Garin's new film portrays life of Yogyakarta's street children
Garin's new film portrays life of Yogyakarta's street children
By Rayya Makarim
JAKARTA (JP): When one combines high-tech post production
facilities, Dolby sound, a multiple-award-winning actress, and
one of Indonesia's leading directors, one would expect a movie of
outstanding caliber.
However, Garin Nugroho's Daun di atas Bantal (Leaf on a
Pillow), starring the renowned Christine Hakim who is also the
producer, may leave those who enjoy a storyline dangling.
From his other works, such as Bulan Tertusuk Ilalang (And the
Moon Dances) and Surat untuk Bidadari (Letter to an Angel),
Nugroho is clearly a master of composition. His films have been
critically acclaimed at home and have earned numerous awards at
film festivals in Asia and Europe.
It is evident that Nugroho has an eye for beauty. The camera
moves with ease, establishing visually stunning shots that are
rich in color and texture.
A scene where two street boys are play fighting next to a
moving train is a personal favorite; it is fluid and nostalgic.
Another, is one where Asih (Christine) eats a handful of red
chilli peppers and spits on her husband.
Daun di atas Bantal brings to the screen the daily life of
three kids struggling to survive on the streets of Yogyakarta. It
is a loose collection of incidents that concentrate on Kancil,
Sugeng, and Heru who group around Asih who represents a mother
figure to the homeless children. There is a wealth of material in
this film with a number of potentially great stories to tell.
One can easily imagine a story about Heru who is lured into an
insurance scam at the expense of kids with no clear identity. Or
a story about the seemingly tragic boy who sings at doorways
carrying a pillow in his hands. One could also imagine a film
about how Asih deals with these children on a personal level, or
the infatuation of Sugeng with the keroncong singer (Sarah
Azhari), or about Denny who fancies a reluctant Asih, or the
interesting chemistry between Kancil and a schoolgirl.
All the above is touched upon in Nugroho's film -- but none of
it developed.
Nugroho has previously dealt with the day-to-day lives of
street children in his documentary Dongeng Kancil tentang
Kemerdekaan (Kancil's story about Independence). It is an odd
choice to tackle the subject again in his latest feature film.
According to Peter Willard from Atlab, the Australian company
that provided the production and post production facilities, the
director of photography, Nurhidayat, chose to give the film a
dramatic documentary look by using certain lenses and a
definitive lighting style to capture a specific mood.
However, Daun di atas Bantal completely misses the atmosphere
that was so well portrayed in the documentary. The mood is a
little too cheery and the camera work less luminous, creating a
kind of theatrical effect of what was meant to represent reality.
Nugroho's choice not to focus on any particular story makes
this film difficult to digest. The intended illusion of chaos,
the deliberate inconsistency in language, the buildings that are
set on top of each other, and the free-form approach to the
script produces a beautiful postcard with characters that are
simply superimposed on the screen.
The audience is left bewildered, wanting to know more about
the kids, but ending up with no real connection to them.
The dialog is sparse, though some lines are incredibly natural
and funny. In one scene a young street boy asks innocently "Miss!
Miss! Why are your breasts so big?".
In another scene Sugeng is learning how to read in front of a
hotel owned by an Arab. As he mutters to himself "A- for Asih ...
A- for Aziatik (the name of the hotel)," the owner gets annoyed
and starts berating Sugeng who eventually runs off shouting "A-
for crazy Arab!"
Even with lines like these and the incredible acting of
Christine Hakim, nothing can cover up a film with a weak, or
rather unclear, story line.
Indonesia's film industry has been dormant for the last few
years, and the economic crisis is not making things easier. Even
then, directors like Garin Nugroho, who is undeniably the leading
man in Indonesian cinema at present, are striving to be part of
the slow but steady awakening.
Studio 21 theaters, which are flooded with Hollywood movies,
are starting to show a string of Indonesian films that include
Kuldesak, jointly directed by Mira Lesmana, Nan T. Achnas, Rizal
Mantovani and Riri Riza; and Slamet Rahardjo's Telegram.
Although Nugroho is still vain in his moviemaking, shooting
anything that catches his eye regardless of whether it is related
to a/the story or not, he has shown vast improvements in
technique and style. And to be fair, Daun di atas Bantal is by
far his best feature film.
Yet, writers tend to keep scenes and bits of dialog or pieces
of characters that they most cherish for reasons other than their
part in the story. William Faulkner once said, "In writing, you
must kill all your darlings." The same holds for moviemakers.
The writer is the movie curator at Teater Utan Kayu, East
Jakarta.