Author Archives: nauvalyazid

“At the end, you can only think of the beginning.“

Such a simple line uttered by John Smith (Brad Pitt) to her wife, Jane Smith (Angelina Jolie) in one of the car-chase scenes in Mr. & Mrs. Smith, which is plainly uttered in a regular manner as what Pitt usually does, turns out to be some slipped subtlety we might wonder here.

Is this really the end of Hollywood glamorous era?

Never before in recent releases a film is capitalized on the glitz presence of its leading actors who are portrayed as what and how their images are projected off-screen.
Never before in recent releases that a film charms its audience for the sake of the actors who do not act to be on their own easily.
The latter point might bring the fact that, as hesitant as it might be, never before in recent releases that a film is perfectly cast.

Yet, if we look back at the old Hollywood days when scriptswriters are masters and directors are kings in putting their signatural marks on witty and smart scripts, this kind of practice had been done in the early years of the century.
People flocked to see Cary Grant doing the best impersonation of himself, to be seduced by Marilyn Monroe in whatever film she was in, and this topic will not complete without mentioning the legendary pairings of Katharine Hepburn-Spencer Tracy and Lauren Bacall-Humphrey Bogart. A consummate thespian on their own, when they were paired, audience saw the chemistry between each couple as the result of what their projected images off-screen were: Hepburn, a strong willed lady to be charmed by Tracy’s gentleness and patience, and Bacall as a debonaire, mysterious lady to be melt by Bogart’s rough-yet-tender sensitive old guy.

It might be way early to place Pitt and Jolie alongside the legends, but judging from their banterings and unspeakable ease of performing to and for each other, we can’t help but smiling all through the entire duration of 110 minutes without even at once bothering about illogical plots. This is a well packaged summer blockbuster film: explosive action, gorgeous cast that even looks larger-than-life thanks to nicely done shot that seem to make both of them being ripped off from any glossy fashion magazine, and the wits spoken convincingly as if we really see Pitt and Jolie have been performing together for a number of times.

To think that the whole film relies on its own star presence is surely a reminiscence of the good glorious old Hollywood days, which leads us thinking how star powers these days are being set aside, making a way for mindless CGI effects. The film might not be the best for its own genre, but to keep the treatment from dying completely, it is sure an applaudable effort.

If you think the reason why I made this posting is related to the revelation on the mysterious identity of Watergate-whistle-blower, then I’m afraid to say that you get it wrong this time. Check the history book again, and you’ll find out how Mr. Felt got his infamous nickname.

As infamous as the source itself, which brought the porn film scene to be recognized as a new promising industry.

Our parents or our elder relatives might not be able to recall Deep Throat when it was released back in 1972, but at least they came across the phenomenon of how sex became something that lured people to go to the movies.
Mainstream film industry reached its ultimate exposure towards sexual permissiveness, when what had been considered as taboo topic suddenly being shown on the big screens where people could just drop by at any given time to spend a good two-hour journey exploring their sexual voyeurism. And to sit in darkness has never been that good.

More than three decades later, when sex had become scarce in films these days, Fenton Bailey and Randy Barbato brought back this sexual journey of porn industry in its heyday of 1970s in one of the most polite documentaries on sex ever, Inside Deep Throat. I guess I have to mention the word ‘polite’, considering that the initial film was X-rated and the documentary in discussion here managed to get an R-rating.
You go figure out yourself what has been missing.

Even then, the documentary serves like a comprehensive study of how porn industry arose in Hollywood in the 70s, and played a part in cultural revolution that defined 70s as sexual awakening era in the US. Porn has never been looked this noble and respected, I may say, thanks to the crips understanding of Bailey and Barbato who often depicted 1970s cultural hype in their previous works like the harrowing The Eyes of Tammy Faye.

Surely a 90-minute duration will not quench the thirst to even get a deeper peek towards porn industry, yet the film has done more than enough to make us noticed to not neglect the existence of this love-it-or-loathe-it alternative entertainment. Some scenes might be overwhelming if you are not used to watch porn flicks (oh c’mon, internet is just right on your side!), yet there are times when you just scratch in your heads, amused by the comments from the makers of this film.

