Selamat malam, para hadirin, Pak Misbach, tuan-tuan dan ibu-ibu. Terdahulu saya mahu mengucapkan berbanyak terima kasih kepada Mas Tito Imanda dan Mas Ekky Imanjaya dan Binus International University atas jemputan mereka supaya saya sudi datang ke Jakarta.

Today I have been invited to say a few words in conjunction with awarding Pak Misbach Yusa Biran for his longterm commitment to Indonesian cinema and to the Sinematek Indonesia. My research focuses on independent Malaysian cinema though I have an avid interest in Southeast Asian cinema and I teach in cultural studies. So I will share my thoughts more generally on film as a cultural artefact.

My Indonesian film friends tell me that the state of film preservation is worrying in this country and that there is not enough funding to maintain the Sinematek. Sadly this is neither unique to Indonesia nor to SEAsia. In the Philippines, in Thailand, in Malaysia, film preservation is not something that is privileged.  In fact it is “grossly underfunded” (Singaporean film programmer Philip Cheah in 2005, criticine.com).

When a veteran filmmaker was asked by Pak Misbach in the early 1970s whether he thought setting up the SI was a good idea, the reply was, why would you establish an archive? It’s pointless! I have been thinking about this reply, and although it is some forty years later, I think that this was not altogether an unusual response. It’s not unusual when you consider that film from its inception was and is for the most part produced to entertain and to make profit. Film is a mass industrial product; “a commodit[y] by destination” (Jacques Maquet 1971 in Appadurai 16) in the sense that it is made to be traded/exchanged. And for that reason, the term ‘dream factory’ to describe commercial cinema like Hollywood aptly highlights the mechanised, repetitive type of rationalised labour that goes into churning out the standardised product of dreams. Adorno and Horkheimer in talking about Hollywood cinema in the 1930s coined the term “the culture industry” to acknowledge the close ties between culture and the economy. By this gesture they succeeded in pushing Marx’s analysis which mostly emphasized economic relations into the realm of culture, which at that time, was regarded as a separate reified sphere.

First let me just define what a commodity is: “Commodities are things with a particular type of social potential … they are distinguishable from ‘products’, ‘objects’, ‘goods’, ‘artefacts’ and other sorts of things – but only in certain respects and from certain point of view” (Appadurai 6). According to Marx, “to become a commodity a product must be transferred to another, whom it will serve as a use-value, by means of an exchange” (in Appadurai 8). Basically, a commodity is anything intended for exchange (a thing that you exchange to get money or anything else from). Marx focused predominantly on production when he talks about the commodity as a product of labour. Appadurai being an anthropologist is more interested in the social exchange that occurs when the commodity is being exchanged (i.e. bought/sold). He is interested in what he calls “the social life of things” and in his edited book (1986), goes on to discuss commodities as they are circulated, distributed and consumed from various cultural perspectives (and at different periods of history, including non- and pre-capitalist societies).

Following Appadurai, I want to talk about the social life and death of film. Here by ‘film’ I treat it not merely as a commodity but also as a physical matter and cultural artefact—a thing that has cultural and social values beyond its ability to turn a profit for its producers. Like any physical or material object, it has a shelf life that spans a decade to two millennia depending on its format and if kept under the right conditions. Film also has a social life. All too often, film is treated as a mere commodity, its merits judged by its box office takings. But surely there are other meanings that a film holds aside from its exchange value. In this paper, I trace how a film comes to life, how it is consumed and what meanings might be gleaned from consumption/viewing. I find Stuart Hall’s circuit of culture useful in this regard as it demonstrates how a cultural artefact’s representation, its identity, production, consumption and regulation are all interconnected. Each site on the circuit generates meaning for the object, in this case, film.

Circuit of Culture

The processes and social meanings that go into producing and consuming a film give the film (object) a social life. Lastly, we trace what possibly happens at the end of a film’s life in order to think about how archiving can help lengthen its lifespan.

Let’s start with the production of film.

Birth/Production of film

Focusing on the site of production, we would consider how an idea for a script/screenplay is actualised and executed on screen, production, editing, post-production and how the film is eventually marketed, distributed, exhibited. For example, 2001: Space Odyssey is based on a short story by sci-fi writer Arthur C. Clarke and he and Stanley Kubrick collaborated on the project for over a year. Kubrick spent $6.5 million of his $10.5 million budget for Space Odyssey on effects alone, and it was nearly two years after the end of principal photography that the film was finally finished. Every detail of the production design was designed to be as technologically and scientifically accurate as possible. As technical advisors, Kubrick hired spacecraft consultants Frederick Ordway and Harry Lange, who had assisted some of the major contractors in the aerospace industry and NASA with developing advanced space vehicle concepts. Ordway was able to convince dozens of aerospace giants that participating in the production of 2001 would generate good publicity for them in the form of “product placements” in the film.[1]

