Muhammad Rivai Riza atau Riri Riza adalah salah satu fenomena dalam sejarah perfileman Indonesia sekarang. Sebagai seorang sutradara, tak terbantahkan bahwa ia adalah salah satu pelopor bangkitnya industri filem saat ini. Bersama dengan Mira Lesmana, Nan Achnas, dan Rizal Mantovani, ia menggagas produksi filem Kuldesak (1998)—sebuah filem kolaborasi dengan produksi secara independen—diputar di bioskop Studio 21 sebagai penyeimbang dominasi filem-filem Hollywood pada waktu itu. Menurut Riri, mimpi mereka cuma satu, “Filem Indonesia diputar di bioskop bersaing secara terbuka dengan filem-filem Barat.”
Pria yang lahir pada Oktober 1970 ini memilih jalur industri sebagai usaha untuk memberikan “inspirasi” kepada masyarakat. Ini dia buktikan dengan Petualangan Sherina—yang menjadi ‘boom’ pertama industri filem paska reformasi. Kemudian mantan penggebuk drum handal dari sebuah band cover version yang terkenal pada tahun 1990an ini, menyutradarai beberapa filem yang secara tema tidak biasa di hadirkan dalam industri filem kita. Salah satunya Gie, yang mengangkat sejarah gelap peristiwa 1965. Sukses besar di pasar industri filem ia torehkan melalui Laskar Pelangi dan sekuelnya, Sang Pemimpi. Dua filem ini ditonton lebih dari empat setengah juta penonton. Sebuah prestasi yang tidak pernah diraih para pendahulu dunia perfileman di Indonesia. Namun, dengan prestasi “pasar” yang diraih, sejauh mana Riri Riza melihat dan membayangkan tentang fungsi filem sebagai sebuah aktivitas kebudayaan yang bukan hanya berhenti di wilayah komersial?
Jurnal Footage mendapat kesempatan untuk mewawancara pria ramah ini di kantornya, Miles Production. Dalam pertemuan ini kami mencoba melihat sisi lain dari Riri Riza, yaitu; pandangan-pandangan ideologis, pemikiran tentang kebudayaan, pilihan-pilihan “bahasa” filem, dan bayangan sang sutradara tentang dunia perfileman Indonesia. Hadir dalam wawancara pada 8 Maret 2010 ini; Hafiz (Pemimpin Redaksi), Akbar Yumni (Redaktur), Otty Widasari (Koordinator Program Akumassa Forum Lenteng) dan Bagasworo Aryaningtyas (Asisten Koordinator Penelitian dan Pengembangan Forum Lenteng) yang merekam diskusi dengan kamera video.
Hafiz: Pilihan lu ketika masuk IKJ (Institut Kesenian Jakarta), apa yang ada dibelakangnya? Menjadi filmmaker sepertinya menjadi passion tersendiri buat lu?
Riri: Dari awal kenapa gue masuk filem di IKJ? Sebenarnya gue punya minat yang besar terhadap beberapa aspek seni. Yang paling besar tentu musik. Kedua, seni rupa dan fotografi. Artinya begini; gue selalu merasa tertantang untuk mengamati segala sesuatu yang terkait dengan seni, di masa itu. Pernah gue datang ke Museum Seni Rupa di Kota, melihat lukisan Affandi dan Sudjojono (dua pelopor seni rupa modern Indonesia — Red.). Pernah juga gue merasa heran, gue melihat lukisannya Raden Saleh di situ. Tapi sekarang, beberapa kali gue ke sana, gak pernah lihat lagi. Mungkin dia disimpan di ruangan yang khusus. Itu dashyat! Terus, gue mulai agak bingung mencari posisi di sekolah. Antara menjadi pemain basket yang gak berbakat atau di bidang ilmu pasti (sains). Gue belajar di sekolah yang serius (SMU Labschool pada 1988 — Red.). Gue tahunya hanya fotografi dan musik yang bisa menjadi penyelamat gue. Nah, ketika ke IKJ, gue menemukan bahwa filem itu kombinasi. Bisa dibilang paling ideal dari semua aspek seni itu. Tentu saja ditambah dengan misalnya, bercerita. Melalui filem kita bisa bercerita. Melalui pelajaran sejarah filem, gue jadi tahu dan mengenal sebuah bangsa, budaya, peristiwa-peristiwa besar di dunia dalam format yang cukup compact. Satu setengah jam… dua jam… kita ngerti banyak hal. Bahkan bukan hanya peristiwa, tapi juga emosi dibalik peristiwa. Nah, itu pertama-tama yang gue rasa mengikat gue dengan filem, pada kekuatannya. Dengan filem lu bisa bercerita tentang sesuatu yang besar sekali. Kadang menyangkut sejarah. Bukan hanya sejarah kecil-kecilan, tapi sejarah bangsa dan masyarakat. Zaman gue di IKJ, Teguh (Teguh Karya — Red.) datang dan membicarakan filem November 1828. Bicara tentang Diponegoro, perang, pekembangan Islam, dan kerajaan-kerajaan di Jawa. Menurut gue, gila! Menonton filem Kartini misalnya, filem itu membawa kita menarik ke sebuah periode pemikiran dan pergolakan dalam cerita yang ada dramanya, sinematografi, fotografi dan lain-lain. Gue masuk di IKJ di masa orang banyak membicarakan filem Cut Nyak Dien. Cut Nyak Dien itu penting dalam arti filem pertama yang sejak lama kita punya gengsi lagi untuk melihat bahwa filem Indonesia ada ‘harga dirinya’. Gue inget pernah menjadi penerjemah sebuah workshop yang diadakan sekolah filem dari Australia, salah satu orang di antara mereka bilang, “Kalau lu nonton Dances with Wolves (disutradarai Kevin Costner pada 1990 dan mendapatkan Academy Award 1990 dan Golden Globe Award 1991 — Red), lu tersentuh dengan itu. Gue orang Barat di mana cerita filem itu berasal, tersentuh dengan cerita Cut Nyak Dien”. Itu sangat membuka mata. Nah, pada saat di perpustakaan seni rupa, (Fakultas Seni Rupa IKJ — Red.) waktu itu ada buku-buku dan majalah-majalah tentang filem-filem independen Amerika. Ada cerita tentang Spike Lee dan Jim Jarmusch. Terus, ada yang penting juga gue inget, gue pernah datang ke Goethe-Institut Jakarta (Pusat Kebudayaan Jerman di Jakarta — Red.) untuk Festival Filem Wim Wenders. Ada produsernya yang datang. Gue sama Ugeng (Ugeng T. Moetidjo, sekarang periset Forum Lenteng — Red.) waktu itu mewawancarai si produser. Wah… pokoknya dahsyatlah! Gue mungkin terinspirasi pada aspek komersial yang menarik dari dunia filem. Ketika keluar (lulus) dari IKJ, gue melihat bahwa gue harus menjadi sutradara filem komersial! Tentu saja punya respek terhadap sejarah filem itu sendiri. Artinya, filem selalu punya sumbangan signifikan terhadap budaya. Sejarah itu direkam dengan baik melalui banyak filem. Filem menyumbang besar sekali terhadap perubahan politik dan sosial di banyak tempat. Respeknya itu! Dan keyakinan (gue), filem akan menjangkau pasar yang luas.
Hafiz: Pilihan menjadi sutradara filem di wilayah industri, apakah temuan itu ketika lu di IKJ atau secara akademik? Atau di tempat lain?
Riri: Gue rasa banyak terkait dengan akademik. Begini, ada satu dosen justru menurut gue yang paling ekstrem mengajarkan gue tentang seni filem, Pak Chalid (almarhum Chalid Arifin, seorang penata artistik lulusan Sekolah Filem Prancis — Red.), guru sejarah filem. Justru dia bilang, “Filem itu perse, harus komersil!”. Kenapa? Karena gak ada filem yang murah. Tidak ada ada filem yang tidak ‘labour intensive’ istilahnya, yang tidak melibatkan orang banyak. Filem terjadi ketika dia communicate dengan publiknya. Ketika dia bisa menyampaikan sebuah pesan terhadap publik. Publik di sini adalah massa. Jadi, sesulit apapun, orang seperti (Federico) Fellini yang ada di dalam sejarah filem (atau Jean-Luc) Godard, (François) Truffaut, dia memikirkan pasarnya. Memikirkan kepada siapa mereka berkomunikasi. Kebanyakan mereka berpikir untuk pasar yang lebar, dalam artian bisa jadi sangat spesifik. Tapi pada saat yang sama, mengupayakan supaya semua orang yang berada pada selera itu menonton filemnya. Itu adalah karakter dari filem.
Hafiz: Gue sempat diskusi dengan seseorang tentang konsep sutradara. Bayangan gue, sutradara adalah seseorang yang punya interdisiplin. Gue berkaca pada para ‘founding father’ filem kita. Mereka punya aspek-aspek yang cukup kaya di dalam filem. Sehingga gue ngebayagnin seorang sutradara adalah seorang pembuat ‘cultural statement’. Terlepas dari apakah itu komersil dan industri atau tidak. Menurut lu gimana?
Riri: Gue setuju. Dia (sutradara) harus punya sesuatu yang ingin diungkapkan. Tentang masanya, waktu yang dia hidupi, dan lingkungan dimana dia berkarya. Gue setuju! Cuma memang dalam perkembangannya, kita tidak bisa berhenti juga pada kenyataan. Filem menjadi semakin komersial dan komersial, karena memang masyarakat kita pun juga semakin komersial. Kalau kita bicara budaya, kan itu realita yang terjadi di masyarakat sekarang. Mungkin pengaruh dari globalisasi, Amerikanisasi tepatnya terutama tempat seperti di Indonesia. Sejak pertengahan 1980an, Indonesia membuka keran sebesar-besarnya terhadap budaya Amerika masuk ke sini melalui filem. Tidak ada kuota lagi terhadap impor filem, karena salah satu dari keluarga Soeharto (Presiden Republik Indonesia II — Red.) sendiri ingin berbisnis filem. Mungkin ada saham dia juga di situ. Kemudian juga ada TV swasta, lisensi undang-undang yang mengatur tentang pembatasan media melalui, televisi, radio, yang dulu hanya monopoli pemerintah dilanggar sendiri oleh pemerintahan Soeharto. Karena anaknya ingin berbisnis di bidang televisi. Jadi, orang-orang yang ingin punya pernyataan melalui filem sejak pertengahan 1980an, (mereka) shifting (bergeser). Dari era ‘founding fathers’ yang dulu bicara soal idealisme, perjuangan, tentang manifesto-manifesto sosial, perjuangan merah putih, nasionalisme, dan lain-lain bergeser menjadi… Kalau tidak kombinasi yang diharapkan sehat antara komersialisme dan idealisme atau komersialisme yang berlebihan! Gue lahir di masa itu. Gue tidak bisa melepaskan kenyataan bahwa, apa yang dulu dianggap pendiri sejarah filem di Indonesia jika filem harus merupakan pernyataan budaya dari sutradara, atau auteur-nya, sudah bergeser. Gue bikin filem di tahun 1995-1996, justru lagi puncak-puncaknya (pergeseran itu — Red.). TV swasta lagi gila-gilaan! Kita punya generasi yang namanya ‘escort’ waktu itu. Semuanya ingin pergi ke mall, semuanya ingin mengadopsi budaya Barat terutama gaya visualnya. Puncak-puncaknya di saat gue lagi bikin filem. Kayak gitulah yang terjadi tanpa kendali, karena memang kita tidak sempat membuat “koreksi” yang strategis terhadap itu.
Hafiz: Ya, makanya menurut gue sebagai auteur seharusnya menjadi ‘filter’. Bayangan gue, sutradara itu adalah seseorang yang besar. Karena filem merupakan sebuah aspek yang sangat kompleks. Ada musik, seni rupa, teater, sastra, drama dan lain sebagainya. Belum lagi kita bicara tentang isinya. Persoalannya, ketika ada arus besar kapitalisme atau Amerikanisasi kata lu tadi, pilihannya kan hanya ada dua: Apakah kita masuk dalam arus itu atau kita menjadi ‘filter’. ‘Filter’ di sini bukan berarti tidak komersial loh. Nah, dari situ gue pengen tau, Ri. Dalam masalah ini kan kita perlu obyektif. Tentu ada pilihan-pilihan yang memang ekstrem dan tidak mau bernegosiasi.
