Indonesian Women’s Cinema

Challenging Hegemonic Masculinity

The Australian National University

When we talk about women’s cinema, broadly defined as films made by, about, and generally

for women, the first thing that comes to mind is often the question of how films under this

category represent women and women’s issues from women’s perspectives. These are valid

questions, considering that this category and analysis of it were born out of concern of men’s

domination and masculine hegemony in cinema. Feminism had a lot to do with the

emergence of this category and the subsequent debates on it.

Yet, I would like to depart from this commonly asked question to investigate how women’s

cinema contributes to the shifting representations of ideal masculinities. In this presentation, I

guardedly use the term women’s cinema as a descriptive category1 to refer to both an

institution and set of practices in which women filmmakers, women’s perspectives, and

women’s issues are central in film production and cinematic representation. Thus by saying

women’s issues, it is then legitimate to talk about men and masculinities because they are

also part of women’s issues. Yet, these areas are hardly concerning for scholars working on

women’s cinema, including in Indonesia, in which feminism and women’s movement began

to re-develop in earnest since the demise of the authoritarian regime. The women filmmakers

whom I refer to here are those who are aware of gender issues and particularly have power

1
I am not going to engage in a debate on definition and category of women cinema. This category in this
presentation is a mere descriptive indicating new ways of filmmaking and the close tie among gender, class,
education, political aspiration, and artistic works.

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and interests in challenging male domination and hegemonic masculinity through their works.

I hope I don’t fall in the trap of ethnicity as discussed by my colleague, Maria Myutel.

A number of scholars have discussed the emergence of women’s cinema in the post-

authoritarian Indonesia. Although for their respective reasons tend to not place the filming

practice and the films made by women filmmakers who are aware of gender equality under

the category of women’s cinema, these scholars do expect that these women and their films

bring changes to the continued objectification and subordination of women and men’s

authority over women behind and on screen. Sen (2005), for example, questions the extent of

which these emerging women filmmakers represent a gender revolution in Indonesian

cinema. Sen (2005) finds that while challenges are channelled by these women filmmakers

both in the commercial and non-commercial cinema, the ones in the latter medium hold more

potentials for women’s emancipation on and off screen. Kurnia (2014) in her doctoral

research of women directors of the post-authoritarian Indonesia, argues that the women

filmmakers have challenged the structural domination of men, patriarchal film production

culture, and the normalised subordination of women and marginalisation of non-normative

sexualities in Indonesian cinema. In the same veneer of argument, Michalik (2013) edited a

volume of seven contributions on the topic also mainly discusses the changes in the structure

of Indonesian cinema and the representations of women in light of the increasing

participation of women filmmakers in the post-authoritarian Indonesia. The changes of

representations of masculinities, other than the increasingly visible non-normative sexualities

as investigated by (Munir 2011) and (Murtagh 2013), and the relations among masculinities

in Indonesian cinema are still poorly understood.

Responding to this gap, I argue that the recently flourishing women’s cinema in Indonesia

has substantially unsettled the male domination of the cinema institution and subverted key

institutions nurturing hegemonic masculinity, namely family and military. In doing so, I will

2
examine the nexus of gender and cultural politics, which suppressed the development of

women’s cinema, which in turn partly contributed to the establishment and maintenance of

the dominant and idealised cinematic representations of Bapakism, which in time was

rendered hegemonic – one that is culturally exalted and renders other forms of masculinities

subordinate, less ideal, or marginalised. Secondly, I will investigate the spaces opened up by

the weakening of the New Order’s dominant gender order for the development of women’s

cinema, which mobilises institutional and representational challenges against the hegemonic

ideal representations of men and masculinities. Through analysis of representations of men

and masculinities in three film texts – Pasir Berbisik (Whispering Sand, 2001, Achnas),

Arisan! (The Gathering, 2003, Dinata), and Sang Penari (The Dancer, 2011, Isfansyah), I

will show that the post-authoritarian women’s cinema has destabilised two of the most

fundamental institutions nurturing the hegemonic masculinity of Bapakism: military and

family. The destabilised family and military thus further signifies subversion of the ideal

establishment of the nation.

