Where is the hype for ‘Drive My Car’ ?(The unsophistication of film snobs)

I remember when excited film nuts were hyping Bon Joon Ho’s Parasite and how happy they were when it won Best Picture at the Oscars. At the time when I started writing this, people were hyping Everything Everywhere All At Once and many celebrated its eleven Oscar nominations.

Parasite is a dark comedy satire that loves emphasising its messages through “hidden” visual clues and metaphors. EEAAO is a genre-bending film that provides a refreshing take on the multiverse. They have genuinely interesting premises.

Some MCU bashers who love the two movies often compare them – especially EEAAO – to Marvel films. They love reminding Marvel fans about the existence of quality cinema.

But, for some reasons, they didn’t hype Drive My Car. I found it baffling.

It was released in 2021 and won many awards, including Best International Feature Film at the Oscars in 2022. Meanwhile, Parasite was released in 2019 and won Best Picture at the Oscars in 2020 and EEAAO was released in 2022 and got nominated in 2023. Basically, it was not in direct competitions with any of the two.

So, why didn’t they hype it?

Well, I have one observation: they are not as sophisticated as they think they are.

Yes, the other two films indeed represent quality cinema, there is no doubt about that. But, they still bear traits of mainstream and commercial cinema: action-oriented, (relatively) fast-paced and visually striking. Traits which Drive My Car lacks.

In fact, not only it is dialogue-driven and slow-paced, it also has a very modest storytelling style; the acting is very deadpan and the story is straightforwardly told, without any symbolism (as far as I am concerned). It also keeps referencing Uncle Vanya, a play which many people – including myself – aren’t familiar with.

Yet, despite what I said above, the film still manages to be rich in emotions. It is a good example of less is more. If I – someone who cannot consider himself a film snob – can appreciate it, then actual film snobs should appreciate it even more.

But, what if they are unable to?

They have expressed what kinds of films they love to watch… and it is very telling.

They love filmmakers like Steven Spielberg, Quentin Tarantino, Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese and James Cameron. They love films like Jaws, original Star Wars trilogy, Pulp Fiction, the first three Terminator films, the first Jurassic Park, the earlier Indiana Jones, the first and second Mummy, Lord of the Rings and the earlier Alien and Predator films… which “coincidentally” also happens to be films they grew up with.

They won’t mention directors like Luis Buñuel, Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman, Robert Bresson, Atom Egoyan, Robert Altman, Shane Carruth, Jan Švankmajer, Sergei Parajanov, Frederico Fellini, Abbas Kiarostami and Yasujirō Ozu. They won’t mention films like Taste of Cherry, The Sweet Hereafter, 3 Women, Mirror, 8 1/2, Persona, An Andalusian Dog, Primer, The Color of Pomegranates and Tokyo Story.

They love the exciting, fast-paced and nostalgic escapism of mainstream and highly-commercialised Hollywood films. But, they don’t seem to appreciate the oblique, dialogue-heavy and/or calm-paced storytelling of non-Hollywood arthouse films.

Basically, they are basic bitches who criticise others for being basic bitches. Pot calling the kettle black, alcoholics calling stoners addicts, neocons calling Putin supporters warmongers. They don’t have the pedestals to bash the other side. They are each other’s equals.

Being basic is not bad in itself. But, being a hypocrite is.

Oh, and if many/most of the films and directors they praise are also the ones they grew up with, there is nostalgia bias. They cannot expect us to believe it is just a mere coincidence.

Nostalgia is also not bad in itself. But, let’s not pretend your feeling is objective.

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MCU films kill movie stars…. and how is that supposed to be bad?

Seriously, how?

When I was a much more unsophisticated film consumer, I watched films because of their premises, they were adaptations of certain source materials and they were sequels of films that I liked. I was not star struck by the actors.

As a teen, I started taking more heed of of my sexual attractions and I did find some actors more attractive than the others. But, I still didn’t watch films because of the actors. Still wasn’t star struck by them.

When I was around 19, I started exploring cinema beyond the mainstream Hollywood. Apart from the aforementioned ones, I also added a new reason for me to watch a film: the director. Nowadays, I already have three personal favourites.

