2012 documentary
Rating: 17/20
Plot: Documentary guy Joshua Oppenheimer and some anonymous friends talk Indonesian death squad gangsters Anwar Congo and Adi Zulkadry into reenacting their titular violent deeds in the style of Hollywood musicals, gangster dramas, and Westerns.
I’ll start this with the same Voltaire quote that was used to preface this documentary: “All murderers are punished unless they kill in large numbers and to the sound of trumpets.” That’s almost insanely juxtaposed with a shot similar to the surreal image on the poster above, pink-clad dancers near the mouth of a giant metal fish. And the other bookend for this chilling and utterly mesmerizing documentary is what I can only describe as a phony exorcism, Congo attempting to vomit away his sins or something in one of the more painful and beguiling scenes I can remember seeing in a movie. I generally like my documentaries more human than historical; this is, sadly, a little of both. For large parts of this, I suspected that I was being had, that this was all a little too strange to be real. It’s stuffed with moments that are unforgettable, jaw-dropping, or just plain nutty. A cha-cha’ing executioner, boasts that they were “more sadistic than the Nazis,” a story about a girl sucking off six guys and not losing any cum followed immediately by a prayer, a guy showing off his collection of crystal animals before exhibiting immense pride for his Billy the Bass, a bizarre “Born Free” musical number in front of a waterfall, a gangster who spends a great deal of the movie hamming it up for the camera in drag. A lot of this is funny, kind of in an uncomfortable way. You don’t see a lot of black comedy in documentaries. And, of course, a lot of it is nightmarish. There’s a profound indifference that makes you a little sick, probably most despairing in a stand-out scene where they’re reenacting the burning of a village. It was just like watching a nightmare where the most sinister people in that nightmare are having too good a time. Congo himself is an enigma, sometimes in a hot pink cowboy hat. There’s a scene where he’s watching some of the film they’re making and calls to his grandchildren, “Come watch the scene where Grandpa is tortured and killed.” He seems to be acting during a lot of this after the acting is over, and one scene threatens to turn into a complete cliche, one that brought out the beginnings of a groan in me until the director called him on his bullshit and turned it all into something else. This is a guy who craves redemption, it seems, as he’s forced to relive his past or in some cases relive reliving his past, but he doesn’t seem capable of getting rid of the indifference or pride. This is chilling but engrossing, even through the credits where a large percentage of the crew and even two of the directors are listed as Anonymous. That’s almost a little gimmicky. Most chilling is that I’m not sure this really says anything at all. It doesn’t give a voice to the victims or really make a statement about what is going on, more like a couple of these death squad guys taking the part of unreliable tour guides through a hell they don’t seem to completely comprehend. It’s baffling and worth discussing. Good stuff, a documentary that reminds me of something Werner Herzog would put together. He and Errol Morris executive produced the thing. I do wonder if it’s a little too long though.