Riri: Kalau ditanya: “Gue sendiri berada di posisi yang mana?”. Gue jelas dari pertama. Kita bikin Kuldesak (disutradarai Riri Riza, Nan Achnas, Mira Lesmana, dan Rizal Mantovani pada 1998 — Red.) dulu adalah karena “Kita pengen ada”. Sejak tahun 1990 sampai lulus sekolah, mulai bikin filem-filem dokumenter kecil sendiri, filem Indonesia gak pernah ada di Bioskop 21. Jadi dulu, seperti punya libido yang simpel: “Kita pengen filem kita ada di situ tuh! (Bioskop). Kalau filemnya sutradara Amerika ada di teater satu, dan kita ada di teater tiga atau empat. Kita maunya begitu. Memang itu sesuatu yang menurut gue “berbeda” dengan teman-teman kita sendiri, misalnya yang Arya Kusumadewa lakukan. Memutar filemnya dari kampus ke kampus secara gerilya. Itu bukan cuma di Indonesia sih terjadi. Di beberapa negara Asia, filem-filem Malaysia awalnya ditayangkan di festival-festival kecil. Impact yang gue rasakan dari memastikan bahwa filem gue didistribusikan secara luas di bioskop, jauh lebih besar. Dalam artian, yang menonton lebih banyak. Bisa merasakan dampaknya dan tergerak oleh dampak itu menjadi luas. Gue mulai ketagihan dengan itu. Kita memproses ‘filter’ dengan itu! Dalam artian begini, kita membuat filem merupakan pernyataan kita, itu udah pasti. Filem-filem gue dari pertama sampai sekarang, jarang sekali genre-nya, itu istilahnya “bulat”. Gue susah sekali masuk ke teritori genre yang jelas, seperti horor, crime, atau thriller gitu. Gue selalu terhenti di genre yang merupakan kombinasi, atau paling gak gue bikin drama. Mungkin itu ‘filter’-nya. Kita tidak mengikuti pakem-pakem industri atau yang diciptakan oleh suara dominan kritikus di dunia. Yang menciptakan genre itu kan kritikus, supaya dia bisa bekerja, bisa gampang mengkomunikasikan pikirannya atau pikiran kritisnya terhadap audiens. Supaya audiens mau membaca dia, dan memilih apakah mau menonton filem ini atau tidak. Nah, kritikus lah yang kemudian menciptakan definisi-definisi itu. Yang kita lakukan adalah mem-‘filter’ arus besar itu (dengan) mencoba untuk menciptakan filem yang tidak tunduk terhadap pakem-pakem industri yang dibakukan oleh Amerika itu. Ya, cuma itu. Tapi gue dari pertama sampai sekarang, sejak bikin Kuldesak, Petualangan Sherina, Eliana, Eliana, Gie, Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya, Untuk Rena, Laskar Pelangi sampai dengan yang kemarin (Sang Pemimpi — Red.), tidak ada satu filem pun yang gue format berdua bersama Mira (Lesmana) itu dibikin untuk tujuan yang istilahnya: ‘extreme underground movement’. Eliana, Eliana walau kita bikin cuma dirilis untuk di tiga layar (bioskop), tapi tetap di bioskop. Biar orang bisa datang, membeli karcis, kemudian masuk dan menonton.
Hafiz: Riil-nya filem lah ya?
Riri: Iya. Karena menurut gue filem cuma begitu. Kalau filem tidak ditonton di dalam dan di luar lingkungannya di mana dia dibikin, tidak jadi bahan sebuah diskusi, atau bahan kritik di dalam lingkungannya, menurut gue filem itu tidak berguna. Ketika filem hanya bisa dilihat dari jauh, dibicarakan jauh dari tempatnya berasal, menurut gue filem itu belum bisa menjadi “filem”. Karena tidak bisa berkomunikasi dengan masyarakat dan lingkungan budayanya. Apalagi kalau kita ngomong auteur dan statement budaya. Kalau statement budaya untuk tempat yang jauh di luar, menurut gue tidak “jadi”. Statement budaya harus jadi statement untuk memperbaiki, atau menjadi koreksi atau menjadi “sesuatu”.
Hafiz: Iya. Persoalannya dari dulu gue melihat filem-filem lu, seperti Sonata Kampung Bata, Petualangan Sherina, Eliana, Eliana, Gie dan yang terakhir Laskar Pelangi. Gue coba merunut sebagai seorang yang suka filem dan suka terhadap permainan “bahasa”, yang gue cari adalah kontribusi Riri Riza. Kontribusi lu sebagai auteur tadi. Secara kultural, terlepas kalau di media sering ngomongin tentang filem Laskar Pelangi dari ngomongin impact, ngomongin kritik dunia pendidikan, menurut gue itu “sah”. Gue sangat senang sekali. Tapi di satu sisi gue ingin tetap membaca. Karena menurut gue filem adalah bahasa. Di filem juga ada tanda-tanda. Ada tanda-tanda yang lu lempar ke gue, dan audience. Dan gue melihat ada beberapa yang hilang di antara bagian-bagian itu. Gue memang menganggap ada yang cukup penting, Eliana, Eliana. Gue anggap sebagai lemparan baik lu terhadap publik. Bisa menjadi bahan studi lah. Apakah industri menjadi penyebab hilangnya itu?
Riri: Gue rasa memang banyak kemungkinan-kemungkinan. Misalnya Eliana, Eliana gue tulis sendiri skrip-nya. Secara intens terlibat di dalam proses pembangunan dari konsep satu halaman menjadi skrip. Filem-filem gue yang lain, Gie mungkin ada sesuatu yang lain. Gue tulis sendiri. Itu juga suatu contoh di mana gue bergumul sendiri mulai dari nol sampai akhirnya jadi. Tapi tidak semua begitu. Gue menyadari bahwa dalam konsep, istilahnya kekaryaan atau karakteristik seorang sutradara pun, dia menjalani banyak fase; banyak perkembangan, kondisi-kondisi, mungkin yang terpengaruh oleh entah perkembangan industri itu sendiri, atau dirinya, pribadinya. Mungkin ada sesuatu dalam periode ini sampai periode lainnya dia mengejar apa? Nanti pada periode yang lain dia kembali menjadi dirinya. Mulai punya pertanyaan lagi. Gue rasa, gue akan selalu “masuk dan keluar” dari situ. Dan sebagai penonton, kritikus, menunggu aja. Karena gue menghindari diri untuk membuat filem yang ditujukan untuk melayani kepuasan orang lain. Ketika gue membuat Eliana, Eliana, gue mendapat banyak penghargaan, semua orang datang dan menanyakan, “Filem lu berikutnya apa? Kita nunggu filem yang kayak gini lagi”. Terus gue bilang, ya… Tentu saja gue melayani dengan ramah, “Siapa lu, untuk mengharapkan filem gue seperti itu lagi?”. Gue akan membiarkan diri masuk ke dalam arus, istilahnya yang gue “hirup” hari itu. Dan sangat menarik ya… Justru. Maksudnya, gue sudah berkarya sepuluh tahun lebih, point-nya adalah gue mau “excited” setiap hari. Gue pengen menikmati. Dan itu yang gue lakukan. Jadi, kadang-kadang berat banget gitu, ya? Misalnya gue datang membawa konsep Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya itu, masuk ke development funding untuk Hubert Bals Foundation dan satunya lagi dari Global Initiative dari New York. Gila itu Fiz, maksudnya kita harus jadi orang yang menjawab sekian (pertanyaan — Red.). Jadi kayak ujian. Membuat film itu jadi kayak ujian, “Apa konsep lu? Apa pernyataan lu? Kenapa ada seks di sini? Untuk apa? Dan lu mau ngomong apa?”. Dan gue jadi kayak orang gila, ya? Dari dulu gue bikin filem ini karena punya semangat yang tinggi sekali. Tetapi semua funding board ini menanyakan hal-hal yang kadang-kadang di luar kapasitas gue. Gue jadi harus masukin argumen dan istilahnya justifikasi begitu banyak.
Hafiz: Jadinya dicari-cari?
Riri: Betul! Nah, itu yang gak gue inginkan. Begitu juga dengan penonton. Kadang-kadang kita kayak sudah punya atau mengerti formulanya. Kalau lu pengen mendapatkan 500 ribu penonton, “Sepuluh menit pertama filem lu itu harus kayak begini. Nanti, di lima belas menit lu bikin begini. Trus, tiga puluh menit lu beginiin!”. Dan gue kan sempet belajar skenario dan master gue itu kan penulisan skenario filem. Itu yang gue pelajari. Gue belajar tentang espektasi pasar. Pasar atau penonton itu lesu kalau melihat development karakter seperti apa. Kalau lu membuat mereka excited dan senang, lo taro “ini” di menit yang ke berapa! Jadi ada rumus-rumusnya. Kadang itu yang membuat kita tersesat. Nah, kalau gue masih mencoba membuat sesuatu yang masih gue nikmati. Dan pada saat yang sama, komunitas kecil gue di sini (Miles Production — Red.), produser gue punya “tandem” writer yang sering datang ke sini untuk membaca skrip kita. Ada production manager, sekretaris yang kerjanya menonton sinetron yang kadang-kadang kita kasih baca skrip. Mereka semualah yang memberikan masukan, terhadap tipis-tebel karya gue. Gue juga akui tidak semua karya gue punya personalitas setinggi yang lain. Ada filem-filem gue yang istilahnya, “Gue diberi ruang oleh orang-orang ini (Miles Production — Red.) untuk lebih “personal”. Tapi ada karya-karya yang punya kesadaran “sama-sama” untuk, ”Tolong lu baca nih, tolong lu kasih kontribusi, tolong lu jagain ini filem biar jangan sampai… Kadang-kadang cost-nya… Kayak Laskar Pelangi itu aja udah 9 milyar; Sang Pemimpi 12 milyar, Gie 8 milyar. Tapi ada yang kayak Eliana, Eliana yang lebih kecil budget-nya. Tapi sekecil-kecilnya, 800 juta! Kadang gue pikir… Gila! Gue gak pernah ngebayangin duit 800 juta itu seberapa banyak. Sekarang kok gue bisa menghabiskan uang sebanyak itu untuk jadi filem?
Hafiz: Jadi excitement-nya dimana yang lu maksud?
Riri: Gue mengalaminya berkembang sesuai dengan waktu. Misalnya pada saat gue selesai membuat Petualangan Sherina di tahun 2000, gue excited membuat film berbiaya kecil. Secara visual istilahnya sangat edgy atau ingin melewati/melintasi batas-batas konvensi. Agak lebih gelap. Kameranya handheld. Dan ada pendekatan visual yang yang kuat. Ada konflik yang kental. Ada pertanyaan moral yang agak di luar kebiasaan. Orang tua melawan anaknya. Orang tua menghardik anaknya. Jadi, hal-hal kayak gitu. Waktu gue membuat Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya, (tentang) seksualitas misalnya. Gue pengen bikin filem yang mempertanyakan batas-batas kewajaran tentang seksualitas di antara anak muda. Dan juga penggunaan drugs dengan tujuan casual. Cerita sih! Kebanyakan yang gue bayangkan “cerita”. Gue pengen mencoba bercerita tentang kisah-kisah yang “inconventional”. Tapi gue yakin masih “menggairahkan” untuk penonton Indonesia yang gue tahu betul. Itu datang dari kalangan muda, usia-usia tiga belas sampai dua puluh lima tahun. Kebanyakan mendengarkan musik pop. Tidak membaca surat kabar. Menghindari diri mereka dari pertanyaan-pertanyaan serius tentang hidup. Jadi gue menggabungkan kombinasi itu. Sementara kayak gue, masih membaca, kadang-kadang masih punya waktu membaca buku filsafat. Gue menggeluti dunia politik. Gue suka membaca apa yang terjadi dengan persoalan penculikan dunia aktivis di Indonesia. Jadi, gue tinggal mencari kombinasi yang seimbang antara yang “berat-berat” dengan yang “ringan-ringan”.
Akbar: Sebenarnya ada definsi penonton Indonesia itu siapa? Atau penontonnya seorang Riri Riza itu siapa? Kira-kira lu bisa mendefinisikan?
