Back.

It's been a while. Or at least it feels like it has been for me, anyway.

It's odd because I don't usually write here on any kind of pre-planned schedule so much as I just write when I find an occasion where I feel like it, which I've somehow managed to keep up over the course of the past 7 years. Perhaps longer if you include the old livejournal that I haven't looked at for a long time. I guess it's become sort of an ingrained habit by now to just write like this every so often, except for when I run into a dry spell like the last couple of months. I'll admit it, Pokemon really does a number on one's introspective life. But enough of that.

So in addition to this blog, I also keep a physical journal that I write in semi-regularly, although the character of the writing there is fairly different from what I have on here. For one thing, I'm used to going back and re-reading the posts I have on here, or perhaps more accurately scrutinizing what I've written and occasionally revising when I feel nitpicky about something, whereas with my journal I rarely ever go back and re-read what I've written. The difference being, I write posts here that I actually would enjoy reading later on, whereas what I write in my journal is generally spur of the moment and pure and unfiltered, without the option of revising or rewriting anything. (partly because doing so with a pen on paper is messy- but revising a journal kinda defeats the point of it being physical anyway.)

I actually didn't start out with this habit initially like I did with blogging- it sort of came about purely by chance, after a birthday gift one year; probably the best present I ever got (second place goes to the half-folding paper towels I got in the dorms for secret santa, hehe). I never saw myself as much of a journaler then, but somehow managed to start a routine where I now do it whenever I'm in a church setting with worship music playing. Something about the atmosphere just makes me more prone or open to doing it there and then- at the expense of not singing- and I often don't even feel like I'm consciously controlling what I'm writing... but I guess the whole mind-to-paper process is kind of a mystery to me anyway.

I don't usually like what I've written in the end, though. When I look down at it, I see my flaws at their worst- whatever it is I've been willing to put down anyway, because there are some things I still won't name even on paper- and the rambling, scattered, incoherent thoughts of a lowly, insecure person. Because ultimately I crave having the self-image of someone who is sophisticated in thought, in reasoning, and purpose, and my journal shows me to be none of these. I'm prone to seeing the same kinds of flaws in my words and thoughts that I find myself criticizing other people for internally (also in my thoughts) on a regular basis: flaws of ignorance, pride, and simple mindedness. And then I realize how full of myself I really am in the midst of all this self-criticism, as if possessing the sophistication of words will make me that much better of a person.

I haven't really written that much in it either. Just enough to get by every couple of weeks or so, which amounts to maybe 1.15 completed journals in the span of 5 years, and I just guesstimated there. That isn't very much considering other people I know of who can fill up multiple Moleskines or Piccadillys whatever brand it is they buy in a year (I'm using Ecosystem... not that this is an ad for them or anything...).

It occurred to me this morning that I should probably start journaling more often for my own sake- because the span of three-five worship songs in the rushed setting of a church service isn't enough time for me to get at whatever it is I need to get at when I'm writing, and besides my inner life has been largely on the decline since I started working. Too often lately I find myself thinking that I'm only getting by right now because I'm straight up ignoring my personal issues in my head, blithely preoccupying myself with being busy and focusing on the next big distraction of the week.

(which happened to be a season's worth of Doctor Who this weekend. it's been growing on me ever since I started watching the first (modern) season/series more than a year ago, and I think I finally hit that I'm-obsessed-I-need-to-watch-more sweet spot late in the second season.)

There is only so much time in the world. Only so much time to write, to work, to play, to travel, to live. And if I keep on going as I have been lately, living a life unobserved, then I will probably get to a point where I'm about to die and just realize, that's it? What have I really been doing with my life all this time? Whatever happened to dreaming of greater things and making them happen?

In all honesty the situation hasn't changed much from the thoughts I had after that retreat back in August. Just an additional few months of distractions to follow, some adventures made, things looked forward to that have passed. But I realized after the past few weeks, that too much fun and side-leisure has its downsides. I find myself missing the sense of accomplishment that came when I actually got work done that I felt invested in (and I mean both in and outside of work... if that makes sense), and felt productive in general.

