No escape from Hollywood for local moviegoers
No escape from Hollywood for local moviegoers
By Bruce Emond
JAKARTA (JP): Any discussion of the "local film scene" is a
nebulous contradiction in terms, considering that the Indonesian
movie industry has been on its last legs for most of this decade.
There were brief signs of life this year as the much-touted
Fatahillah, a biopic about the Islamic founder of Jakarta, gained
a spot in the city's plush movie theaters.
But all the gushing statements about Fatahillah heralding a
revival in Indonesian big screen fortunes proved to hold as much
water as the plots of locally produced television miniseries, the
majority of which have defied all rational and feasibility
quotients to gain loyal viewer followings.
Unrestrained melodrama, wooden acting to rival Ali MacGraw on
her worst (best?) days and outlandish plots bearing no relation
to reality -- the very failings cited by director Teguh Karya
five years ago as contributing to the film industry's doldrums --
have made an overwhelmingly successful transition, thank you very
much, to the small screen.
No surprises, then, that schmaltz and glitz dispatched by
Tinseltown continued to play for the masses in movie theaters.
What Hollywood producers believe will play in Peoria --
formulaic sex and violence templates for box office success, or
Demi striving once again to perfect her craft and show that an
actress of substance is lurking beneath all that jiggling
silicone -- are also assumed to pack them in at movie houses in
Padang, Pekalongan or Palu.
Which is probably true. Unfortunately, this blinkered pursuit
of the bottom line narrows the definition of what is acceptable,
or deemed as such by the powers that be, for local audiences.
The sweeping, grandiose love story of The English Patient is
given the nod of assent, but the more intimate, poignant tale of
Secrets and Lies, which falls into that exclusionary category of
"women's" picture, won't get bums in seats, to put it crudely,
and didn't get the go-ahead for the trip.
Romeo and Juliet, taking Will's little tale and bringing it up
to date -- sun-drenched California, Romeo popping an E or two to
get him in the party spirit, a drag queen Mercurio teetering on
his high heels -- also played locally, no doubt on the strength
of pretty boy Leonard Di Caprio's teen appeal.
Yes, they kept the old language, but that's where Cliff Notes
come in.
Teen
The teen market, of course, is not to be underestimated, or
wasn't until the rupiah crisis cut into their families' largesse.
What else would account for the popularity of Tom Hanks' That
Thing You Do, with luscious-lipped Liv Tyler mouthing off in the
lightweight but feel-good pic about a teen band on the make.
That emotional minefield named Madonna landed her dream part
and, surprisingly to many, turned out a convincing, finely tuned
performance in Evita.
Cynics may have cruelly sniped that it was no stretch for our
very own material girl to play the manipulative Argentine leader
who used sex to get ahead, but then, what would they know?
But even Madonna's acting and the stunning Andrew
Lloyd-Webber-Tim Rice soundtrack didn't convince all viewers,
including the perplexed man sitting behind me at Senayan Plaza
muttering "'kok nyanyi 'aja?" ("Why is there just singing?").
He could have spent his time trying to do some Lourdes-
spotting as a pregnant Madonna tried to disguise her growing
midriff behind strategically draped furs, bouquets and, that old
standby, lounging behind a piano.
Divine Demi went through her acting machinations not once, but
twice this year.
The woman who knew the meaning of girl power before the Spice
Girls had donned their first bustiers stood firm and proud as she
trod her way through her choice of film roles.
See Demi rough it in a trailer park, juggle child-rearing
responsibilities (her very own daughter, Rumor) and maintain her
personal integrity while showing off her amazingly buffed body --
"she can look like that on a diet of Cheetos and diet coke" a
companion exclaimed -- in a sleazy Florida strip joint
(Stripper).
Then she did her own stint in the army as GI Jane, which
included spouting off expletives, shaving her gorgeous locks
right there for viewer consumption and, once again, revealing
just how toned a 36-year-old woman with four children can look if
she gets paid US$12 million a picture.
She didn't belt out her rendition of I am Woman, but you half
expected her to.
Apart from Bound, a S and M foray into lesbian sex notable
mainly for the frank treatment by Gina Gershon and Jennifer
Tilly, another women-centered movie was the popular First Wives
Club.
Granted, a trio of middle-aged women exacting revenge on
deadbeat husbands may not conform to feminist treatises on real
gains in equality. Likewise, Diane Keaton going through the same
old routine of lah-dee-dah airhead dating back to Annie Hall is
an acquired taste.
But sleek, witty Goldie Hawn was right on as the falling star
trying to hang onto fading youth under the surgeon's knife and
the preservative qualities of alcohol.
Creatures
Creature features -- in which strange life forms threaten to
lay waste to the earth -- got their contemporary take in Men in
Black, with Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones battling marauding
aliens wanting a piece of the American pie. Hats off to the
special effects team, Jones' understated performance and a
thankless but witty turn by Linda Fiorentino as the film's token
female interest.
At the end of the year, the nature-strikes-back schlock plot
device was utilized once again in Mimic. Ants, bees, sharks, rats
and nearly every other member of the animal kingdom have been
done to death, but cockroaches? Not your garden variety roach,
mind you, but ones which assume anthromorphic qualities in
outwitting their squeamish human foes.
The film also pointed to the lack of screen presence of Mira
Sorvino.
In contrast to a film heavyweight like Hawn, Sorvino looks
like she should be leading a glee club meeting. She may have won
an Academy Award for Mighty Aphrodite but she suffers the same
problem as Marisa Tomei, unable to single-handedly carry a film
without the additional muscle of big name stars.
Other big budget, big name Hollywood imports at the end of the
year included The Game, with Michael Douglas in an all style,
little substance diversion; Bruce Willis in The Jackal, which
lacked the teeth of its inspiration, The Day of the Jackal, from
25 years ago; and The Peacemaker, in which George Clooney teamed
with Nicole Kidman to fight terrorists and prove once and for all
that he is in the major acting leagues.
For those wanting something off celluloid's beaten track, the
only options were intermittent film festivals (ones from the
Middle East early in the year and France this month were
particularly noteworthy), or investment in a laser disc player.
Otherwise, it was Hobson's, or rather Hollywood's, choice on
local movie screens.