Review: Parherek (2021)

 

Reviewing a film whose crew includes your literal teacher (waving to you, Mr. Andy) is not something theoretically professpotentiallywing the potentially clouded judgment, although in this case, he is no more than a cinematographer, so I would say there's no problem.

85/100

As someone living in the city (Medan), on would often go to holidays in the highlands, something I talked about further in my Ngeri-Ngeri Sedap (2022) review. It is a time refreshment, an escapism from all the cosmopolitan troubles I face and witness, but it is also certainly an interesting area. Particularly during its journey instead of its destination, where I and many others encounter street monkeys. Initially, it was unclear why they were there; I it wasd just assume it's due to the nearby forest. I realized they're beggars, seeking food from the cars and trucks that pass by. I don't know if I or my family had thrown bananas for that purpose, but I do recall "understanding" that it's an act of sympathy.

And it is still an act of sympathy, but ramifications good ramification. As later learned through Parherek (translation: The Monkey Charmer), roads are dangerous territory for these pests, and by making them reliant on begging for food, we are posing more harm to them. This is certainly a good pitch sentence for a documentary that will be nominated for the Oscars of Indonesia (Festival Film Indonesia (FFI)), but where does this lead? Obviously it is a terrifying, heartbreaking, and eye-opening subject to begin with, but where will it end? The government is shitty and doesn't care about the real issues infecting the country. One filmmaker's voice will not work. Someone must understand all of this, more than even a team of high-power people. Someone who may never earn a Nobel Prize for his works, but is nevertheless noble.

The person I just described is Detim Manik, whose late father Umar caught the eyes of the press for his interactive ability with primates. He made a place in the woods as a safe place for monkeys to slowly end this monkey begging problem. Unfortunately, government issues meant he had to entrust the legacy to his son, who needs to start from zero. And while the Parherek team came at a later date, they did begin filming in 2017, when Detim was still in his early days. The site still barren. For the world, he is just one person taking care of one thing to avoid one thing from happening. It felt insignificant, yet as we enter his world, everything becomes significant. Every monkey, every banana, every cash, every outpour of love.

A refreshing look from all the Hollywood overblows of animal charmers, this is not a man whose life is solely about monkeys. He's not a Mowgli. He has a family: a wife, two kids, two in-laws, a couple of acquaintances, and an uncooperative government whose radar he is under. Ultimately, his main concern as a monkey charmer is not monkeys, but humans. "Manusia, tampangnya aja yang manusia, tapi kelakuannya sudah lebih monyet daripada monyet," he said. "Humans just look like one, but their hearts are more primal than primates." But the documentary smartly balances the natural and humane aspects of his job, putting the humans as an influence on the future of the primates. And when said humans are afar, their soul sort of lingers all the way to the woods. The camera emphasizes Detim as the centrifuge of everything we see, even scenes without him. All faith and betrayal ultimately hit him.

Detim has so much attention, enough to make him worthy of a Kickstarter success. A Russian naturalist visiting should've made that work. But no. He is still, however famous, stagnant in progress. Parherek is helpless, only following him wherever he goes and whatever he does, unable to help him. In a way, the crew is sort of us. We can't help Detim, we can just hope for the best. There was a time he revealed the true intentions of the documentary: to give the government awareness. And as of now, he has gotten it. But then he continued, "But if no, then whatever." That was also the same time a vlogger stopped by. One would be happy to see such an influencer, but he is just content. He's desperate but unable to express it.

The problems, however, don't end there. Outside, a more significant threat is after Detim. Inhumane consumption of monkeys in grotesque ways doesn't just happen internationally, but locally as well. They don't hurt Detim, but they hurt the monkeys, shown through various bluntly brutal verite scenes of people dragging dead monkeys from the roads, a plane land Detim dubs "Monkey Sematary", and many more. Descriptions of such heinous acts overwhelm the viewer with information and gore, and that's kind of what Detim feels. Parherek, being the low-budget production it is, does nothing but place us against this fury, with a raw melancholy akin to Werner Herzog's documentary Lessons of Darkness (1992). As essayist Thomas Flight says, "If you really contemplate [the images], they can take you to the brink of an existential crisis." While Parherek almost certainly doesn't evoke a "Why should I live?" feeling, it does make me wonder, and really wonder it all.

Despite some of the lackluster cinematographic movements (which I suppose became an afterthought knowing this is a compilation of recordings from 2017 to 2020), Parherek excels in everything so that I can get these feelings. Being set in Bataknese territory and centering upon its nature, it's almost a love letter to the area, and a hope letter for what the place can be. Beneath all the remorse, there is a pride akin to Emeralds of the Sea (1991), an IMAX travelogue around wonderous Indonesia. What the film is truly wanting to say is that we are not bad beings, and we shouldn't go zilch just because of the chaos around us. But the glory around us should inspire a change for these remaining chaoses. It is an intimate portrayal of this amazing monkey charmer, which ultimately also makes it an intimate portrayal of everything. I was surprised by how the lyrical music cues really worked, even in seemingly random moments. "Molo saut ma ho lao tu na dao / molo saut ma ho taripar tao" ... "Shall you go / To the other side, to the lake". A montage of the nearby Lake Toba plays, panning out from a shot of Detim riding a motorbike. This all is ours. Part of us.

What truly disappointed me is the lack of depth. There are scenes that just don't connect despite the smart transitions, and sometimes the film felt scattered. Some of the music, taken from YouTube Audio Library felt out of place and almost comedic, reminding me that I am watching a film, ruining my immersion. Director Ony Kresnawan also doesn't provide many interviews, and my connection with cinematographer Mr. Andy Siahaan only provided behind-the-scenes trivia (the dead monkey they closed up on was killed in front of their eyes, prompting the camera to roll). What I understood was that he wanted to make an audiovisual journey through the life of Detim. But it almost certainly, especially in the finale, felt like a promotion/tourism documentary than a powerful insight into the lives of such people. Of course, there's no sponsorship or anything, but it definitely could've been better, which just a bit more care.

In the end, Parherek gives a bittersweet note. Despite all the financial and moral support he's received (he now has a popular, monetized YouTube channel), he is still struggling with his journey. And he most likely will encounter some problems again. The film feels like everything is on a low budget, but the result and its embracement of that shortcoming astonished me. It is evocative and fun to watch, and knowing what Kresnawan intended, I think it is a success. According to Mr. Andy, both of them are currently filming a film (if I remember...) about wildlife again, this time more centered on the wildlife itself. There is certainly more to explore, and Parherek explores that message well.

Parherek can be viewed on YouTube.