O Ato de Matar

After over one-hundred years of cinema, it's pretty rare to come across a film unlike anything you've seen before, let alone one that begs the question: how the hell did they pull that off? Even though blockbuster films like Gravity try to do this by taking us to great heights (no pun intended) through technological / cinematographic advancements, we somehow end up bored with the result. Who really cares how long and complicated your opening take is if it feels like it lives inside the brain of a computer? Perhaps fiction has been done to death, perhaps we've advanced the tech behind fictional filmmaking so far that it's completely lost touch with reality. This is probably why, today, documentaries have never been more relevant and more capable of blowing your mind. The advantage documentaries have over fiction is that they can show us things so unbelievable they could only exist in the real world. Truth is truly stranger than fiction.

Joshua Oppenheimer's The Act of Killing is a very special documentary. What begins as a glimpse into the lives of a handful of former death squad leaders, Oppenheimer then invites them to help produce fictional recreations of their killings, recreations mimicking the style of the murderers' favourite Hollywood movies. As the fiction overtakes the lives of its subjects, The Act of Killing becomes what Oppenheimer has described as "a documentary of the imagination." Never before has such nightmarish and surreal terrain been excavated, revealing a chilling indifference to nothing less than unpunished crimes against humanity.

If you've ever tried to imagine what a Nazi conquered world would be like, this documentary might be closest thing we'll ever have to actually knowing. What we discover is that when history is written by the victors, we see something very frightening emerge: acceptance of brutality as not only necessary, but heroic. Aware of how it's so much easier to see the contents of a fishbowl when staring at it from a distance, The Act of Killing positions its viewers in a way that forces us to question our own perspective on how and why things really are in the world, not in the way we've been brainwashed to believe. The murderous thugs Oppenheimer immortalizes are not behind bars, or on trial for war crimes, or any of their crimes; these men are heroes in their native Indonesia, on parade to be adored by their hero-worshipping countrymen and women.

Considering Oppenheimer cast his subjects inside a surreal, hyper-stylized world of fictional recreations, it's impossible to argue The Act of Killing isn't manipulative. But it's the lengths Oppenheimer goes to -- the soaring heights of absurdity these staged recreations go to -- that confirm, whatever moral compass exists, it is not being directed by someone with a hidden agenda. Ultimately, the fictitious pageantry calls attention to how difficult it is for someone to have perspective when they're lost within a concrete belief system cemented by victory, history, and the applause of an entire nation. If you think you wouldn't have been swept away by the mass-hysteria/nationalism excited by the Nazis pre-WW2, then you're lying to yourself as much as you may have been for having bought into Obama's movement for 'Change.' I know I'm guilty of the latter.

Damning as it is, Oppenheimer's surreal world also acts as an arena for 'art' therapy, treatment both logical and plausible for men who've been playing roles their whole lives. Decades ago these gangsters were young, ego-driven, power hungry men who performed the most horrible acts imaginable...and now as old men, they've perfected their roles as heroic cowboys proud of having defended the homestead. But once the act is over and the veil lifted, these men are revealed to be victims of their own acts, sickened by what they've done, who they are, and the 'act' they've clung to in order to preserve their own sanity. To gain access to the minds of characters so repulsive and sinister is something even the best screenwriters couldn't fathom pulling off; to be able to humanize them, and make them sympathetic is a feat of filmmaking unlike anything I've ever watched before.

Something else I've never seen before is a film with one "anonymous" credit, let alone dozens of them, including one given to a co-director. The gravity of this reminds us the killings proudly re-enacted by the film's subjects are not just nostalgic, but very much a part of the today's way of doing business. By the time the credits scroll we realize the real culprit here, the one we cannot pardon, is Capitalism.

The Act of Killing depicts capitalism at its darkest hour, in a special place where brutality and savagery are necessary and applauded. Immersing us in such a dark place, The Act of Killing shows us how difficult it is to identify the outlines of our own faces once the definitions of "truth" and "justice" are mutated beyond recognition. History asks us: How far removed are we from these crimes? Was it not our governments who supported these atrocities? Whether we knew it or not, we collectively turned blind eyes, condoning a genocide that took the lives of over one million people. These are the realizations we should be most sickened and disturbed by, but are we? We enabled these men to kill so who are we to judge, and if the results coincide with our politics, do we even care?

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It seems almost trivial to "rate" a movie that is this important but like some of the tothers i have given it a 10 because people need to see it.

I have never been as completely chilled by a film in my life, and I have seen plenty of brutal documentaries. The atrocities committed by the Indonesian death squads, and so vividly re-enacted, are not easy to watch and I expect that many people would rather just turn away and ignore them, but you owe it to yourselves to sit through them.

