6.3/10
Senior Film Conservator
A definitive 6.3/10 rating for a film that redefined the boundaries of cult cinema. Honolulu: The Paradise of the Pacific remains a cornerstone of transgressive art.
Honestly, only if you have ten minutes to kill and you want to feel like you are looking at someone's grandpa’s old vacation slides. It is not a story. It is just a window into a world that doesn’t exist anymore. If you get bored by black-and-white travel footage, skip it. If you like the idea of seeing Waikiki before the high-rises took over, you’ll probably find it charming.
The whole thing feels oddly detached. It moves from a shot of a street vendor to a beach scene without much of a plan. It reminded me a bit of the frantic pacing in Anything Once!, where the camera just sort of lands wherever it feels like.
There is a specific kind of grain on this film that makes the ocean look like it’s made of velvet. It’s lovely. They spend a lot of time on the flowers and the surf, and for a second, you can almost smell the salt air. Then the narrator pipes up with that crisp, transatlantic mid-Atlantic accent, and the spell breaks.
I couldn't help but notice the hats. Everyone is wearing these heavy-looking fedoras or boaters, even on the beach. How were they not melting? It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of thing that makes you realize how much the world has changed since this was filmed. It feels less like a documentary and more like a ghost story.
It’s not trying to be high art. It is just a snapshot. Sometimes, a movie doesn't need to do more than that. I finished it and felt like I needed a glass of water and a nap in a hammock. That’s probably the highest praise I can give it. 🌴