In due time I may have other meaningful subjects to write about, but it depends on when I can get my inner life up to snuff. Time to wake up and starting moving around, for once. Or I guess in my case, sleep now and seize the day. In that order.

restless

I've had several posts in the works this past month or so, but none of them have really come to fruition. I haven't really been a mood for posting anything I write lately, mainly because perhaps there isn't much more to really write about that I haven't written before. It follows along with what I tend to say nowadays when people ask me about work: "work is work." And most of my time spent outside of work now is spent preoccupying myself with something or the other while skirting over whatever it is I intend to write about now. Which I don't really know yet, other than the fact that I can't sleep right now and don't really have the willpower to do anything else.

I don't remember if I mentioned it here before, but earlier this year I considered the possibility of seeing a therapist. Partly just cause it's nice to be able to talk about your problems for once without having to worry about infringing on someone else's time (since... that's what a therapist's job is, anyway), and partly because maybe I just really needed to be able to fully talk to someone for once. I never acted on that impulse, but I'm considering it again. I think going on for too long without addressing what your problems actually are is unhealthy and life-draining in the long run, or at least that's how it's been from personal experience.

When I'm conscious enough to notice it, I struggle with a number of insecurities about myself and a latent sense of anxiety, I guess. This year in particular, I've noticed it's led me to start internally (I don't think I let it on externally... much) making a big deal out of little things or take a situation out of proportion or sometimes go out of my way to do something I wouldn't normally do. Something as minor as someone not responding right away (screw instant messaging and its "seen at" notifications) is enough to bother me more than need be, or being next to someone continuously engaged in some conversation on their phone, or other circumstances not worth describing here.

And after a while, these kinds of unhealthy responses and the thoughts that motivate them lead to a warped view of the world. I don't know if I've ever felt so negative about people in general (at least in large groups) before, or so averse to being around them. It's almost as if I automatically assume the worst of anyone I don't really know (or used to know). Every little disappointment- because for some stupid reason I sometimes feel disappointed talking to people- just contributes to this damaging cynical mindset. As much as I wish I could be amiable in general, it's difficult when I'm not really feeling it a lot of the time.

The disappointment comes from people not conforming to the idealistic situations I might imagine in my head, or in those recent psychological dreams I've had that I've been too embarrassed to write about; from the responses I might hope to see but don't because a conversation just cuts short; from what I sense as a lack of total honesty from the person in front of me; from the realization of how much I dislike modern-day social conventions; from some missing quality in myself that prevents me from calling out whatever it is I'm not seeing and trying to making something of it.

And that's just... one kind of insecurity, actually. There's also the subtle feeling in the back of my mind that I'm totally inefficient at what I do; that I'm not living up to whatever it is I'd hoped to live up to in the past; and that I feel apathetic now about addressing a lot of the problems I see in myself and in life. A lot of the resolutions I looked forward to or attempted at earlier this year have fallen flat, and I just seem to be unable to commit myself to much of anything I want to. These days I tend to feel mentally lost and aimless... and prone to bouts of tiredness and headaches whenever I try to fix my sleeping schedule apparently. Technology isn't really helping me here.

Of course, at the end of the day I find myself incapable of articulating this to anyone... or perhaps I don't even want to, as it doesn't really come up in my head except for when I'm not talking to anyone. You would have to force me to confess, and then I'd have to think about it first because my mind doesn't work the same way in social conversation as it does when writing here or actively reflecting, and then maybe I'll feel comfortable enough to say something if no one else is around. And I'm just describing another one of those ideal situations in my head again. The reality is probably rather different.

And that was my attempt to somehow diagnose why my mind won't let me sleep without really going into explicit detail. I don't feel like I got very far... which is why I should probably carry through with that therapist thought sometime. Maybe.

consumption of late:

- Book: Anna Karenina, that Tolstoy novel about a woman and a man who commit adultery (and the repercussions of it which go on for another 700+ pages...). Tolstoy has a knack for putting into succinct words the complexity of social mannerisms and all of the mind games that people go through when they find themselves in this kind of a situation. And of course there's a bunch of other stuff that he has to say about Russian society in the 1900's and other topics like horseback racing and farming and the proletariat and so on that are probably tangential at best to the subject of the novel, but I guess that's Tolstoy for you. I'll start A Dance with Dragons as soon as I finish this...