Riri: Kalau gue yakin itu ada. Selama ini kita selalu melakukan itu (bertanya — Red.) hampir setiap waktu ketika kita akan membuat filem. Siapa yang mau menonton? Setiap kali gue punya konsep dari selembar, sampai segini (jadi skrip — Red.). Pertanyaan selalu muncul, “Siapa yang mau menonton filem yang kayak begini?” Dan sampai ke “angka” loh! Kadang-kadang gue menghitung, misalnya menurut Mira, “Ya… Paling 300 ribu orang!”. Waktu mikirin Laskar Pelangi, kita mikir pembaca Andre Hirata (penulis Laskar Pelangi — Red.) yang jumlah cetak buku dan pembacanya sudah cukup banyak, 350 ribuan orang lah. Mereka pasti semua mau nonton. Kita tahu! Mungkin pembeli novel kan satu orang satu. Saudaranya mungkin ada lima orang yang akan dia ajak. Jadi mungkin kita bisa double. Kalo pembacanya buku bisa 350 ribu, kita mungkin bikin target 700 ribu penonton. Nah, dari situlah kita narik mundur. Kita harus berpikir penonton, gak mungkin nggak! Tidak mungkin bisa kita katakan penonton Riri atau penonton filem Indonesia itu sama terus. Selalu dinamis. Karena kita sudah mengalaminya. Habis gue bikin filem Petualangan Sherina, kita bikin promosi ala Hollywood lah. Bukan hanya ceritanya yang dijual; pemainnya dijual, sutradaranya dijual, kita pake bikin lagu dan sebagainya. Kita pikir kita udah ge-er nih. Wah… Berarti penontonnya Miles atau penonton filem gue sudah ada 1,6 jutaan dong. Gue pikir, “Gue bikin filem lagi, pasti 1,6 juta itu datang!” Ternyata pas gue bikin Eliana, Eliana yang datang cuma 20 ribu orang! Kemana tuh yang 1 juta lebih? Jadi, gue belajar tentang itu setiap saat. Dan itu adalah penting. Kalau lu tanya siapa mereka? Itu akan berubah setiap saat. Kita tidak bisa memastikan bahwa; gue gak tahu soal James Cameron, Sylvester Stallone, atau Jean Claude van Damme. Katanya sih udah ada penonton mereka, karena mereka kan institusi yang berbeda dari kita. Bisa jadi mereka sudah memperhitungkan. Tapi kalau gue gak pernah. Gue selalu lebih memperhitungkan cerita. Kayak tadi, Laskar Pelangi dan Sang Pemimpi yang jadi patokan adalah pembaca buku. Sekarang gue lagi develop skripnya Bumi Manusia (seri pertama tetralogi Pulau Buru Pramoedya Ananta Toer — Red.). Berapa sih oplahnya Bumi Manusia? Siapa sih yang berminat menonton? Dan kita hitung itu dengan hati-hati. Supaya kita bisa meyakinkan orang yang mau menanam modal di filem. Bahwa, “Kemungkinan duit lu bisa balik nih!” Atau “gini deh, filem ini kita akan tulis nama lu gede-gede di poster, tapi lu gak usah mengharapkan duit lu balik!”. Karena hampir semua filem biayanya besar, dan tujuannya itu.
Akbar: Kemudian dengan statement bahwa filem bisa membuat perubahan sosial, apa lu masih percaya pada statement itu dengan kondisi penonton yang belum ajeg.
Riri: Selalu harus percaya. Karena itulah gue bicara soal excitement. Gue pikir apa yang gue bikin dan yang selalu membuat bersemangat bikin filem karena bisa berkontribusi. Minimal ya… Membuat gue bangga dan ngomong bahwa, “itu adalah filem gue”. Sampai hari ini gue merasa, filem yang gue bikin cukup bisa dibanggakan. Rata-rata minimal menghasilkan. Ya… Orang kadang-kadang mengirim sms; pesan di Facebook, email, bahwa mereka menonton filem dan suka. Sampai sekarang, masih ada yang suka Petualangan Sherina. Masih ada yang suka Ada Apa Dengan Cinta. Masih ada yang menunggu Gie diputar di TV setiap bulan Agustus. Jadi gue rasa itu. Peran sosialnya agak sulit kita baca. Karena tidak ada institusi kajian yang mendalami tentang itu. Tapi minimal ada beberapa mahasiswa yang menjadikan filem kita sebagai tesis mereka dan bahan kajian. Paling begitu. Gue gak pernah menghitung dampaknya betul-betul. Misalnya bahwa Laskar Pelangi bisa membuat anak-anak sekolah pada pengen sekolah. Atau Sang Pemimpi membuat orang bercita-cita punya sekolah sampai ke perguruan tinggi yang berkelas.
Hafiz: Gue balik ke karya lu. Seperti yang gue bilang tadi, ada semacam kesulitan membaca ketika menonton karya-karya lu. Misalnya soal basis cerita tadi. Gue nonton Laskar Pelangi. Gue tahu ceritanya akan begini. Tapi gue kan punya ekspektasi pada Riri Riza yang gue tahu. Apakah ini negosiasi kode-kode (bahasa filem — Red.) yang selama ini lu pernah punya menurut gue dengan pemilik modal atau pasar itu membuat tereduksi. Ini hanya pikiran gue aja. Gue pernah diskusi dengan seorang teman-teman lu juga—bicara tentang filem Gie. Gue menontonnya di DVD. Salah satu diskusi kita adalah, “Kenapa Riri Riza yang kita kenal jadi begini ya?”. Begini maksudnya, dalam satu sisi posisi negosiasi kultural lu sangat besar. Lu dipercaya oleh investor dan pemilik modal; dipercaya penonton. Karena ada Riri Riza di belakang “filem” ini. Setelah menonton filem itu, kita berpikir, “Riri melakukan kesalahan, kenapa?”. Misalnya, memilih tokoh-tokohnya. Waktu SMA dan awal kuliah gue tergila-gila banget sama Soe Hok Gie (dari buku Catatan Harian Seorang Demonstran — Red.). “Gue banget nih orangnya”. Bayangan gue Gie adalah seorang yang di luar selebrasi dan selebritas misalnya.
Riri: Maksud lu pemerannya nih?
Hafiz: Ya, pemeran. Banyak hal yang dibayangkan di kepala gue sebagai pembaca. Kemudian, dihancurkan oleh filem ini. Seketika itu juga gue bertanya kepada beberapa kawan yang membaca Gie. Mereka bilang, “Gila ya, kenapa si Riri tidak memakai orang biasa saja, ya? Orang Cina biasa, dan itu akan lebih efektif. Tensinya akan lebih terasa. Kenapa harus memakai ‘tokoh’ ini?”. Terus gue bilang, mungkin ada negosiasi-negosiasi, tapi gue kan gak tahu.
Riri: Itulah yang gue maksud filem itu harus memanfaatkan karakteristik “dia” sebagai filem. Gue bicara film komersial di sini! Filem gue dikemas atau dibentuk sedemikian rupa sebagai filEm komersial. Dengan semua elemennya. Pertama, harus ada clarity (kejelasan) di dalam penceritaan. Kalau lu baca Catatan Seorang Demonstran, sebenarnya tidak ada plot seperti yang gue lakukan. Supaya bisa di-encode oleh penonton sebagai filem drama. Kedua, harus ada plot atau karakter di dalamnya yang bisa juga di-encode oleh para penonton umum sebagai sebuah filem drama. Yang ketiga, harus ada yang menjadi semacam vote getter (yang memikat hati — Red.), supaya orang mau datang ke bioskop dan mau menonton filem itu. Betapa ruginya kalau gue tidak mempertimbangkan itu. Dan akhirnya gue hanya mendapatkan 20 ribu orang yang merupakan pembaca Gie (buku Catatan Seorang Demonstran — Red.). Sementara, potensi orang tertular oleh idealisme dan pemikiran Soe Hok Gie—yang jumlahnya penonton usia 13 sampai 22 tahun yang mungkin dua jutaan orang—itu gue “ignore”. Gue lebih memilih “menyenangkan” atau “mengundang” dua juta orang—yang mudah-mudahan bisa tertular oleh spirit Gie— daripada orang-orang pecinta Gie yang protes, “Lu gila ya, Nicholas Saputra, orang keturunan Jerman main orang Cina!”. Gue katakan, “gue nggak mikirin lu! Orang kayak lu itu jumlahnya cuma 15 atau 20 orang. Ngapain gue nyenengin-nyenengin lu?!”. Gue bikin filem ini bukan untuk menyenangkan penggemar fanatik Gie. Tetapi mencoba menularkan spirit Gie ke generasi yang lebih muda. Mudah-mudahan mereka jadi tahu bahwa, “di Indonesia pernah ada pembunuhan orang-orang komunis yang jumlahnya sampai jutaan orang”. Karena mereka gak tahu, Fiz. Mereka tahu bahwa idealisme itu bisa dibangun bukan hanya sekedar ada di jalanan. Tapi lu bisa naik gunung. Bahwa Indonesia itu punya landscape (pemandangan) yang luar biasa indah.
Hafiz: Tapi apakah lu tetap percaya dengan figur-figur tertentu ini?
Riri: Percaya betul! Karena itulah yang gue pelajari sejak belajar sejarah filem di IKJ. Kita tahu ada yang namanya star system di Amerika. Kita tahu ada bintang filem di Amerika ada yang mempengaruhi sinematografi filemnya. Karena dia punya codet di sebelah kiri, jadi semua angle-nya harus diambil dari sebelah kanan. Dan itu terjadi di filem dulu, sejak pertama kali filem mulai muncul, masa keemasan filem di Hollywood, semua periode-periode sinema dimanapun mempertimbangkan bintang. Orang kayak Jean-Paul Belmondo main di filemnya Jean-Luc Godard. Jadi kalau buat gue, sangat tidak masalah. Filem gue tidak mencoba meng-entertain hanya kalangan kritis. Tentu saja gue pengen filem gue di-review oleh orang seperti; J.B Kristanto, Bre Redana, dan Seno Gumira Adjidarma. Tapi pada saat yang sama, yang lebih penting adalah gue pengen anak-anak SMA itu—yang kenal Nicholas Saputra—terjebak masuk di dalam bioskop dan menonton Gie. Entah mereka “muntah” di menit ke 20 karena filemnya lama banget. Tapi, siapa tahu ada sekian banyak yang lain kemudian berpikir, “anjing ya… Menarik banget nih tokoh”. Kemudian datang ke Gramedia untuk membaca bukunya Gie. Itu yang kita lakukan selama ini. Gue yakin kritik semacam itu selalu ada. Gak ada masalah. Orang yang memberikan gue funding (bantuan dana) dari Belanda pun kaget, “lu milih orang muda banget ini”. Terus gue jelaskan bahwa “the market of films di Indonesia itu sudah dibentuk bertahun-tahun oleh sebuah strategi budaya tertentu”, dan tidak ada lagi cara lain buat gue, kecuali “melawan”. Gue tidak mungkin jadi orang underground. Menjadi underground filmmaker di Indonesia, lu hanya bisa dipedulikan oleh sebagian kecil orang, yang kebanyakan datang dari komunitas underground sendiri. Tentu saja kita bicara atau fakta-fakta yang lain sekarang. Komunitas sekarang bergerak banyak. Networking dengan internet yang berkembang, apa pun bisa terjadi. Tapi, di masa awal gue membuat filem, gue harus menyadari betul pasar itu. Realita itu. Dan itu sangat menarik buat gue. Gue ngelihat anak-anak kecil mulai ngomongin Gie. Orang kayak Eros (gitaris grup musik Sheila on 7 — Red.) yang bikin musik, dulunya tidak mengerti sama sekali bahwa, “ada ya… Manusia kayak gini di Indonesia”. Tiba-tiba menjadi terpengaruh dia. Dan buat gue itu penting.
Akbar: Berkaitan dengan Gie yang mempunya konteks yang politis. Sebenarnya apa sih yang lu definisikan tentang Gie itu? Ideal apa yang sebenarnya lu bayangkan?
Riri: Buat kita karya itu yang sangat penting. (Tokoh) Gie pada saat kita mau membuat filem itu, sedikit sekali yang mengenal. Lu tanya sepuluh orang di jalanan, gak ada yang kenal Gie. Mungkin kalau dijadikan seratus orang, ada dua di antara seratus orang. Jadi, apa yang kita lakukan adalah mencoba merombak pola-pola atau konvensi tentang, “apa sih yang bisa dijadikan filem di Indonesia?”. Secara “benar” (dengan konvensi produksi filem yang baku ala industri — Red.). Bukan secara sebuah gerakan underground. Karena kalau gerakan underground, lu bisa saja bikin pakai mini DV atau apa saja. Tapi gue mau bikin sebuah filem yang istilahnya “ajeg”. Punya konvensi-konvensi yang kemudian membuat orang masuk ke bioskop dan bisa bilang bahwa, “ini filem sama dengan… Gue menonton filem ini bayar 50 ribu. Apa yang gue dapat sama dengan gue bayar 50 ribu untuk nonton filem Mission Impossible 3 di bioskop sebelah?”. Sound-nya sama. Technical cinematography, pendekatannya semua sama. Sama dengan orang bayar 50 ribu nonton filem Hollywood di teater dua, kalau filem gue main di teater satu. Tapi yang berbeda adalah ada kisah tentang kegelapan Indonesia di dalamnya. Ada kisah dimana orang di Indonesia itu terdiri dari kasta-kasta. Beda dengan India, kasta-kasta diakui, kita gak! Orang Cina jelas, masyarakat kelas dua di Indonesia. Bisa disebut “Cina”. Sementara orang Jawa, orang Bugis tidak bisa dibilang, “hei… Bugis lu!”. Orang keturunan Cina di Indonesia bisa dibilang, “heei…lu Cina ya?!”. Atau kalau bertingkah sedikit, lu bisa disikat. Itu kenyataan. Jadi, kita mau menceritakan sisi gelap Indonesia tanpa harus mendapat sponsor dari pemerintah, seperti filem (Pengkhianatan) G 30 S/PKI. Atau menjadikannya filem yang… Istilahnya sub-standard. Karena terus terang saja, gue selalu merasa tidak kuat menonton filem Arya Kusumadewa. Gak kuat gue. Walau pun menurut gue, idealismenya luar biasa. Pesan, gagasan, kegilaan-kegilaannya itu memang inconventional, independent, dan underground. Gue perlu kekuatan untuk itu. Gue perlu excitement menonton filem baik dalam artian dalam konvensi-konvensi yang ada.