Under the site of production, we would think about the film creator’s birth pangs and labour pains: narratives of blood, sweat and tears—the labouring or belabouring—that go into producing a film: a director refuses to compromise his vision, there are cost overruns, actors and crew who haven’t been paid quitting, delays due to natural disasters and technological mishaps, backers pulling out, etc. But once the film is completed and past its post-production stage, then we see the film preparing for its debut through marketing, publicity, distribution and eventuating in exhibition. In an entertainment-obsessed world where the end-product is valued more than the creative and industrial process, the average viewer leaves the cinema as the credits roll, as if refusing to acknowledge the work that has gone into producing the film. Yet if we actually stay to watch all the credits and to honour the creativity, craft and technique poured into the film, we would realise again that this dream factory is a very labour intensive one. (Here I am of course speaking about the studio film not your DIY 3-person crew digital movie.)

Career/Consumption of film
If the site of film production is akin to the birth and growth of a film, we could think of the site of consumption as its career—what it does to earn money; putting its use value and exchange value to practice. How is a film consumed/viewed? How is it received? What meanings do consumers derive from a film? How does a film affect them and what is the relationship between the film and its spectators?

This site of consumption involves most of us sitting in this theatre. We are the consumers who pay money to watch the films at cinemas, film festivals, buy the DVD, download it through bit torrent…consuming it legally or illegally. How and where we watch films is something that has changed and continues to change with technological advancement. We might watch a film the way films are made to be consumed: projected on a screen in a darkened cinema with other people. We might buy the DVD instead to watch at home with friends and family. Or we might download it or watch it on our laptops by ourselves.

Are we passive consumers? Adorno and Horkheimer took a dim view of consumption. For them, mass-produced commodities were routine, repetitive and standardised. And such products resulted in audiences who did not expect anything very different or challenging. They regarded that since industrial products were made for profit and were conservative in the sense of reinforcing the status quo and prevailing dominant ideologies, producers were not likely to stray from successful formulas. So such products produced a passive, standardised audience that were easily distracted. A lot of studio products are like that (but once in a while you have MGM producing Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: Space Odyssey – considered one of the greatest films ever made.) If Adorno and Horkheimer are right, do we experience catharsis during the screening, and then forget about it the moment we step out into the sunshine? How critical are we as film viewers? Perhaps this is where the role of film critics come in—to make us think about films in a different way; to teach us to how to appreciate and assess film as an art form with its own unique elements to tell stories and enrich our lives.

Consumption patterns define how we relate to film
How we watch a film also defines how we relate to a film. Watching a downloaded film on one’s laptop (particularly when it comes with bad subtitles) is not as enjoyable as watching it on the big screen with friends whom we would discuss the film with after the screening. And slow films with hardly any dialogue but beautiful visual landscapes are naturally better appreciated on the wide screen. Film’s power to affect us get diminished on small screens, and small screen film viewing confirms Adorno and Horkheimer’s point about distracted audiences who might be checking their email and reading other news while simultaneously watching a (hopefully not very good) film online. Compared to the social experience of watching a film in the cinema, viewing a film on the computer creates the atomised individual consumer. Simultaneous online streaming, although it makes a film globally accessible to places that are wired, is prone to broadband disruptions and does not ensure smooth continuous viewing. This is especially true if you are located in a place where broadband signal is weak—for example while in Canberra, I had to watch the Korean 1960 film, The Housemaid (free on MUBI) three or four times because the screen kept freezing at certain points of the film and I could never complete the film at one sitting.

What happens after the debutant ball?
2001: Space Odyssey which received mix critical reception when it first came out took a longer period of screening at the cinema in order for the film to make its money back. The film played for 2 years in some cities. “In addition to the successful road show release and subsequent general release, the film has been re-released numerous times, with the official United States re-releases occurring in 1974, 1977, 1980, and, [naturally], 2001.”[2] 2001 is an exception. In today’s Hollywood system of simultaneous global release and make-or-break first weekend, critics have said that a film like 2001 would not have lasted or got the critical acclaim it eventually acquired. Well, a Canadian friend also said that many people growing up in the late 60s-early 1970s also watched 2001 while tripping on LSD or various substances that made the film so much more special and meaningful to them! In addition, a film might make it into the cinemas, go to second run cinemas, be released as DVD a few months down the road or just disappear without being re-released (i.e. sit on the shelves of the distributor somewhere). For indie and art films that premiere in film festivals, after the circuit if these films do not get picked up by a distributor or sales agent, and if it does not make it onto DVD, then the film dies a slow death. It becomes “an ex-commodity” (Maquet in Appadurai 16).