- TV Show: The Venture Brothers. Starts out as a parody of the Johnny Quest cartoon series (what if the boy adventurer grew up and had his own kids... and got overshadowed by his own life) but then slowly becomes something much more than that. I caught up with the most recent season the other day and now I'm in the wait for the long haul now. The first season took some getting used to, but over the course of the ones that followed, the show shot up to becoming my favorite cartoon, even beating The Last Airbender (although granted, they're different genres). I might say that it reminds me of Archer, except with much nerdier humor and a more fully developed mythology behind the scenes. I'm starting to realize how much I love backstory in TV shows; it works surprisingly well here even though it's a comedy series.

- Games: Pokemon X, and then Phoenix Wright Ace Attorney: Dual Destinies. I kinda binge-marathoned through both of these in a span of about two weeks; I mentioned Pokemon in my last post already. The new Ace Attorney game was less about Phoenix than it really was about Apollo and Athena, but the seeing them all work together in their new law agency was a bit refreshing and I have high hopes for the future of the series. Found the game overall stronger than Apollo Justice, although in part because Apollo finally gets some much needed development here.

- Musicals: Evita in LA, Beautiful in SF.
Evita is an Andrew Lloyd Webber classic... and to be honest, I'm not hugely into his stuff compared to other composers. I had trouble paying attention during the first half owing to lack of familiarity with the story of Eva Peron (which a quick wiki during the intermission fixed), but I enjoyed it nonetheless overall. Couldn't help humming Don't Cry For Me Argentina for a while.

Beautiful is the new Carole King musical that debuted in SF and is coming to Broadway later. The style reminded me a bit of Jersey Boys (same-ish era, same-ish concept of singing classic old songs while going through the history of the artist), and I was surprised at how many of the songs I did recognize considering I didn't know much about Carole King before. Great for any oldies fan.

And that's it. Good night.

on a moment

I'm finding it such that I seem to not have much to say except when I'm feeling a little down or depressed. Not like chronic depression, but more like a random moment of a day or even a wholly random day where all of a sudden, I become aware of myself and start feeling out of it for no particular reason. Or maybe some small things will trigger it.

Existential loneliness. It's not that kind that comes about from a lack of relationships, but from some level of personal dissatisfaction with current circumstances, of recognizing that I can still feel lonely and empty in the midst of possessing relationships, where no relationship feels complete or "perfect." Or perhaps from finding a lack of something in myself that contributes to this.

It comes from moments like these when I'm tired and worn out after a long day, having come back from a 20 mile 30 lb backpacking hike over the weekend and finding myself incapable of walking, having had 4 hour's worth of sleep for no real valid reason, and suddenly realizing that I am mentally and emotionally incapable of really talking to people right now. Or that I've still failed to really befriend the people I've wanted to befriend, or that I'm finding myself incapable of really trying to empathize with whatever people are saying to me right now, of really listening and not just responding with auto-pilot single response comments, of really just being a friend. And I'm thinking to myself, is it because I'm tired, or because this is just the kind of person I am fundamentally inside, when I don't have the time or energy to put up extra facades or personas or whatever you call them?

I still get asked often, "Doesn't it get lonely living by yourself?" And I usually just respond with some half-assed response because maybe I'm tired of being asked it by now (despite it being a reasonable question to ask), and there is truth in saying that I'm used to it already, and that when I'm preoccupying myself with something like saying, blogging this right now, I don't really notice it. I would be fine just living like this day after day - it's just when I'm inadvertently alerted to or somehow notice the frequency other people seem to be able to keep up with each other and with how many of them at once, and start wondering if I'm doing something wrong by going for most of a day without talking to anyone outside of work circumstances. And I wonder if I just give off that vibe to people that I prefer to do my own thing sometimes, unintentionally or not.