This presentation is part of my doctoral project on the representations of masculinities in the

post-authoritarian Indonesian cinema, in which I examine how resistance against Bapak

hegemonic masculinity is negotiated in a space where complicity to the hegemonic

construction is highly demanded for the sake of continuing business. The chapter on which

this presentation is based aims at providing insights into what makes the resistance against

the construction of hegemonic masculinity possible to be produced in the post-authoritarian

Indonesian cinema. Despite the small size of Indonesian women’s cinema, it has made a

significant impact in inspiring challenges against the hegemonic masculinity, on, behind, and

beyond the screen.

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The Hegemony of Bapak in the New Order Indonesian Cinema
It has been widely argued by scholars studying gender in Indonesia that New Order is an

emphatically gendered authoritarian regime. Robinson (2009: 69) argues that “the regime

exercised its gendered power through policies… and state control of women’s organizations

in a familial model that registered male authority.” Such can be seen, for example, in the

legal formulation of gender roles and gender relations in 1974 heteronormative marriage law.

The law not only rules out homosexuality but also legitimises the domestication of women

and accords gendered authority for men over women and children. This familial model of

gender relation is also translated in state’s treatment of women’s movement, which resulted

among others, in the abolition of Gerwani, a strong feminist based women’s organisation

after 1965; many of its members were killed and imprisoned without trial (see Wieringa

1992; Pohlman 2004; Wieringa 2010). In addition it also resulted in co-optation of women’s

organisation (see Hafidz 1993; Suryakusuma 2011), and the creation of two key women’s

organisations operating under the shadow of masculine bureaucracy (Suryakusuma 2011).

Suryakusuma (2011: 5) labels this familial male authority as Bapakism, which was integral to

New Order gender ideology and central to the overall structure of social stratification in the

then Indonesia; Bapakism glorifies the figure of father, the protector, the provider, the leader

of the family collectivity. As Indonesia was characterised by centralisation of power during

the New Order, Suharto himself was the ultimate ideal figure of Bapak who claimed to lead

Indonesia into prosperity and stability. Obviously the Bapak figure here represented an ideal

of Indonesian modern heterosexual masculinity, which in turn became a hegemonic

construction as the construction was formalised in policies, penetrated institutions, and

disseminated through cultural production. This is where I differ with my colleague Meg

Downes – that I see the construction as more than dominant, but hegemonic. I borrow

Connell’s concept of hegemonic masculinity to illustrate the social location of Bapak in

gender relations.

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The New Order gender ideology was also reflected in the institution of cinema. The New

Order gender ideology, albeit indirectly, created an enabling environment for the

establishment and maintenance of the hegemonic masculinity in the institution of Indonesian

cinema and the representations of men and masculinities during the New Order.

There were very few women behind the scene, especially in key decision making positions of

filmmaking. In the span of 1920s-1990s, there were only four women directors (Michalik

2013: 17-18), three of whom active during the New Order period (1966-1998). This number

is low considering that during that span of time, there were about 2,000 films being made and

distributed in Indonesia, only 21 of which were made by these women directors. In addition,

there were not more than a dozen of women producers during this period, and less than ten

women scriptwriters. The nature of filmmaking at that time which required stereotypically

male construct of strong leadership and long hours of work, as well as the heavy analog

filming technology substantially contributed to this male domination. Film production was a

very male concentrated workplace. Thus, it was often the case that women filmmakers

worked under the supervision of their male (often more senior and/or more authoritative)

counterparts, such as husband and older brother. As in the case of former actresses Ratna

Asmara and Sofia WD who were trained as directors by their established-directors husbands.

Sen (1994: 135) claims that this condition made women filmmakers barely able to liberate

themselves from men’s perspective in filmmaking in order to survive and obtain recognition

in the male-dominated creative condition.

Indeed, the situation elsewhere at that time was not unique to Indonesia. In the US, during

1930-1960, women filmmakers were also largely silenced and barely any women filmmakers

contributed a significant body of work due to primarily the post-world-war gender

conservatism (Kaplan 2003: 5). During the same period in Indonesia, there was only one

woman director contributing to Indonesian cinema. However, while in the West we saw an

5
unprecedented increase of women in filmmaking and women’s perspectives in films,

Indonesia did not follow suit. There was a slight increase of number of women behind the

camera but women’s perspective was still not popular. Films made by these women

filmmakers often reproduced the hegemonic construction of ideal masculinity prescribed by

the state. For example men were responsible to restore chaos caused by women who did not

abide to their woman nature – becoming mothers and subordinate of their husbands. This can

be seen in Halimun (The Mist, 1982, Sofia WD) despite being marketed as a woman’s film.