I have just finished reading Steven Pinker's excellent book The Better Angels of Our Nature in which he argues that humanity is far less violent now than we have ever been. That may be so, but if you are looking for a compelling counter-argument you can start with this film. I can assure that that you will never forget it.

Watching this movie was perplexing and upsetting experience. It somehow manages to create an impactful experience through multiple intertwining elements that have no business blending as well as they do: experimental filmmaking across multiple genres, gory re-enactments of atrocities that are all too real, depressing exploration of systemic corruption, and brutally honest studies of some of the most evil human beings on the planet. We follow several paramilitary leaders as they go about their daily lives (extorting local business owners, orchestrating explicitly performative political rallies, cozying up to both journalists and local politicians, passing vile life lessons onto the children around then) and detailing, often with pride and relish, stories of the thousands of murders they committed against the government's political enemies. These men are eccentric, colorful, and often seem to enjoy the simple things like dancing to music and watching movies with their loved ones; and in the same heartbeat they will describe assaulting and murdering people in the most horrid ways imaginable. In spite of everything, there is a surprising amount of cognitive dissonance in this study of evil; many of them are remarkably self-aware of their crimes, yet also deeply in denial. We see people compartmentalize and repress their true feelings about their crimes, justifying it by the power and material wealth they reap, and yet also reporting nightmares and discomfort at close viewing of these re-enactments. It was truly shocking seeing someone who could be your grandfather go from doing a little dance in a bar to reenacting how he killed a baby in front of her mother. It was also horrifically upsetting to see how this behavior, this brutal form of martial law enforcement, is not only tolerated by the government (people speak pretty freely of murder and don't mince words) but is celebrated and glorified. The most shocking scene to me is when our cast of characters went on a talk show to discuss their murders and methods, all while the host and audience smiled enthusiastically saying "Yes, excellent work, death to communists!" A truly grim but fascinating viewing experience into a world governed by fear and the people who enforce their status quo.

On the first of October, 1965, members of the Indonesian National Armed Forces launched a coup d'état. Although it eventually failed, the coup resulted in the deaths of six Indonesian Army generals and set the stage for President Sukarno's eventual displacement, ushering in General Suharto's autocratic regime. Under Suharto's rule, a staggering number of alleged communists- including Sukarno's supporters, members of labour and farming unions and Chinese Indonesians- were brutally killed. Backed by the U. S., the responsible paramilitary groups- namely Pancasila Youth- remain influential to this day.

Between the years of 2005 and 2011, director Joshua Oppenheimer traversed Indonesia, interviewing members of Pancasila Youth about the mass murders they partook in. He discovered a disturbing lack of remorse among them, with many recounting their deeds with unsettling nonchalance. Anwar Congo, a prominent figure in these events, as well as his right-hand man Herman Koto, collaborated with Oppenheimer to reenact the killings they participated in; a process with unexpected consequences for all involved.

'The Act of Killing' is a fascinating documentary, exploring a particularly dark passage in human history. Oppenheimer captures not just a vivid portrait of Indonesia, exposing how the gangsterism of Pancasila Youth is pervasive from the top down, but also examines themes that resonate outside of the film's context. He delves into the psychological impact of mass killings- of genocide- on both the perpetrators and society at large, highlighting the complex interplay between personal guilt, collective memory and national identity.

The film shows that the psychological effects of the mass murders extends far beyond the immediate aftermath, revealing the deep scars left on the psyche of the killers, manifested in a complex mix of denial, bravado and, at times, haunting remorse. Oppenheimer's lens captures the dissonance between the perpetrators' self-image as heroes and the brutal reality of their actions. As Congo and his comrades reenact their past violence, they begin to exhibit signs of moral injury- a term used to describe the internal suffering that results from doing something against one's moral code.

Furthermore, the documentary also touches on the broader societal impact of such atrocities. It shows how a culture of impunity and the glorification of violence can distort collective memory, leaving a nation to grapple with an unresolved and painful past. The chilling ease with which the killers recount their stories reflects a society still coming to terms with its history. Oppenheimer's work serves as a powerful reminder of the long shadow cast by acts of violence and the importance of confronting the truth for both individual healing and societal reconciliation. The reenactments become a conduit for the killers to face their own humanity and, perhaps, for the audience to reflect on the capacity for cruelty that lies within society at large.

The cinematic journey Oppenheimer takes viewers on is a stark reminder of the international political dynamics of the era, as well as the chilling ease with which such violence can become normalized. Moreover, Oppenheimer's film demonstrates the transformative power of cinema, as the recreation of past atrocities compel the killers to confront the reality of their actions, leading to unexpected moments of introspection and realization.