And this was when I started to bewildered by the concept of a “movie star”.

You are watching a film and yet, instead of focusing on the story and maybe on how its execution, you choose to focus on your favourite actors, even though they are supposed to be the characters they are depicting instead of being themselves; that’s literally what actors are hired for.

Yes, I do know some actors perform better than the others; I have certainly caught myself fawning over their sublime performances. But, it still does not make me star struck for multiple reasons.

Good acting skills aren’t unique to specific actors, the most acclaimed actors don’t always give their best performances and, most importantly, the most popular actors aren’t always the best performers.

It should also be noted that some actors are famous for portraying characters with similar traits, over and over and over again.

I don’t think this is necessarily bad. If they are actors who always perform characters specifically made for them and cannot be performed by anyone else, then I can see why people watch films just for them. I am thinking of the likes of Rowan Atkinson, Jackie Chan and Charlie Chaplin, whom we never expect to have a wide acting range (even though they may have it).

But, most actors aren’t like that. We expect most of them to have an actually wide range instead of simply performing their public personas.

Okay, if you love them solely for their public personas, then why bother watching their films? I mean, you can simply tune in to any of their media appearances, including their interviews and any shows they guest star in.

Heck, we are in 2023. I am certain some of your favourite movie stars have become Youtubers as well. You can definitely watch their videos.

My point is people love to bash MCU for supposedly showcasing filmmaking at its shallowest… and yet, they often have nothing but the shallowest arguments.

First, Martin Scorcese – supposedly one of the most acclaimed directors of all time – argued MCU films are not cinema; he made his own definition of the word “cinema” and act like it is the most objective one. Basically, if I didn’t know who uttered the words, I would assume they were uttered by a snot-nosed and self-righteous teenager.

Then, we also have Quentin Tarantino – another supposedly acclaimed director – who thinks MCU films are bad because they kill the movie stars.

I mean, there are lots to criticise about MCU films. The extreme commercialisation, the lack of risk-taking and the excessive amount of jokes. But, he criticises them because they kill celebrity worship, something that actually deserves to be killed off?

He is a fucking film director. He should be focused on the stories and how they are executed. But, for some reasons, he thinks upholding celebrity worship – something of no value – is just as important. Are you fucking kidding me?

I don’t know if they are desperate with their criticisms or they genuinely believe they are onto something.

But, one thing is certain: their simps will take their words like the gospel, regardless of the profundity or lack thereof. Because status trumps everything.

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Oh, and there are times when I actually watch films solely for their actors.

Those films are called porn.

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(Badly) Defending Netflix’s Dahmer

When I first heard about the show and the controversies surrounding its disregard of the victims’ families, I thought there would be people who defend the show, saying they have the right to enjoy even the most exploitative entertainment.

But, it seems there are people who defend the show for moral reasons.

Disclosure: I haven’t watched the show and I have no interest to. I am more interested in breaking down the opinions which argue not only for its moral justifiability, but also moral necessity.

First thing first, they argue this show is an exposé of police ineptitude and bigotry, which can be an eye-opener to many people.

Second, they argue the show showcases the dark side of humanity, how humans can do the most despicable things to each other, how life isn’t all flowers and rainbows. In fact, they believe the dark content can be a cautionary tale for all of us to be more vigilant, especially in the presence of strangers.

Now, let me break them down.

We are in 2022. At this point, you should have heard many discourses regarding police incompetence and bigotry. If the show opens your eyes to their existence, it is not a testament of its quality. It is a testament of how out-of-touch you are.

Also, there has been so many works about serial killers… and about Dahmer specifically. If something is depicted once or a few times, it would be emotionally impactful. But, once it becomes a recurring and overused theme, people will be desensitised to it.

Oh, and if their abundance fails to make us vigilant against serial killers, what makes you think this one show is any different?

So no, the so-called “benefits” are not worth retraumatising the victims’ still living families. What’s the point of reopening old wounds when you have no intention to heal them permanently?

I don’t know exactly why people make those defenses.

It may be naivety.

