Film: Opera Jawa
Release date: 28th January 2008
Release date: 28th January 2008
Certificate: 12
Running time: 119 mins
Director: Garin NugrohoStarring: Eko Supriyanto, Martinus Miroto, Artika Sari Devi
Genre: Musical
Studio: Yume
Format: DVDCountry: Indonesia/Austria
Opera Jawa draws on the many centuries old heritage of Indonesian theatre, dance, song and storytelling to create a tragic tale of love, lust and betrayal that is dripping in symbolism.
Taking as its inspiration the Hindu tale of Rama and Sita (here known as Sinta), director and scriptwriter Garin Nugroho transcribes the action to modern day Java, where three people, who formerly danced the story of Rama and Sinta, seem doomed to repeat the story in their own lives.
In the story of Rama and Sinta, the two are a happily married couple until the jealous ten-headed Demon King Ravana kidnaps Sinta for himself. Rama enlists Hanuman, the Monkey King, and a fierce battle ensues between the monkey and demon armies. Ravana is killed by a shot from Rama's bow, and Rama and Sinta return home in a festival of lights (Diwali). The Javanese version of the Ramayana differs greatly, but not in terms of the basic story.
The film is told through traditional Javanese opera and dance. Setio (Rama) and Siti (Sinta), former dancers of the Ramayana, are married and now run a business selling earthenware. But the market in earthen pots crashes and they are left poor. Setyo, despite loving Siti deeply, feels a terrible strain and turns his back on her. Meanwhile Ludiro (Ravana), a powerful businessman who used to dance with Setyo and Siti, begins to tempt Siti to him through gifts and charisma.
Heartbroken and destitute, Setyo organises an army of the poor to attack the rich of the village, whose own army is led by Ludiro. In the fighting, Ludiro is killed. Siti returns to Setyo, but can he take her back?
Opera Jawa is a unique film. Nugroho chooses to use Symbolism to such an extent that it becomes the story. Creating a world which isn't the world, where fantasy and reality are both obvious creations and so the same illusion, where the stepping stone between our world and the interior thoughts of a character is the simple act of putting on a mask. Occasionally, it's difficult to follow the story due to the abstractions, but the symbolism is never less than crystal clear. Mannequins ubiquitously dot the scenery, replacing, mainly, dead bodies. One scene has red wax heads, decapitated from white plaster bodies. The heads burning as candles and the wax dripping down onto the bodies. It's an unforgettable image following up the, equally symbolic, battle towards the end of the film that is played out through puppetry. News reports are played over a stone TV.
Masks play an important part in this film, and in Indonesian Art as a whole. In the west we have become rather immune to the affect great mask work can play on our understanding of art. In the mainstream, we now only see masked superheroes where the mask usually goes to accentuate features. In Opera Jawa, the masks are often blank: a wicker hat, some leaves, a half carved piece of wood - in one instance, a t-shirt. The effect is mesmerising as, through the mask and the skill of the dancers, characters are transformed into monsters, or their inner thoughts laid bare.
The skill of the performers cannot be overstated. This is movement that talks not just of years of training or innate ability, but thousands of years of tradition, of dances honed over centuries. It is really quite humbling to watch. The music side of things, however, is a slight problem, at least when it comes to the western ear. We have been spoiled by our exposure to chromatic octaves, Puccini Operas and the classical tradition. Trying to listen to an orchestra where staying on the right note isn't as important as creating an overall effect is fine in itself but, especially when you're also following subtitled lyrics, the music fades into the background. Fortunately, the incredible visuals more than make up for not being able to hum the arias afterwards.
Opera Jawa, despite filling a kind of fantasy halfway world, does so entirely naturally. There are no special effects in the film, no artificial lighting, at least nothing obviously so. The fantasy is as real as our world, with monsters created out of people and masks, and when an obvious surrealism ends, it does so simply with the removal of masks or the monsters simply walking off screen. This is pure theatre, and truly more successful than any of the special effects tricks employed by cinema if you can buy into the surrealism - although not everyone will.
Only once is there a misstep by the director. In the midst of Ludiro's final seduction of Siti, a remarkable scene involving an exceptionally long red cloth, Nugroho cuts to an out and out comedy, where the very fat occasional narrator strums a ukulele and Ludiro does a very, very silly dance proclaiming all the nice things he has bought for Siti. It is very funny, but this is the same Ludiro who at the start of the film proclaims that he will bloodily destroy any who oppose him while dancing over a severed ox head in an abattoir. This little self-deprecatory scene, instead of bringing humour to the story, just serves to point up how seriously the rest of the film takes itself. For a misstep however, it is still enjoyable.
Supriyanto, Miroto and Sari Devi all deserve praise for their performances. Miroto as Setyo has a wonderful vulnerability as Siti slips away from him, but it is Supriyanto as Ludiro and Sari Devi as Siti who steal the film, both individually and together, where their dancing takes on a primitive eroticism. Also worthy of praise is the Hanuman character (unnamed on screen) for which the actor crafts a truly simian movement that puts any western actor that has had the misfortune to have to pull on a gorilla suit to shame.