Akbar: Berkaitan dengan konvensi tadi, lu pernah membayangkan gak ada stereotipe pada Gie? Misalnya pada adegan Gie ditanya oleh salah satu tokohnya, “lu sebenarnya ‘kiri atau kanan’?”. Bagi gue itu adalah stereotipe. Itu salah satunya. Dan bagi gue banyak adegan dalam filem itu stereotipe. Label “merah” misalnya adalah PKI dan segala macam. Apakah dampak itu juga diperhitungkan ketika membuat filem ini. Peristiwa politis menjadi sangat populis.
Riri: Ya. Karena filem adalah media populis. Lu harus kembali kepada sejarah gue itu siapa. Filem pertama gue itu filem anak-anak musikal. Gue bukan pembuat filem politik. Gue tidak pernah coba-coba untuk melabel diri sebagai pembuat filem politik. Gue banyak dikritik waktu itu, “lu siapa? Berani-beraninya bikin filem tentang 1965?”. Terus gue bilang, “lu siapa? Menganggap persoalan 1965 itu hanya milik lu?”. Masak gue mesti jadi anggota PRD (Partai Rakyat Demokratik — Red.) dulu baru bisa bikin filem tentang “gerakan”. Siapa yang menentukan begitu? Menurut gue itu malah membuat jadi tidak demokratis. Siapa pun sekarang di era demokrasi ini boleh membuat apapun. Nah, sekarang tinggal pilihan. Seperti yang gue bilang ke Hafiz tadi, Gie itu akan dibenci oleh sebagian orang, karena terlalu stereotipikal; terlalu general, terlalu generik menggambarkan. Tapi gue punya bayangan audiens yang berbeda dengan teman-teman ini. Gue mau mengarah pada orang-orang yang mendengar musik pop. Orang-orang yang tidak pernah punya konsep di belakang kepalanya bahwa komunis itu ada “abu-abu dan putihnya juga”. Tidak semua orang komunis “hitam”. Karena semua anak SMA, dari generasi gue… Gila banget! “Semua komunis itu adalah ‘pencongkel mata’. Orang yang membunuh orang lain”. Gue mencoba menangkap audiens yang itu. Pasti sulit sekali untuk membayangkan membaca buku Catatan Seorang Demonstran, karena mereka memang tidak diajar untuk membaca. Tidak semua berhasil. Lu tidak bisa juga mengklaim bahwa cita-cita dan mimpi kita ini berhasil seratus persen. Yang menonton Gie cuma sekitar 350 ribu orang. Targetnya waktu itu minimal satu juta. Karena Nico (Nicholas Saputra — Red.) habis main di filem Ada Apa dengan Cinta yang cukup populer. Kita pikir, “mestinya fans-nya Nico tertarik nih menonton”. Ternyata gak! Jadi itu proses belajar lah. Gila, gue baru bikin filem sepuluh!” Maksudnya perusahaan ini (Miles Production — Red.) baru membuat filem sepuluh. Apa yang diharapkan? Bahwa kita sudah “tahu” semua, baru membuat sepuluh filem! Gue yakin gak. Kita harus membuat sepuluh kesalahan lagi. Baru kita betul-betul “dapat”. Kayak Wim Wenders itu membuat banyak sekali trial and error untuk kemudian “menemukan”. Sampai sekarang pun kalau dia ditanya, “lu sudah menemukan belum? Lu itu siapa? Statement lu apa sebagai seorang auteur?”. Dia pasti bilang, “lu gila apa? Gue gak tahu! Gue adalah orang yang mencari”. Dan gue makin yakin memang gue akan “mencari”. Sampai mati pun, jangan-jangan gue gak akan pernah ketemu. Tapi yang penting ya, lu sebagai pembuat filem harus punya excitement bahwa setiap saat lu melakukan sesuatu yang “penting”. Buat lu sendiri minimal.
Hafiz: Kemarin gue sempat diskusi dengan seorang kawan bahwa ketika muncul ide saja, sudah sebuah excitement dalam membuat filem. Sampai ke proses produksi hingga tayang. Tapi dalam fase-fase itu ada integrasi dari berbagai disiplin. Gue kan membuat filem, biasanya basisnya dokumenter. Tapi di kepala gue wilayahnya selalu fiksi. Karena bermain-main di wilayah fantasi. Gue berinjak di wilayah realitas, tapi bermain-main di fantasinya. Fantasi itu bermacam-macam seperti; fantasi bayangan audiens tadi, fantasi tentang komersial, dan fantasi tentang bayangan estetika. Kalau bagi gue tetap harus ada semacam bungkus yang menyerupai gabus spon: menghisap. Karena seperti kata lu, “siapa lu? Gue mau bikin ini! Gue percaya karya ini penting kok untuk masyarakat!”. Sama juga kan? Cuma ada proses “penghisapan” yang coba kita atur. Gue gak hanya bicara tentang filem lu, Ri. Kembali kepada cultural statement tadi, sebenarnya gak baik juga ya membanding-bandingkan ini. Tapi jadinya tetap balik, Ri. Misalnya pada filem para founding fathers itu. Cultural statement-nya kan kental. Apakah cultural statement kawan-kawan kita generasi 1990an sampai sekarang ini hanya segitu? Apakah cuma segitu yang kita dapat? Gue bicara di sini bukan dalam konteks gue asal pengkritik. Tapi, apakah kita gak punya yang lain?
Riri: Maksud lu, apa kita tidak bisa mengharapkan lebih? Gue rasa banyak hal. Lu lihat semua mereka (founding father filem Indonesia — Red.) itu, jarang sekali datang dari disiplin hanya filem. Usmar Ismail itu aktivis organisasi Islam, dia juga wartawan. Dia juga berkecimpung di dunia politik. Asrul (Asrul Sani — Red.) juga begitu. Pak Djaja (Djaduk Djajakusuma — Red.) apalagi. Sjuman (Sjumandjaja — Red.) berpendidikan di Moskow. Punya sensitivitas seni yang sangat tinggi dari leluhurnya. Mereka itu di zaman seperti apa. Menurut gue beda sama sekali. Apa yang terjadi di Indonesia sejak tahun 1980an sampai sekarang, itu merubah pola pikir satu generasi. Lu tinggal berharap ke anak lu, supaya dia bisa punya bacaan yang lebih baik dari kecil. Kayak gue? Terus terang saja. Gue lahir dan tumbuh di iklim Orde Baru banget. Gue diajar membaca Alquran. Harus bisa baca Alquran tanpa mengerti artinya. Gue masuk sekolah yang tidak mengajarkan kita untuk belajar tentang sejarah sastra Indonesia. Apa yang bisa lu harapkan? Apalagi filem Indonesia. Lu lihatlah itu produser filem Indonesia yang lain. Lu coba lakukan wawancara seperti ini dengan namanya; Manoj Punjabi, Gope Samtani, Parwez (Chand Parwez). Lu coba deh. Kemudian lu bisa mengerti, apa yang bisa kita harapkan dari teman-teman kita kayak Hanung (Hanung Bramantyo). Mereka punya ruang gerak seperti apa? Mereka tidak punya teman “dialog”. Gue datang dari komunitas yang menurut gue sangat beruntung. Mira mendengarkan musik yang lebih bagus dari gue. Membaca Milan Kundera, membaca Tolstoy, membaca Pramoedya Ananta Toer. Produser yang lain mana ada. Apa yang kita harapkan, Fiz? Jadi gue rasa, lu harus take over kalau lu mau. Orang-orang yang punya kemampuan menganalisa persoalan secara lebih kuat, itu harus take over. Itu yang terjadi di Malaysia. Amir Muhammad (sutradara Malaysia — Red.) itu bukan seorang pembuat filem. Dia adalah seorang reviewer, kritikus, kritikus sastra dan dia juga kolumnis. Yasmin Achmad juga begitu. Orang yang berkecimpung di dunia komunikasi dengan track record dua puluh tahun. Mereka masuk ke filem. Tapi kita mendingan loh di Indonesia. Di Malaysia ada 60-70an filem komersial dibuat tiap tahun. Dan semuanya flop (gagal — Red.). Sudah bikin komersial saja flop. Di Indonesia yang terjadi dengan Hanung, Joko Anwar, … Siapa lagi ya…yang komersial…Ifa (Ifa Isfansyah — Red).… itu lumayan. Bisa bikin filem yang penontonnya sampai satu setengah juta. Jadi, berhasil sebagai pembuat filem komersial. Di Malaysia mereka gagal. Nah, kita kadang-kadang terlalu kritis pada bangsa kita sendiri, terutama kaitannya dengan budaya pop. Kalau lu jalan ke Thailand, lu lihat kita ngomong, “pembuat filem Thailand hebat”. Masuk ke Cannes (Festival Filem Cannes, Prrancis — Red.), Berlin (Festival Filem Berlin — Red.)”. Mereka itu selected few. Orang-orang kayak gue sebenarnya datang ke generasi komersial yang kalau di negara-negara lain itu kalah sama Hollywood. Di Indonesia kita bisa bersaing sama Hollywood. Gue sama Mira deg-degan banget filem Sang Pemimpi main barengan dengan filem Avatar. Avatar itu “mesin” bukan filem. Tapi kita bisa bersaing sama itu. Di negara lain semua tenggelam. Jadi menurut gue, apa yang terjadi di Indonesia—harapan lu tentang pernyataan budaya seperti apa yang pernah kita baca dan kita lihat dari Usmar dengan filem kayak Krisis, Tamu Agung—menurut gue berat sekali dipraktekkan hari ini. Terutama di sebuah bangsa yang tidak punya kebijakan kebudayaan. Kalau di negara lain, orang-orang kayak Nan Achnas dan Garin (Garin Nugroho — Red.) itu dikasih funding. Kalau bukan oleh pemerintah pusat, pemerintah daerahnya. (Atau) oleh funding-funding budaya kayak endowment fund (bantuan dana) yang dibikin oleh institusi privat (swasta). Kalau di sini kan tidak mudah. Ford (Ford Foundation) tidak bisa beri uang utuh untuk produksi filem. Karena kita tidak punya channel untuk mendistribusikan filem kita di art house cinema. Di sini cuma ada Kineforum. Berapa penonton bisa kita harapkan di Kineforum. Lima ribu? Gak juga. Paling cuma seribu orang paling banyak. Kalau mau main satu bulan berturu-turut, gak berhenti, dan orang datang terus, paling banyak seribu. Itu di Kineforum. Statement budaya apa yang bisa kita harapkan dari seribu orang. Filem kayak Babi Buta yang Ingin Terbang (sutradara Edwin, 2009 — Red.) dia bisa dapat funding. Tapi, funding-nya pun ternyata sangat kecil. Paling 25 ribu euro. Sementara dia bikin filem dengan 35 mm. Dengan kualitas gambar yang baik. Berat banget itu. 25 ribu euro itu terlalu kecil. Malah kita “disikat” kan? Maksudnya, orang kayak Edwin itu malah dipinggirkan di sini. Gak bisa main di bioskop sini karena harus dapat tanda lulus sensor. Orang-orang yang bisa bergelut, berkelit dengan itu hanya orang-orang yang punya kemampuan ekstra, kayak Nia (Nia Dinata — Red.), Nan Achnas, dan Mira Lesmana. Karena mereka tahu politiknya. Mereka bisa “tarik-ulurnya” pintar. Tapi, kalau indie, para pembuat filem independen yang betul-betul idealis, atau statement adalah kuncinya, berat! Gak bisa masuk. Dijegal terus.
Hafiz: Lu sempat menyinggung policy, kita tidak punya strategi budaya. Menurut lu gimana sih?
