Arawinda Kirana on the Pleasures and Pains of Creating Art in the Age of the Internet
Photo courtesy of production
Content warning: sexual violence
What is it about shame that makes it such an effective tool for social control? Why is there often a tension between female pleasure and shame?
In Gina S. Noer’s film Like & Share, which screened at the Indonesian Film Festival New York 2023, Lisa and Sarah run a rising ASMR channel where the two 17-year-old girls explore what they like—all as they figure out the kind of person that they each want to become after high school. Behind the scenes, Lisa is trying to make sense of why she likes watching porn so much. She wonders if she might have an addiction. Her mom tells her that she needs to ngaji and sholat, or pray, more. Meanwhile, Sarah, who is still processing the grief and loneliness of losing both her parents in a car accident, is trying to make sense of her new relationship with Devan, a man who is 10 years older than her. As Devan widens the rift between the two best friends, Lisa and Sarah each learn what it means to be a woman and what it takes to be a good friend.
Arawinda Kirana, who plays Sarah, and I spoke over Zoom about how we’ve been exploring art, literature and cinema as Indonesian artists currently living and creating in the United States. Arawinda, whose acting debut was in Yuni — winner of the 2021 TIFF Platform Prize — is now based in Los Angeles, where she studies film at USC. Growing up and realizing what it means to be an Indonesian woman is a complex understanding to grapple with. Growing as an artist in the age of the internet when you’re an Indonesian woman also comes with its own complex pleasures and pains.
Christhalia Wiloto: The cinematography and sound design in this film is incredible. Lisa and Sarah’s world was so intricately built through all the different senses. Still, the heart of this film is its story. What drew you into this script and made you say yes to this role?
Arawinda Kirana: I loved that it’s a coming-of-age story. When I was a teenager myself, I didn’t get to see many films about the experience of being a girl trying to navigate the world — meeting boys, learning about porn. No one in Indonesia has told stories like that. I’m excited that there are more and more daring filmmakers working in Indonesia today. The film is emotionally honest about what it’s like to grow up. That felt so validating to me. Wanting to ask questions about sex at that age is normal. It shouldn’t be shameful to explore our desires. Even when we make mistakes, we can learn from them. That’s how we grow up.
In terms of craft, I thought it was particularly interesting that Like & Share is a dual-protagonist film. That’s not common in Indonesian cinema. In this story, the device works really well. The problems that Lisa and Sarah each work through are different, but they’re somehow the same. Their experiences are both products of living as young women in Indonesia.
When I was studying Indonesian literature in high school, I noticed that every single book assigned to me in that class contained some depiction of a woman getting sexually assaulted or raped. Pramoedya Ananta Toer’s Gadis Pantai, Bambang Soelarto’s Domba-Domba Revolusi, Pandji Tisna’s Sukreni Gadis Bali — and so on. This curious pattern has followed almost every work of Indonesian literature I’ve ever read, even those written by women. I still haven’t found an Indonesian novel or film that centers on female pleasure. I wonder if you’ve noticed a similar pattern yourself.
What does it mean to be a woman living in Indonesia, really? Pleasure isn’t meant for women. It is only for men.
And it’s not just pleasure. Certain jobs aren’t meant for women. Certain roles aren’t meant for women. We see and experience the patriarchy everywhere. I feel grateful that I’ve been in an array of films that are trying to start conversations on this very issue—films that really delve into what it’s like to be a woman in Indonesia. They’re all set in different time periods, too. One film I did, Yuni—that story was set in 2016. Another film I did, Before, Now & Then, was set in the 1960s. You can really see how violence towards women has always been a systemic issue throughout time.
As we grow and as the times change, the sets of issues and barriers we encounter as women do evolve. Right now, I’m living in America, so I get to experience firsthand how much more liberating it is to be a woman here. A lot of other countries around the world are growing and becoming more progressive in that way. I hope Indonesia will continue to become a safer country for women too.
Some films are about entertainment and escapism. Like & Share isn’t that exactly. Neither is the online ASMR channel that Lisa and Sarah run together. At first, their channel was just a project that the adults around them didn’t take seriously. Other people saw the ASMR videos that Lisa and Sarah were making as a silly project that the two girls were just doing for fun, but by the end of the film, we see that they were able to use the attention of the audience that they had garnered on their channel to speak out about the horrifying sexual abuse they experienced. In fact, their ability to speak about their trauma on the channel that they built is what saves Sarah’s life and allows her to begin to heal.