(also: "You always look tired when I see you." - oddly, I never notice when I look tired, since half of the time this happens, I don't actually feel tired so much as I just feel... normal. someone explain to me, please.)

Maybe it's just jealousy at seeing some quality in others that I don't have, wishing that I weren't so stuck in automatic introvert mode almost all the time and that I had the energy to actually convey to people that I'm enjoying myself when I'm with them even during those times when I'm not saying anything at all or look like I'm just not enjoying myself. Wishing that in spite of that urge I naturally feel to run away from awkward moments and get back to my own world, that I could still convey to the other person that the desire for friendship still exists. Wishing that I could just be honest about what I'm feeling at a certain moment without having to worry about losing or alienating people for fear of awkwardness or back-talking and gossip or that contributing to continuing to miss out on whatever's going on in other people's lives. Wishing that lack of contact frequency didn't translate to lack of depth in a relationship or some level of "you never talk/hang out with me" just because I never know what to say to people when I wanted to talk to them (and then those few times where someone asks me why I wanted to talk to them. do I need a reason why? because I think you're cool, I guess?)

I don't mean for this to be such a downer of a post, but just felt like getting this out there. Sometimes I just feel inexplicably sad all of a sudden for no apparent reason and I am unable to convey it in person to anyone, except that in the process of processing and writing it out here I actually don't feel sad anymore. It's kind of like what Louis C. K. said with just letting the existential sadness just wash over you in that moment and it triggering happiness again. I am happy with just being here, now.

Anyways, back to Pokemon! It occurred to me the other day that Pokemon fulfills my compulsion to schedule plan since the process of putting together a team I actually like that works takes about as much time and research as it took me to create all of those schedules I made for majors I wound up not taking in college. Which is also why I get burnt out on it after beating the elite four and champion in the game I'm playing and wind up not touching one for another two years, just in time for the next versions to come out. But anyway, I'm really digging the new games right now; it's like a handheld realized version of the battles from Stadium.

Sleep No More

http://sleepnomorenyc.com/

So I was in New York this past weekend (it was awesome! more on that another time), and I wound up seeing the production Sleep No More last night before leaving. It's a bit hard to describe, but at best I would put it as an immersive noir play experience set across 5 floors of a hotel building. The story's loosely based on Macbeth combined with elements of Hitchcock films, most notably Rebecca, and some elements taken from Vertigo (like the name of the hotel, the McKittrick. they also play the theme from the movie during a few key scenes).

The way the production works is that the audience members are given white masquerade-style masks to wear throughout the show, and then are randomly introduced into the hotel itself from the elevator in groups at a time on different floors. Everyone is pretty much left to explore the hotel at their own volition, with the chance of randomly encountering actors (anyone who isn't wearing a mask) in rooms or running across the hotel and its stairwells. The location itself has the atmosphere of a glorified haunted house (or the Tower of Terror from Disneyworld/land), except the environment with the music is more creepy and dark than it is haunted; there isn't anything out rightly frightening or jump scare inducing so much as it just feels tense and eerie, which I like more.

The main storyline of the performance actually loops around each hour for a total of 3 cycles, although I think I only managed to catch wind of the actors during the second cycle, as much of the first hour for me was spent waiting to get into the hotel itself and then orienting myself with the surroundings. I was only partway through exploring the second floor I was on before running into an actor, after which point I lost track of where I was pretty fast since I was too busy focusing on trying to catch up with one of the actors. It can get annoying with the number of audience members they let into the hotel, which often results in other *cough slower* people getting in your way, and I was half-apologizing (silently because you aren't allowed to talk) for running into people and tripping over their feet a lot. The fact that most of the staircases are only big enough for single/double file doesn't help so much when thirty people are all trying to catch up with the same actor at the same time. No wonder the show sells out all the time.

