Inside Chief of War: Brandon Finn on Prince Kupule

Jason Momoa’s Chief of War, now streaming on Apple TV+, has already garnered critical praise for its storytelling, immersive landscapes, and exploration of Hawaiian history. But beyond the battles and breathtaking scenery, the series thrives on the themes of family, legacy, and power. Few characters embody that struggle more vividly than Prince Kupule, played by Brandon Finn.

When I spoke with Finn, his voice carried gratitude. For him, being the Chief of War isn’t just a job; it’s an opportunity for meditation on fathers, sons, and the heavy weight of expectation.

“There’s this intricate dynamic between Prince Kupule and his father, King Kahekili,” Finn told me. “Kupule has to respect his father’s vision of unifying the islands, but he also has his own ideas of what that should look like. And for him, it’s not as violent. That push and pull wanting approval while holding onto your own moral compass, that’s what drew me to him.”

Kupule is written as a man torn between reverence and rebellion. His father, King Kahekili (played with formidable presence by Temuera Morrison), envisions unification through bloodshed. Kupule, however, imagines a path that relies less on violence. Yet the show doesn’t flatten him into a peace-loving person; there are flashes of ruthlessness in the prince, particularly in the middle episodes, when the warrior in him bursts through.

Finn leaned into that complexity by channeling something deeply personal.

“I pulled from my own relationship with my father,” he admitted. “We can go on and on about fathers and sons, the power struggles there. It’s not just Kupule’s story; it’s something many people know in their bones. That sense of, ‘Yes, father,’ even when you don’t fully agree. That tear within him felt real to me.”

The tension between father and son isn’t just historical fiction. Kupule’s arc reflects a universal story: the son trying to honor tradition while carving his own destiny. Finn likens it to Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey and Carl Jung’s studies of archetypes.

“It’s almost like the prodigal son returns, except the path is more diabolical,” he said. “Kupule is just beginning his journey, and I hope audiences buckle up for what’s coming.”

Learning From Legends

One of the things that struck Finn most about the Chief of War was the atmosphere on set. Working alongside Momoa, Cliff Curtis, and Morrison could have been intimidating. Instead, he describes it as one of the safest and most collaborative environments of his career.

“Jason created a space where you could share your ideas and not feel small next to these mega-stars,” Finn said. “They treated me as an equal, a colleague. That meant the world.”

He watched Momoa with the attentiveness of a student studying a masterclass.

“Jason knows his body, his frame, how the camera reads every movement. Such physical awareness is rare. And he was generous enough to share that knowledge with me.”

The production also offered Finn something invaluable: time. Months on set gave him room to experiment, to refine, to grow. He spoke animatedly about learning how lenses shape performance, about discovering that sometimes the smallest gesture is all the camera needs.

“The audience is smarter than we give them credit for. You don’t always have to emote big. Sometimes it’s just a look, a shift in your eyes. Chief of War taught me that.”

Power, Mana, and Hawaii’s Forgotten History

Beyond the father-son drama, Chief of War places Hawaiian values of mana, a person’s spiritual power, at the center of its political struggles. Finn contrasted this with Western notions of power rooted in domination and property.

“In Hawaii, your mana belongs to you. That’s your spirit. Chiefs had power not because they enslaved people, but because of lineage and their own mana,” he explained. “So when Ka‘iana leaves and sees Western culture—enslaving humans, treating them as property—that’s a shock. That clash is key to the story.”

For Finn, Chief of War is bigger than a period drama. It feels like a restoration of culture, a way to remind people of Hawaii’s history beyond the beaches and tourism.

“Hawaii is so often seen just as a tourist spot, a place for Mai Tais and surfing,” he said. “But there’s a vast history people don’t recognize. What these chiefs did to unify the islands is monumental. And it matters that audiences see it.”

Kupule’s Legacy

Prince Kupule’s real-life history, as Finn reminded me, was marked by struggle and war, much of it born from his father’s reign. That legacy makes the character’s inner conflict all the more resonant: he’s not only trying to balance tradition and his own beliefs, but also navigating the heavy inheritance of violence.

Still, Finn sees Kupule’s journey as only beginning.

“There’s more to come,” he promised. “Audiences will see decisions that define him, that push him toward something bigger. I can’t wait for people to hold onto this ride.”

Why Chief of War Matters

For all its action, spectacle, and historical detail, Chief of War thrives because it centers stories like Kupule’s—stories of humanity within history. Finn’s portrayal adds nuance to a sweeping epic, reminding us that behind every war and kingdom are fathers and sons, caught between duty and desire.

And for Finn himself, the role became a personal education.

“It changed how I work,” he said. “It taught me to listen to the lens, to trust subtlety, and to embrace my instincts. That’s the gift this project gave me.”

If you want a period series that doesn’t just re-create history but makes you feel like you’re living in it, Chief of War is that show. The attention to detail, the set design, the native languages, the performances the actors bring turn it into a compelling drama. And in Prince Kupule, Brandon Finn gives us a son wrestling with legacy, respect, and his own path.