The relative absence of women’s cinema also led to the normalisation of men’s perspective

supporting state’s gender ideology, including its prescribed hegemonic masculinity on screen.

The Flourishing Women’s Cinema

were at least 25 women directors2 of the total 184 working in the mainstream cinema between

1998 and 2010 in Indonesia. These women directed 51 feature films of the total of around

400 feature films being released in the decade following the demise of the authoritarian

regime (Aartsen 2011: 4; Kurnia 2013: 35). This is a significant increase compared to any era

of Indonesia’s film history prior to the post-authoritarian era. In addition, women in other

roles such as producers, scriptwriters, editors, designers, and other film-production roles have

also increased significantly (Kurnia 2013: 33). Many of these women are aware of feminism

and support gender equality. I will explore their works in the next section.

There are a number of factors which lead to the increasing involvement of women

filmmakers in the post authoritarian Indonesian cinema. I should say the development of

feminism and women’s movement, global exposure, the democratisation process, the

2
Kurnia (2014: 8) mentions of the 25 women directors during the period, 22 of them started their film
directing career in the post authoritarian Indonesia.

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advancement of technology, and burgeoning middle classes are prime causes of the

emergence.

The development of feminism and women’s movement has partly inspired the emergence of

women’s cinema – more women filmmakers with feminist awareness are involved in the

production and the gender dimension of cinematic representations of men and women and

their gender relations are questioned more strongly. Although some of these women

filmmakers are reluctant to claim themselves as feminists, their subjectivity as women who

are concerned of the objectification of women and aspiration to gender equality, according to

Hughes-Freeland (2011), Kurnia (2013), Kurnia (2014), and Monteiro (2013), has been

proven to manifest strongly in their works.

Yet, the growing interests in representing challenges against the hegemonic gender order of

the New Order is also made possible with the burgeoning of Indonesian middle class since

1970s. The creation of new middle classes when the New Order’s economic development

began in earnest beginning in the 1970s have enabled the new middle classes to provide

better education for their offsprings. These women filmmakers of the post authoritarian

Indonesia are mostly well educated, with some of them had experience of living in or had a

global exposure of a more democratic environment, in which gender equality becomes an

important part of everyday life, education, and politics. Some of them also hold art degrees

from overseas universities. For example Mira Lesmana, whose parents are leading musicians

grew up and studied in Australia before pursuing a film degree from Jakarta Institute of Arts.

Nia Dinata and Shanty Harmayn earned their film degrees from American universities. Thus,

they are more aware of the inequalities experienced by women in Indonesia and had a

comparative perspective of gender equality.

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The proliferation of women’s cinema also goes hand in hand the newly revived spirit in

filmmaking among young filmmakers since the release of Kuldesak (Cul de Sac, 1998,

Lesmana, Achnas, Riza, and Mantovani), which marks the emergence of what scholar and

critics often term New Generation of Indonesian filmmakers and Indonesian cinema (see

Sasono 2012). In this period, several filmmaking requirements, including the compulsory

four internships for directors before directing their first feature films and the pre-production

censorships, were bypassed (Sasono 2012: 123). Moreover, the development of filmmaking

technology, such as digital filmmaking, has made filmmaking more accessible for women.

Information and communication technology development also contributes to open up new

ways of film distribution.

Challenging Bapak behind the Scene

domination in the institution of Indonesian cinema. My fieldwork showed that despite the

small size of women’s cinema, it has substantial impact in challenging men’s domination and

raising awareness of gender equality and the importance of women’s perspective in films

among the new generation of Indonesian filmmakers.

