The Look of Silence

With just two films to his name, both about the Indonesian mass-murders of the mid-1960's Oppenheimer has become the most important documentarian of his generation.

His second film, "The Look of Silence", coupled with his "The Act of Killing" has created a sea- change in the Indonesian truth, justice and reconciliation movement. Forcing new laws to be written and putting the government in a defensive position against the nation's media.

But Oppenheimer is more than an activist. He's an artist. His films are contemplative, playful and quietly confrontational. His visual attack is succinct, his marriage of form and theme is flawless and his moral intent is thunderous.

Where "Act of Killing" was concerned with a larger study of post-massacre Indonesia, "Look of Silence" chooses a more intimate landscape. Geographically, emotionally and cinematically it is regional. Concerned with a single killing, the men who did it – directly and indirectly - the family it affected and the small village that has lived with questions about other killings like it for fifty years. Where "Act of Killing" lived in absurdist grand cinema, "Look of Silence" exists in tight close-ups of the perpetrators, survivors and truth-seekers. More than anything, more than words, their faces tell the story. So much happens behind the eyes, around the corners of the mouth, in unspoken glances. The horror, doubt, guilt and seemingly impossible reconciliation stirs below the surface. For all the cinematic flex of "Act of Killing", this contained take on the same material, seems more haunted and human.

The star of the film, Adi the eyewear peddler, pursues this mission with intelligence and courage. We meet his family. His happy playful daughter, his thoughtful son, his cautious loving wife, his ageless mother (probably the most engaging character captured on film this year), his wisp of an ancient father, and his memory of a murdered brother, looming over everything. From them he finds the courage to question murderer after murderer face-to-face. The combination of his profession as an optometrist with his quest to seek truth would seem heavy-handed if it were fiction, but nothing here is inauthentic. In showing all of Adi's family, from the fresh and young, to the spent and dying, we see the full arc of life.

Lastly, the film makes a glancing but firm indictment against the American anti-Communist fervor that fed into - and the American corporations that profited from - these killings. It gives strong evidence that the Cold War, the war of ideology and the murder of millions, allowed for, and was even fought for, Western corporate dominance in places like this. And here the grinding up of human beings for profit in this situation is undeniable. Oppenheimer wants to make sure no one involved gets off without having to face, if not their own role in the massacre of millions, then at the very least, their culture's.

And so it goes, the people (wives, mothers, daughters, sons, fathers, husbands), the silence, the haunted jungle hum that fills most of the auditory space in the film, the great and overwhelming significance of it all… everything pools together to show us something words alone can't manage. Something about how a horror can be so great that its impact can loom over generations. About living with debilitating fear of those who have claimed power over you through violence. About the most nightmarish tendencies in humanity, and our courageous capacity to overcome the worst of ourselves. About just how difficult it is to look into the eyes of a killer and say, "I know what you did."

And more profoundly, more frighteningly… "I know you."

The 2012 Oscar-nominated documentary, "The Act of Killing", garnered world-wide praise and many awards for its shocking look into the current lives of the perpetrators of genocide in Indonesia during the mid-sixties. Its filmmaker was Texas-born verified genius Joshua Oppenheimer who lives in Denmark and has been making films since 1998. "The Look of Silence" is its companion piece, and where the earlier documentary was outwardly horrifying, this one is more quietly disturbing and, I believe, the more important.

After my viewing of it finished at 7 a.m., I was lowering myself into a warm bathtub when suddenly I became haunted by the feeling that headless bodies were floating past me as if I were in the Snake River where the corpses had been dumped. Indeed, I couldn't put the film out of my head the rest of the day, and haven't since. The film follows an Indonesian man named Adi Runkun whose brother had been brutally murdered in the 1965 purge of 'communists' as he confronts, in the present day and under the pretext of dispensing eye exams, the men who had carried out the killings (and who had boasted and joked about the carnage in "The Act of Killing"). We also see Adi's humane care-taking of his nearly dead father whom he bathes and consoles, and other family members who have had to live among his brother's murderers for decades. What makes this film so effective is how Adi refuses to display any emotion at the killers while the director continues to portray them as human beings rather than monsters (no revenge film this), but Adi's silent stare keeps burning into their souls as they squirm uncomfortably, stubbornly offering lame excuses while refusing any expressions of regret. By this method Oppenheimer makes the film much more of an iconic document of man's inhumanity to man, forcing viewers to contemplate parallels in history, most especially the Nazis who perpetrated the Holocaust in Hitler's Germany.

There is nothing easy about this film, yet it is one of the few films you must not miss if you have a heart that pumps blood.

"We'd drag them. Some of them screamed. 'Please, sir! Have mercy!' But we don't care. In fact, we beat him again to shut him up.". Two former death camp leaders proudly re-create the grisly scenes of the '65 purge of supposed "communists" under the instigation of the armed forces, which became widely known as the Indonesian Genocide. Documentarian Oppenheimer asks them an explicit question. "from here, can the prisoners see the blood?". "Yes, because the place was lit by torches.", they enthusiastically reply. "Because others went first. So he's given up hope. 'I'm about to die', he's thinking. 'I'd better accept it'", they describe the apparent thoughts of their victims before decapitating, mutilating and kicking their bodies into Snake River. "Feel free to take a photo!", passing a digital camera to Oppenheimer. They joyously pose atop the butchered souls of thousands, their blood stains infused with the earth they stand on. One of the killers hoists two fingers in the air, offering a peace sign, before proceeding with a thumbs up gesture.