Talk to me about how social media redistributes power. As in, to what extent do you see it giving greater agency for women to tell their stories?
I just watched the Indonesian documentary that recently came out on Netflix, Ice Cold: Murder, Coffee, and Jessica Wongso. That documentary wasn’t limited to just social media; it examined the mechanisms of Indonesian media, journalism and the legal system as a whole. Specifically, the documentary looked into media bias and how public opinion is weaponized in court. What we end up having is a justice system where suspects are guilty until proven innocent. I find that so fucked up.
The media can destroy someone’s life as much as it can save it. In Like & Share, Sarah was not only raped, but the sex tape that her rapist made was uploaded online, and the video went viral. When that video went viral, Sarah was shunned by everyone around her because people on social media were like, “Oh, she’s engaging in adultery. She’s having sex.”
People tend to only look at one side of the story without actively seeking out the many layers of the truth, but life is never black or white. Nothing is ever just good or evil. It’s horrible that Sarah was not only assaulted; she was also shunned by society because no one was actively looking for the truth. They were only interested in the sensational.
Photo courtesy of production
This movie first came out in December 2022, around the same time that Indonesia passed the new criminal code, which includes the banning of sex outside of marriage. As a movie, it feels as though Like & Share is in direct conversation with this new criminal code. What are your thoughts on how policies like these restrict who gets permission to speak?
I think a bill like that brings more harm than good. Just within the context of the themes of this movie, I wonder if policymakers really considered how that bill would affect sexual assault survivors. Could a sexual assault survivor be jailed because they weren’t able to prove that they were assaulted legally, but by filing a report of the assault, they would have already admitted to a sexual encounter? Even though it was not consensual?
In the film, when Sarah finally decides to fight for justice, we see how the existing laws in Indonesia on sexual assault are already complicated enough. There’s that conversation between the lawyer and Sarah’s older brother. The brother says, “Sarah is still in high school. There are laws to protect sexual assault survivors, right?” to which the lawyer responds, “True, but just because there is a bill, that doesn't mean the legal instruments are ready. This is Indonesia. These systemic issues have existed for years. Sarah might even be imprisoned herself if she is accused of creating pornography. She has already been suspended from school.”
It’s like that Netflix documentary I mentioned earlier, Ice Cold. It’s not just about the bills; it’s about the legal system as a whole. Right now, the only people who can fight for justice in Indonesia are rich people who can afford it. In Like & Share, Sarah came from a privileged enough family that she could afford the legal costs to try to fight for justice — and yet, the legal system still failed her. That’s why she finally had to tell her story by putting out a video on her own channel. That was her last resort.
That is a heartbreaking thought.
Social media punished her. People online were brutal when her sex tape went viral. I try to imagine what it must have been like to be Sarah — to have to survive a sexual assault and the social media condemnation that came after. Sexual assault itself is so horrible that survivors might not even want to admit that it happened to them. That’s why there was that really long scene when Lisa and Sarah were still processing what had happened. Lisa was the first one to utter the thought, “Were you raped?” The two of them then fought because Sarah still couldn’t bring herself to admit what had happened to her.
That is the reality of so many survivors. You don’t want to believe that someone can hurt you that way — that you let yourself be put in that position. It makes you feel stupid. It isn’t your fault, but it will take a survivor so long to be able to admit to themselves that they have been sexually assaulted. If it’s that difficult just to admit what happened to yourself, imagine how difficult it must have been for Sarah to describe the truth of what had happened to her publicly. She had to put out her story on social media for the masses to continue to scrutinize because this was the only form of justice she could really have.
What is most exciting to you about how contemporary Indonesian filmmakers are pushing boundaries in Indonesian cinema right now?
It’s so important to make movies about real issues that are happening. I enjoy all types of movies. I love Indonesian romance movies — we have a lot of those — but, sometimes, it can all feel so similar. We want reformation; we want diversity. We want new voices.
I completely understand that talking about critical issues in this country takes a lot of courage, though. Take as an example, Lamtiar Simorangkir’s documentary, Invisible Hopes, about women who had to give birth in a prison in Indonesia. But no one talks about these types of films because everyone is afraid to talk about it.
That’s why I became a filmmaker. And yet, if I were to put out a film that explores a critical issue, I know that I would have actor friends in Indonesia who support me behind the scenes, but they would be scared to support my work in public. It’s daunting to attach yourself to issues of injustice in Indonesia. Unfortunately, that’s the environment we still live in. I hope that there will be more courage. At the end of the day, we’re all just fighting so that we can get to live in a better world. ♦