They may naively believe the show’s creators care about educating the masses, despite the fact that media people are infamous for their greed, and every person who watches the show only cares about learning, despite the fact that some are entertained by exploitations and others love glorifying serial killers. They contradict themselves: they want to learn about the dark side of mankind and yet, they assume others have nothing but the purest intentions.

They may naively believe entertainment is the best tool to enlighten the masses, despite the fact that entertainers often oversimplify, exaggerate and dramatise the facts and aren’t obligated to be unbiased, despite the fact that people won’t learn anything unless they have the desire to.

It may not be naivety.

It may be their attempts to mask their love of exploitative entertainment, fearing they will be judged harshly for their inability to enjoy anything which isn’t remotely edgy.

I tend to believe it is mostly a naivety issue. But, knowing humans, the latter is a high possibility.

Does that mean people need to stop making Dahmer content until all of his victims’ families die?

Yes, the answer is yes.

I believe that we are allowed to make any content as we desire; banning can be a dangerous slippery slope. But, we should always remember that heartlessness is an option.

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I just realise I may not hate Brutalism after all. But, there are still problems.

I used to hate this architectural style with a passion. Just like other people, I thought it created nothing but monstrosities which oppressively sucked the life out of their surroundings. In fact, filmmakers love to use them as settings for evil corporations and dystopian future.

But, after reading some comments by the style’s admirers, I have changed my mind.

They remind me that architectural styles are also art styles and art works are meant to evoke certain emotions. So yes, brutalist buildings are works of art.

After seeing them as such, I have started to sincerely appreciated their beauty, not despite of their bleakness but because of it! I am one of those people who believe beauty does not have to be remotely positive; when it comes to aesthetics, negativity can be beautiful. I will come back to this later.

I have actually found brutalist buildings that I like. They are the works of Studio Granda and Tadao Ando.

While theirs are not categorised as brutalist, their grey concrete exteriors give them the appearances of ones. In fact, not only they are not oppressively lifeless, they also blend in with their surroundings! That’s because they are designed using the critical regional approach, which calls for simplicity and consideration of the physical and/or cultural environments; it is basically the respectful version of international style.

This makes me realise the problem is not on brutalism, it is on the implementation!

Remember my comment about the aesthetic beauty of negativity? It seems some people – particularly brutalism lovers – forget that architecture is not just an art form, it is also an applied discipline; it is meant to bring immediate and tangible practical benefits!

Maybe it is just me. But, even if my house is not the most beautiful ever, the least it can do is to not suck the joy out of me. Surely, there is nothing beneficial about not feeling at home in your own house.

As works of art, most brutalist buildings are a success due to their adroitness in engendering emotions, galvanising us into conceding that something can be monumentally alluring not despite of its despotic despondency but because of it.

As practical tools, they suck ass.

I do acknowledge that every single architectural style – even the classical ones – can be incongruous when there are no consideration for the locality and utilisation. But, at least, those buildings still provide some kind of liveliness, albeit not the kind we need.

Let’s be honest with ourselves: there are no architectural styles reviled like the way brutalism is.

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Violence needed?

Before I talk about violence, let’s talk about sex for a moment.

I don’t remember who made the quote. But, reading it, I felt stupid for not realising it sooner. Basically, it asserted that depiction of sex should be more acceptable than the depiction of violence.

Why? Because sex is nice and violence isn’t. Religious sins aside, I am certain every non-asexual person who has ever lived finds consensual sex pleasurable. I would be surprised if you can many people who enjoy getting stabbed and shot at.

Unnecessary depiction of sex -even in a small amount- can be distracting. But, unless I am a small-time actor who cannot opt out from performing the scenes, I prefer that over excessive violence.

This makes me wonder: why do creators love depicting violence?

Obviously, unless they need psychiatric help, the answer is not that they love it.

If they openly admit they create anything that is popular, they are profoundly intrigued by the existence of violence or they just love action-oriented scenes, then I get why they create violent works.

If they dwell with stories of superheroes, criminals, martial artists, soldiers or adventurers and claim such stories won’t work without violence, then my feelings are mixed.

