In 2012’s Oscar-nominated “The Act of Killing,”
documentary filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer gave audiences a troubling, indelible
glimpse into the depths of man’s capacity for evil. In 1965 Indonesia, a
military coup led to genocide, as anyone opposed to the new regime was accused
of being a communist and immediately put to death. All told, more than one
million people were slaughtered.
Shockingly,
many of those who participated in these massacres still hold power today. In
his 2012 film, Oppenheimer allowed a few of the leaders of these death squads
to re-enact their crimes, watching as they staged their recollections as horrific
funhouse reflections of the Hollywood films that inspired them as young men:
classic westerns, gangster films, and musicals. Ostensibly the idea was that,
by allowing the men to step into the shoes of their victims, the experience
might trigger a sense of compassion in them — though anyone who’s seen that
film knows that that’s not what happened. The men still see themselves as the
glorious heroes of their stories.
When it was
released, “The Act of Killing” received some criticism for giving a voice to
the perpetrators of those atrocities while inadvertently sidelining the
victims. Once again produced by the titans of the documentary form, Werner
Herzog and Errol Morris, “The Look of Silence” (which isn’t a sequel, but
rather a companion to that earlier film) rectifies some of those critiques by
narrowing its focus to the family of one of the victims. We meet AdiRukun, whose older brother Ramli was one of those killed. With Oppenheimer’s help, Adi sets out to confront the men who murdered his brother.
Born two years after Ramli’s death, Adi seeks to understand and — we sense — attain some form
of closure to the horrors his family endured.
With no
repercussions to the massacre, the perpetrators were free to go back to their
lives; as we are repeatedly reminded, the families of the victims are literally
neighbors with the men who brutally murdered their loved ones. So they’re not
exactly hard to find. Oppenheimer follows along, accompanied by cinematographer
Lars Skree, as Adi conducts
his interviews. An ophthalmologist by trade, Adi
questions the men while he administers their eye exams. Though some
occasionally grow defensive — “your questions are too deep!” one
angrily scolds — for the most part they’re all too happy to talk.
A quiet man,
Adi presents an implacable front, and his stony
silence when listening to these stories tells us more than any words ever
could. Adi’s calm exterior makes any nearly
imperceptible hint at his inner state all the more moving. The courage it takes
to not only calmly sit across from his brother’s killers but refrain from
seeking any sort of revenge seems impossibly heroic.
Adi’s eye exams provide a potent visual metaphor that
Oppenheimer thankfully doesn’t push too hard throughout the film (though it is
used as the image on the film’s poster). Adi helps
the men see, and we cannot look away. Though many of the leaders of those death
squads are now feeble old men, they still talk freely and openly about the
horrific things they did all those years ago. You might assume that their talk
might arise from a buried urge to unburden themselves, but the smile they wear
while regaling anyone who’ll listen tells us that that’s not how they see it.
The disconnect between their openness and the general public’s denial that
these events ever took place can be baffling to witness. The narrative of the
brave souls who fought to eradicate the communist scourge from the country is
still put forth today, as we see in one schoolroom lesson being taught to the
impressionable youth, including Adi’s son, who
afterward parrots the information back to his father.
Nevertheless,
these atrocities were swept under the rug by everyone else, and Oppenheimer
ruffles more than a few feathers for the way in which his persistent
questioning churns up the past. Like “Act,” much of his Indonesian crew is
credited anonymously, to protect them from possible retribution. Oppenheimer
spent years conducting interviews with the leaders of the death squads, local
gangsters hired by the state to carry out its dirty work. Throughout “The Look
of Silence” we observe as Adi impassively watches
video from several of these interviews, hearing the subjects bragging about the
slaughters they performed, often in graphic detail.
While “The
Act of Killing” was largely a work of sustained horror, “Look” burrows into
deeper emotional terrain. This film isn’t as immediately dramatic, but is no
less powerful. The film builds to a pair of devastating conversations: one
between Adi, one of the local gangsters, and the
man’s daughter, the other with the family of the man physically responsible for
killing Ramli. Combined, these scenes provide a
painful sort of catharsis. This isn’t just great filmmaking, it’s essential
viewing.
This article appears in Sep 9-15, 2015.
