“There’s a real duality that’s inherent to motorcycling, and the liminality between grief and adrenaline can be pretty taboo.”
That tension is explored with a remarkably assured touch in Faster Than Fear, a short film the 22-year-old wrote and directed as part of her master’s programme at Victoria University.
Darrow’s documentary, Faster Than Fear, features some dramatic drone footage.
Two days after handing in her final project in February, Darrow flew to London, where she hopes to pursue a career in the film industry.
Those ambitions received a significant boost this month when she won Best Documentary at the London International Student Film Festival, from a field of more than 200 entries.
Darrow, who spent her early childhood in a small rural town on the outskirts of Auckland, still can’t quite believe it.
“I was having almost this impostor syndrome, as someone from little New Zealand, sitting there surrounded by all these extremely talented, up-and-coming film-makers,” she says.
“So winning that meant the absolute world to me. Coming from a lifestyle block in Whitford to a big city like London, it was an incredible experience.”
Pictured her with her dad, Darrow grew up around motorbikes on her family’s lifestyle block in Whitford.
The 12-minute film, which came in under its $4000 budget, features some dramatic drone footage and high-speed tracking shots at the Manfeild race track in Feilding.
Darrow appears in the cast list as “third rider”. She also gave herself a catering credit. Well, that’s one way to keep the budget down.
“I made some absolutely delicious sandwiches on a couple of occasions,” she says, on a Zoom call from London.
“So I had to put a little shout-out in there to me.”
Faster Than Fear captures the sense of freedom that comes with riding on the open road, using aerial shots to great effect, and the camaraderie of a community that’s gradually becoming more accessible to women and girls.
Former professional superbike racer Aaron Slight bears the scars from an injury that almost ended his career.
Darrow has also nailed some great “gets”, securing screentime with two of New Zealand’s most high-profile figures in competitive motorcycling.
Former professional racer Aaron Slight, who podiumed twice at the Superbike World Championships, talks about de-gloving the back of his hand in a serious crash in Japan in 1990 that almost ended his career.
A skin graft was taken from his forearm, but several damaged tendons in his hand were beyond repair. On his way into the operating theatre, Slight told the surgeon all he wanted was to be able to curl his fingers around the handlebar.
Four-time women’s motocross world champion Courtney Duncan is still competing at the elite level.
Otago-born rider Courtney Duncan has dominated motocross racing since winning the first of four world championship titles in 2019.
She tells Darrow her mum would probably like her to walk away, but knows asking Duncan to give up the sport she loves would hurt more than anything could on the track.
The most moving segment is with long-time bike mechanic Garth Mitchell, who owns Independent Motorcycles and is deeply rooted in the Wellington scene. He’s been riding for 35 years and has lost several people close to him in crashes on the road.
“A friend was telling me about Garth and his friend, Dok Boswijk, who had tragically passed away while commuting, and it brought me to tears,” says Darrow.
“At Dok’s memorial ride, hundreds of people showed up.
“Aaron, Courtney and Garth have such differing stories, but they’re all united by the love of this one thing. I think there’s something so beautiful about that.”
Long-time mechanic and motorbike rider Garth Mitchell. “Every time I hop on a bike, my thought is always, am I going to make it home?”
Darrow grew up around bikes on the family’s lifestyle block in Whitford, watching her two older brothers setting up motocross ramps in the paddock – and seeing them injured when a trick didn’t land.
Her father had promised to teach her to ride, too, but by the time she was old enough, they’d sold up and moved on.
For years, motorcycling was something she kept at a distance.
Darrow doesn’t go into the details, but during her time as a university student in Wellington, she faced some personal challenges and reached out to a friend for support.
He took her for a ride on his motorbike in the Remutakas, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that the experience transformed her.
“It was exactly what I needed because it was something new,” she says.
“You’re so grounded in the reality of what’s happening at that moment. And as we were flying around these wild corners, I can remember thinking, ‘This is it. This is the change I need’.”
In 2024, Darrow bought her first bike, a Suzuki GSX 250 – breaking the news to her mother via a recorded video after passing her learner’s test.
“I was like, ‘Mum, you can’t be mad because I’ve already done it!’.”
Later, she graduated to a Kawasaki Ninja and spent a week meticulously customising it in pink plastic wrap. That’s the bike you see her riding in Faster Than Fear.
Darrow on Pinky, a Kawasaki Ninja that she customised herself.
She says the documentary was born out of curiosity to understand the psychology of motorcycling and gain some insight into herself at the same time.
“Being able to put my energy into something that has really paid me back in such a large way, especially to my mental health at the time, was absolutely massive.
“And as a byproduct of that, I found this beautiful community that had been there the whole time.”
In her director’s statement, Darrow makes it clear her intention was not to glorify speed or risk, nor to condemn it. Instead, the aim was to explore why people continue to ride despite the danger.
There’s a reckoning that comes with surviving something you know could kill you, she says. “Ultimately, this film is about what it means to live alongside fear, without letting it define who you are.”
Faster Than Fear is dedicated to Dok Boswijk, who was 26 when he died. Garth Mitchell doesn’t downplay the cost of their shared passion but can’t imagine ever giving it up.
To him, it’s all about minimising risk.
“Every time I hop on a bike, my thought is always, ‘Am I riding back?’,” he says.
“Am I going to make it home?”
Joanna Wane is a senior lifestyle writer with an interest in social issues and the arts.