Given that you have events happening across all floors of the hotel at the same time, it's pretty much impossible to experience the entire thing in one performance, and in that sense it might be more stress-inducing for people who are prone to feel anxiety about missing out on the best parts. Not to mention, it's kinda pricy to see the performance more than once, but judging by reviews online there seem to be quite a few people that do that, to the point where they generally know where to go and at what times. I'd say the highlights of the experience, or what most people talk about after, anyway, are most of the scenes taken from Macbeth itself, so if you stick to following him at least for 1 whole cycle, you'll get the gist of what's going on and then it's better to deviate from there to see the rest of whatever action is going on. There was a whole other subplot going on involving the Rebecca inspired characters that I didn't really quite get, and I ran into them first. One of them actually led me into a Macbeth scene, after which point I was pretty much following Macbeth and related characters for the rest of the night because they struck me as generally more exciting to follow at that moment.

The experience will probably vary by person, and to some people the acting might come across as too exaggerated and the overall deal overrated and priced, but I honestly found it a worthwhile experience at least for the novelty of it all... Although Justin did tell me it sounded like a very Ryan-thing to go to. >_>

What follows are spoilers for the production as I try to recall everything I saw that night. It's interesting to compare with the impressions other people have written online; I've been starting to make sense of what scenes I actually did manage to see and which I didn't. It gets confusing sometimes since you aren't given any context for who a particular actor is initially when you run into them; I didn't recognize who Macbeth was until I came across him a second time in a scene that made it pretty obvious. (And if you don't know the story of Macbeth beforehand, it's probably even more confusing.)

A reminder

that the number of experiences I have to be thankful for far exceed the number of personal disappointments in my life. It's easy to forget sometimes.

Thanks for the past few days.

---

I was about to write something about experiencing anxiety with regards to the "appropriate" way to act in certain situations, but when it came down to it, I realized it really was more about not wanting to be embarrassed. Because I've never really been able to deal well with embarrassing situations borne unintentionally from my own actions and mistakes, and my ego won't allow me to expose myself to anything that might pose that kind of a risk in front of people I'm not as close to. Or even my own family. (hence why I refused to let my mom to teach me Indonesian when I was younger, and why I became so reticent growing up. I couldn't stand it when my family would make fun of me, let alone other people.)

The real me is a lot more vulnerable and easily flustered than whatever image I seem to be putting up in front of the people I know nowadays. Oftentimes now, I feel like I'm coming across as distant or "sophisticated" or stoic or whatever term would come to mind there, and it's probably hindered me a lot from the kind of meaningful relationships I wish I were experiencing more often nowadays. Sometimes you just need to be open to embarrassing yourself in public every once in a while.

I might come to regret that statement later. -_-

---

Things to look forward to:

- next installment of Phoenix Wright coming out next month! Download only for 3DS, but still. (and then Layton vs. Phoenix Wright next year! and the ongoing translation of the Miles Edgeworth 2!) and Pokemon too I guess.

- the weekly's: Breaking Bad, Legend of Korra, One Piece. BrBa finale this Sunday!!

- New York this weekend!!!

- West End production of Merrily We Roll Along in theaters next month!

- going home at the end of the month to see Evita in LA with the brother! And maybe pick up a thing or two.

- finally reading A Dance with Dragons at the end of the month because I've been waiting for the paperback version to come out for ages. and lots of books I've been meaning to get to in general.

- living in the moment. still a work in progress, as I'm so prone to getting caught up mentally in other things.

---

Aside: I like how my two line post winds up being the most viewed post ever on this blog. About a TV show, no less. Maybe I should just stick to tumblr-style quick posts.

(Just kidding... that's what tumblr is for.)

BrBa

Breaking Bad, you break my heart.

That is all. Good night.

The Act of Killing

A few weeks ago, I headed up to SF to catch one of the last showings in the city of a documentary film on the Indonesian killings of 1965-1966, an atrocity that was committed largely against the Indonesian Communist party of the time, and suspected members, often from the ethnic Chinese minority. The film itself, titled The Act of Killing, has been garnering attention since hitting limited release in theaters across the nation last month, and it's expected to released online in Indonesia for free sometime in September- which may sound somewhat odd, except that the killers in the film are still considered heroes in that country, so a traditional release of a product that could potentially draw attention to them in a negative light wouldn't make much sense anyway. And they're not concerned about piracy since it'll be released online in its unsubbed form, anyway.