But what happens when we try to find a small independent film that was out ten years ago? For various reasons, an indie film like Kuldesak does not get widely circulated. How many of you watched it in the cinema when it first came out? How many of you have the opportunity to watch it today?  Kuldesak is important socially and it symbolises a landmark in the history of Indonesian cinema. In that way, a film like that plays several roles in its lifespan—as commodity, as historical artefact, as the platform that launched the careers of a new generation of filmmakers and a whole different style of filmmaking that did not rely on the old rules of the past. While it has been written about and many have read about it, perhaps fewer have seen it. The same goes with the films of Garin Nugroho. Kuldesak’s fate raises questions about disappearance and public access.

When films become ex-commodities, when they are no longer profitable, what happens to them physically? They might be stored in rusty cans, turn mouldy, or worse vinegary, their colours faded or gone brown like old colour photos from the 1970s.  At the end of its life, perhaps what is needed is “a hospital for ageing celluloid” such as the proposed 800 million baht Thai Cinematheque (Kong Rithdee July 2010)[3] or the Sinematek Indonesia.

This is of course where the crucial role of film archiving enters. The film archive as a public institution plays many roles—among which is to collect, preserve and make accessible to the public its collection of films. Films need to be cared for as they themselves “are social archives that capture the zeitgeist,” the culture, history and imagination of the times they are made or set in (Ekky Imanjaya 2010). But they also need to be available to the public so that they can learn about their culture and history, not be kept in a private collection or be stuck in someone’s office. The life of something as precious as that shouldn’t be left up to one person’s personal whims and fancies (e.g. Filipino independent filmmaker Lav Diaz’s 5 hour film, Batang West Side is not available for distribution or circulation as the producer who owns the rights do not want the film circulated).

Film also has the ability to tell universal stories that transcend cultural and national borders. A particular film can contain aesthetic values that make us look at the form anew and draw fans to ‘worship’ cinema. Thai filmmaker Wisit Sasanatieng’s technicolor cowboy/rural romantic melodrama Tears of the Black Tiger for example is the reason American blogger “Wise Kwai” became interested in Thai cinema and started up his website Wise Kwai’s Thai Film Journal.

“’If cinema is a religion, we need a temple, and film archives perform that function” (Dome Sukwong, Thai Film Archivist). Dome sees film as an art and similar to our reverence to art that we would have while walking through an art museum or gallery, the film archives can do the same thing.

Who is responsible for preserving and archiving films?
Some people might ask, why do we need a physical building to house films when we can find things online? When there are members of the public who upload videos online? There is much to be thankful for the existence of YouTube, Google video and other online film sites but we have to consider quality—and how it changes the process of film viewing, i.e. breaking up a film into small blocks of time. A file or clip can be removed so it is not forever, the quality is not good, and the film may not be in its original form, having been altered through adding a different music score, etc. YouTube/Googlevideo as a source is not reliable as it is a random rather than a selective, comprehensive form of documentation. Individual uploaders who share these files for free cannot substitute the job of proper professional archiving.

The there are private television stations which can keep their air-conditioning on 24 hours a day, 7 days a week to preserve their collection. In the Philippines, the ABS-CBN has a Film Archive which collects films from different production companies aside from its subsidiary, Star Cinema (Santiago 2010; Lim 2010). Although private television stations are proficient in keeping and preserving their films, being a private station means that their works are not accessible to the public. These archives are meant for the station’s use rather than the public and those wanting access may have to pay.

Last, I have not talked about the role of VCD and DVD companies. In Malaysia, one is able to find old P. Ramlee films on VCD. But these are of poor quality. Indeed, some video companies are only keen to make profit from the sale of VCDs and DVDs without being mindful of the quality of the films. As consumers, we should ask why Malaysians would want to pay twenty ringgit for a legitimate local film on DVD when they could get high quality transfers of pirated foreign films for eight to twelve ringgit. The same poor quality old Malaysian films are being screened on television year in and year out without any serious thought about restoring or preserving old film copies. Perhaps the situation is different in Thailand and Indonesia when it comes to  the quality of local films on DVDs.

Since the collection and preservation of film is ultimately done for the good of members of the public and citizens, then it must be an independent body established for the public good that does this job. But such a body also faces huge problems in getting funds to perform its much needed roles without the support of government and members of the public.

So how do we persuade them that a film archive needs to be properly funded?

Dome’s persuasive rhetoric
Thai film archivist Dome Sukwong employs nationalist sentiments: “I believe that a Cinematheque – or Film House, if you prefer – is a boost to the cultural image of our country. It’s a weapon for promoting intelligence and wisdom. When Thailand buys aircraft carriers or fighter jets, they have to be powerful, expensive and formidable because they would send a message to other countries. Likewise with cultural weapons, we have to invest, because it will show the world how we’re seriously developing our citizens to become intelligent people” (see Kong Rithdee 2010).