A truly stunning piece of cinema that exudes craftsmanship, beauty and traditional techniques to transcribe new life into an old story. It won't satisfy those looking for action, but if you want to watch a film that will fill you with awe and wonder, then this should be high on your list. PE
Taking as its inspiration the Hindu tale of Rama and Sita (here known as Sinta), director and scriptwriter Garin Nugroho transcribes the action to modern day Java, where three people, who formerly danced the story of Rama and Sinta, seem doomed to repeat the story in their own lives.
In the story of Rama and Sinta, the two are a happily married couple until the jealous ten-headed Demon King Ravana kidnaps Sinta for himself. Rama enlists Hanuman, the Monkey King, and a fierce battle ensues between the monkey and demon armies. Ravana is killed by a shot from Rama's bow, and Rama and Sinta return home in a festival of lights (Diwali). The Javanese version of the Ramayana differs greatly, but not in terms of the basic story.
The film is told through traditional Javanese opera and dance. Setio (Rama) and Siti (Sinta), former dancers of the Ramayana, are married and now run a business selling earthenware. But the market in earthen pots crashes and they are left poor. Setyo, despite loving Siti deeply, feels a terrible strain and turns his back on her. Meanwhile Ludiro (Ravana), a powerful businessman who used to dance with Setyo and Siti, begins to tempt Siti to him through gifts and charisma.
Heartbroken and destitute, Setyo organises an army of the poor to attack the rich of the village, whose own army is led by Ludiro. In the fighting, Ludiro is killed. Siti returns to Setyo, but can he take her back?
Opera Jawa is a unique film. Nugroho chooses to use Symbolism to such an extent that it becomes the story. Creating a world which isn't the world, where fantasy and reality are both obvious creations and so the same illusion, where the stepping stone between our world and the interior thoughts of a character is the simple act of putting on a mask. Occasionally, it's difficult to follow the story due to the abstractions, but the symbolism is never less than crystal clear. Mannequins ubiquitously dot the scenery, replacing, mainly, dead bodies. One scene has red wax heads, decapitated from white plaster bodies. The heads burning as candles and the wax dripping down onto the bodies. It's an unforgettable image following up the, equally symbolic, battle towards the end of the film that is played out through puppetry. News reports are played over a stone TV.
Masks play an important part in this film, and in Indonesian Art as a whole. In the west we have become rather immune to the affect great mask work can play on our understanding of art. In the mainstream, we now only see masked superheroes where the mask usually goes to accentuate features. In Opera Jawa, the masks are often blank: a wicker hat, some leaves, a half carved piece of wood - in one instance, a t-shirt. The effect is mesmerising as, through the mask and the skill of the dancers, characters are transformed into monsters, or their inner thoughts laid bare.
The skill of the performers cannot be overstated. This is movement that talks not just of years of training or innate ability, but thousands of years of tradition, of dances honed over centuries. It is really quite humbling to watch. The music side of things, however, is a slight problem, at least when it comes to the western ear. We have been spoiled by our exposure to chromatic octaves, Puccini Operas and the classical tradition. Trying to listen to an orchestra where staying on the right note isn't as important as creating an overall effect is fine in itself but, especially when you're also following subtitled lyrics, the music fades into the background. Fortunately, the incredible visuals more than make up for not being able to hum the arias afterwards.
Opera Jawa, despite filling a kind of fantasy halfway world, does so entirely naturally. There are no special effects in the film, no artificial lighting, at least nothing obviously so. The fantasy is as real as our world, with monsters created out of people and masks, and when an obvious surrealism ends, it does so simply with the removal of masks or the monsters simply walking off screen. This is pure theatre, and truly more successful than any of the special effects tricks employed by cinema if you can buy into the surrealism - although not everyone will.
Only once is there a misstep by the director. In the midst of Ludiro's final seduction of Siti, a remarkable scene involving an exceptionally long red cloth, Nugroho cuts to an out and out comedy, where the very fat occasional narrator strums a ukulele and Ludiro does a very, very silly dance proclaiming all the nice things he has bought for Siti. It is very funny, but this is the same Ludiro who at the start of the film proclaims that he will bloodily destroy any who oppose him while dancing over a severed ox head in an abattoir. This little self-deprecatory scene, instead of bringing humour to the story, just serves to point up how seriously the rest of the film takes itself. For a misstep however, it is still enjoyable.
Supriyanto, Miroto and Sari Devi all deserve praise for their performances. Miroto as Setyo has a wonderful vulnerability as Siti slips away from him, but it is Supriyanto as Ludiro and Sari Devi as Siti who steal the film, both individually and together, where their dancing takes on a primitive eroticism. Also worthy of praise is the Hanuman character (unnamed on screen) for which the actor crafts a truly simian movement that puts any western actor that has had the misfortune to have to pull on a gorilla suit to shame.
A truly stunning piece of cinema that exudes craftsmanship, beauty and traditional techniques to transcribe new life into an old story. It won't satisfy those looking for action, but if you want to watch a film that will fill you with awe and wonder, then this should be high on your list. PE