The documentary wasn't really anything like any other documentary I've seen before, to be honest. There's isn't really a narrator other than brief screens of text at certain points during the film to explain context or other similar details, but for the most part the direction of the film is traced by the words of the principal subjects of the film, Anwar Congo and his fellow former executioner friends and gang members related to the paramilitary organization Pancasila. Most of what's shown is meant to speak for itself or left open for the viewer to interpret; while on one hand, it's easy to simply react with shock to everything seemingly wrong about this society, I think the real purpose of this film isn't to shock the viewer, but to make them ponder why a messed up society like this is possible, and why people are capable of committing human atrocities against each other. If anything, by the end of the film, I was feeling more sensitive or perhaps even empathetic to the concerns of some of these men themselves, even though they still are murderers. And even now I'm wondering if that's at all appropriate.

The basic premise given by the director, Joshua Oppenheimer, is that he's come up to these men, who people recognize as heroes for their extermination of the communists of the 1960's, and asked them to relive those killings in whatever manner or film genre they see fit. Since Anwar and his buddies were huge fans of the American gangster films of the 60's among other things, the scenes that they end up filming for this take on varying forms reminiscent of those movies. We don't ever get to see the entire final film that these men make (it isn't actually clear whether they finished or not), but we do get to see a set of seemingly random, unrelated scenes and the making of those scenes, including a few surreal moments involving dancing native women, war ghosts and evil spirits, a drag queen, a decapitated talking head, and a giant statue of an open mouthed fish among other things.

But the bizarre imagery is just an extra touch added to the more disturbing real life moments depicting the process Anwar and his friends undertake in order to realize this film. This includes recruiting local folks to reenact the roles of the victims of his crimes, and reunions and interviews with other old friends who also had a role in allowing the killings of the 60's to take place. There's another scene in which Anwar's neighbor reveals midway through the film to the film makers that he was raised by a Chinese stepfather that got lynched... while smiling (perhaps nervously) the entire time he's telling that story, as a way of saying, "I'm not judging you guys; I'm just giving you suggestions for your movie!" And in the midst of everyone writing it off as an unlikely scene to be filmed for logistical and other reasons, you get the sense that inside they're all uncomfortable with what might be this can of worms they've opened, uncovering secrets and realizations that no one is really ready to face. One of the former co-conspirators, Adi, admits this as much. And in the aftermath of the next scene they film, in which Anwar's neighbor acts as the torture victim, you see the tears start streaming down his face and wonder if he's acting his part in the scene, or if he really is feeling upset at that moment.

The most disconcerting aspect of the entire film is the realization that the entire genocide incident is treated in Indonesian culture as simply a normal facet of life and their history, decades after the event. Anwar and his friends are still seen as heroes for what they did in the 60's, and ironically, as a talk show host interviewing him puts it, for having discovered a "humane way of exterminating communists." What others in the Western world would consider crimes as humanity are seen as normal and even necessary in this society, and it exemplifies that adage, "History is written by the victors." Ironically, part of the reason the West didn't react when this incident took place was due to the Cold War and the US policy of containment, which would consider an incident such as the mass murder of communists to be desirable outcome as it impeded the spread of communism in southeast Asia in the long run. And this incident in particular pretty much was responsible for wiping the Communist Party of Indonesia (the PKI) from the face of the country.

Over the course of the making of his own film, Anwar himself starts to undergo what seems to be almost a cathartic process, of realizing the full scope of his crimes. He admits that ever since the killings (and in particular after seeing the eyes on the head of a man he decapitated), he has suffered from nightmares on a regular basis and frequently has trouble sleeping. With the shooting of each successive scene for the film, Anwar noticeably appears increasingly uncomfortable, commenting on how much worse each scene turned out than it did in his head. Adi, on the other hand, shrugs Anwar's evident distress away as an illness of the nerves, and recommends that he visit a psychiatrist instead. Adi himself has managed to figure out how to live with the weight of his past, simply by not regretting or dwelling on it, which has been aided by the fact that society and history have declared his faction the victors. He even goes as far as to say that the Geneva Conventions don't matter. So what if they try to come back and punish him in the future, he says. They'll just respond with their own "Jakarta Conventions" instead.

