The Jakarta Post http://www.thejakartapost.com/misc/PrinterFriendly.

asp

Print December 29, 2007

'Playing Between Elephants': The UN and Acehnese

reconstruction
Features News - Thursday, December 13, 2007

James Bourk Hoesterey, Contributor, Madison, Wisconsin

There is an Indonesian saying that when elephants are locked in a fight, the mousedeer will
die in the middle.

In Aryo Danusiri's documentary film Playing Between Elephants, the mousedeer is Pak
Geuchik, the village chief in charge of implementing a post-tsunami $13 million UN-Habitat
reconstruction project in his village of East Geunting, Aceh.

Pak Geuchik carefully (and, at times, not so carefully) navigates between the worlds of UN
aid workers, Indonesian translators, building suppliers and local villagers. This is a story of
culture and conflict, of hope and despair. The mousedeer plays between the elephants, but
somehow manages to survive.

Danusiri's documentary reminds us that telling good stories does not depend on technology
or marketing analysis. Good stories do not even rely on "telling" -- but on seeing and
showing.

With his keen ethnographic eye, Danusiri documents a beautiful, lyrical, and dramatic story
of post-tsunami Acehnese who are rebuilding their lives, their dreams, and their country.

Danusiri's "observational cinema" style of filmmaking does not depend on the

pseudo-investigative journalism and "talking heads" of so many documentary films. Similar
to his previous award-winning film Lukas' Moment, Danusiri tells the story of a community
through the life of one of its members.

We follow Pak Geuchik from the first brick to the final roof, from UN meetings in city
offices to community deliberations in the village mosque. In the process, we get an insider's
view into the cultural politics of post-tsunami reconstruction.

Danusiri does not just follow people, but also the money -- from the initial disbursement to
the climactic, heated budget argument between villagers and UN-Habitat officials. The film
explores the political economy of foreign donor projects which come with cultural strings
attached.

UN donations -- accompanied by rhetoric of transparency, accountability and participation --

become a primary source of tension, conflict, and mistrust between villagers and those
supervising the funds. We learn that everyone is playing between the elephants -- the
foreign UN workers, the Indonesian aid workers, the local suppliers, villagers and Pak
Geuchik. The limits of idealized values of gotong-royong (community cooperation) are
tested by the creation of new power brokers and the Indonesian culture of the envelope. In
this dance of and between elephants, there is no clear protagonist or antagonist.

UN workers, building suppliers, and villagers all vent their frustrations toward Pak
Geuchik.

One day, he has had enough. Sitting alone, staring out at the unfinished houses, Pak
Geuchik expresses his despair in song: ..."my life has become a mess; Being in charge of
people is a tricky business; No longer can I take this ordeal."

We see his struggle in his face, hear it in his voice, and feel it within ourselves. This is the
kind of intimate and revealing moment made possible by observational cinema. Danusiri

1 of 2 12/29/07 9:00 AM
The Jakarta Post http://www.thejakartapost.com/misc/PrinterFriendly.asp

brings us into the lives of the people. He did not come to Aceh to tell a particular story, but
rather he came to let the story tell itself.

In perhaps the most powerful scene of the film, building inspectors roll into the village in
their UN trucks. The inspectors declare that the houses that do not conform to "proper"
construction standards must be torn down.

One inspector, with the tone of voice of a colonial officer, says "I'm afraid it's gonna have to
be a carrot and stick approach. Once you start rejecting work, they will listen." The power
dynamics are clear.

Pak Geuchik's smile masks his disgust and his heart sinks into despair. The camera lingers
on Pak Geuchik. He is powerless. He feels the rage of a tiger, yet must speak with the voice
of a lamb. Smiling, he mutters to himself, "unbelievable". This one scene reveals more about
the social processes of reconstruction than 100 "talking heads" ever could.

In terms of documentary style, Danusiri's observational cinema does not sacrifice other
aesthetics of filmmaking. He provides beautiful, lyrical shots of village life.

In terms of other narrative conventions, Danusiri turns a wobbly bridge in the village into a
central character in the film.

In doing so, he develops a visual metaphor for the tensions in this village, the limits of
patience with reconstruction, and the impending possibility for everything to fall apart.
These shots are elegantly composed and add a poetic beauty that is impossible in more
traditional forms of documentary. The musical score also adds to the rich depth and
emotional tone of the film.

In Danusiri's style of observational cinema, the camera does not just view -- it looks.

In the process, the audience is given a new lens through which to look at the lives of
Indonesians, a new frame of reference with which to understand the problems of modernity,
and a new appreciation for the dilemmas of living in a global world. And so begins the next
chapter of documentary film in Indonesia.

The writer is a documentary filmmaker & PhD candidate, University of

Wisconsin-Madison, Department of Anthropology

2 of 2 12/29/07 9:00 AM