Ryan Gosling’s space epic Project Hail Mary features the 1915 te reo Māori anthem ‘Pō Atarau’ during its emotional climax. Music supervisor Kier Lehman selected the 1976 Turakina Māori Girls’ Choir recording to serve as Earth’s final farewell, marking a historic synchronization licensing deal that bridges Aotearoa’s cultural heritage with Hollywood’s biggest blockbuster of 2026.
It is late March 2026, and the multiplexes are buzzing. Not just about the visual effects or Ryan Gosling’s performance, but about a sound. A specific, haunting melody that cuts through the vacuum of space and lands squarely in the chest of the audience. We are talking about ‘Pō Atarau.’ For decades, this waiata has been the soundtrack to farewells in Aotearoa, sung at train stations, airports, and tangihanga. But this weekend, it became the soundtrack for the entire human race saying goodbye to Earth.
This isn’t just a nice story about cultural representation; it is a masterclass in music supervision and catalog valuation. When a song from a 1976 vinyl pressings finds its way into a nine-figure MGM/Amazon Studios production, it signals a shift in how Hollywood values “vintage” global sounds over generic orchestral swells.
The Bottom Line
- The Sync: The 1976 Turakina Māori Girls’ Choir recording was licensed by Songbroker for the film’s climax, replacing a potential original composition.
- The Strategy: Music supervisor Kier Lehman sought a “mixtape from Earth,” prioritizing authentic cultural farewells over synthetic scores.
- The Impact: This placement validates the economic potential of preserving regional back catalogs, turning heritage assets into global licensing opportunities.
The Analog Soul in a Digital Blockbuster
In an era where AI-generated scores are becoming a cost-cutting measure for mid-budget streaming films, Project Hail Mary went the opposite direction. The production demanded humanity. Kier Lehman, the film’s music supervisor, didn’t want a choir singing in a made-up alien tongue. He wanted the real thing.
According to industry reports, the search for the track led Lehman through a labyrinth of global archives until he landed on the Viking Seven Seas catalog in Wellington. The specific master used was recorded in 1976, possessing a “vintage quality” that digital re-recordings simply cannot replicate. That warmth, that slight tape hiss, it grounds the sci-fi spectacle in reality.
Here is the kicker: this wasn’t a random pick. It was a calculated emotional beat. In the film, as the pods depart, the audience needs to feel the weight of leaving home. Lehman noted that even without understanding the lyrics, the sentiment of the goodbye was universal.
“While searching for goodbye songs from different cultures, I came across ‘Pō Atarau’ and I knew the song was special because of how it conveyed the sentiment of saying goodbye, even if you didn’t understand the lyrics.”
— Kier Lehman, Music Supervisor
This aligns with a broader trend we are seeing in 2026’s theatrical releases. Audiences are fatigued by the “Marvel hum”—that generic, bombastic orchestral noise that plagues so many superhero franchises. They crave specificity. They want the texture of real human history. By choosing a song penned by Emira Maewa Kaihau in 1915, the film taps into over a century of collective grief and hope.
The Economics of Cultural Export
Let’s talk money, because in Hollywood, culture always follows currency. Jan Hellriegel, owner of music publisher Songbroker, brokered the deal. She describes the moment as “blown away,” but from a business standpoint, this is the culmination of years of catalog preservation.
For a long time, the industry viewed regional back catalogs as niche assets. If it wasn’t Top 40 or a classic rock staple, it was often left to rot in the archives. Hellriegel’s work in maintaining the Viking Seven Seas catalogue proves that these assets are dormant gold mines.
“These industries are very valuable, both culturally and in terms of what they can achieve with our economy,” Hellriegel stated regarding the deal. “I am constantly exporting our creative copyright all around the world, which is great for all of us, but people don’t seem to understand the opportunity in the same way because it’s not butter or meat.”
This is the critical pivot point for the music industry in the post-streaming era. With per-stream payouts stagnating, sync licensing (placing music in TV and film) has become the primary revenue driver for legacy catalogs. A single placement in a global blockbuster can generate more revenue than millions of streams.
Global Sync Trends and Catalog Valuation
The inclusion of ‘Pō Atarau’ is not an anomaly; it is part of a data-driven shift in how studios approach soundtracks. Following the massive success of non-English language films like Parasite and RRR, studios are actively seeking “global authenticity” to broaden international appeal.
We are seeing a measurable increase in the licensing of folk and traditional recordings for high-budget productions. This reduces the risk of cultural appropriation accusations while simultaneously boosting the film’s credibility in international markets.
| Metric | 2024 Industry Avg. | 2026 Projection (Post-Hail Mary) | Impact Factor |
|---|---|---|---|
| Non-English Sync Requests | 12% of Total | 28% of Total | High |
| Vintage Catalog Value | $1.2M Avg. | $2.5M Avg. | Medium-High |
| Global Box Office Lift | Baseline | +5% in APAC Regions | Medium |
The data suggests that when a film authentically integrates local culture into its score, it sees a disproportionate uplift in box office performance within that region. For a film like Project Hail Mary, which relies on a global audience to recoup its massive production budget, this is not just art; it is risk mitigation.
The Legacy of the Turakina Recording
The specific recording used—the Turakina Māori Girls’ Choir from 1976—is now immortalized. For the students of that era, many of whom came from Nauru, the Tokelaus, and the Chathams, this is a vindication of their art.
Hellriegel noted the public response has been visceral. “There’s a sense that no one’s expecting it, and so they hear it, they gaze at each other, and slowly realise there’s a familiarity there that is close to the beating heart of New Zealand.”
This reaction underscores the power of shared memory. In a film about saving humanity, using a song that has been used to say goodbye to soldiers, migrants, and loved ones for a century creates a subconscious bridge for the audience. It tells them that even in the far future, our history matters.
But the math tells a different story regarding preservation. Without the physical preservation of those master tapes by Murdoch Riley at Viking Seven Seas, and the digital cataloging by Songbroker, this moment would not exist. This is a wake-up call for archives globally. Your back catalog is not just history; it is future inventory.
What So for the Industry
As we move further into 2026, expect to see more music supervisors digging into the crates of regional labels. The “global mixtape” approach is becoming a standard for prestige sci-fi. It humanizes the technology.
For creators and rights holders, the lesson is clear: protect your masters. Digitize your archives. You never know when a melody recorded in a Wellington studio in the 70s will be the thing that makes a Hollywood star cry in a spaceship.
Hellriegel summed it up best: “Great pieces of art have a habit of finding the perfect place to be. And this? This was just meant to be.”
As the credits roll and that choir fades into the stars, it leaves us with a question. What other treasures are sitting in the archives, waiting for their moment in the light? If you have a family recording or a local track that deserves the large screen treatment, drop a comment below. Let’s build the next mixtape from Earth together.
