Fun, fearless female films at JIFFest

By Dini Djalal

JAKARTA (JP): All you need is love, right? Not according to two thought-provoking films screened at this week's Jakarta Film Festival, The Personal and The Last Malay Woman.

The films try to refute tired cliches in answering the age-old quandary: what do men and women want from each other?

Unfortunately, one cliche is at times replaced by another. The vastly different conclusions the films make of gender relations show that despite decades of feminist thought Girl power is still playing catch-up with the status quo. Many Asian eyebrows are still raised when confronted with a "fun, fearless female" (the films' theme, borrowed from the motto of Cosmopolitan Magazine). And when film-makers are among the disapproving critics, the modern woman's reputation risks taking a beating.

The deciding factor is not necessarily the person's gender. Chen Kuo Fu, for example, the director of The Personals, did not set out to tell a feminist tale. His mission was to narrate a story about ordinary Taiwanese, to put "the faces and voices of the Taiwanese people on the screen". Yet Chen's portrayal of a heart-broken single woman searching for Mr. Right is an astute and sympathetic exploration of women's strengths.

The Personals opens with a pair of eyes staring into space, contemplating the room as our heroine, Dr. Du (Rene Liu), looks at her patient. How the good doctor scrutinizes other people, while others scrutinize their lives, becomes the film's main theme.

Du does so by putting a personals ad in the newspaper, and quitting her job in order to devote all her time to finding a soul mate. In the restaurant where she met her departed lover, she interrogates her would-be partners.

These encounters comprise the bulk of this talk-heavy film. But don't be discouraged by the monologs; director Chen skillfully weaves the stories into one innovative whole. Each segment is accompanied by mood-setting music, and filmed with such creative care that one forgets the set doesn't change.

Chen occasionally leaves the audience to play director. Du's responses to her dates' rattling are often unseen; the absence heightens your own reaction as you become Du. The trick entangles viewers deeper into the plot line.

Sometimes the camera trains only on Du, and viewers become the person Du is interviewing. Even at her sharpest, audiences can only sympathize with Du, her newly shorn pixie hair intensifying her bright sincere eyes. The camera loves her, and so will you.

As the story unfolds and Du becomes more impatient with her men, the camera follows her distraction. Occasionally the object of her curiosity is placed in the corner, as if marginalized. Other times, the camera seems to be just there, leaving audiences feeling like voyeurs at the next table -- like Du.

Brilliant editing, synchronized with the soundtrack, makes The Personals an even more enjoyable treat. But the film's true worth is its probing intelligence, offset by a disarming wit. And when Du makes some unexpected decisions, abandoning her original expectations, that lump at the back of your throat will make way for a grin -- our heroine smiles at all the male chauvinism thrown at her and gracefully walks away.

The heroine in The Last Malay Woman, however, takes the chauvinist home with her. The conclusion is all the more surprising because the movie, having its international premiere in Jakarta, was made by a woman.

In many ways, this film about cultural conflict applies to Indonesia, undergoing a national identity crisis of its own -- many Indonesians will likely share the characters' same sense of displacement.

The story is like an Asian Shakespeare in Love: Western- educated Johan is a playwright searching for belonging and inspiration -- ironically finding both in the arms of a woman steeped in conservative Muslim values.

Yet unlike Shakespeare's Lady Viola, who strides out confidently into the new world, our Malaysian heroine Mustika opts for the confines of the old world. Mustika's decision affirm the film's incredulous thesis: are there still women who are pure and loyal in this world?

Yes, says director Erma Fatima, surely progressive judging by her curriculum vitae. Her answer likely leaves most women -- at least this reviewer -- cowering in inadequacy.

Johan has recently returned from England, where his British wife died. Back home, he begins a career staging plays few Malaysians understand. They are too Western, his friends complain, so Johan sets out to write a "Malay" play. His research takes him to the shores of Trengganu, where he meets the beautiful Mustika. Johan soon falls in love for this epitome of Malay womanhood -- whatever that is. But predictably, Mustika is already engaged, and to the resident firebrand fundamentalist too, leaving the audience for scenes of serious swashbuckling.

Unfortunately, the dueling episodes take place toward the end, by which time the languorous mood the film attempts to imbue is deeply ingrained. This is a slow film; character development involves long conventional sequences -- Mustika, for example, first appears on-screen in billowing silk, and slender limbs strolling to a languid guitar melody. When we see her again, she is doing a traditional dance.