Kopiraet is a portrait of Tarcisia Tiningkon, a charismatic woman living on the island of Ambrym in Vanuatu, in the South Pacific. In this portrait, the filmmakers reflect on our position and the (im)possibility of (Western) representation of the "other." Is it at all possible to move beyond the boundaries of exoticism, voyeurism, and exploitation?

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Tarcisia Tiningkon is quirky, funny, and warm. She defies traditional gender roles in a male-dominated society, is the daughter of the local chief, and a mother of four. "I," the filmmaker, am fascinated by her. "I" have the desire to capture her in sight and sound, to follow the traces she leaves for me like breadcrumbs. But often, she eludes me—either through the contamination of my gaze or simply because she doesn’t feel like it.

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For centuries, Vanuatu has served as a projection screen for Western fantasies about the exotic. Explorers, missionaries, French and British colonizers, tourists, and film crews have come and gone, leaving their mark and bringing home sensational images of the "other": the cannibal, the tribal, the dangerous black figure on heavenly white beaches. Today, this independent archipelago is in a state of transformation. Climate change, neo-colonialism, and digitalization collide with Vanuatu’s secluded position, its traditional economy, rituals, and magic—collectively known as kastom.

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Kopiraet is a film that examines power structures and representational regimes, while at the same time showcasing a woman who defies patriarchal patterns and, in doing so, bends kastom to her will. Tarcisia Tiningkon pushes back, critically examining the images and narratives we—and other Western filmmakers—have created. But to what extent can this rebuttal resonate in a film that is primarily in Western hands?