Tetiaroa: Marlon Brando's Paradise

Tetiaroa: An instant postcard-moment

For it was whilst scouting locations for Mutiny on the Bounty in 1962 that Brando fell in love with Tetiaroa. The atoll’s fascinating history begins in 1789, when three deserters from the HMS Bounty journeyed there during their crew’s stay in Tahiti. The famous mutiny occurred a few days after their departure. In 1932, Nordoff and Hall’s fictionalised account of the mutiny became an instant bestseller. The book was subsequently translated in over twenty different languages and saw many TV, film and musical adaptations.

In 1965, Brando sought to acquire the atoll, composed of 12 islets known locally as “motus”. In accordance with Polynesiasn property law, Brando was granted a ninety-nine year lease off the French Polynesian government, making Tetiaroa, in essence, a privately-owned atoll. He lived on and off the island until 1990, when he retired to the US for health reasons.

In 1965, Brando obtained lease for the 12 islets that make up the atoll

During his years of residence in Polynesia, Brando drafted several plans to build a resort on one of the islets, but none seem to satisfy his desire to protect the pristine environment and fragile ecosystem unharmed by human occupation. Largely uninhabited since the 1700s, the atoll’s biodiversity has been very well preserved. On a day trip to Tetiaroa, one cannot help marvelling at the untouched beauty of the long stretches of thin, white sand, lending themselves to instant postcard-moments. Equally arresting is Rimatuu. The motu known as the Bird Island is French Polynesia’s only sea bird sanctuary, and looks like something straight out of Hitchcock’s The Birds. Dipping into the warm waters of the lagoon, one is immediately struck by the remarkable colours of the tropical fish.

In short, Tetiaroa artlessly captures the very cliché of Polynesia: there is a definite echo of Baudelaire’s “luxe, calme et volupté”.

Luckily, Tetiaroa’s special status as private property allowed the atoll to escape Tahiti’s sudden industrialisation and increasing pollution when the French government began to inject “guilt money” into the Polynesian economy in compensation for setting up the Pacific Experimentation Centre (CEP). The euphemistically-named CEP conducted nuclear experiments in Mururoa and Fangataufa, in the Tuamotu archipelago, between 1966 and 1996. Polynesia found itself at the heart of eco-controversy and diplomatic crisis with the DGSE’s (French Intelligence service) infamous sinking of Greenpeace’s Rainbow Warrior in 1985.

Tetiaroa’s future, however, is uncertain.

Dipping into the warm waters of the lagoon, one is immediately struck by the remarkable colours of the tropical fish.

Snorkeling in Tetiaroa: a threatened sight?

The executors of Brando’s will ultimately sold the estate development rights to Richard Bailey for some $2 million in 2005. Whilst the Tahiti-based property-developer ostensibly surfs the green wave of eco-tourism in projecting to build an eco-resort, many remain skeptical. Bailey’s arguments are no doubt convincing: the resort will be energetically autonomous, built strictly from natural materials, practically invisible from the sea and will involve as many renewable sources of energy as possible. What’s more, Bailey promises that the hotel will occupy a single islet, so that the remaining motus may become natural sanctuaries for the rare species that dwell there. In short it will be an eco-tourist’s paradise and will have as little environmental impact as possible. At his most persuasive, Bailey invokes Brando’s memory: the hotel will be named “The Brando” and make the actor’s dreams come true.

However, there might yet be trouble in paradise.

Firstly, there’s the thorny question of how to dispatch the materials and equipment necessary for the estate development to the motu in question. Indeed, Tetiaroa’s airstrip violates air safety regulations, as it is seven metres too short, and therefore cannot be used.

Furthermore, there is no channel to access the lagoon: in order to set foot on atoll, one must cross the coral reef on a zodiac. The alternative that has been proposed involves creating a channel by breaking open the coral reef. Although that would be infinitely more practical than transporting a crane on a zodiac, this would greatly disrupt the ecosystem, and threaten Tetiaroa’s celebrated biodiversity. The building of a platform atop the reef seems similarly dubious.

And then there is the inevitable question: does French Polynesia really need another luxury resort?

Essentially threatening the very selling point of his project, Bailey appears equally blissfully unaware of the environmental impact of the journey to French Polynesia itself. Whatever claims to eco-tourism are heavily undermined by the fact that his customers—the very rich or the very famous, judging on the price range of $1500+ a night—are unlikely to come from anywhere even close to the Society islands. Rather, this elitist clientele is likely to fly in from America or Europe on environmentally unfriendly flights.

And then there is the inevitable question: does French Polynesia really need another luxury resort? Bora Bora’s landscape is saturated with them already: the Bora Bora Nui Resort & Spa, Bora Bora Pearl Beach Resort, the Intercontinental Moana Resort, the Meridien, the St Regis Resort, the Sofitel, the Novotel... and the list goes on. The lagoon itself is not the “most beautiful lagoon in the world” as much as it is a tourist-filled puddle, where visitors snorkel amongst the sharks with little or no protection. This summer even saw the death of a fisherman when a hotel shuttle boat collided with a fishing boat. And yet, at the height of the season, hotels consistently fail to meet their targets, with a maximum occupancy rate of 30%.

Typical sunset in Polynesia

Perhaps my own experience of French Polynesia and its associated unfortunate politics have tainted my vision. But having been in part disillusioned by the truth behind the clichéd postcard that is Tahiti and yet thoroughly charmed by the pristine nature of Tetia—as it is affectionately known—I cannot but harbour the selfish hope that it may always remain as the earthly paradise I visited this summer... for the meagre sum of 13,000 Polynesian francs (£85) and six hours from Tahiti at sea.

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