Unlike the women filmmakers of the New Order, the women filmmakers in the post-

authoritarian Indonesia have largely no male patron connection in the institution of

Indonesian cinema when they started their film career. However, their family background as

members of privileged class does matter for them to break through the male-dominated

institution. For example, Mira Lesmana and Nan Achnas who partnered with two male

directors in the making of Kuldesak (1997) did not work under the supervision of their older

male family members or more senior male filmmakers. They were part of the earliest

Indonesian filmmakers who cut short the bureaucracy of film directing, pioneered by Garin

Nugroho in the early 1990s (Sasono 2012). As described by Achnas (in an interview with

8
Michalik in August 2011, published in Michalik 2013), they came on equal footing with their

male counterparts. These women filmmakers took part in challenging the established

paternalistic filmmaking culture, such as the required membership of Association of Film and

Television Workers (KFT) and long internships before directing the first feature film (Barker

2011: 92).

Behind the scene many of these women filmmakers hold crucial decision making positions,

such as directors, scriptwriter, and producers, if not work as an auteur. I am not trying to

belittle the work of other women filmmakers who hold other positions, yet generally these

three positions are of the most crucial. These women filmmakers are known for being, in

many of my respondents words, “strong” – influential in shaping the film production and

representations. They often provoke the team with questions of equality of gender

representations. For example, Salman Aristo, who worked with Shanty Harmayn in a number

of productions, said Harmayn is one of Indonesia’s strong producers and one who is always

concerned with the representations of genders and gender relations in her films.

“(in making Sang Penari, 2011, Isfansyah) we paid great attention even to details...

This was more important considering the producer was Shanty Harmayn and the

director was Ifa Isfansyah who are highly aware of gender representations and

symbols.” (Aristo, Personal Interview, April 2014)

Harmayn is only one example how the involvement of a woman filmmaker in key position of

film production has unsettled the male domination in Indonesian cinema and equipped the

male filmmakers with new lenses in representing men, women and their gender relations.

Despite being the only woman in the key positions during the filmmaking and not being the

primary script-writer, Harmayn has been actively involved in shaping up the narrative of the

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film with particular concern on strong female character and rejected military man, which

differ from the novel and its first adaptation.

Off screen, Harmayn, and also a number of other women filmmakers, have also been

involved in raising awareness to young Indonesian filmmakers about representations of

gender and gender relations through filmmaking education and festivals. Nia Dinata is one of

the key figures in this area. In addition to being an auteur, she is also mentor to numerous

young filmmakers operating both in the commercial and non-commercial cinema. She

established Project Change specifically to educate young filmmakers about women’s issues

and women’s perspectives in cinema (Kalyana Shira 2015). Among notable alumni of this

biannual masterclass are Lucky Kuswandi, director of the 2010’s Madame X, and the 2015’s

Cannes Short Film Critics Selection The Fox that Exploits the Tiger’s Might), and Ismail

Basbeth, who directed the 2015’s Mencari Hilal (Sighting the Crescent Moon), which

featured in Tokyo International Festival, and the 2016’s comedy Talak Tiga (The Divorce).

According Kuswandi, Dinata has had profound impact in his filmmaking, particularly in the

choice of subject matter (of marginalised groups) and approach to filmmaking (personal

interview 28 May 2014). In this case, women filmmakers have challenged the authority of

male senior filmmaker in grooming the next generation of Indonesian filmmakers. Male

senior filmmakers, whom younger and inexperienced filmmakers used to be apprentice to

during the New Order period, were the representations of Bapak who guided, protected and

provided. They paved the way for the young filmmakers into the industry. Today, this role is

not the sole authority of male senior filmmakers.

In short, the involvement filmmakers have challenged the authority of Bapak behind the

scene and also become catalyst to the increasing challenges against the hegemonic

construction of masculinity on screen, which will be discussed in the next section.

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Challenging Bapak on Screen
In this section, I would like to discuss how selected films under the category of women’s

cinema represent the culturally exalted masculinity of Bapak – the father who protects and

provide, central to the New Order gender regime. I select three commercial films which

features strong women characters and women filmmakers are central to the production of

these films to illustrate my points – that the emerging Indonesian women’s cinema unsettle

the construction of hegemonic masculinity by destabilising two key institutions in which it is

nurtured: family and military. The practices constituting hegemonic masculinity are shown as

a super ideal and potentially damaging to men and women.

