19 year-old Ali lives on his own and isolation has become a way of living. He goes about his everyday activities seemingly unaffected by anything or anyone, moving through thronging crowds towards a lasting dislocation that holds no terror for him.
In Ismail Basbeth’s Woo Woo (Or Those Silence That Kills You and Me), social disconnection is set up as the antithesis of home. When home is nowhere to be found, solace has to be sought elsewhere, beyond the interpersonal and society. Woo Woo (Or Those Silence That Kills You and Me) urges cultivating greater empathy when dealing with loneliness and the manifestations of social isolation—an expanded understanding that needs to happen at all levels, from family to neighbourhood, nation, and the rest of the world.
Woo Woo screens at this year’s Painting with Light: Festival of International Films on Art, running from 2 to 25 October 2020. The festival’s first-ever online edition features a selection of Southeast Asian stories that reframe the notion of “home"—both material dwelling and lived experience.
Julaila and Mina, members of Gallery’s Kolektif spoke on Zoom with the director in his office in Yogyakarta. They chatted about his practice and personal convictions related to recent events in Indonesia.
This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.
Julaila: We really liked your film so we're really excited to talk to you about it today. Tell us a little bit more about yourself!
Ismail: I'm just an ordinary person, a father with three kids. This year is special for me because it marks 15 years of working in the film industry. I founded two production studios, Bosan Berisik Lab, which adopts a more artistic and creative approach to making short and feature films, and Matta Cinema, which focuses on larger commercial productions.
Julaila: I really liked the intimacy between the camera and Ali, the main character. Was this an intentional approach?
Ismail: Yes, it's intentional because one of the problems with big films is that it becomes very impersonal. There were fewer than five people on the crew of Woo Woo. When there’s a studio project with a big crew involved—200 to 350 people—the room for error disappears. Nobody wants to make any mistakes.
But what makes films beautiful are the mistakes. With more artistic movies, you don't work on anyone else's expectations but your own. Making mistakes and accepting them becomes why the film is worth making. I shot Woo Woo like a documentary without much intervention as a filmmaker. I didn’t have an art director, we just put a character in this house and started shooting him. He didn’t need to act per se. Even though he might only be eating instant noodles, there's an energy to it. When he's smoking in the warung1 after food, there's an energy to it. We capture the space and time, not only the story. In this kind of movie, we are free to do what we feel is right, not what we think is right.
Mina: Your film is an interpretation of the song Woo Woo by SORE. Can you tell us about the song, what it meant to you and how you came up with the idea?
Ismail: In 2010 I was making a short film called Shelter. The film allowed me to travel around the world for the first time and opened many doors for me. For Shelter, because there's no dialogue or script, to explain the characters and atmosphere to the crew I made them listen to the Indonesian Indie band SORE, because the feeling was the same. When the film was released, I had the chance to meet the band, and I became friends with the frontman, Ade Paloh. Then in 2017, when he was about to release a new album, he told me this song Woo Woo is for you, please make something of it.
I pitched a story idea to Ade and he liked it. So I started to write a little, then shot the film like a documentary. I had then just met this actor, Ali. He's a dancer so he knows how to move. I appreciate his way of thinking.
The film is a story of a suicide bomber. Many people think these actions are related to politics and the economy, but I chose to focus on the loneliness of suicide bombers and the loss of connection with the world. That disconnection causes a person to feel nothing even when you're dead or you hurt others.
I want to express that in the film. When he's alone, you can get close to him but when he's with others, you're at a distance both visually and emotionally. I think political and economic factors trigger his actions, but the main problem is in fact something much more internal.
Mina: I thought this was very important to show because an organisation or influence is typically named as the main factor of such suicide bombings. I believe it boils down to more personal issues, or at least stems from them. I definitely did feel the disconnect Ali felt from the people around him.
Ismail: It's weird, we know he's the bad guy but we're put in this position to empathise with him and his reasons. I think this movie also put me in a weird position because usually you antagonise the suicide bomber. But we are filmmakers, we are storytellers. We try to understand the characters. I think this is a weird movie even for me, but the feeling is true.
Julaila: I watched the film without knowing it was about suicide bombing until the end. I saw it with very fresh eyes. I saw it as the character enjoying his daily routine, but the lack of dialogue, the background noises becoming louder and louder—you just know something is about to happen.
Ismail: Yes, loneliness terrorises you without you even understanding it. It can be your neighbour, your teachers, it can be anyone who feels too lonely.