On one hand, I do get why said stories need violence. All of them deal with lots of physical actions and may feature violent characters, which are not inherently out of place.

But, on the other hand, what I said above is arbitrary.

Superhero and war stories can focus on the nature of heroism and morality and how the actions psychologically affect the protagonists; the latter can also focus on the validity of patriotism. Crimes do not always involve violence and their stories can also explore the nature of morality. Martial art stories can focus on the characters’ journey of improving their craft and that can be very psychological. And adventure stories? I am certain we don’t need violent villains to experience greater risk in our lives; life will provide it for us.

If you want to depict abusive relationships, the depiction of physical aspect is just a bonus; the most painful part about it is – once again – the psychological effects. Words – even ones uttered by the calmest and honeyed voice – can hurt more than cuts and bruises… and I personally can attest to that.

From my perspective, those creators appear to possess limited amount of imagination; they are unable to conjure narratives devoid of violent acts. They are unable to be creative with their supposedly beloved genres.

I have very limited experiences immersing myself in works of various genres. And yet, I can easily conjure war, superhero, martial art and adventure story ideas that do not involve violence.

Admittedly, I have problems writing stories inspired my own life using magical realist and surrealist styles – styles which I find most comfortable writing fiction in – , let alone writing genres which I clearly have no skills and knowledge in. It would be a miracle if I ever finish more than ten short stories in my lifetime.

But, one thing for certain: I don’t feel insecure about my own imagination.

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The Orange Girl

I am talking not only about the Jostein Gaarder’s novel, but also about the film adaptation. After immersing myself in both, I realised something: I actually don’t care for Jan Olav’s love life.

For me, it is not about how ‘beautiful’ his romance with the orange girl was (it is less beautiful and more sickly sweet). It is about how his son Georg utilises the tale as a tool for contemplation.

Even though I have read only three of his novels, it is obvious that Jostein Gaarder’s specialty is philosophical fiction; the contemplativeness is expected. Therefore, it is not far-fetched to say romance is not the novel’s main focus. As much as some of you may dislike it, the mind of Georg the pretentious is the main focus.

While the pretentiousness can be off-putting, I actually think it is understandable. If you receive something similar to a sentimental letter from your long-deceased loved one, existential musing is inevitable. If you are a teenager, the musing would be inevitably unrefined.

Of course, it may seems I am excusing it, considering Gaarder’s other novels Sophie’s World and The Solitaire Mystery are not (as) pretentious; it shows he has the capability to write (relatively) well-rounded philosophical fictions.

But, here’s the thing: they have leverages.

Sophie’s World revolves around an interaction between a student and a teacher of philosophy; the presence of an authority figure may help the titular character to be more grounded. The Solitaire Mystery is not even explicitly philosophical; it prefers to express ideas through allegorical means.

The Orange Girl, on the other hand, is explicitly philosophical and none of the living adult characters serve as the main character’s “philosophical mentor”, leaving him “unsupervised” with his musings. So, not only the pretentiousness is hard to evade, it also makes perfect sense.

It is a reason why I can still re-read the book to this day despite everything.

Now about the film adaptation…

Just like many people, I am also disappointed when the adaptations of my favourite books liberally change the stories, especially when the changes do not improve them, if not worsen.

But, in this case, there are two changes which may seem trivial for some, but personally infuriating for me: the setting and Georg’s love interest.

Why does Georg have to go on a skiing trip? Why can’t he simply contemplate inside his bedroom?

Okay, this is not one of those ‘finding-yourself-while-travelling’ stories. The skiing trip only lasts for a few days and it ends before the climax.

But still, I despise the belief that you can only “find yourself” by leaving home. It ignores one crucial element of such experience: the genuine desire to learn. It does not matter if you have visited every country on earth; if you don’t have the desire, you would always be the same pathetic loser of a person.

And why the love interest? The point of the letter is to appreciate life as a whole! But, it seems the filmmakers believed otherwise. Maybe they idiotically mistook the novel as a romance one.

Either that or they thought protagonists must always had love interests.

In both changes, it is shallowness resulting in dumb changes.

