The bravery of Oppenheimer's The Look of Silence - and our complicity

Joshua Oppenheimer's The Look of Silence (2014) is a companion piece and follow-up to his previous terrific documentary, The Act of Killing, about the tyrannic oppression and slaughter of so-called Communists in Indonesia in the 1970s. In Act of Killing Oppenheimer visited with many of the army officers and other officials of the right-wing military government, including those who killed hundreds with their own hands, and interviewed them at length about their experiences - and the film was literally shocking as these aged men gleefully recount their exploits, with not a bit of regret or remorse (they also make a totally bizarre music video to express their feelings). In Look of Silence a 44-year-old man, an optometrist serving the poor, apparently in reaction to Act of Killing sets off to find and interview those who killed his older brother; in fact, he looks at what appear to b various out-takes from Opp.'s archives and then interviews the subjects - all on camera. It's a more subtle film that Act but also more focused, as we see a gradually unfolding narrative about the torture and death of one of the million who were killed - and we see the woeful contortions through which these criminals and thugs make peace with themselves and build explanations and excuses for what they did. We also see a few moments of forgiveness and reconciliation - and we get a bit of the cultural history and our own complicity: There's no doubt that the U.S. supported and encouraged and probably even financed the military slaughter of any and all suspected dissidents - labeling them all Communists - particularly in defense of American corporations exploiting the resources of Indonesia - Goodyear is one that the film highlights, with a news clip that seems to think it just fine that union organizers were then working as enslaved prisoners on the Goodyear rubber plantations. A lot of good our commitment to overthrowing Communism in Asia has done for us, as Indonesia is now hardly an ally or a "friendly nation." The incredible bravery of the central figure in this documentary, Adi, who takes on this mission knowing it will be very easy to ID him and his family, becomes even more stark on the closing credits, in which virtually every member of the crew is identified only as "Anonymous."