Riri: Gue yakin kita tidak bisa mengharapkan pemerintah. Kita tidak perlu buang-buang waktu, bermimpi pun, setidaknya dalam pemerintahan dan parlemen yang sekarang. Untuk mengharapkan mereka punya kesadaran “muncul tiba-tiba”. Gue rasa gak. Jadi, semuanya betul-betul punya strategi yang jitu untuk memainkan posisi kita di “pasar”. Dan gue yakin peluangnya banyak. Karena sekarang teknologi digital memungkinkan kita membikin filem dengan biaya lebih murah. Bukan sangat murah. Kalau lu baca koran sekarang, ada beberapa filem seperti Belum Cukup Umur yang dibikin Nayato (Nayato Fio Nuala — Red.), dan filem horor yang dibikin. Serem sih. Gue ngebuang waktu lima belas menit saja untuk masuk bioskop apalagi pake duit 15-20 ribu untuk nonton, gue serem. Tapi, lu bayangin… Itu filem yang di-shoot dalam waktu lima hari, selesai. Dibikin dengan biaya di bawah 1 milyar rupiah. Bisa selesai. Kalau ada orang yang sangat kreatif, bisa men-shoot filem baik dengan naratif yang jelas, dengan statement yang baik, kenapa gak? Bisa dong kita tembus ke situ. Tapi gak ada juga tuh. Semua independen filmmaker yang sudah bergelut sepuluh tahun yang lalu, kayak Four Colors atau dari mana lah. Belum ada yang berhasil membuat filem yang dengan budget rendah, shooting pakai P2 (kamera video digital — Red.), sangat independen, masuk bioskop dan sukses. Belum ada. Kita juga nungguin sih. Maksudnya, “ayo dong, lu buktikan. Lu bisa bikin filem”. Misalnya filem tentang penculikan, yang bisa lu shoot dalam lima hari, gaya John Casavettes dulu tahu 1960an. Dengan syuting dua hari dulu. Terus break satu bulan. Syuting lagi dua hari. Break lagi satu bulan. Tapi akhirnya jadi filem yang, ”anjing! dan penting gitu!” mestinya ada. Gue yakin mestinya ada. Harus ada. Tapi ya… Susah. Di sini talent yang muncul, baru bergerak sedikit sudah ditangkap oleh Star Vision (industri filem — Red.). Gila! Dikasih kamera 35mm, syuting pake cinemascop. Orang kayak Pao (Faozan Rizal, kamerawan — Red.) itu di-pamper (manjakan). Maksudnya dikasih sebuah equipment yang “besar”. Dan dia (Pao) menganggap itu sebuah kesempatan untuk mengeksplorasi dan berkarya. Itu realistis. Dan make money ya. Dapat duit. Jadi arus besar seperti biasa menelan arus kecil. Arus kecil ini tidak menemukan strategi yang tepat untuk “naik” dulu sebentar, kemudian “nyemplung” lagi “berenang” mencari batu yang…, itu tidak terjadi di kita. Arus besar menang terus sekarang.
Hafiz: Kalau lu lihat dari generasi baru perfileman kita gimana?
Riri: Kalau gue sih senang banget. Masih ada yang kayak gitu. Itu terbukti. Gue kemarin diundang ke Jenewa untuk program filem Indonesia. Mereka itu bisa melihat, “you have a big hope”. Satu, lu punya pasar gede banget yang belum tergarap. Di Indonesia baru punya 600 layar untuk potensi 25 juta penonton. Kita gak usah ngomong 250 juta penonton lah. Yang punya duit untuk masuk bioskop sebenarnya hanya 25 juta orang. Tapi itu gede banget. Layarnya baru 600. Berkembangnya menjadi 1000 sampai 2000 layar masih punya kemungkinan. Kedua, lu punya bahasa sendiri. Karena negara kayak Australia atau beberapa negara di Eropa tidak bisa bersaing sama Hollywood. Karena mereka berbahasa yang sama. Jadi buat apa ada filem yang secara budaya punya karakteristik sama. Misalnya kayak filem Australia. Mereka bisa terpuaskan secara emosi, secara kultural dengan menonton filem Hollywood. Kalau kita kan gak. Mungkin dari sepuluh orang hanya lima atau dua-tiga orang yang benar-benar bisa satisfied dengan menonton filem Hollywood berbahasa Inggris. Yang lain tersesat menonton filem Barat. Mereka pengen nonton filem Indonesia dong. Bahasanya bahasa kita. Persoalan-persoalan dan kebodohan-kebodohannya, milik kita. Masih happy lah. Gue bukan masuk dalam kelompok orang yang pesimis dengan perkembangan filem Indonesia. Karena menurut gue masih balance (seimbang). Ada orang yang bikin sampah. Tapi ada masih dua tiga orang (yang baik — Red.). Dan itu sudah banyak. Yang mau memperjuangkan apa yang dia percaya. Ada Edwin, Mouly (Mouly Surya — Red.), Joko Anwar. Masih ada yang masih bilang, “gak!, gue pengen bikin filem yang lain. Gue gak mau bikin filem kayak yang itu!”. Mereka umurnya masih dibawah tigapuluh tahun. Itu kan lumayan. Di banyak negara juga begitu. Korea, itu kan salah satu contoh yang kita romantisir, kan? Tapi sebenarnya di Korea, budget yang mereka kasih itu gede banget untuk membangun perfilemannya. Negara menghabiskan uang banyak sekali. Australia juga begitu. Hampir semua filem di Australia itu tidak ada yang tidak dapat funding dari pemerintah. Singapura sekarang mulai begitu juga. Apa dampaknya? Jadi tidak memikirkan pasar! “Ngapain gue mikirin pasar? Gue bikin filem untuk ‘masturbasi’ gue. Gue dapat duit dari pemerintah!”
Hafiz: Sama juga yang terjadi di Brazil. Pada tahun 1970an itu, ada policy negara memberikan funding buat para pembuat filem. Akhirnya, para sutradara malah tidak menjadi kreatif dalam konteks memikirkan pasar, juga dalam bahasa filemnya. Karena ekperimentasi yang mereka buat menghadapi tembok.
Riri: Ya. Jadi selalu ada kemungkinan-kemungkinan. Tidak adanya policy kebudayaan di Indonesia saat ini, jangan-jangan perlu? Karena kita jadi bergerak semua untuk menentukan identitas kita. Dan bagus kalau masih ada yang bikin filem seks menurut gue. At least kita belum menjadi negara yang “puritan” banget. Kalau orang semua bikin filem (relijius — Red.), mati kita!. Atau kalau semua filem jadi “normatif” kayak filem Laskar Pelangi, mampus kita!. Harus tetap ada membuat filem horor, seks, sexploitation, dan merendahkan martabat, “orang” itu harus tetap ada. Supaya kita bisa menyeimbangkan dan membedakan. Bisa punya bahan diskusi bahwa, “itu filem jelek, dan yang ini bagusan dikit”. Bukan bagus, tapi “bagusan dikit”.
Akbar: Gue menonton filem Drupadi. Bisa cerita tentang konteks kultural yang lu maksud di sini?
Riri: Gue bukan Jawa. Gue melihatnya lagi dalam konteks, “siapa audiens gue”. Di mana kebanyakan filem bisa diputar. Ketika kita bicara soal “horor” seperti Drupadi, yang gue rasa gampang di-encode oleh penonton adalah mistisisme. Karena gue juga tidak mau bikin hantu yang terlalu direct (langsung). Gue mau bikin sesuatu yang mungkin kayak bayangan gue tentang mistis itu seperti apa. Dan gue punya pengalaman juga dengan itu. Maksudnya, walau pun bukan orang Jawa, tapi yang namanya ada spirit yang bisa kita tanya tentang “sesuatu” itu ada. Di dalam budaya Makassar pun ada. Orang Padang (Minang — Red.) pun punya kayak begituan. Jadi, gue mau coba mempelajari itu. Gue rasa gak ada masalah, karena gue selalu bekerja dalam sebuah komunitas selama ini. Gue bekerja dengan orang Jawa, orang Sunda, perempuan, dan laki-laki. Filem Drupadi yang menulis Laila Chudori, orang lain. Gue bisa yakin kredibilitas dia, mengerti apa yang dia tulis. Gue menjadi penerjemah visual. Itu sudah teritory yang sudah berbeda lagi, jadi sutradara di filem itu. Ada skrip, teks dan gue menjadi visual interpretator. Jadi gue berani. “Yakin ya…. mbak ya!”, melihat episode itu, gue baca. Gue ambil chapter pendeknya saja tentang permainan dadu itu. Itu yang gue gali dan dalami. Apa boleh buat ya… Kalau secara inisiatif sebuah konsep muncul, mau tidak mau yang lebih banyak muncul masih yang di “ruang mayoritas”. Apakah itu namanya Islam, Jawa, dan mistik. Mayoritas jumlah kepala itu tetap menentukan ide-ide apa yang akan muncul dalam budaya populer yang dalam hal ini filem. Kalau budaya alternatif seperti video dan lainnya mungkin berbeda. Apalagi gue, berkecimpung dalam filem komersial. Dari pertama itu yang paling jelas.
Hafiz: Pertanyaan terakhir, kalau boleh tahu rencana Bumi Manusia bagaimana? Bisa diceritakan sedikit gak?
Riri: Sebenarnya proses penulisan skenarionya sudah berjalan cukup panjang, sekitar dua tahun terakhir. Yang menjadi penulisnya Jujur Prananto. Gue dan Mira terlibat dalam proses itu. Kita punya bayangan sendirilah. Ini kan filem “periodik” ya. Dalam artian, semua latar belakang, set, kostum, bahasa, tapi ini juga bukan yang pertama. Gue juga mulai mendalami filem kayak filem Kartini, November 1828, terus Cut Nyak Dhien. Periodenya kan kurang lebih di situ, akhir 1800 sampai awal 1900. Gue melakukan riset visual sedapat mungkin yang gue bisa, dari foto, footage filem, buku-buku sejarah dari era itu. Kultur kolonial. Bagaimana sih pola hubungan orang Belanda dengan orang Hindia Belanda di masa itu. Pelan-pelan kita sudah mulai cari lokasi. Mulai mengimajinasikan siapa yang main kira-kira. Jadi Minke, dan Nyai Ontosoroh
Hafiz: Kapan mulai syuting?
Riri: Mulai syuting mungkin pertengahan tahun depan lah. Jadi gue punya waktu sekitar satu setengah tahun untuk melakukan apa yang perlu kita lakukan. Gie dulu dua setengah tahun. Nganggur gak ngapa-ngapain. Lapar! Hahaha, untuk mempersiapkan itu. Mau tidak mau!
*Artikel wawancara ini telah disunting dari naskah aslinya tanpa mengurangi maksud dari isi wawancara.
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Riri Riza: The Priority is Film Industry!*
In absence of clear cultural policies, Indonesians cultural activists often protest. After more than 60 years since our independence, debate on the directions of Indonesia’s modern culture continues to roll. But to date, nothing has come out satisfactorily for all parties involved. “What if the absence of directions on cultural policies in our country turns out to be necessary? Because of that absence, all of us move toward to finding our identity,” is Riri Riza’s remark regarding our current development in the industry. We need to be “grateful” for the fact that, in our film industry, there are filmmakers who produce sex, horror, and other market-responsive genres. With their presence, we can assess and balance out the good from the bad. “We’ll be dead when all we have is religious films. Or when all films are meant to be normative like Laskar Pelangi (The Rainbow Troops), we’re doomed! At least we’re not a puritan country,” he criticized Indonesian films, including his own works.
Muhammad Rivai Riza, widely known as Riri Riza, is a phenomenon in Indonesian film history. As a director, he’s undeniably one of the movers and shakers of the industry’s resurrection. Together with Mira Lesmana, Nan Achnas, and Rizal Mantovani, he ventured to make the film Kuldesak (Cul-de-sac, 1998)—a collaborative film project made with independent production—which was screened in Studio 21 Cinema to proportionate the domination of Hollywood films during the time. According to Riri, they had only one dream, “For Indonesian films to be screened in cinemas, competing openly with Western films.”
Born in October 1970, he grew up choosing the film industry to feed “inspirations” to society. He proved this with the making of Petualangan Sherina (Sherina’s Adventure), which turned to be the initial boom in Indonesian film industry during the post-reformation era. An ex-drummer of a cover version band famous during the 1990s, he later directed several films with exceptional themes not commonly found in our film industry. One of them is Gie, which depicted the dark history of the 1965 coupe. His huge success was achieved when he made Laskar Pelangi and its sequel, Sang Pemimpi (The Dreamer). Both films are viewed by more than 4.5 million audience—a figure never before attained by his predecessors in the industry. However, with such tremendous market success, how does one Riri Riza see and conceptualize the function of film as a cultural undertaking that doesn’t stop at commercial areas?
Jurnal Footage is pleased to take an opportunity to interview this friendly figure in his office at Miles Production. During this encounter we try to see the other side of Riri Riza on: his ideological views, his thoughts on culture, his choice of film “language”, and his notion on Indonesia film industry. The interview took place on March 8, 2010 and is represented by Hafiz (Editor-in-Chief), Akbar Yumni (Editor), Otty Widasari (Forum Lenteng Akumassa Program Coordinator) and Bagasworo Aryaningtyas (Forum Lenteng Research and Development Assistant Coordinator) who recorded the discussion with a video camera.
