The Act of Killing

You have never seen anything like this.

The Act of Killing is one of the most extraordinary films you’ll ever encounter, not to mention one of the craziest filmmaking concepts anywhere.

The cumulative impact is devastating, and very far from a simple Western condemnation of another country’s brutality. In forcing viewers to hear the boasts of genocide’s perpetrators, The Act of Killing puts a harsh spotlight on all celebrations of bloodshed, from Hollywood to the op-ed pages.

Never before has anyone made a documentary like The Act of Killing, and the filmmakers seem at a loss in terms of how to organize the many threads of what they capture...Still, essential and enraging, The Act of Killing is a film that begs to be seen, then never watched again.

Filmmaker Joshua Oppenheimer is obviously treading on dicey moral ground here, empowering killers to tell their story when they've never been called to account for the barbarism that brought them to power.

You’ve never seen a documentary like The Act of Killing. If you saw too many like it, your hold on sanity might fray, which is not so much the film’s fault as that of its bloodcurdling subject. This movie is essential.

The effect is intended to be ghastly – which it certainly is – but I was equally repelled by this film’s conceit. Oppenheimer allows murderous thugs free rein to preen their atrocities, and then fobs it all off as some kind of exalted art thing. This is more than an aesthetic crime; it’s a moral crime.

The Act of Killing is unlike anything I have ever seen. The ease and absurdity in which former gang leaders play out acts of torture and killing is something to behold. Neither funny or redeeming this movie shows us how thin the line is between darkness and light. Cruelty and caring are just different forks in the road.

In modern-day Indonesia, a British documentarian gains access to several high-ranking members of the death squads that purged their nation of communism during the late 1960s. Over a million of the accused lost their lives in this genocide, many sent to a speedy demise on the back of fabricated evidence, and fifty years later, the executioners show little remorse. More the opposite: in recalling their hands-on role in the murders, the old gangsters beam with pride, freely share the secrets of their methods (a garrote, for example, means less cleanup) and boast of quadruple-digit kill counts. Filmmakers loosened these lips by promising artistic freedom in a cinematic retelling of their old handiwork, but it doesn’t seem like the killers needed much convincing. They’re thrilled by the opportunity to shout their guilt to the world and can’t (or won’t) accept the possibility that they’ll be seen as anything less than the honorable, patriotic heroes they are in their own minds. It’s a surreal experience, watching these men speak so openly about such loathsome acts while toying with their grandchildren and flaunting their collections of tacky crystal tchotchkes. Their audacity is baffling, but also hypnotizing. Doubly so when the conversation spans months and we begin to spot blemishes in that front of self-assuredness. As production of their own fantastical, self-directed short film concludes, we see the flicker of guilt blossom into a full-blown crisis of conscience for at least one participant. This doesn’t keep him from gleefully applauding the absurd, colorful, playful song and dance number he’s helped create as commemoration of his life’s work. The same short meta-film climaxes with an executed man expressing gratitude for his own murder. The Act of Killing is a genuinely shocking film; a rarity in the modern climate. Its bare depictions of self-deception are haunting, especially when contrasted with the fleeting occasions its subjects are finally, truly honest with themselves. I didn’t enjoy this and I don’t even know if I’m glad I watched it. An important document, but not a pleasant watch, it’s one you’ll absorb in stunned silence and soon try to forget. While it falls short on technical and cinematic levels, its sources are incredible and its message cuts deep. Just don’t be misled by the cover art. This is some dark, dark ****.

The Act of Killing has some of the most horrific things humans can do to each other but in the end what was the point? All these men are still walking free and no punishments have be taken against them. The movie just revisits the past without dealing with the now. As a movie, its too long and has an ending that is unintentionally funny.

Ground breaking documentary technique vies with unpleasant content and despicable characters to produce a reaction in me that, whilst acknowledging the film makers skill, has me repulsed by the film itself. That these people, guilty of such atrocious crimes, are still walking around freely, without conscience and living in relative opulence is absolutely abhorrent to me. I understand that the point of documentary film making is to uncover truths and depict life as it is. I also recognise that my strong reaction against the film (or at least the content) is precisely the point, but the casual re-enactments of the crimes seems wrong to me. One character actually states that he would like to be famous. Well, whether for the right or wrong reasons this film certainly gives him his time in the sun. Disregard for life is also demonstrated with animals when the lead protagonist shows the crew around his stuffed collection proclaiming nonchalantly that he had personally killed the black Rhino, whilst dismissively pointing out that the species was near extinction. Content aside, the print under review is the director's cut which at 159 minutes is excessively long and when not shocking has extremely boring interludes, with some edits appearing just chaotic. The last 20 minutes or so when Anwar Cong, one of the killers, shows remorse by crying and later gagging (as if to vomit) is just an insult to all his victims as well as being extremely distasteful. I am aware of all the superlatives that the documentary has been receiving, both written and oral, and it must be said that the audience that I viewed the film with stayed in their seats well into the end credits and left very subdued, but I did approach the film reluctantly and with caution. The use of John Barry's beautiful song 'Born Free' emphasises the ugliness of everything else going on, I don't dispute that it is powerful film making, but I also can't dispute that I hated it!

Seriously yall enjoyed this boring documentary? All i heard was stories and talking and how much these guys got a change of heart. I almost fell asleep watching this. There are way better docs out there watch the john wayne gacey tapes its more horrific.