The New York Asian Film Festival took place between June 29 and July 15 in Manhattan. For more information about films and events, click here.
The most interesting part of Buffalo Boys came not during the movie itself, but during the Q&A that took place with director Mike Wiluan after the screening. A young woman, clearly shaken by the gory nature of the film, questioned him about what consideration he had given to portraying that level of violence.
The director gave a startling forthright answer about how he has, in the past, used violence for the sole purpose of shock value and to pander to what audiences seemed to crave.
He goes on to claim he had different intentions in mind for this film, but it’s hard to reconcile that stance with his answers to earlier, less pointed questions about influences and inspirations, where he invoked none other than Quentin Tarantino himself (rarely a good sign) and talked about wanting to create an epic, heightened fantasy version of the west, a hypothetical world parallel to our own but taken to a grander, hyperreal place.
In short, he wanted to give the Wild West of Indonesia their own legendary heroes and meld the best of America’s codified brand of myth building with the specific cultural values of Indonesia.
Yet for all the style, and all the claimed intent, there’s precious little that Buffalo Boys does that hasn’t been done in any other modern western.
Which is not to say it’s bad. It’s a beautiful looking film, and the expected thrills, when they come, are delivered with gusto. And unfortunately, we’re still not at a place in American film where the novelty of seeing two Asian leads save the day has worn off. So to an international audience, the mere act of seeing Ario Baryu and Yoshi Sudarso stepping into the shoes of Clint Eastwood and Charles Bronson still carries a significant transgressive frisson.
But there’s a certain… unpleasantness at the heart of the film. One that even a connoisseur of violence such as myself can’t entirely shake off.
There’s a fine line between depicting acts of cruelty and wallowing in them, and to the extent that the film plays in those areas I think Buffalo Boys has severely miscalculated.
It’s hard to argue with the feeling that that trembling, broken voiced woman had a point.
To dispense with the story in brief: brothers Jamar (Baryu) and Suwa (Sudarso) return to Java to avenge their father, who died at the hands of Von Trach, an exceedingly sadistic Dutchman whose military forces have a stranglehold over pretty much everything and everyone.
That’s about the size of it really.
Of course, when it comes to genre, the plot of a movie tends to matter far, far less than the execution (so to speak) of the various tropes and set pieces.
Having a shopworn story is not a sin.
Not delivering the goods?
That’s a cardinal one.
And whatever else its failings, Buffalo Boys does tend to deliver the goods. The action isn’t, perhaps, as frequent as one might hope, but by and large it delivers the goods.
It’s when the heroes aren’t in action that the movie’s problems start piling up.
Because the so-called ‘Buffalo Boys’ spend most of the film waiting to spring into action. Significant portions of the film are just them observing, waiting for the prime opportunity to strike.
Theirs is a journey from seeking vengeance to seeking justice, and so it makes sense that they must bear witness to a certain amount of suffering before making that progression.
It makes sense, in theory.
In practice, it’s atrocity after atrocity, piled up one after the other, a relentless dirge of tyranny that eventually starts to feel oppressive.
And it throws the movie out of whack; Van Trach is built up to be so powerful, so in control, and so absurdly monstrous that it starts to seem ridiculous that the brothers aren’t immediately swatted down. And every single thing he does is so brutal and cruel that at a certain point, no amount of comeuppance feels like enough.
But the deeper flaw is that it’s just not a very good performance. Reinout Bussemaker has the look down, but he’s so devoid of charisma that it makes his relentless sadism exhausting instead of chilling. A performer with more presence might have done wonders to make Van Trach a villain you’re dying to see get taken out, instead of the tiresome drain on proceedings he turns out to be.
On the other hand, his henchmen upstage him at every turn; from Drost (Daniel Adnan), the icy longhaired gunman, to Sakar (Donny Damara), the one-eyed comic relief sleazeball, they all feel truly in the heightened spirit that Wiluan claimed to be going for. They lend energy and a kind of Saturday morning sizzle the movie sorely needs to combat having a dud of a final boss.
As many problems as I had with elements of the film, even I have to concede that there are moments that truly get the blood pumping; enough of them to make you wish the film was a little bit more thoughtful about its intentions. Baryu and Sudarso give great iconic cowboy performances that deserve a better showcase. But a lackluster villain and the relentless callousness towards innocent victims leave a bad taste in the mouth.