Hafiz: Your decision to enroll at IKJ (Jakarta Art Institute), what’s behind it? It seems that becoming a filmmaker is a particular passion for you?
Riri: Why I enrolled at IKJ in the first place? I reserve a considerable amount of interest to several aspects of art. The largest is of course in music. Secondly, in visual art and photography. What I mean is that I’ve always felt challenged to observe anything connected with art, at that time. I once visited the Museum of Visual Arts downtown at Kota, I saw the paintings of Affandi and Sudjojono (both pioneers of Indonesian modern visual art—ed.). At another time, I visited the museum again and saw the painting of Raden Saleh. Recently, now, when I go there, I no longer see that painting. Probably stored in a special room now. But that painting is spectacular! Then, I was also in confusion with regard to finding a school to attend. Either I’d be untalented basketball player or a not-so-smart science student. I attended a serious high school (Labschool in 1988—ed.). All I know was photography and music would be my only salvation. See, when I went to IKJ, I found that film is a combination of sorts. One can say film is the most ideal form of all aspects of art. Of course, adding to it, its ability to narrate. We can tell stories through film. Through the lectures on film history, I’ve come to know and acknowledge this certain country, this culture, and crucial events of the world in a considerably compact format. An hour and a half… two hours… we come to understand many things. Even more, not only events, but also the emotions behind the event. So, that was what I firstly see as my connection with film, its strengths. With film, you can narrate of something so huge. Sometimes with regard to history. Not only small histories, but history of a nation and society. When I was in IKJ, Teguh (Teguh Karya—ed.) came and talked about a film, November 1828. He talked about Diponegoro, war, Islam’s subsequent developments, and Javanese kingdoms. I thought: insane! Upon watching Kartini, for instance, the film draws us to a period of thought and tumult in a story in which we have drama, cinematography, photography, etc. I enrolled at IKJ during which time a lot of people was talking about the film Cut Nyak Dien. It’s an important film, being the first film to lever our pride to have a dignified Indonesian film. I remember when I was a translator in a workshop organized by a filmmaking school in Australia, one of them said to me, “You watched Dances with Wolves (directed by Kevin Costner in 1990 and won the 1990 Academy Award and 1991 Golden Globe Award—ed.), and you were touched by it. And I—a citizen of the Western world in which that film was made—was touched by Cut Nyak Dien.” It’s very eye-opening. So, back then in the visual arts library (at the Faculty of Visual Arts, IKJ—ed.) they had books and magazines on American independent films. There were articles on Spike Lee and Jim Jarmusch. Then, another important thing that I remember, when I went to Goethe Institut Jakarta (German Cultural Center in Jakarta—ed.) to attend Wim Wenders Film Festival. The producer attended the festival. Together with Ugeng (Ugeng T. Moetidjo, now a researcher at Forum Lenteng—ed.), we interviewed the producer. Wow… it’s spectacular! I’m probably inspired by the interesting, commercial aspect of film industry. When I graduated from IKJ, I saw that I need to be a director for commercial films! Of course, with respect to the history of film itself. Which means, films have always had significant contribution to culture. That history is recorded well in many films. Films contribute a great deal to the political and social change in so many places. That I respect! And I believe that film can reach a wide market.
Hafiz: The decision to be a director in the industry, did you find out when you were at IKJ or academically? Or elsewhere?
Riri: I think it has a lot to do with academics. You see, there was a lecturer that I think was teaching me about film art to the extremes, Pak Chalid (the late Chalid Arifin, a French film school graduate art director-ed.), a lecturer of film history. He said, to the contrary, “Film is film per se, it has to be commercial!” Why? Because there is no cheap film. No film is not labor intensive, that doesn’t involve a large number of people. Film materializes when it communicates to its public, when it can deliver a message to public. What I mean by public here is the mass. So, as hard as it can be, people in the history of film such as (Federico) Fellini, (Jean-Luc) Godard, (François) Truffaut, they think about their market. They think about to whom they communicate with. Most of them aimed for large market, which means it can be very specific. But at the same time, tried to aim all the people of that particular taste to go see the film. Such is the character of a film.
Hafiz: I once had a discussion with someone regarding the concept of being a director. To my thinking, a director is someone with interdisciplinary approach. I mirrored to our founding fathers. They had rather rich aspects in making film. Hence, I imagine a director is a maker of cultural statement. Regardless of it being commercial and industry-associated or not. What do you think?
Riri: I agree. He (a director) has to have something to say. About his era, the times he lives in, and the world in which he makes works. I agree! Yet during its development, we can’t stop at reality. Film is getting more and more commercial because our society is getting more commercial as well. When we talk about culture, that’s the reality in society now. Perhaps there’s an effect of globalization, Americanization to be exact, especially in a place like Indonesia. Since mid 1980s, Indonesia opened its gate as wide as it can for American culture to invade through film. There was no quota for film import because one of Soeharto’s (Indonesian second president—ed.) family member wanted to run a film business. He might even have stocks there. Then we have private television stations, lawful license regulations which have control over limitations of media through television and radio—which was, back then, the sole monopoly of Soeharto’s government because one of his children wanted to run a television business. So, the people who had things to say in films since mid 1980s, they shifted. From an era of our founding fathers where they talked about idealism, strivings, social manifestos, fights for freedom, nationalism, etc shifted to—well, if not an expectedly healthy combination of commercialism and idealism—to a total commercialism! I was born in that era. I can’t deny the fact that—what was considered by the founders of our film history as cultural statement of the director, or his auteur—it has shifted. I made film during 1995-1996, that was the peak moment of the shift-wave. Private television stations went bonkers! We had a generation termed as ‘escort’, back then. Everybody wanted to go to malls, everybody wanted to adopt Western culture especially its visual culture. The peak was indeed when I started to make film. That’s what happened uncontrollably because we didn’t have the chance to make “corrective” strategies to tackle that.
Hafiz: Yes, that’s why I think that an auteur has to be a filter. To me, director is someone big because film is a very complex aspect. It has music, visual art, theater, literature, drama, etc. Not to mention its content. The problem is, when there’s a big wave of capitalism or Americanization as you said earlier, there are two options: do we join the wave or do we filter? By filter I mean not in a commercial sense. That I want to know, Ri. In this case we indeed need to be objective. There are choices, of course, which are extreme and non-negotiative.
Riri: If you ask me: “Which side are you on?”, I’m clearly of the earlier group. We made Kuldesak (directed by Riri Riza, Nan Achnas, Mira Lesmana, and Rizal Mantovani in 1998—ed.) simply because “We want to exist”. Since 1990 to the time of my graduation, when I started to make my own small documentaries, we never had Indonesian film screened in Studio 21 Cinema. So back then, we seemed to have a humble libido: “We want our films there (cinema)!” If they screen a film directed by an American in theater 1, we can at least be screened in theater 3 or 4. That’s what we wanted. It was indeed a “different” thing, I admit, from what our other friends did, such as what Arya Kusumadewa did, screening his films in guerilla from campus to campus. That didn’t happen in this country alone. In several Asian countries, Malaysian films were firstly screened in small festivals. But the impact I feel from assuring that my film is distributed widely in cinemas is way bigger because the number of audience is larger. The number of people who feel the impact and be moved by the film becomes bigger. I start to get addicted to it. That’s how we filter our films! By this I mean, we make films with statements, that’s for sure. The films I made, since the beginning up to date, are often without genre, I term that as “round”. It’s hard for me to fit into fixed genres such as horror, crime, or thriller. I end up in a combination of genres, or at least I make dramas. Probably that’s the filter. We don’t follow the patrons of the industry, or categorizations created by the voice of dominant critics of the world. Genres are created by critics, so they can work within the framework, to easily communicate their mind and criticism to audience. So audience would read them and, eventually, decide whether they want to see a certain film or not. See, the critics are the first to develop those definitions. What we try to do is to filter that mainstream by making films that don’t follow the molds of the industry, standardized by America. That’s it. But there’s not a single film I made, from the first until now, since I made Kuldesak, Petualangan Sherina, Eliana, Eliana, Gie, Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya (Three Days to Forever), Untuk Rena (To Rena), Laskar Pelangi, to the latest (Sang Pemimpi—ed.), none is formatted—together by Mira and I—to be, in short: extreme underground movement. Eliana, Eliana was made to be released for three screens (cinemas) only, but still, for cinemas. So people can come, buy admission, then enter and watch.
Hafiz: Real films, yeah?
Riri: Yeah, because I think that’s all there is in making films. If film is unwatched inside or outside the world in which it’s made, do not ignite a discussion nor become an object of critic, I think that’s useless. If film can only be viewed from afar, talked about in foreign fields far from the place it originates, I don’t think it has yet to become a “film” because it does not communicate with its society and its cultural environment. Especially if we’re talking about auteur and cultural statement. If cultural statement is made to be heard in some faraway place, I don’t see it fit. Cultural statement has to be one to fix, or to correct or to be “something”.
Hafiz: Yes. The problem I see for the first time I saw your films, such as Sonata Kampung Bata, Petualangan Sherina, Eliana, Eliana, Gie, and lastly Laskar Pelangi, I try to trace back—as a film buff and someone who’s interested in the juggle of film “language”—and look for a contribution from this particular Riri Riza. Your contribution as an auteur. Culturally—regardless of how often the media review Laskar Pelangi—seeing it from its impact, to criticize our educational system, I think it’s “legit”. I’m truly happy. But on the other hand, I still want to read because I think film is a language. In films there are signs. There are signs that you feed me and the audience with. And I saw some things are missing in between those parts. I did see some that are quite significant, Eliana, Eliana. I see that as your feed to public. It may as well an object of study. Did the industry cause those missing parts?
Riri: I think there are many possibilities. For instance, I wrote the script for Eliana, Eliana myself. I intensely involved in its development process from a one-page concept to the finalized script. My other films say, Gie, may have something else. I wrote that myself. It’s also another example where I juggled by myself from zero to finish. But not all of my films are like that. I realize that in concept, in terms of workmanship or characteristics of a director, he undergone a number of phases; lots of developments, conditions, perhaps the ones affected by the development in the industry itself or in himself, his personality. Probably there’s something in these phases, from one to the next, what is it that he’s looking for? Later on other phase he will return to himself and start another chain of questions. I think I will always get “in and out” of there. And as audience, critics, they just wait because I don’t intend to make film aimed to satisfy others. When I made Eliana, Eliana, I received several awards, everyone came and asked, “What will be your next film? We’re looking forward to seeing more of this kind of work.” Then I said, well… of course, I answered in a friendlier manner, but bottom line I said, “Who are you to expect my other work to be of such kind?” I will let myself get carried by the stream, to say of “the air that I breathed” back then. And it’s interesting… much to my surprise. I mean, I made films for more than ten years, my point is to be excited everyday. I want to enjoy. And that I did. So, sometimes it can get really hard, isn’t it? For instance when I brought Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya for development funding from Hubert Bals Foundation and the other one was from Global Initiative, New York. That’s crazy, Fiz, the way we have to answer a set of questions. Like an exam. Making film turned into something like an exam. “What’s your concept? What’s your statement? Why do you incorporate sex in the film? What for? What do you want to say?” And I was like a madman. Since the beginning, I wanted to make this film because I had a very high level of enthusiasm. Yet all these funding boards asked me questions, some were beyond my capacity. I had to have arguments and, eventually, too many justifications.
Hafiz: Something to come up with?
Riri: Exactly! See, I don’t want that. Neither do the audience. Sometimes we already have or understand the formula. If you want 500 thousand audiences, you have to make the first ten minutes this way. Later in the fifteenth minute, insert this. Then, in the thirtieth minute, do this. I once studied scenario and master, that’s scriptwriting. That’s what I learned. I learned about market’s expectation. The market, or audience, turns sour once they see character development. If you want them to get excited and happy, you gotta put “this” in that certain minute! So there are formulas. Sometimes that’s what gets us lost. As for me, I still try to make something that I enjoy. And at the same time, my small community here (Miles Production—ed.), my producer has a tandem writer who comes to read our scripts. We have a production manager, a secretary who watches sinetron everyday, we give them scripts. All of them give me feedbacks on the thick-and-thin of my work. I have to admit, not all of my works have personality as high as the others. There are some films that, let’s say, where a certain space was given to me by these persons (Miles Production—ed.) to make them more personal. But there are other works which have “collective” awareness to, “Please read this, please give some contribution, please keep this film not to exceed…” Sometimes the cost… For example Laskar Pelangi, that cost 9 billion, Sang Pemimpi 12 billion, Gie 8 billion. But others like Eliana, Eliana took smaller budget. But again, as small as it can be, it still cost 800 million! Sometimes I think… Crazy! I never imagined how an 800-million worth of money looks like. Yet now I can spend that much money to produce a film?