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A fan of things

Films, TV shows, songs, books, why do I have my personal favourites among them? Why am I a fan of anything?

I always wonder how critics compile lists of works they consider to be the objectively greatest. If I ask them, it is very likely they would claim that they only take things like originality, executions and legacy into account.

But, do they, really? Do they actually care about the quality? Or do they only pander to self-righteous snobs? Or are they the self-righteous assholes who think their tastes are objectively the most refined?

Regarding the self-righteous pricks and the panderers, they are relatively easy to detect. All of you have to do is to see if the right to opinion or appeal to authority fallacies are being used. As long as they are a bunch of big mouths and you are capable of reading between the lines, you won’t fall for their deceit.

I do know people who can only enjoy arts and high-quality entertainment exist… and I have no doubt those on the opposite side of the spectrum also exist. Obviously, they frustrate me.

On one hand, I understand why some people can only love escapism; life truly sucks, after all. But, on the other hand, I hate it when they go full pseudo-intellectual populist and assert how there is no such thing as ‘bad taste’.

I also hate the ‘high-quality’ crowd because they can be a hoard of sanctimonious pricks; I have complained about this lots of times. But, recently, I noticed something potentially eerie about them. Let me explain.

When one thinks of a work of high quality, one thinks about the techniques. From my experiences, techniques can improve the human expressions. Can, but not always.

Sometimes, I encounter works of high quality (or seen as such by critics and snobs) which I have a hard time liking. I have a hard time finishing the unnecessary visceral films of Quentin Tarantino, I find Kanye West’s songs undistinguishable from many other pop songs, I find ‘common practice’ classical music too sugary at times and I am inclined to believe some ‘realistic’ films are emotionally heavy-handed just for the sake of being so.

Here’s a list of my favourite works and the reasons why I enjoy them.

I enjoy films like Your Name, The Man From Earth and My Dinner With Andre and anything by Andrei Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman and Stanley Kubrick. They thrive to understand humanity through metaphysical means. Even Bergman’s psychological films incorporate metaphysical themes at times.

I enjoy compositions by John Coolidge Adams, George Gershwin and Igor Stravinsky. Unlike ‘common practice’ music, they don’t sound saccharine. If anything, they have an ‘edge’ which I find lacking in ‘common practice’ music.

Despite Rowling exposing herself as a shit worldbuilder and a TERF, I still have to commend Harry Potter for turning me into a book reader and for creating escapist works dense with social commentaries which I wholeheartedly support.

I love Michael Jackson for introducing me to music in general, Phil Collins for introducing me to more offbeat pop music and Chrisye for introducing me to quality Indonesian music.

I love Dan Brown’s Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code for providing me nuanced takes on religions’ place in our lives, despite Brown’s poor writing skills and the inaccuracies.

I love Pramoedya Ananta Toer’s Bumi Manusia for changing the way I see myself through the lens of Indonesian national identity.

I love Enya for her ethereal, borderline-spiritual music and I love Mahavishnu Orchestra for their ethereal Jazz Fusion.

I love some Marvel films for their ability to incorporate genuine emotions within  action superhero narratives.

From all of them, you can easily tell they have something in common: I love them because they personally mean something to me; it is obvious I don’t always care for virtuosity.

I thought Bong Joon-Ho’s Parasite was an anomaly. Immediately after watching it, I was mesmerised by the acting, directing and unpredictable plot. Not long after, I was mesmerised by how fun it was to analyse the film; the interpretations seemed never-ending!

I was surprised that I would have a black comedy crime thriller as a personal favourite, that I would like a work simply for its virtuosity. But, after I thought about it, that was not the full story.

The film is a cynical satire… and I love cynical satires; in fact, much of my earliest blogs are cynical satires that felt cathartic to write. The film also has an ominous atmosphere almost right from the beginning… and I am a sucker for subtle sense of terror, which I find more ‘traumatising’ than the conspicuous one.

Speaking for myself, I love the arts and entertainment because they make feel like a human being in a world where cold-hearted pragmatism is king and make robots out of us. Loving them solely for their techniques feels antithetical to what arts and entertainment are meant to be.

