Featured Articles

Blog Actions

Get a short URL

This is my reflection on watching the films as a jury member for the NETPAC Award at the recently concluded 19th Jogja-NETPAC Asian Film Festival. I'm particularly interested in how contemporary Asians view themselves on screen. Eighteen years ago, I noted a trend in Asian films I watched at international festivals: a pervasive gloominess, portraying powerless characters trapped in their circumstances. I wondered if Western programmers, who often selected these films, enjoyed seeing Asia this way—as exotic, othered, and vulnerable. However, there's been a significant shift. More Asian films are now co-produced within the region, leading to more diverse and nuanced self-representations.

The first film I watched in the main competition program at JAFF was Breaking the Cycle (Aekaphong Saransate & Thanakrit Duangmaneeporn, 2024), a Thai documentary about Thanatorn Juangroongruangkit, a young tycoon who tried to win the 2019 election with his new party, hoping to overthrow the military regime. He failed at the election, but Thanatorn succeeded in making millions of Thais politically aware and realizing that they have the right to voice their opinions and choose parties that are more pro-people than pro-power. Breaking the Cycle made me interested in underlining the word 'cycle' when watching the other films at JAFF. And interestingly, this year's JAFF opened with a silent film by Garin Nugroho titled Samsara (meaning 'wandering' or 'world' in denotative terms, but signifying the cycle of life, death, and rebirth in Hindu and Buddhist beliefs). Everything in life is related to cycles of time: birth-life-death, beginning-middle-end, but what really intrigues me is the extent to which we can shape our destinies within these cycles. Does acceptance and sincerity, the understanding that life is a series of highs and lows, empower us? Or does it inadvertently perpetuate a sense of passivity, making us submissive to the West's relentless pursuit of progress and innovation?

Most of the films I watched showed characters trying to break free from feeling powerless. May in Tale of the Land (Loeloe Hendra, 2024), for example, is a young woman who's traumatized by her parents’ death caused by a land conflict. She's adrift at sea with her grandfather. It's only after her grandfather passed away that she can go back to land. In Yukiko a.k.a (Naoya Kusaba, 2024)., we meet a young teacher named Yukiko in Tokyo who's secretly into rap. She's been dealing with self-doubt her whole life. Besides trying to be more honest with herself and others, Yukiko also has to help her student who's being bullied. In the end, both the teacher and the student overcome their insecurities by expressing themselves through music.

Crocodile Tears (Tumpal Tampubolon, 2024) is a gripping film about Johan, a young man stuck living in a crocodile farm with his overbearing mom who thinks a white croc is her dead husband reincarnated. After a ‘bloody’ struggle, Johan finally breaks free, although in the end it seems like he can't fully leave his past behind. While the three films mentioned above conclude with a glimmer of hope, showcasing the protagonists breaking free from their constraints, most other films depict how circumstances continually obstruct the characters' attempts to seek a better life.

Both Việt and Nam (Trương Minh Quý, 2024) and In the Belly of a Tiger (Jatla Siddartha, 2024) depict the arduous struggle to escape poverty and powerlessness (Vietnam grappling with post-war trauma, India with its caste system and overpopulation). Both films intertwine tales of love and the complexities of family relationships, particularly the impact of parental absence on children (a theme also explored in Crocodile Tears). While the latter two films, in my opinion, are a bit overdramatized, Ma – Cry of Silence (The Maw Naing, 2024), the winner of the Netpac Award at JAFF 19, offers a more realistic portrayal and emphasizes the resilience of its characters. Ma tells the story of female factory workers in Yangon who face injustice at the hands of their superiors and the factory owner. These workers, many of whom support their families in the village, decide to protest and go on strike to demand two months of unpaid wages. Their fate is tragic, and the cycle of oppression for the sake of profit continues.

Every film has its own tone and voice, and almost all the films in the main competition program I watched had a somber tone, some with a louder voice. Ironically (or perhaps not so ironically), there was one film about an interracial couple that was made in a comical and witty tone, but for me, it was the most dragging and uninteresting to watch. Does the weight of the world inevitably lead to a sense of gloom? Asia is facing genocide, and the world is increasingly leaning towards money and power. This is what makes the role of film even more important to continue giving voice to the marginalized, because besides being entertainment, I believe film has the power to break the cycle of broken systems and unjust power.

 
Written by Ariani Darmawan

Ariani Darmawan is an artist working across video, film, and writing. Her work spans short films, documentaries, installations, and multimedia theater. She also founded Kineruku bookstore and library in Bandung in 2003. After studying architectural engineering and fine arts, she blends architectural logic with artistic emotion in her storytelling through moving images. Her early work explored power and identity, exemplified by Dragons Beget Dragons (2006), a documentary on Chinese- Batavian culture in gambang kromong music. Her short film Sugiharti Halim (2008) won awards and international recognition. After an 11-year hiatus, she returned to filmmaking with A Sip and A Bite (2022) and is currently preparing her first feature film.