What I find interesting about the relationship between film and people in this statement is that the film archive in carrying out its role to collect and preserve films defines our relationship with films as citizens rather than consumers. When the film’s other social, artistic values are taken into consideration, not just its exchange value, its relationship with people shifts, moving away from that between product and consumer (film and paying viewer) to cultural artefact that merits preservation by the state/citizens/fans for the identity (and pleasure, memories) it gives the collective group.

Problems at the hospital
I say ‘hospital’ but film archives do not only preserve old films or stop its age-ing process, they also collect current films. One of the big debates among film archivists is what format to preserve film in. Films start degrading after 50 yrs. But nitrate films under the right conditions (30% relative humidity, 39°F) can live up to 655 years (according to the Library of Congress in Greenwald 2010). Non-nitrate films at 25°F, 30% relative humidity, last up to 2125 years. Digital tape has a life expectancy of less than 30 years and a digital file has a life expectancy of 10 years (FIAF 70th Anniversary Manifesto in Wengstrom  2010: 5).

Die hard film purists claim that digital is not the solution because they are not sure about quality (some say this is not a problem) and the technology is still unstable and ever-changing. There are lots of debates and the issues of archiving are very complex. Archivists are perhaps now adopting a hybrid approach that includes preserving film on film, while also digitalising film as both have their advantages and disadvantages.[4] I won’t get into it here as my main concern in this paper is focused on considering film as more than a mere commodity.

Conclusion: lessons from 2001: Space Odyssey
What can Kubrick’s film teach us about the necessity of film preservation through Dome Sukwong’s previous quotation? Space Odyssey details the evolution of mankind through his rational ability to construct and manipulate tools, from the time of the apes up to the space age. But mankind almost allows technology in the form of HALHalH to overwhelm him and make him obsolete. And it is only when he returns to basics (manipulating a screwdriver through his courage) that he is able to regain control over technology. I fear that in this time and age, the technology that threatens to overwhelm us is capitalism and the notion that film’s only value lies in its status as a commodity. Thus it is only if we bring back the human—ingenuity, creativity or intelligence, via culture, that we can have a more holistic appreciation of a film. Film archives as a cultural weapon promote, as Dome says, intelligent and wise people (presumably those not dumb enough like Dr. Strangelove to start the next world war!). In Space Odyssey, the suggestion of the starchild as a crossbreed between humans and the aliens who planted the monolith points to the next stage of human evolution. In the lifeworld of film, that is the direction we must take.

This paper was presented in Binus School of Film launch, 1 December 2010 at  JIFFEST in Binus International University, Jakarta

References

Appadurai, Arjun. The Social Life of Things: Commodities in Cultural Perspective.

Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1986.

Francis, David. “Challenges of Film Archiving in the 21^st Century.” Journal of Film      Preservation 65 (2002): 18-23.

Greenwald, Will. “Extreme Film Archiving Explained: Analog vs. Digital.” 6 May           2010. http://www.tested.com/news/extreme-film-archiving-explained…            (online)

Hall, Stuart. Representation: Cultural Representations and Signifying Practices.      London: Sage/Open University, 1997.

Horkheimer, Max and Theodore Adorno. The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as

Mass Deception.  London: Verso, 1979.

Ekky Imanjaya. “Film is not a dream. Life is.” 35 Tahun Sinematek Indonesia:   Misbach Yusa Biran, Museum Kita, dan Media Sosial.” http://ekkyij.multiply.com/journal/item/191/35_Tahun_Sine…

Kong Rithdee. “A Lifeline for Thailand’s Cinematic Heritage.” Bangkok Post 23 July    2010. http://www.bangkokpost.com/entertainment/movie/187487/a-lifeline-    for-thailand-s-cinematic-heritage

Lim, Bliss Cua. “Pepot and the Archive: Cinephilia and the Archive Crisis of      Philippine Cinema.” 12.03 Vol 12, 2010. http://flowtv.org/2010/07/pepotem-       and-the-archive/

Santiago, Myta. “Saving Face: Issues in Film Preservation and Archiving.” For

SA157: Introduction to Cultural Heritage, 10 Aug. 2010. (online)

Wergstrom, Jon. “Strengthening Archive Identity in an Age of Transition: The Second    Century Forum at the 66^th Congress in Oslo 2010.” Journal of Film            Preservation 82 (2010): 4-5.

[2] http://www.in70mm.com/news/2004/2001_in_70mm/index.htm

[3] The new 800-million-baht central facility, pending approval, will include a cinema, film school, libraries, exhibition space and hospital for ageing celluloid (Kong Rithdee 2010).

[4] “[A] digital loss is total whereas analog deterioration is usually gradual – and the experience of seeing a digital copy is definitely different to that of seeing a film copy even if they are projected on the same screen in the same auditorium” (Francis 2002: 23).