As frustrating as the exclusively low brow crowd can be, I still can relate to them on some level; their desire to ‘escape’ feels perfectly human.

On the other hand, I cannot relate to the exclusively high brow crowd at all; their inability or unwillingness to ‘escape’ does not feel human at all. What I am saying is I often wonder if they are even humans.

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Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus: unexpectedly nostalgic

Yes, I will spoil it. But first, I want to talk about its genre.

I was searching for magical realist novels recommendations on Google… and an article suggested this book. I bought it, I started reading it…. and it is disappointingly not magical realist. It is fantasy.

Don’t get me wrong: I still enjoy fantasy. I am disappointed because I want to read more magical realist novels as I find the genre interesting and the article’s writer clearly did not understand it enough.

If one reads novel and does not pay much attention, it does seem every character associated with the circus sees magic without any sense of wonder. Every time we enter their perspectives, the depiction of magic does feel matter-of-fact.

And that’s the thing: their perspectives.

The public -the rêveurs AKA the circus’s admirers especially- see the circus as an otherworldly entity instead of something one expects in the everyday life. That breaks the illusion of mundanity. If they don’t have that sense of wonder, the novel would definitely be a magical realist one.

And now, for the nostalgia….

I am surprised the novel compels me to feel nostalgic. Yes, it is a story about a magical world and my young self loved magical stories. But, its ending is rather gloomy.

Yes, Marco and Celia do not have to kill each other and Bailey stays with the circus which he has loved since he was young. But, Marco and Celia also end up living as ghost-like entities who cannot leave the circus… and Bailey -despite being young and still has his life ahead of him- chooses to be magically bound to the circus for eternity.

It is less sad and more bittersweet. But, my young self would still hate the ending; he would want an entirely sweet one.

My childhood fantasies also involve lots of actions, good vs evil physically embodied. Contrast that with this novel which is more dependent on the dialogues and the atmosphere.

To make it more confusing, I have read Harry Potter books; despite being more aligned to my childhood fantasies with their happy endings and actions, they do not feel nostalgic for me.

Maybe it has something to do with my maturity.

The older I get, the more I am not into happy endings and action-driven narratives. The former can deceive us by hiding the bitterness underneath. When excessively made, the latter can be sensory overloads and -unlike the more immersive ‘quiet’ scenes- they can distract us from the actual story-telling in the name of ‘not being boring’.

But, even if Harry Potter is less sentimental and more dialogue-driven, I doubt it would evoke the same nostalgia.

The most common criticism regarding Rowling’s worldbuilding is its clumsiness. While I do agree with the assessment, I also feel hers is a bit too unconcealed, too transparent. I mean, if you intend to explain almost everything, losing the enigmatic atmosphere is inevitable.

In The Night Circus, the magic is unexplained. Characters associated with the circus perceive it as a mundane entity while the outsiders perceive the magically-enlivened circus as something to be simply impressed, baffled and haunted by. The magic is mysterious.

Young me also loved mysteries… and I still do. They compel me to be curious about the world I live in and they encourage me to explore it. When it comes to fiction, I want the revelations to be subtle and polished instead of dry and excessively expositional. I want them to be aesthetically pleasing instead of feeling like I am reading a textbook.

I am hesitant to say if I have definitely found the cause of the nostalgia. The combination of my personal growth and my love of mysteries feels inadequate as a hypothesis.

But, for now, I am satisfied. This is an abstract topic in which I am trying to decipher my own personal feeling. As long as it makes sense to me and I am not projecting myself onto others, the explanation is valid enough.

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This Earth of Mankind: How it took me to a bumpy journey

This Earth of Mankind -or Bumi Manusia, as it is known in the original Indonesian title- is a novel written by Pramoedya Ananta Toer, an Indonesian author who was so politically rebellious, he was hated both by the Old Order and New Order regimes.

In fact, the latter even went on accusing the Buru Quartet -a tetralogy of novels which includes the aforementioned one- of being communist propaganda.

This novel is set in 19th century Indonesian -then-known as the Dutch Indies- and it centres on the life of Minke, a young blue-blooded Javanese man who was educated among the Dutch.