Pasir Berbisik is story of the whirlwind relationships between mother and daughter, in which

state violence and construction of hegemonic masculinity play a major role in these women’s

misery. The narrative revolves around Berlian and her daughter, Daya, struggling to survive

during political turmoil which leads to violent state measures. Berlian’s husband, Agus, has

fled the village for many years for an unknown reason, and left Berlian raising Daya on her

own. Being a single mother to a teenage daughter during difficult period has made Berlian

overly protective over Daya. In this situation Daya often imagines her father would come and

liberate her from her mother. When Agus, who is now jobless, finally returns, Berlian clearly

conveys to him that she and Daya no longer need him, but he is welcome to stay with them

out of her mercy. At this stage, his masculinity is in crisis – being challenged by his wife. He

tries to reclaim his masculine honour through his fatherly role and gain Daya’s trust. As Agus

continues to be troubled by the changing power relation between himself and Berlian, he then

makes a deal with Suwito to give Daya for the latter’s sexual pleasure in exchange for money

and expensive cigarettes. As a result, Daya becomes traumatised and falls ill. Enraged,

Berlian kills Agus by poisoning him.

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In this film, they offer an alternative form of family consisting of a single mother and a

daughter; both women eventually realise that the father figure is of the major sources of

misery, in addition to the political turmoil. The narrative does not in any way emphasise the

importance of patriarchal heteronormative family, which endows a father more power in

gender relation in the context of family. In addition, the story is set during the political

turmoil, which many critics readily associate with the 1965 tragedy which culminated in the

massive elimination of people who were members and sympathisers of Indonesian

Communist Party. The view point being used in viewing the humanity tragedy defies the

official narrative being constantly propagated by the state and its status quo – restoration of

order by the military is represented as complicating the already difficult lives of women.

This film strongly challenges the establishment of hegemonic masculinity through its female

characters and the championing of an alternative form of family. Berlian as a single mother

has taken over the masculine role of fathering while simultaneously mothering Daya. She

provides and strongly protects Daya while gently loving and taking care of her. Her taking

double roles and agency to choose not to rekindle her marital relation to Agus are positively

represented. Even her decision to kill Agus is shown as fair – she is not shown as being

persecuted for her action in any way. Furthermore, there is barely any male character that is

idealised or used as the medium to challenge the ideal discourse of masculinity which was

rendered hegemonic by the military authoritarian regime and its supporters of status quo. In

addition, female masculinity being represented through Berlian is not portrayed as unnatural

or not normal. The father figure, who is commonly expected to provide protection and

income for the family is largely absent and arguably represented as one of the ultimate

sources of these women’s misery. Moreover, Agus’ crisis of masculinity due to his inability

to live up to the expected normative roles of a father and husband has frustrated him that he

dares to sell Daya to Suwito for iconically masculine goods: expensive cigarettes.

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The paternalistic masculine military authoritarian regime is also challenged by this film. It is

represented through deployment of military measure by the state during the restoration of the

political and social unrests. Yet, the military approach eventually makes the plights of Berlian

and Daya more harrowing and complex. For example, during a military operation, an

unnamed soldier, parading with his all male troop members, hit Sukma, Daya’s close friend,

who eventually dies due to the incident. An unknown man, whom Daya and Berlian have met

during their earlier journey, is part of the troop. In the first meeting, before he joins the army,

he is a compassionate man, but he seems to have lost this quality once he joins the army. The

scene contests the dominant heroic and patriotic representation of military men of the New

Order. As mentioned in the earlier section, during the New Order, military was almost

uniformly represented as heroic, patriotic, source of control and security with General

Soeharto as the ultimate figure, such as in Janur Kuning (Yellow Coconut Leave, 1979,

Surawidjaja) and Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI (Treachery of 30 September Movement/PKI,

1984, Noer). In Pasir Berbisik, the military is subverted into the source of insecurity and

brutality. It strongly highlights the contradictory of militarised hegemonic masculinity –

security and violence. I agree with (Sen 2005) in seeing the negative portrayal of military

during this difficult political turmoil as a representation of the film’s challenge against the

erratic and meaningless brutality exercised by the authoritarian regime, particularly during

the political and cultural polarisation of the 1960s. Yet, while Sen (2005) sees the women

characters as powerless victims of the brutality, I second Monteiro’s claim (2013) that these

women are victims who eventually save themselves, instead of relying on others to save

them. Berlian and Daya move on from their misery, inflicted both by the ruling regime and

the men around them, on their own.

