods.”

Ka’iana – The Warrior Who Tried to Lay Down His Arms

Ka’iana is a Maui war chief who walks away from the battlefield, settling on Kaua’i with his brothers Nahi’ (Siua Ikale’o) and Namake (Te Kohe Tuhaka) and their partners, Kupuohi (Te Ao o Hinepehinga) and Heke (Mainei Kinimaka). The thatched homes, woven garments, and mischievous local kids paint a picture of peace — but like any retired gunslinger in a Western, he’s inevitably pulled back into the fight. (By the season’s end, he’s firing a gun.)

“A war chief who runs from war — you’re a leader of contradictions,” remarks Kaʻahumanu (Luciane Buchanan), a young Maui noblewoman hiding from her father (Moses Goods), who intends to ship her off to marry Kamehameha (Kaina Makua). Kamehameha guards the “god of war,” a talisman of military fortune that will fuel much of the conflict, though he leans toward peace himself. But with unpredictable rulers like King Kahekili (Temuera Morrison) and Keoua (Cliff Curtis), plus power-hungry white sailors, peace is a distant dream.

The historical Ka’iana was described as “nearly six-foot-five, with the muscular build of Hercules” — a role seemingly carved for Momoa. In many ways, Chief of War is another superhero turn for him, albeit one layered with family politics, romantic entanglements, and the stubbornness of allies who refuse to listen. He’s the unmatched fighter, the man who can catch a spear mid-flight, ride a shark (even if it’s drugged), and throw a glare sharp enough to rattle any foe.

A Warrior’s Odyssey and the Messages Along the Way

Ka’iana’s journey takes him aboard a British ship to Alaska and the Spanish East Indies, where he learns about firearms — seeing their potential — and picks up English. John Young (Benjamin Hoetjes), a shipwrecked sailor, is teaching the language back in Hawai’i, and soon many characters switch to it, even when it’s narratively dubious. The story doesn’t shy away from colonial racism either: “They do not see you as people,” says Tony (James Udom), a Black man who becomes Ka’iana’s ally, in a moment that delivers both a literal and figurative tongue-lashing.

Momoa and co-creator Thomas Paʻa Sibbett make sure the testosterone-heavy world isn’t a boys’ club. Women here are active agents — Kupuohi was once a war chief herself, Heke wants weapons training — and they get lines that land: “Men spend their whole lives training to be warriors, but they fear being wrong more than they fear death.” LGBTQ characters are present too, without fanfare or commentary.

The cast lands every note, whether they’re meant to charm or repulse. The pacing is often meditative, the action scenes bracingly violent, and the visuals stunning — save for a few wobbly CGI moments (the volcano sequence chief among them). Yes, there’s a volcano. And a single red-lit orgy scene that practically screams “villainy.” Hans Zimmer and James Everingham’s score is big, swelling, and unmistakably Hollywood. At times, the series teeters on the edge of corniness — but sometimes, corny is just another word for love.

-Gergely Herpai “BadSector”-