He is opinionated, critical-minded and not afraid to debate the so-called superior white people. He also falls for a young biracial woman, a daughter of a lunatic Dutch businessman and his well-educated Javanese concubine.

Basically, it is a historical/political/romance/philosophical novel.

Anyway, this novel has brought me to both ends of an ideological spectrum: a zealous nationalist and an anti-nationalist… well, sort of.

It turned me into a nationalist because, after just one reading, it convinced me that Indonesians had the potential to be more cultured and civilised than we were.

To this day, I still think we do have the potential. But, I was about twelve or thirteen when I first read the book. I was a fucking idiot.

I did not see the big picture and I couldn’t comprehend intricacies. I preferred to focus on the main character’s intelligence and sophistication and some of the Dutch characters’ lack of thereof.

As a result, I ended up believing that a true Indonesian should only embrace Indonesian things. I did not care about what it meant to be one, I only cared about the label.

Of course, I was a hypocrite. Despite my outward nationalism, I still loved anything foreign; in some cases, I preferred them over the local ones. In fact, instead of reading the original Indonesian copy, I read the English translation due to my lack of interest in reading anything written in my mother tongue.

When I read the novel again as an adult, I realised how nuanced the story was.

While the story clearly depicts the discrimination faced by the indigenous population, it is anything but black and white. Not all of the Dutch characters are bad and almost every native character seems unwilling or intellectually incapable of politically empowering themselves and fellow natives.

After realising the existence of the shades of grey, I gradually lose my nationalism and end up as an anti-nationalist.

Okay, calling me an anti-nationalist is inaccurate. Me before reading this novel was an anti-nationalist. I hated everything about Indonesia and I wished I was a citizen of a foreign country.

I don’t know which label that perfectly describes me now. But, one thing for sure: I don’t see anything wrong about avowing love for one’s country… as long as one acknowledges it is entirely based on emotional attachments.

Yes, emotional. You love a country simply because it is your home sweet home, NOT because of its so-called absolute and divine perfection… which existence defies common sense, unless you live in the land of make-believe.

Believe it or not, you can praise and condemn your country at the same time. Millions of people have done it millions of times. It is literally that easy.

Oh, and I can relate to the character on a personal level. He is Javanese yet educated among the Dutch (back then, indigenous identities were mostly regional and ethnic). I am Indonesian who grew up almost entirely on western entertainment. He is too indigenous for the Dutch and too Dutch for his Javanese family, I am too Indonesian for westerners and too western for my fellow Indonesians. We are stuck between both worlds.

The more I see the complexities of my self-identifications, the more I find labels grossly superficial. The more I think so, the more I despise any forms of identity politics, nationalism included.

I don’t think this novel is the sole reason why I reject nationalism. My interactions with foreigners online and my curiosity about history and culture are also instrumental in my personal growth.

But, as it successfully makes me contemplate about my Indonesianness, This Earth of Mankind is a big deal in my life and I would be surprised if it does not have the same effect on my fellow countrymen.

No wonder the Soeharto regime banned its publication. Tyrants love their sheep.

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Being Indonesian

 

I was born in Indonesia. The first language I learned was Indonesian. Both of my parents are Indonesian citizens and my mom is a Sundanese speaker. Before university, I only attended one international school; even then, I was still surrounded by other Indonesian citizens and some classes still used Indonesian as a medium of instruction. In high school, I was surrounded by students who spoke with various regional accents. I started to form relationships with foreigners when I became active in social media, when I was eighteen.

But, somehow, my Indonesian-ness started emerging when I was an adult.

I grew up preferring foreign foods and looked  down on Indonesian ones which I dismissed as ‘traditional medicine but in food forms’. I preferred to appreciate western-influenced arts over ones with distinctively Indonesian characteristics. I also hoped to leave Indonesia for good. I felt like a westerner.

Of course, I have changed.

I am now able to eat Indonesian dishes and watch traditional art performances with sincerity. My desire to leave and my western inclination have also diminished.

I still don’t know why my old self was like that.