Cinema is shown to be a bridge between history and present-day, between reality and memory. Oppenheimer uses the medium not just to document but to provoke, to stir the conscience of both his subjects and his viewers. The reenactments serve as a surreal stage where the killers, often seen as larger-than-life figures within their communities, are confronted with the human cost of their actions. This process reveals the medium's ability to challenge perceptions, to bring the abstract horrors of history into sharp, personal focus.

As the killers step into the shoes of their victims, the audience witnesses a rare occurrence: the blurring of lines between perpetrator and victim, the collision of past and present. It's a testament to the power of cinema to not only tell stories but to also initiate a dialogue, to heal and, perhaps, to transform. Oppenheimer's documentary shows how film can be employed to navigate the complex terrain of human morality and to illuminate the paths towards understanding and redemption.

Central to the documentary are the figures of Anwar Congo and Herman Koto, whose chillingly candid accounts of their roles in the killings provide a human face to the historical atrocities. Congo, in particular, emerges as a complex character, at once remorseful and defiant, haunted by his past yet also strangely boastful. His journey reveals him to be a man grappling with the enormity of his actions, offering viewers a disturbing glimpse into the psyche of a perpetrator. Koto, meanwhile, serves as both a comrade and a foil to Congo, providing a contrasting approach to the reenactments. His demeanour oscillates between that of a remorseless gangster and a man seeking redemption, embodying the contradictions that run through the entire narrative.

Oppenheimer's cinematography is as bold and unsettling as its subject matter. The camera work is intimate, often uncomfortably so, bringing the audience face-to-face with the men who committed truly heinous acts. The use of vibrant colours and surreal staging contrasts sharply with the grim reality of the stories being told, creating a disorienting effect that mirrors the moral disarray experienced by the killers themselves.

The film's visual language is not just about aesthetic choices; it's a deliberate strategy to engage the audience on a visceral level. Scenes are framed in ways that force viewers to confront the banality of evil, to see the ordinariness of the men who carried out unthinkable crimes. It's a powerful reminder that history is not just a series of events, but a collection of personal stories, each with its own perspective and, indeed, pain.

Joshua Oppenheimer's 'The Act of Killing' is a seminal work in the landscape of documentary cinema. Reminiscent at times of Kazuo Hara's 'The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On,' or the work of Werner Herzog, it is a powerful piece that leaves a lasting impression. It pushes viewers to face harsh realities about humanity, prompting deep reflections on guilt and justice, while also using cinema to reflect and challenge, ensuring its lasting impact as an agent for understanding and change. It is, in short, a masterpiece.

By omitting the historical context behind the 1965–1966 Indonesian killings and letting the Indonesian death squad leaders tell their own story, watching The Act of Killing evokes the Nietschean idea of 'gazing into the abyss'. That if one were to 'gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.' The Act of Killing is a deep ocean of ideas, constantly reflecting the human condition. Every scene was like a wave, with an entirely different idea, crashing over the previous scene and provoked a new thought in me. My thought train spiraled and branched off into different directions.

At first, I thought about the brutality of man. Then it went to how history is written by the victor.

And then I thought about the nature of cinema and storytelling. That in the act of telling their own story, the death squad leaders became conscious of their past actions through the task of having to present it to an audience. The aesthetic distance, interestingly enough, ends up being the distance these death squad leaders needed to truly examine what they have done.

And then I arrived at the nature of how extreme ideas in society prevail, despite of how illogical or inhuman they may be. That logic is relative, anyone can easily manipulate logic to justify any action. One can make anything sound logical to do whatever they desired in a given moment.

And like that, the film kept on giving infinitely and its themes continually deepened. The Werner Herzog brand of the 'ecstatic truth' is at play here. Each audience member will have their own individual experience of the film's ideas and themes, because the film allows it so. Director Joseph Oppenheimer never puts these men on trial and instead of burrows for something deeper to reflect humanity at its core. These men, like anybody, are just human. And I cared and became invested into their emotional journey through how Oppenheimer displays their humanity, which was perplexing at points. I had to remind myself that they were still mass murderers.

At a two and a half hour running time, the film is too long. It's hard to sit with such heavy material. There is a 115-minute theatrical cut that exists, which is 45 minutes shorter than this director's cut. Joshua Oppenheimer seemingly wants to cover more ground than needed and less definitely would have been more. I stuck with it alright because I was fascinated by the film's subjects, but it may test the patience of general audiences. That said, The Act of Killing is a great story told through subjects that I never ever want to meet in real life. It is an unsettling and powerful experience and is one of the best films of 2013, if not the most important.

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