In the meantime, Anwar's progression comes to almost a sort of a climax in one of the final scenes, where the man himself is cast as the victim of a torture scene in a noir-style film context, with the execution method used being the same as that which he used on his own victims, an improvised garrote made from wire. Anwar has to cut the scene short at the last minute; it seems to be too much for him, and he appears exhausted and in need of water. On watching the final cut of that last scene (ironically with his grandkids, although they're clearly not as responsive to the scene), he asks an off-screen Oppenheimer behind the camera, "Did my victims feel the same way that I did in that moment?"

"No, they felt much worse. You knew it was just a film; they knew they were going to die."

What follows in the few minutes left in the film after this scene is a nighttime return to a rooftop visited earlier in the film during the day, in which Anwar had happily boasted about how he'd developed the improvised garrote technique to reduce inconvenient blood splatter and pointed out the exact spots where people had died. This time, at night, he recalls the same deaths, the same moments, but in a more somber tone, which is interrupted when he suddenly retches on the spot and turns away from the camera to vomit in a corner, which goes on for a couple of minutes. It's probably the most uncomfortable moment to watch in the entire film. And then he leaves the building, as the credits roll.

For an outsider looking into this culture, these scenes, and Adi's responses, it's easy to fall back into an automatic mode of response, of shock, of disbelief, of judgment on all of those involved in this tragedy. It feels natural to say that Anwar and Adi clearly deserved to be punished for all of those murders they committed, even if they were just part of the executioner squad of a war in which these incidents were to be expected. Likewise, it seems sort of obvious to explain the transformation that Anwar seems to undergo throughout the film as a sign of him comprehending the true magnitude of his sins, of coming back to a sort of normal state that society up till now has prevented him from reaching, what with its celebration of what he did. The process of making this film, of forcing him to relive his past, has allowed Anwar to become... human again, in a sense.

And to be honest, I felt mostly along those lines throughout the course of the film. I saw individuals like Anwar's neighbor, still affected by the memories of his stepfather's murder, and Anwar himself as fundamentally broken people as a result of a fundamentally broken society and culture. I know we tend to use the word "broken" a lot in Christian contexts, but having been raised around that sort of worldview, it was very hard to not see this exactly as a prime example of that. I'd say it was primarily because of the dominant prevailing culture, one that encourages racism and genocide even up to governmental levels, that such atrocities were allowed to occur, that individuals were enabled to commit crimes against their fellow humans, and given options to carry through with them without the need to feel remorse or guilt. It's as Adi said - if their own society won't punish him for it, why should he care?

But at the same time, part of me wonders how much of this all is just a Westernized interpretation of things. For all we know, Anwar simply recovered from his minor physical illness the next day and went back to his normal, everyday life, no different than usual. And it's typical of us in the West to simply look at the entirety of a situation as such and explain it all as the result of abstract concepts like culture and society and fundamental brokenness, as if the knowledge of such things might allow for more readily understandable solutions like "awareness" or "social reconstruction" or "racial reconciliation" or even "healing" or whatever crap terms we like to employ (especially us Christians). Perhaps in a world that conformed to our idealized human understanding, such solutions would be feasible, but this is reality, where what we perceive as brokenness and injustice is just another facet of life most of the time no matter where you go in the world, and where there are no easy or quick fix solutions to the underlying problems we see. Or maybe that's just the jaded person in me speaking right now.

That all said, I appreciate the effort that Oppenheimer undertook in making this film available to the greater public, and especially with regards to the free online distribution of it in the country of its making. One could probably make a greater argument (actually, I've seen this in the advertising) for the power that film and cinema have in helping people achieve their own self-actualization, just as in any other form of work. And in making The Act of Killing available to the Indonesian public at large, there's the hope that it might help bring about, even if only in small steps now, a greater societal catharsis that has been decades in the making, moreso than any of us mere foreign viewers removed from that context could have achieved. Or perhaps it'll end up being overlooked as just another afterthought by some lesser known documentary director... although I sincerely hope for the former. But we can only wait and see.