3. Or Art Imitating Life?
The scene opens with mothers sobbing, their children clinging to their legs. The cacophony of grief echoes throughout the room, with Anwar's men standing in the centre and barking orders at their terrified crowd. And then Anwar steps into shot and calls cut once more. The lines between fact and fiction are blurred to disorientating effect. And yet this seems like something of a cruel joke to play not only on the 'actors' but also the audience. We have already seen just how intimidating Anwar can be when casting for his re-enactment; how the threat of violence still looms over those who refuse to take part. As he takes us through the streets he used to control, it's clear to see that he has lost little, if any, of his ill-gained repute. And so we're frantically scanning the scene to gauge whether these are genuine emotions from a reluctant cast or the all-too convincing portrayals from those who are, in many cases, reliving the fear Anwar's men had struck in them decades ago. As their film continues, the men argue about which scenes should be included- or, more specifically, who should have a starring role. Anwar wants part of the film to focus on his night terrors; although he's quick to shrug off the claims that it is his conscience that is keeping him awake. And so the crew set about constructing a giant papier-mache demon to symbolise the hundreds of people he has killed. Anwar, it would seem, is playing a variation on Scrooge - a man literally haunted by his past- and yet, with characteristic lack of self-awareness, he asks that we sympathise not with the ghost but with him. The gangsters then take it in turns to adopt the role of victim, each begging for their lives with an uncomfortable authenticity, only to joke and reminisce about the real-life stories behind the re-enactment. Nowhere is this contrast between laughter and sorrow more pointedly and poignantly expressed than in the scene in which a man humbly approaches Anwar whilst he is in the middle of shooting and tells him that they have met before. Anwar is not too sure but, intrigued, he asks the man to elaborate. With a nervous smile, he explains that, many years ago, the man's father was snatched from his bed in the dead of night, dragged into the yard and beaten to death by Anwar's men. Anwar listens intently yet shows no emotion, not even when the poor man suddenly breaks down in tears. This is a gut-wrenchingly tense moment; with everyone on the set looking to Anwar to see how they, and he, should react. The man, still sobbing, looks expectantly at the men around him. Anwar merely shakes his head. Now you realise the full, sickening scale of what you have just seen: the man, standing before his father's killers -no less-, has turned his tragedy into
a film pitch.That story is too long to put in the movie, says Anwar, dismissively, But maybe the actors can use it for motivation.