Indonesian films show signs of hope

By Yenni Kwok

JAKARTA (JP): Since March 30 was declared National Film Day in 1992, the day has been observed more as a day of mourning rather than a jubilant celebration. And people do have reason to mourn: The number of movies produced are few, and most of them are steamy, semi-pornographic movies.

"It would have been all right if those 'porn' movies had been good," said actress-director Jajang C. Noer. "But, they are porn and bad!"

However, there is a little hope. The industry is witnessing a revival of new talents, and some promising pieces are on the way to your nearest theater. The soonest will be Fatahillah, the release of which is to coincide with Jakarta's anniversary in June.

Director Teguh Karya likens the Indonesian revival with Italian "New Wave" or French "Avant-Garde." However, don't expect the revival to come soon or in a big way.

"Because the infrastructure is already destroyed, the industry will need time to revive," said Garin Nugroho, a 35-year-old filmmaker whose three feature films have won several international awards.

For years, Garin has seemed to be the country's only promising young director, but some new talents are trying to push their way forward.

Four young filmmakers -- Mira Lesmana, Riri Riza, Nan Achnas and Rizal Mantovani -- are directing and producing an independent movie, called Kuldesak. The four independent stories that make up the film have a common topic: young people's desperation in life as though they were stuck on a dead-end street.

Their pessimism is also shared by the older generation. Teguh's Layar Yang Terkoyak (The Torn Screen), due to start shooting later this year, tells of an old actress who yearns to play in films. Her dream is to star with her idol, Christine Hakim. However, she has no hope as the industry usually welcomes young, beautiful women, not aging ones.

Television

If the old actress was real, she should perhaps aim for the glass tube to make her dream come true. After all, Christine Hakim is the leading actress in the miniseries Bukan Perempuan Biasa (Not an Ordinary Woman), directed by Jajang.

Indeed, many big-screen directors and actors have entered television production while the conventional film industry declines -- a move that has been judged as an easy way out. Film people, on the other hand, reject the notion.

Jajang said that making films for the big screen or television has the same concept. Her late husband, famous director Arifin C. Noer, refused to call a television production "electronic cinema". Instead, he preferred to call them "television plays" to show that TV too can be a state of art.

Garin, who is finishing the television miniseries Angin Rumput Savana (The Wind in the Savanna), said that people should extend the meaning of "film" in this age. A film can be a big-screen movie, a television film, a video release or a laser disc movie.

A television piece can reach a wider audience than a big- screen production. Garin's documentary Anak Seribu Pulau (Children of A Thousand Islands) was broadcasted by the country's five television stations to the 27 provinces.

In contrast, his two most recent feature films, Surat Untuk Bidadari (Letter to Angel) and Bulan Tertusuk Ilalang (... And the Moon Dances), were screened in university auditoriums but not in regular theaters.

Indeed, the sidestream cinemas like Garin's, as opposed to mainstream ones, are still struggling to reach audiences.

Realizing that, the directors of Kuldesak have started to lobby film distributors to market their piece.

Crazy

Very few movies can enjoy the support from the government like Fatahillah, directed by Chaerul Umam and Imam Tantowi. Its total cost was Rp 3 billion, mainly funded by the Jakarta administration and Alliance of Movie-Theater Companies in Indonesia (Gabungan Perusahaan Bioskop Seluruh Indonesia).

Other filmmakers, however, have to struggle to find private backers. "There are not many crazy people who want to finance a film production," said Riri, one of Kuldesak directors. Even Teguh is crossing his fingers that his backer will not suddenly pull out from the production of Layar Yang Terkoyak.

Johan Tjasmadi, chairperson of the Film Control Agency (Badan Pertimbangan Perfilman Nasional), said the Indonesian film industry should not expect any governmental funding. With income per capita less than US$1,000 per year, the Indonesian government could not justify subsidizing the industry.

There is also a call for greater room for creative freedom. Garin said, "We cannot show that a judge can be a thief. Without any creative democracy, films will only have entertainment value. There is no art in it."

Teguh, however, disagrees that there is lack of freedom. He said filmmakers have made critical comments, but not blatantly. In his November 1828, for example, a father said that a sultanate with many thieves won't have a good name; and, if Java Island is full of thieves, it should sink to the sea.

Celebration

March 30 was chosen as National Film Day because on that day in 1950, Usmar Ismail began to shoot Darah dan Doa (Long March).

This year's National Film Day celebration will be modest, said Johan, who is on the organizing committee. Some recognition awards will be given, and a talk will be held.

Many people in the industry, however, feel left out of the celebration. "The invited guests are usually public officials and current popular stars. They hardly invite film crews," said Jajang, who has not been invited to this year's celebration.

Riri criticizes the past National Film Day celebrations which screened old films, such as Tjut Njak Dien. "Why don't they launch new talents, introduce one or two new directors?" asked the 27-year-old filmmaker.

He added that Indonesia never runs out of new talent. "Film students from Jakarta's Institute of Arts have to make short films in order to graduate. Many of them are good, and some even obtain awards from international festivals."