In Edwin’s Sleep No More [+lee también:
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entrevista: Edwin
ficha de la película], shady things are afoot in a wig factory. It might be because the workers are so overworked that they are literally gouging their eyes out, or perhaps it’s because of some hairy demons. Either way, Putri (Rachel Amanda) is ready to find out. We talked to the director about his movie, premiering in Berlinale Special Midnight at this year’s Berlinale.

Cineuropa: This is a proper genre film, but it’s also an affecting take on how we approach work. It’s not an obvious combination.
Edwin: After Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash [+lee también:
crítica
tráiler
ficha de la película], I made a film for Netflix, but I missed cinema. In Indonesia, there’s plenty of horror – people really enjoy it. They rely on the spiritual aspects, on ghost stories and urban legends, but I was missing a contemporary exploration of fear itself. Starting from that idea, we explored the kind of fear we face in our everyday lives. There’s confusion and terror that comes with being overworked and exploited. We work so hard, sacrificing our time, family and even our own bodies. And for what? For whom? That’s why we chose a wig factory as the setting. The workers make wigs for strangers they will never meet.

Many moments here feel universal, and that includes the lies we are told – or tell ourselves. Maryati’s “messages” to her workers are a perfect example of that.
We normalise the work. They have a points system in the factory, which is quite common, and everyone works for these points, which will hopefully lead them somewhere better. During the shoot, and later during the edit, I thought about whether all this sacrifice is really worth it. I saw footage of people working in a large chip factory, but they don’t know what the chips are for. It could be a phone, a laptop or a gun used to kill people. Why do we contribute to things we know nothing about?

Don’t you think that the best horror films say something about our society?
I try not to burden myself with the responsibility of delivering a message. This film makes a statement, but I don’t have to say it out loud. If people don’t get it, that’s fine. When something is fun, as I intended it to be, things can still seep into your subconscious.

The gore here is fun – so is the demon. But you avoid showing it for most of the film!
I co-wrote this with Eka Kurniawan and Daishi Matsunaga, and we saw big chunks of it as a comedy. Imagine this creature standing in front of you. What would you do? It’s silly, but you don’t know if it can harm you. Nothing is scarier than the audience’s imagination. That’s what I’ve learnt from all these horror films. Revealing things bit by bit just works better – take Jaws, for example. They don’t show the shark until about an hour in. And when you finally see the whole thing, it’s not that scary. I wanted to pay tribute to that style of filmmaking. I really like films from that era, either in Indonesia or in Hollywood. John Carpenter’s work, like The Thing or The Fog, is so memorable: a young audience should be reminded of that.

In The Thing, people can’t leave – they are stuck in Antarctica. Here, they won’t leave. A normal reaction would be: “I’m never going back to that factory again.” But they have bills to pay.
Good point [laughs]. We talked about this a lot: “Why won’t they leave?” Because they need the money! In our everyday life, we may know that our jobs suck, but we just keep going. We compromise everything. In horror movies, the characters can be trapped. But there are no traps in the factory, and that’s the most terrifying thing. They choose to stay. 

Since it’s set in a factory full of workers, it becomes an ensemble film. You get to know Putri’s co-workers; you know who’s tired and who’s saving for new shoes.
Initially, we wanted to focus on Maryati, the owner, and just follow the villain. But I love the idea of an ensemble. If you look at factory workers, you see many people. It’s difficult to distinguish one person from another. They all look the same because the system requires them to wear identical uniforms and hide their personalities.

You show a dog chewing on a severed hand that he finds in the rubbish, and then the hand shoos it away. I like it when violence is exaggerated, but how do you avoid making it too ridiculous?
I love seeing people’s reactions to scenes like this. It’s a form of chaos, so some of them go: “How should I react? Is it funny or is it disgusting?” We experience this in our dreams, too. You can be so afraid of something silly. That’s the power of cinema: sometimes, you just don’t know how to respond.

In my first film, Blind Pig Who Wants to Fly, there was a scene that was supposed to be painful. It dealt with our history and riots in 1998. But it also showed karaoke, and the chosen song was Stevie Wonder’s “I Just Called to Say I Love You”. People didn’t know what to do with it! Sometimes they show it at universities, and I say: “If you feel like singing, sing; it’s fine.” I really like it when films invoke those kinds of mixed feelings. I’m a fan of Jordan Peele, and he said the only difference between comedy and horror is the music. If you change the soundtrack to The Exorcist, it becomes funny. Everything else is exactly the same.