The Act of Killing: Cinema, Memory, and Indonesia’s Dark Past

In 2012, a documentary called The Act of Killing came out, challenging the usual aesthetic and historical narratives about the G30S/PKI. Beyond the controversy in Indonesia, mostly tied to domestic politics and the international backlash over massive human rights violations, the film also sparked ideological, social, and political debates. Still, it is widely recognized as a powerful piece of art, both directly and indirectly.

It has won dozens of awards at international film festivals but has also faced criticism for how it portrays violence. Some people see The Act of Killing as a unique verbal and visual statement, a documentary text. It steps into the world of discursive practice, shifting its role into a communicative event open to all kinds of interpretations. On a cultural level, the G30S/PKI incident is a significant chapter in Indonesia’s history.

However, how that chapter is understood depends on who you ask. People interpret it in different ways, which is why it is so controversial; it does not match the official version the Indonesian government has long promoted.

History has been written in blood, with many stories left unresolved. One of the most brutal turning points happened on September 30, 1965, a moment that triggered the mass killing of millions simply because they were suspected of being tied to the PKI, labor unions, landless farmers, intellectuals, Chinese Indonesians, and others caught in the crossfire.

Every year, state propaganda celebrates this atrocity through official films. The Act of Killing flips that narrative. It acts as a counter-discourse, pushing back against the aesthetic and historical lens drilled into Indonesians for decades. Directed by Joshua Oppenheimer, along with Christine Cynn and one of many unnamed contributors, the film dives into the killers’ minds.

It tells the story of those behind the massacres, people who turned communism and the PKI into some ghostly threat to justify building the New Order regime. Anwar Congo and his friends were executioners, eliminating those labeled as threats in North Sumatra. The film makes it clear that groups like Pemuda Pancasila and Anwar’s gang were proud of what they did, and they celebrated it.

These paramilitary powers ruled without trial, without resistance.

Watching Anwar and his friends re-enact what they did is disturbing. It is a raw portrayal of one of the darkest periods in history. They show their actions with pride, even honesty, as if re-living their past. Anwar, once a cinema thug, seemed to love movies, especially gangster films of that era, genuinely. Ironically, those very films inspired his violence. There is a disturbing confidence in what they believed was “right,” shaped by decades of anti-communist sentiment.

The inclusion of Western films back then was challenging and desirable, but it did not offer any direct benefits. From those gangster movies, Anwar picked up ideas, like using wires, tables, and other props, that later influenced how he carried out executions. Since watching classic American gangster films, Anwar and his friends started using the camera to bring their violent imaginations to life.

When Anwar and his friends acted out their past, the audience was overwhelmed by discomfort and horror. That is one of The Act of Killing‘s biggest achievements; it gets its message across while messing with aesthetic norms and historical narratives. Joshua Oppenheimer’s ability to present that spectacle in such a unique visual way comes from years of building relationships with both the killers and survivors of the 1965 massacre. It all started with his earlier work with plantation workers in The Globalization Tapes.

Because of that closeness and long-term effort, Anwar and the others got fully involved in the creative process, from helping write the script to reconstruct memories, mixing them with scenes inspired by their favorite gangster flicks. That not only gave them more flexibility but also gave Oppenheimer more freedom to explore things that are usually off-limits.

At first, Anwar did not even want to give his testimony for Oppenheimer’s documentary. He had this idea to make his film a fictional retelling of his and his friends’ version of what happened in 1965. So they went ahead and made it. Moreover, Oppenheimer filmed the whole process of making “their” film. That makes The Act of Killing so fascinating: the line between historical truth and cinematic fiction is blurred.

By writing their scenes and acting everything out themselves, including taking on the role of victims, the killers are forced to confront their past. Moreover, each of them reacts differently, psychologically speaking. The word “act” in the title holds layers of meaning. It is not just about an action but about performing and putting on a scene. Whether or not “Anwar Congo” is his real name, one thing is certain: he is still a dandy in his old age, always dressed in ironed suits and slick pants.

Being a former cinema thug, Anwar was no stranger to movies. He idolized guys like James Dean, John Wayne, and Marlon Brando. According to Herman, one of Anwar’s younger associates, their drive to massacre suspected PKI members had more to do with movies than ideology.

When the PKI called for a boycott of Hollywood films, it hit these thugs hard: empty theaters meant empty stomachs. It is probably not a coincidence that the Pemuda Pancasila office, where they killed their victims, was located right across from the cinema. Anwar and his friends would watch a film, then cross the street to interrogate and kill, almost like it was just part of the show.

He was dancing right after demonstrating how he used wires to strangle people to death. How fair it feels makes The Act of Killing such a powerful documentary. Oppenheimer does not just uncover some hidden truth; he also creates space for emotional moments between the characters, especially Anwar Congo. Through this long journey of memory and reconstruction, we begin to see Anwar not just as a killer but as a regular person.

He is not just the guy who took thousands of lives; he also plays with his kids and gently cares for his pet ducks. He is a man who can feel guilt, not just a cold-blooded executioner. He gets caught in regret, emotions, and even unexpected tears. This documentary is about cruelty, but it is also about the human side of those we might rather label as monsters.

