“Unfortunately, people can become so obsessed with their own standards of happiness that they end up oppressing others who live differently”
– The Indonesian director discussed his personal approach to spirituality, fictionalising trance rituals and future projects
(© Sam Emenogu)
We talked to Indonesian director Wregas Bhanuteja, competing in the World Dramatic Competition of this year’s Sundance Film Festival, about the inspirations and challenges of his film Levitating [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Wregas Bhanuteja
film profile].
Cineuropa: What initially drove you to make this film, especially as a co-writer? And how much of the original idea remained in the final film versus how much evolved during the writing process?
Wregas Bhanuteja: I grew up with one sibling, and when we were kids, my younger sibling could see spirits in our house. All kinds of them; giant snails with three tails, bats, even frogs. I used to feel jealous, because I couldn’t see them, while my sibling could actually play with these spirits. In the environment where I grew up, spirits coexisted with humans – they were part of everyday life. In several regions in Indonesia, there are also celebrations that involve spirit possession, where participants dance, become possessed, and afterward feel a sense of release or satisfaction. I believe trance parties don’t only exist in Indonesia, but across Asia and other parts of the world.
Through this film, I simply wanted to share the many different ways humans seek happiness in life. Unfortunately, people can become so obsessed with their own standards of happiness that they end up oppressing others who live differently. In the film, that’s represented by the corporation trying to take over Latas Village. What changed from the initial idea to the final film was the hallucination worlds. I had to adapt their creation to the scale of production and our technical capabilities. In the end, I chose to creatively minimise visual effects and instead maximise practical, artistic effects on set, combined with camera lens techniques.
You have mentioned not wanting to depict trance as exotic or mysterious, but instead as an everyday communal experience. Did you ever worry that stepping away from a stereotypically “exotic” depiction might have distanced audiences, or was that central to your intention?
I live in an environment where spirits are part of everyday life, that’s been my experience since childhood. So I wanted to tell a story that feels close to who I am. Whether audiences feel distant from it or not is something that’s ultimately beyond my control. What I do try to share is an emotional experience that audiences might connect with: obsession. When someone becomes obsessed with achieving something, they can start neglecting the people around them who support them. I think everyone, at some point, has felt a version of that.
From a production standpoint, what was most challenging about shooting a film with so many frantic scenes, and how did your collaboration with Siko Setyanto shape the choreography of those moments?
The biggest challenge for me was breaking down the shots for the trance party scenes. Because the hallucination world relies on minimal visual effects, I had to create a lot of shots to deliver a strong emotional experience – long shots, close-ups, macro shots, tracking shots, and many others. All of these shots later became material for the editing process, which had to be synchronised with the tempo of the music score. The audience’s emotional experience is shaped heavily by how the edits align with the rhythm of the music, whether it’s becoming more intense or slowing down. That’s why the editing process took quite a long time, to carefully calibrate the emotions. My collaboration with Siko Setyanto started with me giving him ten animal spirits I had imagined, along with the effects each hallucination world would produce. For example, the softshell turtle spirit makes someone immune to pain, while the buffalo spirit gives a refreshing sensation, like bathing. Siko then translated those effects into movements inspired by animals responding to those sensations; like a turtle retreating into its shell, or a buffalo bathing. None of the movements were based on traditional dances or specific cultural forms. We created them entirely as fictional, animal-based movements.
The trance practices in the film are fictional, but stem from real Indonesian culture. Could you discuss how you worked on this aspect, mentioning some of the real traditions you took inspiration from?
That’s right, everything in the film, from the parties, dances, mantras, to the spirits, is fictional. Indonesia, as an archipelago, has a huge variety of celebrations that involve possession. And I believe possession-based rituals exist not only in Indonesia, but across Asia and around the world. Because of that, there isn’t one specific tradition that became the main reference for this fictional trance celebration. It all started from stories I heard in my surroundings, where possession often begins with people zoning out or daydreaming. From there, I built the idea that the participants amplify their daydreams until they feel real, like entering a hallucination world. That’s why the participants are called pelamun, daydreamers. I also often heard that repetitive music can hypnotize people, which is why the music in the film is repetitive in nature. As for the animal movements, I once witnessed a middle school friend of mine become possessed and move like a dog. That experience led me to choose animal spirits as a core element.
Finally, could you talk about any projects you are working on?
I’m currently writing my fourth feature film, a drama that I can’t really talk about yet. I’ll be both the writer and director. At the same time, I’m also producing a drama film in Indonesia about the life of a graphic designer in Jakarta.