In Sang Penari, the narrative revolves around the life of Srintil, who aspires into becoming a

ronggeng, traditional dancer who is believed to possess supernatural power to maintain the

13
village’s welfare and stability. Not every woman can be a ronggeng; it requires blessing from

the village ancestor and willingness to engage in sexual relations with multiple men. In

aspiring to be one, Srintil has to face challenges primarily from Rasus, her love interest, who

demands exclusivity of her body. Heartbroken, Rasus leaves the village and enlists himself

into the military. The naïve and illiterate Srintil becomes unintentionally involved in the

political turmoil and is imprisoned. Srintil and Rasus meet once again after the massive

killings of civilians by the state, in which Rasus is part of the action despite his internal

rejection. While Rasus is portrayed as actively searching for Srintil, the latter does not seem

interested in rekindling their flames. She runs away and continues dancing. The filmmakers,

in this case, inspired by Harmayn constant provocation on gender representation, took a

dramatic license to deviate from the original version of the novel’s narrative which shows

that Srintil becomes badly psychologically traumatised after her two-year imprisonment

without trial, and failed marriage; she is eventually saved by Rasus who takes her to the army

hospital to be treated for her mental disorder; Rasus also vows to marry her. Once again,

viewers are provided with a heroine, who does not need to be saved, despite her difficulties.

The film version of Srintil does not look back at Rasus, who has a settled career at the

military.

I would also like to highlight the representation of masculinities in this film. From reading the

text more closely, this film challenges the idealisation of militarised masculinity through the

character of Rasus and his gender relation with Srintil. First, this film overturns the dominant

heroic image of military commonly found in the so called “New Ordered Cinema” (Sen 1994:

157), which glorified the roles of military in ensuring the nation’s security and stability.

Rasus is not patriotically driven when listing himself into the military. His choice is informed

by his frustration against Srintil and his poverty. On the other hand, Srintil choses to be a

ronggeng, which obliges her to be an object of visual and sexual pleasure, for more patriotic

14
reasons – to devote herself to the village and to redeem the sins of her parents. In this case,

the film questions the dominant cultural logic of patriotic hero and whore.

Secondly, it is through the gender power relation between Rasus and Srintil that militarised

masculinity is portrayed as discriminating against women and limiting women’s agency.

When Rasus returns to the village and still attempts to date Srintil, he demands Srintil to

leave her profession and be a wife of Rasus. The request is rejected by Srintil and she chooses

to be loyal to her profession. She consistently views her profession as “darma bakti”

(devotion) to the village. The ending of the movie re-emphasises Srintil’s agency and her

empowerment. She walks away from Rasus and continues dancing. Srintil’s consistent

rejection of Rasus overturns the ideal image of military man who sees gender relation as

relation of subjugation.

In addition, the post-authoritarian Indonesian women’s cinema also undermines the

normalised hegemonic masculinity of Bapak figure through replacing it with alternative

forms of masculinities, including homosexual masculinities. In this case, Nia Dinata’s works

are exceptional because they mainly offer non-normative alternatives, which many other

commercial filmmakers would avoid due to potential controversy. Here, I will discuss

Dinata’s films Arisan! (The Gathering, 2003) and its sequel, Arisan! 2 (The Gathering 2,

2011). They are of significant importance in this case because they question the idealised

form of family, as well as the ideal womanliness and manliness through the urbanite

caricatures. Moreover, it replaces the idealised nuclear family with collective parenting, and

the idealised Bapak with a homosexual masculine man who co-parents with two single

mothers.

Arisan! (The Gathering 2003) revolves around the friendship of three elite urbanites. Sakti is

a young interior designer who fears of coming out as gay to his family and friends; Meimei is

15
Sakti’s business partner who thinks that her inability to conceive an offspring has troubled

her marriage; and Andien, a full-time housewife with two children representing the ideal New

Order womanhood, is struggling against the betrayal of her husband. While the normative

gender and sexual relations break down, the homosexual relation blossoms and turns out to

be the only working gender and sexual relation portrayed in the film: Meimei’s marriage

ended in divorce and Andien’s heteronormative family remains dysfunctional, while Sakti

and Nino’s romance are budding. No heterosexual masculine man figure is idealised in this

film. The hegemonic masculinity is challenged by the figures of independent women who

have agency in their life decisions. The taken-for-grantedness of hegemonic masculinity is

also challenged by homosexual masculinity which is shown to be more compassionate and

respectful of other forms of genders and sexualities. The stability of family is an institution

crucial to Indonesian modernity is certainly challenged mainly through the acceptance of

homosexuality and alternative forms of family, in which the protective, providing father is

absent.