Well, truth is always stranger than fiction, if you wish to settle for fictionalized story on porn industry, go rent Boogie Nights.

But then, no other fictional feature films can match to become the most profitable film of all time, like Deep Throat.

Joko Anwar knows a thing or two about films, and for sure, he’s having a good time in it.

Why? Because to him, a film has to please himself, which eventually will lead to pleasing the audience.

Indeed, the joy was infectious in his directorial debut here, a film that enhances his liking and expertise about the film study itself. Yet, the premise seems fresh, for the film differs itself from any other film-about-film in terms of the angle it chooses to base the story on. This time, Joko cleverly avoids the usual overused story of film-making process and its chaotic madness surrounding it. Instead, Joko dares to narrate his film from one side we often overlook in our cinema-going experience: a film roll carrier.

We may cheer for the refreshing take on how rare the blue collar story being brought up to be the center of attention in a world often associated with glitz and glamour, yet the question that prevails is whether the presence of the film roll carrier has its own distinction to make this film different from any other films.

There can be no definite answer for the query as we follow the film and immediately be charmed by some strong premise of eye catching opening scenes and a few comical early scenes. The story then follows the adventure of Joni (played by the surprisingly beefy Nicholas Saputra), who works as the film roll carrier and on one eventful day, his bag containing the film roll is stolen. Strange and illogical as it may seem, this is the playful time of Joko in disobeying the rule of chronological order of time, instead filling the screen with larger-than-life experiences of Joni in meeting up with some distinguishable characters who often pose threats to steal the spotlight from the main character, Joni, himself.

But really, who cares?

Nicholas, who seems to be at ease playing the title role here, looks enjoying a good time to be surrounded by great number of more talented cast. If those actors have to be reduced to be having mediocre presence, then this has got to be something worth sacrificing in order to keep up the light atmosphere of the film. Particularly Rachel Maryam, one of the better actors in Indonesian film scene who is not given a chance to develop her character to be either likeable or be a villain. Instead, her presence suggests that this film has many disposable statures that provided being removed, the film would still go on well.

All in all, the key to enjoy the film is to set aside the deafening soundtrack (something that Joko still needs to work on more), and to furthest extent, save the cynicism of endless debate on how an Indonesian film should be, Joko gives us something worth noting:

When was the last time we had a good, genuine laugh in cinema watching a film made in Indonesia by Indonesians?

When something considered as ‘unusual’ is brought up, and that ‘unusuality’ strikes our attention, we may forget the flaws it may bring.

I can’t help comparing the film above to this particular documentary film called Capturing the Friedmans, although upon first impression, you may ask:

“How can you compare a gay-themed drama to a raw documentary on pedophilia?”

Without any doubt the two films differ greatly from one another in terms of content, but if we look carefully towards the latter, we will see how the documentary has been unbelievably polished and carefully staged to soften otherwise disturbing theme on one particular sexual behavior. There is no a clear stand on the film maker’s point of view which may prompt the audience to be sided with certain perspective, the disturbing theme is presented as a matter-of-fact manner, with a little touch-up on dramatic movements.

Such a fashion also propels Arisan to stardom of popularity among its niche market, and now, the similar path is also followed by Summer Storm.

Definitely made to please its own intended audience, the film relies heavily on visual presence of its actors who manage to force us in our seat until the credit rolls out. Apart from that, the story of coming-out-as-gay-trapped-in-a-straight-man-world slids nicely like a taste of lollipop melting in our mouth, without leaving any impression or remembrance.

Yet, like the sweet lollipop who enthralls us with its eye-catching colorful wrap, so does the film in turning itself into one predictable set-up. A guy falls in love with his fellow teammate who wants to embark on a sexual encounter with his girlfriend, and the whole journey of sexual discovery seems to be disposable at any given time by the gorgeous parade of good looking Caucasian actors basking under the sun during the summer season.

And when the summer ends, characters have transformed themselves to be more contented individuals, the life-changing problems are left behind easily as mere dust in the wind, we finish watching one watchable film, we can only wonder:

an ordinary theme presented differently, or an unusual story brought up plainly?

What a waste to the latter.