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Resurrecting Fear
A new breed of ghost
‘n’ gore horror films is packing them in at local movie theaters. But
a common complaint is that they don’t make horror flicks like they
used to. Rizal Iwan reports.
It’s no shocker that horror movies are the champions of local
cinema today. Ever since Jelangkung’s huge box office success
in 2001 resurrected Indonesia’s then moribund film fortunes, the
horror genre has become the designated money-machine to keep the
industry’s head well above water.
In September, two local horror films were released almost
simultaneously. By the end of October, no less than four local horror
films were in theaters, with several more waiting for release.
However, when you’re walking out of the theater trying to
shake off the lingering fright – either from real terror, or the
horror of poor production values, campy acting or a horridly written
screenplay (or lack of story altogether) – the complaints start
coming. The most frequently heard gripe is that today’s horror films
are nothing compared to their forerunners of the 1970s and ‘80s, and,
more often than not, the name of Indonesia’s legendary horror movie
queen Suzanna is uttered in the same breath.
Horror films cut a wide swathe through the Indonesian cinema
landscape 30 years ago. There were varied themes – from the very
traditional black magic, such as Guna-Guna Istri Muda (Second
Wife’s Sorcery, 1977) to the very much universal pack of terrifying
zombies, to be found in Pengabdi Setan (known as Satan’s
Slave in English-speaking markets, 1980) among others. Still,
there were common threads that distinguished them as truly Indonesian
creations, unlike today’s standard teens-in-trouble flicks.
First, a lot of films were about murdered women who come back
from the dead for vengeance, including Sundel Bolong (1981),
Beranak Dalam Kubur (Giving Birth in the Grave, 1971) and
Cincin Berdarah (The Bleeding Ring, 1973). Suzanna in particular,
along with several other actresses such as Ruth Pelupessy, Farida
Pasha and Conny Sutedja, achieved iconic status in such movies.
Second, the evil supernatural forces were always ultimately
vanquished by the power of religion. Cue the climactic scene of a
Muslim cleric banishing ghosts while muttering holy scriptures.
“I guess what makes the era’s horror films so appealing is
that they were so specific. Back then, filmmakers were not really
exposed to foreign influences. So their works were very unique and
atmospheric, as reflected in their camera work, angles, locations and
acting,” says filmmaker Joko Anwar, a horror movie aficionado who grew
up watching Indonesian shlock-horror movies.
“And there’s always a good story to it; it’s not only about a
bunch of teenagers getting spooked like in today’s horror flicks,”
adds Rusli Eddy, the director of SCREAMFEST INDO, the first ever
horror film festival in Indonesia, slated to be held in Jakarta on
November 28-December 2.
Rusli and Joko acknowledge that some of the movies borrowed
liberally from foreign films. Scenes in Ranjang Setan (Satan’s
Bed, 1986), Joko contends, appear to be variations on A
Nightmare on Elm Street. Pengabdi Setan, which both Joko
and Rusli hail as one of their all-time favorite local horror movies,
bears some resemblance to 1979’s Phantasm.
“But the stories are wrapped in a very Indonesian package,”
Rusli says. “It’s not necessarily original, but it’s relatable.”
Interestingly, despite their distinctive Indonesian qualities
or because of them, the films also have a cult following overseas.
Films like Pengabdi Setan, Golok Setan (The Devil’s
Sword, 1983), Mistik (Mystic in Bali, 1981) and the
controversial Pembalasan Ratu Laut Selatan (a.k.a. Lady
Terminator, 1988) are reportedly among the best-selling titles in
the collection of Mundo Macabro, a UK-based film distributor which
imports lesser-known horror films from around the world.
“Production-wise, [the old films] were really creative.
Despite the limitations in make-up and special effects, they managed
to come up with something that can’t be found in other films,” muses
Joko.
That uniqueness has been lost in the post-Jelangkung
era due to new realities. The face of the filmgoer has changed as
older consumers prefer to stay home and watch TV, and there is a
dwindling number of theaters in rural areas.
The target audience has become the niche but still large
segment of hip, urban youngsters.
The setting of mist-shrouded village fields has moved to
modern city scapes, such as an office building in Lantai 13, an
apartment in Pocong 2 or even a discotheque in its sequel,
Pocong 3. The characters are mostly groups of teenagers thrown
into harm’s way (Tusuk Jelangkung, Malam Jumat Kliwon,
Lawang Sewu).
Religion no longer serves as salvation, but urban legends
have become an enticing theme (Hantu Jeruk Purut, Terowongan
Casablanca, Rumah Pondok Indah). The scare tactics often rely on
stylized editing; the filmmakers seem to spend all their time trying
to make the films look good with overdramatic lighting and camera
techniques, rather than creating some genuinely spooky moments.
Some of the films are shameless rip-offs of
Hollywood or Asian
horror hits. “A lot of today’s horror films are trying to be Scream,
Final Destination or some other slick Hollywood horror film,”
observes Joko.
For Rusli, there is a fundamental problem with the new
movies: they don’t scare audiences.
“They’ve become too Americanized and far-fetched. And most
of the time they don’t scare us at all, because they are not the
ghosts that we know.
“That’s why I quite like the [recently released] Legenda
Sundel Bolong, because the film returns to the traditional roots.”
Joko faults the overriding profit-orientation behind the
making of the movies.
“In Indonesia nowadays, everybody is making horror films
because it’s about business,” says the director of 2007’s suspense
thriller Kala. “So a director can easily switch from drama to
horror in a snap, perhaps due to a producer’s demands.
“It’s important to have filmmakers that have a genuine
passion for horror movies, so they’ll know which schemes can still be
used, and which are worn out already.”
Probably the biggest problem with contemporary Indonesian
horror films lies in the story department. For most filmmakers the
storyline is an after-thought.
This lack of attention is especially obvious when it comes to
exploring urban legends. Filmmakers simply borrow the evocative
setting – a haunted deserted home in an elite suburb or strange
goings-on at a downtown underpass, for example – for a commercially
attractive title, and then concoct a story that has nothing to do with
the urban legend at all.
“A horror film is still a film, and a film is built on a
story,” says Joko. “You can put in as many scares as you want, but it
still won’t scare you if you can’t relate to the characters. You won’t
care whether the characters are going to be killed by the ghosts or
not.
“A character in a horror movie is a character that represents
our fear. When we don’t believe or don’t like the character, then
what’s the point?”
This perennial flaw could reinforce the perception that the
genre, especially in Indonesia, is not a serious branch of film. It’s
a perception that Rusli would like to change with his festival
showcasing quality horror movies.
“We want to show that it still takes effort, passion and
talent to make horror films. It takes the same skills and crafting
that it takes to make an Academy Award-winning picture.”
Hopefully it will be the inspiration needed by Indonesian
filmmakers to try something new, especially amid the glut of horror
film releases. When all the traditional ghosts have been laid to rest,
the urban legends bled dry and sequels done to death, what will be the
future of Indonesian horror movies?
“I would love to see our horror industry venture into the
area of psychological thrillers, not necessarily supernatural, but
more about evil in the works,” says Rusli.
Joko, on the other hand, is a bit cryptic about the films’
future.
“Filmmakers will be forced to be creative and come up with
something new. No one can really tell where the genre is going, but
it’s heading to a very interesting place.”
Perhaps then our long-dormant celluloid fears will rise
again.
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