The sequel, Arisan! 2 (The Gathering 2, 2011, Dinata) still follows the three main characters

and further challenges the normative gender and sexual relations – Sakti who has broken up

with gay partner finds it difficult to move on and finally able to rekindle their romance;

Meimei who has cancer chooses to keep her terminal illness from her friends and undertakes

alternative medication treatment through yoga and spiritual retreat, and becomes comfortably

involved in an uncommitted romantic relation with her polyamorist healer; Andien who

chooses to stay in her dysfunctional family has to face the sudden death of her husband and

finally becomes a single parent to her teenage twins. Furthermore, Sakti and Meimei co-

parent with Lita, Sakti’s cousin who conceived outside wedlock and denounces the institution

of marriage. Following the breakdown of heteronormative gender and sexual relations, the

film does not privilege marriage and heterosexual parenting. Through the deconstruction of

16
the most sacred institution which privileges the masculine roles of father, this film has

unsettled the taken for-grantedness of idealised form of heterosexual manliness.

Conclusion
In short, the emergence of Nia Dinata, Nan T. Achnas, Shanty Harmayn, and other women

filmmakers who have proven their high standing in Indonesian cinema and received

international acknowledgment, has opened up more spaces for women to voice out their own

voices in Indonesian cinema. While the representation of women’s voices in the New Order

cinema was pretty bleak and tended to be ‘colonised’ by male filmmakers for “protest or for

pleasure” (Sen 1994: 156), in the post authoritarian Indonesian cinema, women filmmakers

have become more actively engaged in producing more fluid and plural cinematic

representations of genders and gender relations through their cinematic works. Yet, indeed,

women who work above the line of film production tend to have stronger voices in

influencing the production of gender representations. Women’s cinema has become a site of

experimentations of themes and forms of gender representations.

In addition, with various accolades received by women filmmakers and their pro-feminist

film works, as well as the increasing significance of gender as an arena of power contestation

for the secure of the state in the post-authoritarian Indonesia, as well as women’s issues

become new currencies in network of cinematic cultural capital globally, there is strong

pressure for accommodating women’s perspective in the exploration of gender

representations and gender issues in the post-authoritarian Indonesian cinema. Thus, there is

more pressure as well as encouragement to represent women not merely as a stay-home

housewife, and femininity as silence and submission, and men as the primary breadwinner

and protector of the family, and masculinity as productive, power, and source of stability and

security. Thus, the idealised representation of Bapak is no longer taken for granted. Its status

17
of hegemony is continuously questioned through the creation of counter and alternative

representations.

References
Aartsen, J. (2011). Film World Indonesia: The Rise after the Fall. Master of Arts master of Arts' Thesis,
Universiteit Utrecht.
Barker, T. A. C. (2011). A Cultural Economy of the Contemporary Indonesian Film Industry. Doctor of
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Filmography
Arisan! (Indonesia, 2003, Nia Dinata)

Arisan! 2 (Indonesia, 2011, Nia Dinata)

Halimun (Indonesia, 1982, Sofia WD)

Kuldesak (Indonesia, 1997, Mira Lesmana, Nan T. Achnas, Rizal Mantovani, and Riri Riza)

Madame X (Indonesia, 2010, Lucky Kuswandi)

Mencari Hilal (Indonesia, 2015, Ismail Basbeth)

Pasir Berbisik (Indonesia, 2002, Nan Achnas)

Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI (Indonesia, 1984, Arifin C. Noer)

Sang Penari (Indonesia, 2011, Isfansyah)

Talak Tiga (Indonesia, 2016, Ismail Basbeth and Hanung Bramantyo)

The Fox that Exploits the Tiger’s Might (Indonesia, 2015, Lucky Kuswandi)

Personal Interviews
Salman Aristo (Jakarta, 11 April 2014)

Lucky Kuswandi (Jakarta 28 May 2014)

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