Julaila: I also thought his routine was very interesting. He went to the warung then the pasar2. Did you decide on this routine deliberately?
Ismail: Yeah, I felt at a certain point that the character was also human, but lives his life in “survival mode.” The film would look really different if I had included an old woman as his mother in the beginning. That would suggest that he wasn't happy with his mother.
I tried not to include all these attributes—family, religion—that can be used to stereotype. We are all human, we have feelings, we have both bad and good thoughts. It's really hard to make the right decision every day; one little slip or wrong decision can make you a so-called “bad person.”
Julaila: Another really personal moment in the film is when Ali started writing the note. I paused and tried to read the note, it seemed like lyrics to the song Woo Woo.
Ismail: Yes they were the lyrics, but I didn't use it that way in the film. If I had subtitled it, it becomes too verbal and the depth of its meaning disappears. There are things that require many pages of writing that, through the language of cinema, can be shown in one minute. The medium of film, especially short films, allows us a certain kind of freedom. For me, the paper is more like the proof of his existence that then disappears. Two of my best friends passed away in 2018. When I miss them… it's really weird, the feeling of their texts, tweets or pictures. Reading and seeing these again after my friends have passed; my perspective on these remnants have changed. We leave many traces in our lives without us realising.. With movies we just use that perspective in a dramatic way to inform but also disturb the audience.
Julaila: I understand why you didn't include subtitles. Also, because your film doesn't have any dialogue, anyone can enjoy it.
Mina: I felt like the lack of dialogue also really shifted the focus to the locations, which expressed the culture and society Ali was in very well. Do you feel like the theme of the festival, home, represents your film well and how does your film relate to that feeling of home?
Ismail: Every film I make is about home, including the commercial ones. To me, family and home is not only about visible things, but also the opportunity to express yourself freely. If everyone in your family accepts you for who you are, you don't need to find a new “home.” I think that's really important, especially given the discrimination against minorities in Indonesia, for example with LGBTQ+ people. The family doesn't have the tools to accept them for who they are. They don't have the tools because they don't have the knowledge. They don't have the knowledge because they don't have time to learn. They don't have time because they're busy working their asses off to put food on the table.
This kind of systemic way of seeing these problems is really important. Filmmakers especially should have a wider view on things. That's why in the beginning I said making films is not about right and wrong anymore, but about these interconnections. Before we make our work outside the home, we should work that into our home. That’s what I’m trying to do in all my movies—explore the feeling of acceptance. That's why I can understand Ali.
Mina: What takeaway do you want the audience to have?
Ismail: This kind of conversation. This is the first time I have had this kind of conversation outside post-screening Q&A sessions. When I made this film, I focused more on how I felt. Do I feel right? Do I feel wrong? Do I feel comfortable? For this kind of film, when I release it and nobody watches it, am I ready for that kind of reaction?
A personal story for me is like a fingerprint. It should leave a mark on your soul. That’s why it’s so important for me to make a film that the audience connects with. It doesn't matter whether it's thousands, millions, a thousand million or only one audience member, as long as I make a film that touches someone else other than me, I won’t regret it. We may be strangers, but cinema allows us to connect.
Julaila: Do you have any tips or advice for young filmmakers like us?
Ismail: Experience is important. There is an overwhelming amount of information out there for young filmmakers. You don’t have to win Cannes when you start learning. Just practice. Make one little work every month, a two to three-minute short film. Exercise your mind and feelings, but also the medium, the tools, the sound.
Many young filmmakers are bombarded by information and good films, so it’s easy to get lost in the work of the masters. But don’t be afraid to start small. As a dream, dream as big as you can. But the steps you take should be small.
I think it is important to train your body in filmmaking. It could be from your phone and you record something by yourself. You don’t have to put it in the film festival if you don't want, just put it on Instagram. But put all that knowledge and the dreams you have into practice. I hope this is useful for you guys because it is scary sometimes. You might have confidence then you read in the news that, “This guy was only 20 when he won Venice [the Venice Film Festival]!”—and suddenly you lose that confidence. But know who you are, and don’t be afraid.
Editor’s Note: Painting with Light: Festival of International Films on Art runs from 2 to 25 October 2020 for Singapore-based audiences online. Watch Woo Woo (Or Those Silence That Kills You and Me) and other Southeast Asian shorts here.
Original Article Link: https://www.nationalgallery.sg/magazine/painting-with-light-kolektif-ismail-basbeth-woo-woo
Video Interview Link: https://www.instagram.com/tv/CGm-6fmHO8Q/?hl=en
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