A cynical joke among women suggests that if a lady wants the perfect man in her life, she should just raise him herself. This is exactly what the mother character in Tumpal Tampubolon’s Crocodile Tears has attempted, seemingly in the hope of keeping her “creation” for herself forever. As Tampubolon hints in his director’s statement, the “crocodile tears” refer to the fine balance between the protective and damaging grip of a female crocodile's jaws while carrying her little ones, an activity that often involves shedding tears. And the metaphor directly reflects motherly love, shielding and biting at the same time. But destiny always has the final say in restoring justice, and it is the deviation from the mother’s plans that fosters the plot’s intrigue. Visually impactful and psychologically cruel — or perhaps the other way around — Crocodile Tears teeters on the edge of dread and abhorrence while carefully sifting through layers of the subconscious. It is currently showing in the Toronto International Film Festival’s Centrepiece section, a programme that celebrates global cinematic achievements.

The opening scene features twenty-something Johan (Yusuf Mahardika) secretly masturbating in a rush, at risk of being caught by his Mama (Marissa Anita). They lead a solitary existence on a crocodile farm in Java, feeding the reptiles in a spectacular everyday ritual with freshly killed, unplucked chickens and organising sporadic shows for tourists by day, while sleeping in a tight, marital embrace by night. Their strange source of livelihood earns them a reputation as weirdos in the area, and rumours circulate that Mama killed her husband and fed the crocodiles his remains. The only person who doesn't believe this horrific gossip is Arumi (Zulfa Maharani), a lonely newcomer who works in a shady karaoke bar. She takes the shy Johan under her wing, introducing him to the outside world and initiating him into erotic secrets. However, Mama sniffs out their affair and spirals into a frenzy of jealousy that triggers pure insanity when it becomes clear that Arumi is pregnant. When the prospective bride eventually moves onto the farm, a dangerous triangle is formed in which one of the two women must be eliminated.

The (literally and metaphorically) incestuous relationships that can easily grow between mother and son have fascinated storytellers throughout history – from Greek mythology to films such as Aleksandr Sokurov’s Mother and Son (1997) and Xavier Dolan’s Mommy [+lee también:
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ficha de la película] (2014), to name a few. Yet Tumpal Tampubolon manages to find an original approach through which to unfurl another fable about a painful, loving bond between a lonely mother, who has made her child the centre of her world and does not allow him to have an adult life, and said offspring. Mama’s striking obsession is fiercely expressive, like in a Greek tragedy, and her monstrous nature is complemented by the surroundings – a fitting environment to bring any demons to the surface. The unusual choice of setting, situated between magical realism and the actual reality of Indonesia, where crocodile attacks on people, for example, are not uncommon in the local news, contributes unique elements that give the story a fairy-tale touch while preserving a strong sense of authenticity.

Crocodile Tears was produced by Indonesia’s Talamedia and E-Motion Entertainment, in co-production with France’s Acrobates Films and Poetik Film, Singapore’s Giraffe Pictures and Germany’s 2Pilots Filmproduction. Cercamon is in charge of its international sales.