Oppenheimer utilised this blood-curdling footage years later, by showing its profound horror to a middle-aged Indonesian man whose brother was an unfortunate victim of the national purge. Acknowledging the explicit nature of his country's past and yearning to learn more, he singlehandedly confronts the perpetrators who executed the killings with Oppenheimer documenting the anxiety-inducing conversations, under the pretence of an eye examination. Through the changing of lenses, this metaphorical dissimulation magnifies the retinas of "Adi's" brother's executors, allowing windows into their darkened souls to widen.

Predictably, much like with Oppenheimer's creatively profound companion piece 'The Act of Killing', these individuals expressed minimal remorse. Proud to serve their nation and glorify their political ideologies. However, the purpose of these bleak confrontations was not to agitate those that committed such atrocities, but to perpetuate a historic generational divide within Indonesia. The current generation educated with false truths to adhere to the current sociopolitical climate. "Communists gouged the eyes out of army generals", students are taught. Yet the truth couldn't be any further from that manipulative fabrication. Everyone seemingly forced into silence regarding the questioning of their own national history. Therefore, producing such an unflinching documentary that dares to question the morality and legitimacy behind one of the worst genocides in recent history, is of paramount importance. Not just to Indonesia, but every nation that endures tainted democracy. Inciting societies to educate themselves and not ignore the grave actions of their previous generation.

Oppenheimer challenges the boundaries of documentary filmmaking once again, crafting uncompromising perceptive enlightenment through one man. A man whom represented the nullified silence of those feared by their own government. A man whom fearlessly questioned the very individuals that shaped his current standard of living. Representing the suffering and fragility of an oppressed society. Understatedly profound, yet consistently unshakeable in nature. The inclusion of iridescent quietude, from expansive shots of village life to close-ups of metamorphosis, overemphasising the extinguished freedom of speech. Many of the confrontations delivering unwavering tyrannical sensibilities likening their ideologies to totalitarian repression, exhibiting minimal sorrow for the thousands they slaughtered. Conversations that rightly bury the words under the skin to those listening. Ranging from indirect threats such as "be careful, what you're doing may be deemed as communist behaviour" to Western influences including "America taught us how to hate communists". Undoubtedly disconcerting.

Reservations for the confrontation with "Adi's" uncle, whom was guarding "communists" before they were massacred, is the sole criticism this documentary obtains. Staged, exploitative and unnecessarily producing familial drama in a nation that is already fragmented and traumatised. Consequently Oppenheimer overstepped the line in that particular instance, despite "Adi's" insistence, creating an artificially uncomfortable atmosphere for the sake of drama.

However, whilst not creatively innovative as his former insight into the Indonesian Genocide, Oppenheimer's The Look of Silence unequivocally nullifies all emotive output, perhaps more so that his previous directorial efforts. It is unflinching. It is uncompromising. It is of paramount significance. We need boundary-testing documentaries like this to truly provide insight and to evoke human right activism. To microscopically magnify the actions of humanity's past and ensure they never happen again. "That's politics. Politics is the process of achieving your ideals", the former commander of civilian militia joyously states with a grimace. "In many ways...".

A fantastic companion piece to The Act of Killing, one of the most deeply disturbing films I've ever seen. But it's not fair to call it a continuation of that film, and what this is revolved around is inherently interesting and riveting in itself. "I knew nothing about it"... the whole film can be summarized in those few words. the film is infuriating in some of the same ways The Act of Killing was, but less so by the mere fact that it's less concentrated on the individuals who committed those acts. And because it concentrates on the family of a victim, it's heartfelt in a way it's sibling film wasn't. Fantastic, thought-provoking, discomforting in the ideas and questions that it touches upon.

Act of Killing I bought with some trepidation and settled down on my own to watch it (and watched again immediately after with the Josh/Werner Herzog background discussion - rather the film background to the discussion). Next day I bought Look of Silence. Watched it next night both without and with the background discussion. I was mesmerised (and still am), and so many questions come to mind.

The two films work well together, Act of Killing being more overview and focusing on the killers and the political structure/mob rule that is still in power. Act of Killing doesn't particularly explore how they got away with genocide (why the world turned a blind eye), but this is alluded to carefully and specifically in Look of Silence.

I could write so much because the two films together have provoked in me a profound perspective on human horror, which has gripped me most recently with what we see on the news with ISIS (Paris Masacre).

What are human beings capable of, and why is an individual able to make such choices? What are the structures that facilitate the most grotesque of human acts of wickedness upon one another. Do we all contain wickedness, does a killer lurk inside us all? Does fear itself propel the killers - kill or be killed? Are we (cells in the human organism) enacting our worst imaginable terror, excising evil, I kill therefore I am?

Josh Oppenheimer, I applaud your work. The sensitivity and attention to the finest detail employed in your work is, for me, beyond words. The cinematography, colours you choose, balance in composition. Even the subtitles were easy to read. Beautiful lingering pauses. You said of one still scene, a bridge, pale green, a river bank; you have no words to describe how this scene makes you feel, what the scene says. For me this scene (in LoS) is terrifyingly beautiful, sad, the weight of recent history hanging there in the stillness. Embodying the sadness and fear. I love that still scene.

Superb, I do not have the words to describe what your films say to me... I will think about them for a long long time, and watch them again.