So why were Anwar and his friends so willing to open up, talk about what they did, and even make a movie about it? Simple: they did not think it was a crime. They never saw the mass killings they committed as something wrong. Same with that scene where a Pemuda Pancasila member laughs while bragging to younger guys about how he used to rape young Gerwani girls; he does not see it as something to be ashamed of.

For Anwar, getting a 14-year-old felt like paradise. What he really wanted was to make a movie that would turn him and his generation into “heroes” for the younger generation so they’d never forget what these men had done and be proud of it.

However, while making The Act of Killing, Oppenheimer and his team faced some harsh truths. And so did Anwar. Even though he once said he did not care about human rights, Anwar later admitted that he started to feel more human as he got older. Anwar began to have nightmares, haunted by the past. Maybe, he said, it was the souls of his victims taking revenge. Alternatively, he could be finally allowing himself to feel something. It was too late, but it was still real.

There is one scene where he acts out the role of a victim, interrogated, blindfolded, and strangled with wire. He could not bring himself to film that scene a second time. Afterward, he brought his two grandkids to watch the footage with him. When he saw it play out on screen, he cried, imagining how the real victims must have felt while being tortured.

For some, like Anwar, cinema becomes a kind of redemption. However, that is not the case for Adi Zulkadry, one of the other major killers from that era. He had a different way of keeping his guilt at bay. He said the killings were always based on whether something was right or wrong, and as long as he believed it was right, he felt no guilt. For decades, he convinced himself that everything he did was justified. That belief kept him from ever feeling responsible.

Ironically, Anwar makes a pretty clear statement at the end of the fictional film they made: all the decades of propaganda about the PKI’s so-called atrocities would crumble once people saw “this” film. He believes people will realize the PKI killers were far more brutal. Some of the others do not even care how brutal they look on screen because that is exactly the image they want to show. That is who they are, and they are proud of it.

What makes The Act of Killing hit so hard is how deeply Joshua and his team connected with the members of Pemuda Pancasila. The intimacy they reached is rare. The audience can access their most private, everyday moments through cameras and recording gear. We see Anwar chilling with his grandkids, Adi walking around a mall with his wife and teenage daughter, Herman lying around shirtless, and Yapto, head of Pemuda Pancasila, making creepy jokes about moles on genitals to young girls.

What ties all these men together is their shared belief in being a “thug.” For them, a thug is basically a “free man.” They even say it like that, “free men,” as if it is something noble. Members from different generations in Pemuda Pancasila repeat that phrase as if it is some core belief. To them, being a thug means living outside the system while backing its power. They are not tied down by law but help maintain the power structure.

On camera, without a hint of shame, they walk through markets demanding money from Chinese shop owners. It is all there. Many scholars have already studied the role of thugs and paramilitary groups like Pemuda Pancasila in Indonesia’s history and revolutions. Moreover, when the public starts getting fed up with these mass organizations, it is easy to feel that frustration sliding into national pessimism.

Many people praise the film for exposing the darker side of Indonesia’s political history, revealing the raw cruelty that’s usually kept hidden. However, not everyone agrees. Some critics argue that The Act of Killing does not offer a fully accurate historical record. After all, it is largely based on Anwar’s testimony. Moreover, some people say Oppenheimer manipulated him. So, there is a tension between what is shown as personal truth and what might be historically factual.

This argument also touches on the impact that the movie will have. While it paves the way for reconciliation, it can also be said to reopen old wounds and worsen Indonesia’s image in the oculi mundi. However, real reconciliation does not hide under fear and trauma but acknowledges all past wrongs. Just like physical wounds, the ones that look healed on the outside can flare up again when you least expect it.

That brings us to two big questions: Should we continue investigating historical events and reinterpreting them, or should we leave them alone and accept the official story as the truth?

All in all, The Act of Killing turns into a layered, multidimensional look at what drives people to commit violence. Oppenheimer does not just present the history of 1965 in simple black-and-white terms; he goes much deeper, showing how the long-term effects of mass violence have shaped people’s lives and minds across Indonesian society.

What stands out is that the film does not focus on ideology or communism; it focuses on humanity and the brutal reality of the massacre itself. In the end, no one can claim to hold the absolute truth. However, this documentary becomes a powerful record of memory from that time. Whether people agree with it or not, whether they see it through a political lens or something more personal, the film stirs up strong reactions, both support and criticism.

References

• Brown, M., & Rafter, N. (2013). Genocide Films, Public Criminology, Collective Memory. British Journal of Criminology. Advance online publication.
• Dwyer, L. (2009). A Politics of Silences: Violence, Memory, and Treacherous Speech in Post-1965 Bali. In A. L. Hinton & K. L. O’Neill (Eds.), Genocide: Truth, Memory, and Representation (pp. 113–146). Duke University Press.
• Oppenheimer, J., Anonymous, & Cynn, C. (2012). The Act of Killing [Film]. Final Cut for Real ApS.
• Pohlman, A. (2014). Women, Sexual Violence and the Indonesian Killings of 1965–1966. Routledge.
• Rafter, N. (2014). Joshua Oppenheimer (dir.), The Act of Killing. Theoretical Criminology, 18(2), 230–234.