Maybe it has something to do with my childhood which lacks exposure to anything Indonesian. Maybe it is my mom who inexplicably did not teach her children a regional language. Maybe it is me constantly eating foreign foods.

But, after I thought about it, what I just said were also experienced by others; from my knowledge, they never feel alien in their home country. Their identity has always been Indonesian.

Of course, my horizon widens as I get older. I undoubtedly get exposed to more things western. But, at the same time, I am also exposed to more things Indonesian.

The more I taste different types of European cheese and bread, the more I taste different types of gulai and Indonesian ‘salads’ like gado-gado and urap. The more I listen to western music, the more I listen to Indonesian folk songs and works of musicians like Guruh Soekarno Putra and Kua Etnika. The more I listen to cases of sectarianism in western countries, the more I realise how our inter-ethnic relations are relatively peaceful and harmonious according to international standard.

I am finally able to compare Indonesia with the western world  more meticulously and the comparison shows how Indonesian-ness is a very unique and complex which is impossible to be summarised.

Some of our traditions are clearly results of different foreign influences, we boast cultural diversity which can only be rivalled by India, Papua New Guinea and certain African countries and Indonesia is a predominantly-Muslim country which national symbols are Hindu in origin. How can you summarise that?

Indonesia is a country that can easily shine. If its citizens sincerely embrace our Indonesian identity, we would be more accomplished in generating innovative ideas and hence, making us more contributive to world developments.

Obviously, I don’t praise things simply because they are Indonesian.

Our cooking is still too dependent on palm oil and white rice, our pop culture is unsophisticated in regards to its aesthetics and originality, we are too dependent on conservative mindsets which hinder us from being reasonable. Moreover, our inter-religious and inter-racial relations are not as good as advertised.

Counterintuitively, the more I know about the ugly side of my nation, the more I embrace my Indonesian identity.

Unlike my old self, I am no longer infatuated with absolute perfection, a thing that only exists in fairy tales; presenting it as the truth is deceitful. Imperfection is never compelled to be so; as a result, the authenticity of its good side is more guaranteed.

Blind nationalism comes into being because the citizens feel their country is entirely ‘attractive’. But, from my experiences, they don’t know how the ‘attractiveness’ looks like.

Because of their black-and-white perspectives, they don’t realise how life is full of grey haze which is almost impenetrable. They are certain stereotypes are a hundred percent valid. Unless you see prejudice as a virtuous trait, you surely realise stereotypes will always mislead you and drag you to a deadly dark realm which you will have a hard time escaping from.

I do sound over-the-top. But, that’s what I have experienced myself.

I should tell you that my biography is incomplete. My old self did dislike anything Indonesian. But, at the same time, I was also a blind nationalist.

I did not care what being Indonesian entailed. I only cared about the ‘Indonesian’ label. I looked down on anything that had foreign labels stamped on them, even though I secretly preferred them and I did not want to admit it. In fact, I used to believe we were obliged to defend our country all the time, even when it was in the wrong.

Nationalistic, but did not know anything about his own country and refused to respect his ancestral heritages.

I admit that my story is confusing and unbelievable. Moreover, I don’t know how to persuade others to believe me. So, all I can do is to ask these questions:

Why do you consider yourself Indonesian? Don’t answer ‘citizenship’ and/or ‘was born and raised here’. It is too easy.

What are the things you love and hate about Indonesia? Have you experienced or observed them in person? Or are they things you only have heard and read about AKA rumours?

I consider myself Indonesian because I am already emotionally attached to the country, no matter how ugly it is. Even if I end up living overseas for good, I am sure my Indonesian-ness will never go away.

You already know what I love and hate about Indonesia and they are the things I have experienced and observed in person. Most of the feel-good stories disseminated by parents, schools and the media turn out to be balderdash; the splendour is either exaggerated or never exists in the first place.

Indeed, public figures constantly call us to collectively contemplate about our national identity. But, I don’t know if I miss the memo, I have never heard them make any calls to contemplate individually.

A group definitely consists of ‘members’ who are distinct from one another. Therefore, I find it strange if a contemplation that involves many is not implemented on an individual level.

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