Hafiz: So, what’s the excitement you previously mentioned?
Riri: I experience that as time goes. For instance when I finished making Petualangan Sherina in the year 2000, I was excited to make a low budget film. Something visually edgy or wanting to trespass the boundaries of convention. Something darker. Handheld camera. A strong visual approach. A complex conflict. Moral questions not normally asked. Parents against children. Parents scolding their children. Things like that. When I made Tiga Hari untuk Selamanya, there was sexuality. I wanted to make a film that questions the accepted standard normalcy with regard to teen sexuality. And also casual usage of drugs. A story, basically! Most of the time I imagine a story. I want to tell unconventional stories. But with assurance that it will still excite Indonesian viewers which I know very well. Most audiences come from young age-range, thirteen to twenty-five. Most of them listen to pop music. Don’t read newspapers. Averse themselves from serious questions in life. So I mixed all those combinations. Whereas someone like me, I still read, sometimes I still have time to read philosophy book. I dive into politics. I like to read on what happened with regard to the kidnap of many activists in Indonesia. So, what I needed to do is to find the balance between the heavy stuff and the lighter ones.
Akbar: Actually, is there a definition on who is Indonesian audience? Or Riri Riza’s audience? Can you roughly define that?
Riri: I’m sure there is. We do that exercise all the time, in almost every film project. Who would want to watch this? Everytime I have a one-page concept, up to a complete script, a question will always rise: “Who would want to see this kind of film?” And it’s down to the numbers! Sometimes I calculate, let’s say Mira thinks, “Well… Three-hundred thousand tops!” When we brainstormed for Laskar Pelangi, we thought Andrea Hirata’s (author of Laskar Pelangi the novel—ed.) readers—whose print run number and readers are quite huge—would fall around 350 thousand. All of them would want to watch. We know! Let’s say each person bought a copy of the book. They might take five relatives to watch the film together. So maybe we can double the number. If the readership falls around 350 thousand people, we might be able to target 700 thousand viewers. From there, we trace it back. We have to be audience-oriented, it’s impossible not to! We can’t say that Riri’s audience or Indonesian film audience remains the same. It’s dynamic. We experienced that. When we made Petualangan Sherina, we launched a Hollywood-style promotion. Not only that we sell the story; we also sell the cast, we sell the director, we make songs and everything. We were a bit cocky upon seeing that Miles audience or my audience has reached 1.6 million people. I thought, “Next time I make film, all 1.6 million would definitely go and see the film!” Yet when I made Eliana, Eliana, it only reached 20 thousand viewers! Where did the other million go? So, I learn that all the time. And that it’s important. If you ask who they are, it will change along course. We can’t make sure that—well, I don’t know about James Cameron, Sylvester Stallone, or Jean Claude van Damme, it’s said that they have their audience already, but it’s a completely different institution from ours. They might already calculate everything. As for me, never. I always consider the story. As mentioned, for Laskar Pelangi and Sang Pemimpi, the criterion is the readership. Currently I’m developing a script for Bumi Manusia (This Earth of Mankind, the first book of Pramoedya Ananta Toer’s Buru Quartet—ed.). How much is Bumi Manusia’s print run? Who would be interested to watch? We calculate that carefully so we can persuade people that we aim to invest in the filmmaking. It’s either, “You can definitely regain your money back from this film!”, or “Here, we will put up your company’s name as big as possible in the film posters, but don’t expect you’ll get your money back.” Because almost all films cost a huge lot, and that’s the main objective.
Akbar: Then, regarding the statement that film can lead to social change—do you still believe in that statement with the unstable condition regarding audience size?
Riri: Always have to believe. That’s why I talked about excitement. I think, what excites, and will always do, in making film is because I can contribute. At least it gives me a sense of pride and I can say, “That’s my film.” To date, I feel that the films I made are making me proud. They are, at least, averagely fruitful. Well, people sometimes text me, or send a message through Facebook, email, that they have seen the film and liked it. Until today, there are people who still love Petualangan Sherina. There are people who love Ada Apa Dengan Cinta? (What’s Up With Love?). There are people who still look forward to see Gie aired on TV every August. So, I guess it’s that. Its social role is rather fuzzy to observe because we don’t have a certain study institution who analyzes it. But at least we have some students who make our films as subject matter in their theses and analyses. At least we have that. I never really calculate the impact. For instance, Laskar Pelangi made students actually want to go to school. Or Sang Pemimpi made people want to attend high-standard universities.
Hafiz: I will go back to your works. As I mentioned, there’s a difficulty in reading your works. For example, on the story base, as you said. I watched Laskar Pelangi. I know how the story goes. But I also have certain expectations on how the Riri Riza I know would direct the film. Is this a negotiation of codes (film language—ed.) that you once had, as I know it, with the investors or the market, that has made it eroded? This is just my thought. I once discussed with a friend—who’s also a friend of yours—about Gie. I watched on DVD. One of our discussions was, “Why does Riri Riza—the one we know—turn this way?” I mean, on one hand, you have a huge bargaining power in the cultural field. You’re trusted by investors and capital owners; trusted also by audience because there’s one Riri Riza behind this film. After watching it, we thought, “Riri made a mistake, why?” For example, selection of cast. When I was in high school and during my early university years, I was crazy about Soe Hok Gie (from the book Catatan Harian Seorang Demonstran [Annotations of a Demonstator]—ed.) “This guy is so me.” In my mind, Soe Hok Gie is someone not of celebration and celebrity, for example.
Riri: You mean the actor?
Hafiz: Yes, the actor. There were a lot of things going on in my head, as a particular reader. Everything is then destroyed by this film. Right there and then I asked to several friends who also read Gie. They said, “It’s crazy, why didn’t Riri cast an ordinary guy? Just a regular Chinese, it will be far more effective. The tense will build up even more. Why did he have to cast this ‘celebrity’?” Then I said, perhaps there were negotiations, but I was not sure.
Riri: That’s precisely what I mean with how film has to utilize its characteristics as a film. I’m talking about commercial film here! My film is meant and made to be a commercial film, with all its elements. First, there has to be clarity in the narrative so audience can encode it as a drama. Second, there has to be plot or characters in it, also to allow the audience to encode it as a drama. Third, there has to be a sort of vote-getter so people would want to come to cinemas and watch it. How regretful I’d be if I didn’t consider that. I’d only reach some 20 thousand readers of Gie, whereas I ignored the potentiality of people being infected by Soe Hok Gie’s idealism and thinking—as large number as 13- to 22-year-old age-group which probably adds up to two million people. I rather “please” or “invite” two million people—who hopefully are infected by the spirit that Gie possessed—than Gie admirers who protest, “Are you crazy? Nicholas Saputra, a German descendant acting as a Chinese!” I said, “I’m not thinking about you! People like you are only as much as 15 to 20 people. Why should I please you?” I made this film not to satisfy Gie admirers, but to infect our youth with Gie’s spirit. Hopefully they will see that here, in our country, a mass homicide aimed toward the communists which numbered to millions of lives once took place. Because they don’t know, Fiz. So they know that one can shape one’s idealism not only by marching the streets. One can also hike mountains and see that Indonesia has an incredibly beautiful landscape.
Hafiz: But do you still believe in these certain figures?
Riri: Of course! That’s what I learned at IKJ. We know there’s a star system in America. We know there’s an American film star who affects cinematography of the film. If he has a scar on his left side, all angles should be taken from the right. And it happened in old films, ever since films started to emerge, the golden years of Hollywood. All periods in cinema history everywhere around the world consider its stars. Someone like Jean-Paul Belmondo starred in Jean-Luc Godard’s film. So to me, it’s absolutely no problem. My film does not only entertain the critics. Of course I want my films to be reviewed by people like J. B. Kristanto, Bre Redana, and Seno Gumira Ajidarma. But at the same time, what’s more crucial to me is to get those high school students—who are familiar with Nicholas Saputra—come to the cinemas and watch Gie. I don’t know if they threw up in the twentieth minute because the film took too long, but who knows, maybe there were others who thought, “Damn, this guy is interesting” then head to Gramedia bookstore to get a copy of his book. That’s what we do this whole time. I’m sure there will always be such criticism. No problem. Even the people from Netherland who grant me funding were astounded, “You chose to cast this very young fellow.” Then I explained that Indonesian market for films is shaped by years of certain cultural strategies and that there’s no other way for me not to “fight”. I will never be an underground person. Being an underground filmmaker in Indonesia means that there will only be small groups of people who give you a damn, most of them are underground communities themselves. Of course we’re talking about different facts today. Communities are now moving so much. Internet networking is huge, anything can happen. But when I began making films, I need to truly acknowledge that market. That reality. And it’s very interesting to me. I saw youths are starting to talk about Gie. People like Eros (guitarist of the band Sheila on 7—ed.) who makes music, he never knew that we have a figure like Gie in this country. Now he’s getting influenced. And to me that’s important.
Akbar: With regard to Gie, which contains political context—exactly how do you define Gie? What ideals did you have in mind?
Riri: For us, the work is the most important. There are only few people who know Gie when we ventured to make the film. Go ask ten people on the street, no one would know him. Maybe if you stretch it to a hundred people, there are two out of a hundred who eventually know him. So, what we did is we tried to shuffle the patterns or conventions regarding what we can make film of in Indonesia. Correctly (according to conventions on standard film production as applied in the industry—ed.). Not in an underground movement sense. For underground films, you can shoot a film with a mini DV or just about anything. But I wanted to make a “settled” film. In line with standard conventions which will make people go to cinemas and make them say, “This film is as worthy as… I watched this film for fifty thousand rupiahs. Do I get that same thing here, compared with Mission Impossible 3 in the next studio, with the same fifty thousand rupiahs?” The same sound. The same technical cinematography, approach, and everything. The same fifty thousand rupiahs spent by the people who watch a Hollywood film in theater 2, if my film is playing in theater 1. What differs is that it has a story of Indonesia’s dark side there. There’s a story of how Indonesian people have castes. Unlike in India, where castes are conceded, here they’re not! Chinese are clearly second-class citizens in Indonesia. People address them openly as “Chinese”. Whereas Javanese or Bugis people, nobody would address them as “Hey, you Bugis!” But a Chinese in Indonesia is addressed disrespectfully, “Heey, you’re Chinese, eh?!” If a Chinese acts slightly off-tangent, he will definitely get beaten up. That’s the reality. So, if we want to narrate Indonesia’s dark side without getting any sponsorship from the government—like the film of G30S/PKI (1965 September Coupe)—make a sub-standard film. Because, to be honest, I never have the guts to watch Arya Kusumadewa’s films. I don’t have the strength, eventhough I think his idealism is tremendous. His messages, ideas, insanities, they’re all unconventional, independent, and underground. I need some strength to watch it. I need excitement upon watching good films within conventional standards.
Akbar: With regard to conventions, did it ever occur to you that there’s stereotyping in Gie? For instance when Gie was asked by one of the characters, “Are you left or are you right?” To me, it’s stereotyping. It’s one of the examples. And there are also a lot of scenes in the film which, to me, can be accounted for as stereotypes. The label “red” for communists, for example, and some others. Did you take this into consideration when making the film? How political event turns populist?
Riri: Indeed I did, because film is a populist media. You have to remember my history, who I am. My first film was a children’s musical. I’m not a political film director. I never try to label myself as political filmmaker. I got a lot criticism back then. “Who the hell are you, dare to make a film on the 1965’s coupe?” I remarked, “Who the hell are you, to think that 1965’s coupe was all yours to discuss?” Do I have to a member of the People’s Democratic Party to make a film on political movement? Who to decide? To me, it makes things less democratic. In this democratic era, anybody can make anything. See, it’s just a choice. As I said to Hafiz earlier, Gie is deserted by some because it’s too general, too generic in description. But I have in mind an audience different from what our other friends have in their minds. I wanted to aim people who listen to pop music. People who never had the image at the back of their minds that even communism has “grey” or even “white” area. Not all communists are “black”. Because all high school students from my era, of my generation… It’s crazy! To them, all communists are eye-gouger. People who kill. That particular audience is the one I aimed. It’s hard to imagine them reading Catatan Harian Seorang Demonstran because they’ve never been taught to read. Not everything worked. You can’t claim that this goal is achieved a hundred percent. Gie reached only 350 thousand viewers. The target was actually a million since Nico starred in Ada Apa dengan Cinta? which was quite popular. We thought at least Nico’s fans would want to watch. Apparently not! So, it’s basically a learning process. Man, I made only ten films so far. What to expect? That we know everything now that we’ve made ten films? Highly unlikely, I’m sure. We have to make ten other mistakes, then we can truly get “it”. Take Wim Wenders, he made a lot of trial-and-errors until he finally got “it”. Even now, if you ask him, “Have you found what you’re looking for? Who are you? What’s your statement as an auteur?” he would respond, “Are you crazy? How the hell should I know? I’m a seeker.” And I’m convinced even more that I “seek”. Until I die, I probably won’t find it. But what matters is, as a filmmaker, you have to have excitement that each time you’re doing something big. At least for yourself.
