“I ripped him open and his intestines spilled out.”
Gruesome statements such as this are
frightfully common in Joshua Oppenheimer's collective documentaries, 2013's The Act of
Killing and this year's
follow-up, The Look of Silence.
Unlike the recent trend of reality shows posing as documentaries, such as The Wolfpack,
Oppenheimer's films explore the absolute pits of human depravity to such a
degree there's no doubt of their authenticity. While his prior film took an
unconventionally theatrical approach to confront the genocidal killers during
the Indonesian Communist purge of the 1960s, The
Look of Silence is a more
straight-forward examination. And while it's no less effective than before,
Oppeneheimer doesn't seem to be adding anything new to the discussion that
makes dredging up these horrible memories worth it.
Focusing his attentions on the victims
rather than the heartless killers this time, Oppenheimer follows 44-year-old
Adi, who was born a couple of years after the massacres took place. Some say
more than a million "Communists", because that's a blanket term
thrown around for anybody the government doesn't like, were slaughtered during
the state-sanctioned killings. One of those killed was Adi's brother, Ramli,
one of many torn apart and dumped in the Snake River. Like many, Adi has lived
in the shadow of these tragic events, but on a more personal note he's lived in
the shadow of his dead brother. His mother and father, both sickly, feeble, and
over the age of 100, saw Adi as a literal replacement for their dead son.
Inspired by Oppenheimer's collected
footage of the commando death squad leaders gleefully chatting about the
murders, Adi decides to take it upon himself to interview those responsible for
his brother's death. What he learns, and manages to stay calm through, is
extraordinarily grim and gut-wrenching. In a sense, The Look of Silence is the sorrowful ripple effect from
the splash made by The Act of
Killing. Adi's journey puts him face-to-face with a ghastly assortment of
perpetrators using any means necessary to deny responsibility for the crimes.
In one scene, a man smiles while recounting that nobody would buy fish anymore
because the rivers were so full of dead bodies. In another, a killer talks
about how he drank the blood of his victims so that he wouldn't become crazy.
He says this right next to his stunned daughter, who claims to know nothing of
her father's violent past. Yet another scene has a killer demonstrate on his
wife how he used to slaughter women.
What's even more shocking than the
disgusting tales these evildoers spin is the bravery of Oppenheimer and Adi to
confront them. As the film notes early on, the perpetrators are still very much
in power, and have taken on a mythic status throughout the country. They're
seen as heroes by many, and most have built their wealth solely on the heinous
acts they committed. And these men, old-aged though they may be, take on the
ferocity of a caged animal when challenged on their assertions that the country
has "healed" or that the victims deserved it. Try as he might to
soft-pedal his questions, Adi is repeatedly warned to "be careful",
asked point blank by one subject, “Do you mean to continue with this
Communist activity?” To continue on would almost certainly mean his death,
which makes Adi even more of a hero for daring to challenge the corruptible
system as he does. His quest for answers is remarkable; you'll be unable to
turn your eyes away from it. But at the same time it makes other aspects of the
film seem superfluous, such as the unnecessary scenes of Adi's ailing,
mentally-frail father's struggles. Sure, they add a bit of context to Adi's
home life, but more effective are the conversations with his mother, who is
also shouldering the terrible burden left by Ramli's murder. The connection
between her and Adi is forged through sadness but also defiance, and it grows
into the film's driving force throughout.
What Oppenheimer fails to provide is
further reason to dig into these atrocities. That question actually comes up
during the film more than once, unfortunately by the same people who committed
the killings, but it's still a valid question. The Act of Killing was an enraged exercise in taking the
entire Indonesian government to task, but The
Look of Silence, poignant and devastating though it may be, is reflected by
the passivity of its protagonist. As Adi stares blankly while the killers of
his brother pass off responsibility for their actions, we desperately want him
to show some anger. Some fire; some passion. Anything to make the horrible
feeling in our guts that these movies cause worth the experience.
Rating: 3.5 out of 5