Hafiz: Yesterday I had a discussion with a friend that eureka moment alone is an excitement, not to mention production process up to release date. But in all those phases there’s an integration of various disciplines. I myself make films, usually documentaries. But in my mind it’s always fiction because I play around in an area of fantasy. I hold my ground in reality, but I play around with fantasies. There are kinds of fantasies such as: fantasy on the audience, fantasy on commerciality, and fantasy on aesthetic imagery. To me, there still has to be a sort of wrapping not unlike a sponge that absorbs. As you said, “Who the hell are you?” “I want to make this! I believe it’s an important work for society.” Kind of the same, isn’t it? It’s just that there’s an absorbance process that we try to take care of. I’m not talking about your works alone, Ri. Back to what we discussed about cultural statement, it’s actually inappropriate to compare things like this, but we’re gonna have to go back again, Ri. For example, the films of our founding fathers. Their cultural statements are thick. Is this all the cultural statement that our friends of the 1990s’ generation can make? Is this all we can get? I’m not talking in a criticizing context. But don’t we have anything else?
Riri: You mean, can we expect more? I think there are lots of things in it. You see all of them (founding fathers of Indonesian film—ed.), very few of them came from film field only. Usmar Ismail was an Islamic organization activist, also a journalist. He also dived into politics. Asrul Sani as well. Not to mention Pak Djaja (Djaduk Djajakusuma—ed.). Sjumandjaja had his education in Moscow. He had high art sensitivity that traced back from his ancestry. They lived in a completely different era. To me, it’s totally different. What happened in Indonesia during the 1980s to date, it changed the way the whole generation thinks. You can only expect that your children will have better reading materials since their early age. As for me? To be honest, I grew up in a profound New Order climate. I was taught to read the Koran. I had to be able to read it without even comprehending its meaning. I attended schools that didn’t teach us to read on the history of Indonesian literature. What can you expect? Let alone Indonesian films. You can obviously see from other Indonesian films production. Try to conduct this kind of interview with say: Manoj Punjabi, Gape Samtani, Chand Parwez. Just try. And you’ll understand what you can actually expect from our friends like Hanung Bramantyo. What kind of space does he have for freedom? They don’t have partners for “dialogue”. I came from a community which I think is very lucky of me. Mira listens to even better music than I do. She reads Milan Kundera, Tolstoy, Pramoedya Ananta Toer. I don’t think other producers do. What can we expect, Fiz? So I think, if you want to, you gotta take over. People with stronger analyzing capabilities have to take over. That’s what happens in Malaysia. Amir Muhammad (Malaysian director—ed.) is not originally a filmmaker. He’s a reviewer, critic, literary book critic and also a columnist. Yasmin Achmad as well. She has 20-year long track record in the communication field. They then dived into film. But Indonesia is generally better. In Malaysia, around 60-70 commercial films are produced each year. Yet each one is flop. Even when they make commercial films, they’re still flop. In Indonesia, what happened with Hanung, Joko Anwar… who else makes commercial films… Ifa Isfansyah… they’re better. Their films reached up to 1.5 million audiences. So they made it as commercial filmmakers. In Malaysia, they failed. See, sometimes we’re too critical with our own, especially when it comes to pop culture. If you go to Thailand, you’ll hear us comment, “Thailand filmmakers are great. Their films being screened in Cannes (Cannes Film Festival—ed.), Berlin (Berlin Film Festival—ed.).” They are only the selected few. In other countries, people like me who dive into commercial field are usually beaten up by Hollywood. In Indonesia, we compete with Hollywood. Mira and I were dead worried to learn that Sang Pemimpi was screened in simultaneous time with Avatar. Avatar is a machine, not a film. Yet we compete to that. In other countries, it would just drown. So, I think, what happened in Indonesia—your expectation on cultural statement such as the ones we’ve read and seen in Usmar’s film Krisis (Crisis), Tamu Agung (The Exalted Guest)—I think it’s hard to apply these days, especially in a country where we don’t have any policy in regard to culture. In other countries, people like Nan Achnas and Garin Nugroho are granted with funding, either from their central or regional government. Or cultural grants such as endowment fund channeled by private institutions. It’s not as easy here. Ford Foundation is not able to give a whole grant for film production because we don’t have channels to distribute our films to art house cinemas. We only have Kineforum here. How many audiences can you expect to come to Kineforum? Five thousand? Hardly. A thousand tops. You have it screened for the whole month, non-stop, and people keep coming, it would only reach a thousand. That’s in Kineforum. What kind of cultural statement can we expect from a thousand people? A film like Babi Buta yang Ingin Terbang (The Blind Pig Who Wants to Fly, directed by Edwin, 2009—ed.) received funding. But apparently it’s very small, as much as 25 thousand euros. Whereas we can see he made the film in 35 mm, with very good image quality. That’s tough. Twenty-five thousand euros is too small. We’re eventually beaten up, aren’t we? I mean, people like Edwin are marginalized here. He can’t have his films screened in cinemas because he had to pass censorship. People who can wrestle and dodge with such issues are people with extra abilities, like Nia Dinata, Nan Achnas, and Mira Lesmana, because they know the politics. They know their game of tug-of-war. As for indie films, for the truly idealistic, independent filmmakers in which statement is key, it’s tough! They can’t break it. They’re constantly blocked.
Hafiz: You mentioned policy, that we have no cultural strategies. How do you think it is?
Riri: I’m definite that we can’t count on the government. Let’s not waste time to even bother to dream about it, with the current government and parliament, to think that they will suddenly have awareness of this problem. I don’t think so. So, everything depends on how we can map out our own tactical strategies to position ourselves in the market. I’m sure there are many chances because, nowadays, digital technology allows us to produce film with less cost. Not extremely low cost, though. If you read recent papers, there are some films such as Belum Cukup Umur (Underage) that Nayato (Nayato Fio Nuala—ed.) made, a horror film. It’s pretty scary. I spent only fifteen minutes in the cinema, paid 15-20 thousand rupiahs, I was scared. But, imagine… The film was shot only in five days. Made for less than one billion rupiahs. They made it. If there’s such person of huge creativity, who can shoot a decent film with clear narrative, with a good statement, why not? We can surely break it through, can’t we? But we don’t have that yet. All independent filmmakers who started since ten years ago—such as Four Colors or else—none has succeeded to make a low-budget film, shot with P2 (digital video camera—ed.), truly independent, be screened in cinemas and succeed. None yet. We also look forward to it. I mean, “Come one, prove it. You can make films.” Say, a film about kidnapping that you can shoot for five days, as John Casavettes did in the 1960s. Shoot for two days, then break for a month. Another shoot in two days, another break for a month. But the end result is a film that makes you go, “Damn!” And the fact that’s it’s an important film! We supposedly have that. I’m sure we can have that. We ought to. But, well… it’s tough. Here, what comes out of it, is talent. Once one act, one will immediately be approached by Star Vision (film industry—ed.). Insane! They give you 35 mm camera, let you shoot with cinemascope. People like Pao (Faozan Rizal—ed.) is pampered, in the way he was provided “big” equipments, and he thinks that it’s a chance to explore and create works. That’s realistic, and it makes money. You get the dough. So, as usual, it’s the big stream drowning the little stream. This little stream doesn’t have a chance to rise up for a little while, then dive again and swim around to look for a certain rock that… That doesn’t happen here. Big stream always wins.
Hafiz: How do you see the new generation of our filmmakers?
Riri: Me, I’m very happy. We still have some good ones. It’s proven. Few days ago, I was invited to Geneva for an Indonesian film program. They can see, “You have a big hope.” One, we have a huge underdeveloped market. Indonesia has only 600 screens for the potential 25 million viewers. Let’s not talk about 250 million viewers. The ones who have enough money to go to cinemas are only up to 25 million people. But it’s huge. The screens available are only 600. The possibility to have 1000 to 2000 screens is very likely. Two, we have our own native language. Most countries like Australia or some countries in Europe can’t compete with Hollywood because they use the same language. It doesn’t make sense to make film with similar cultural characteristics. For example, Australian films. Australians can be emotionally and culturally satisfied upon watching Hollywood films. We can’t. Out of ten people, probably there are only five, or even two to three persons who can be satisfied upon watching the English-speaking Hollywood films. The rest are lost in Western films. They surely want to see Indonesian films, don’t they? With a language of our own. With problems and stupidities of our own. Of course I’m happy. I’m not one of those pessimists in regard to the growth of Indonesian film because I see there’s balance. Some make trashy films. Yet we have two or three (good—ed.) directors. There’s quite a many who fight for what they believe in. We have Edwin, Mouly Surya, Joko Anwar. We have people who can actually say, “No! I want to make another kind of film. I don’t want to make that kind of film!” They’re under thirty. That’s not bad, right? In some other countries as well. Korea, for instance, an example of what we usually romanticize. But actually, in Korea, the budget granted for film industry is tremendous. The state spends a huge amount of money in it. Australia, too. Almost all Australian films are endowed with funds from the government. Singapore is starting to do the same. But what’s the consequence? They no longer think about their market! “Why should I think of the market? I make films as my masturbation. I got money from the government!”
Hafiz: The same thing occurred in Brazil. During the 1970s, one of the state policies was to provide funding for filmmakers. In the end, directors became uncreative in the context of considering the market, also in their choice of film language, because the experiments they did were facing the wall.
Riri: Yes, there are always possibilities. What if the absence of directions on cultural policies in our country turns out to be necessary? Because of that absence, all of us move toward to finding our identity. I think it’s good that we have filmmakers who produce sex films. At least we’re not a totally puritan country. We’ll be dead when all we have is religious films. Or when all films are meant to be normative like Laskar Pelangi, we’re doomed! We ought to have horror films, sex, sexploitation, all those degrading films, “those people” still need to exist. So we can balance it out and separate the good from the bad. So we can have a discussion of, “That’s a crappy film, and this one’s slightly better.” Not thoroughly, just slightly better.
Akbar: I watched Drupadi (Draupadi). Can you explain the cultural context you mean here?
Riri: I’m not a Javanese. I see that from the context, “Who’s my audience?” Where most films are screened. When we talk about “horror” such as Drupadi, what I think is easily encoded by audience is mysticism because I didn’t want to present direct ghosts. I wanted to make something that resemble what I have in mind regarding mysticism. And I had an experience with it. I mean, eventhough I’m not a Javanese, but the so-called spirits to whom we can ask about “things” do exist. In Makassar culture we also have that. Padang ethnic also have that. So, I wanted to learn about that. I see no problem because I’ve always worked within a community this whole time. I’ve worked with Javanese, Sundanese, women, and men. Drupadi was written by Leila Chudori, not me. I can trust her credibility, she understood what she’s writing. I was the visual interpreter. That’s a whole different area, being a director for that film. There’s script, text, and I was the visual interpreter. I braced myself. “You’re sure, right?” I said to her upon reading. I took the short chapter about the dice game. That’s what I wanted to dig and explore. What can one do… When a concept arises, what emerge more are the ones within “majority room”. What is this thing called Islam, Java, and mystic? The majority head-count will still determine what ideas to emerge in popular culture, which in this case is film. It’s probably different with other alternative culture such as video or others. It’s even more for me, who dive into commercial films. Since the very beginning, it was the first obvious thing.
Hafiz: Last question. How is the plan for Bumi Manusia? Can you tell us a little more?
Riri: Its scriptwriting process has actually taken some time, since around two years ago. The writer is Jujur Prananto. Mira and I were involved in the process. We have our own imageries. It’s a “periodic” film, right, with regard to all background, set, costume, language; but it’s not the first. I myself explored films like Kartini, November 1828, then Cut Nyak Dien. The period falls around the same era, during the late 1800s to early 1900s. I did visual researches as many as I can from pictures, film footage, history books of the era. Colonial culture. How was the relationship pattern between the Dutch and the Dutch Indies during the time? Unhurriedly we start to look for locations to shoot. Start to picture who’ll be the players, to cast Minke and Nyai Ontosoroh.
Hafiz: When will you start shooting?
Riri: Probably mid next year. So I have around a year and a half to do what we gotta do. Gie took two and a half years, back then. Practically did nothing. I was starved! Hahaha, to prepare it. Well, just gotta do it!
*This interview is edited from its original transcript without any deliberate attempt to moderate the content.
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3 kali gue baca ini. sangat menarik dan penting!!
membuka mata…. 🙂