Khozy Rizal served double duty at the 28th Busan International Film Festival. On the one hand, his short film, Basri & Salma in a Never-ending Comedy, was part of the special program Renaissance of Indonesian Cinema. But he was also one of the fellows at this year’s Chanel X BIFF Asian Film Academy, an exclusive program that brings young Asia Filmmakers to Busan during the festival for several weeks to actually produce a short film. I was introduced to Rizal casually by the press office as a means of explaining the Academy, which they obviously wanted to promote, but the particular circumstances that brought him to Busan were so fascinating that we talked for the better part of 45 minutes. I learned a lot, not only about Indonesian cinema, but about the process of becoming a filmmaker when you essentially have nothing but your wits.

–How did you get into the Academy?

I submitted a questionnaire along with my work, two short films. But I didn’t go to film school. I learned filmmaking by watching lots of movies. 

–Is that the same with the other fellows?

I think most of them went to film school. During the motivational night I told them I’ve made 3 short films so far, but I don’t know the real work of filmmaking from the conventional filmmaking perspective, so I think I need to learn it from actual filmmakers. That’s why I wanted to be in the program.

–Have you always been a film buff?

Yeah, since I was 5 years old. When I was a kid in the early 2000s, the DVD era, I lived right next to a rental shop so if I had any money I would rent a DVD. It became a habit with me. Even when I grew up, when I was in junior high I would always watch films. 

–What kind of movies did you like?

I would say it shifted from time to time. When I was a kid I didn’t speak English at all, and watching films with subtitles was hard, so I always watched Indonesian films, usually horror movies. They used to have sex horror films, and lots of them. [laughs] And then when I was in high school, I became aware of several films that won Oscars, and my English skills improved and I started watching lots of films from America. And it shifted again when I was in college, so I moved out of my small city to study and watched more films and became aware of film festivals like Cannes. I later found out about non-Hollywood films and films from other foreign countries, so I started watching French films and became aware that there were so many great films in the world. 

–It’s always a very eye-opening realization.

I discovered all of these movies, and some of them were really connected to me in terms of issues that we dealt with in my country, and I thought, if I were a filmmaker I could make films that would attract the same kind of attention, but I wanted to direct it the way some directors I admired would direct it. When I graduated from college, I worked in an office from 9 to 5, and at night would go to cinemas. And I thought to myself, it would be great if I could direct a film talking about queer themes, but they would be characters from my home town and speak the same language. That would be really cool, but I didn’t have the chance to make it because I’m not in the film industry and didn’t know anybody in the film industry. Finally, I had the audacity to make something on my own. I made my first film with a smart phone. It was a short film about two young girls who happened to be in love and were attending an Islam boarding school. And I submitted it to a festival in Paris and it won.

–That’s great.

Yeah, I couldn’t believe it. It’s a secret film that I can’t really expose, but it’s called Anisap. And the award came with a money prize, which was really big—20,000 euros. I could make another short with it, but I didn’t know what to do with it. I don’t know anyone in the industry and I don’t know how to make films. So I texted or DMed every producer in Indonesia, and they either refused or didn’t even respond. Then I met with this scriptwriter who had encouraged me to make Anisap. He used to be my mentor. I had joined a master class with him and he encouraged me to make it. He thought I was a good storyteller. So I went back to him and said, “Maybe you’ve forgotten me, but you encouraged me to make a film and I did and it won. Do you know any producer that’s willing to make my film? I have money but no producer.” He introduced me to a producer in Indonesia and we made [my next film] together. It’s called Makassar, the City for Football Fans, and it went to Sundance in 2022. It’s a pretty rough title, 20 minutes long. At Sundance everybody was like, Who is this person? And I made another short film right after.

–Still on a smart phone?

No, but I might do that again in the future. 

–How did you find out about the Academy?

The producer of my first film also works for Busan. Even before I knew him I actually knew about the Academy because we have some filmmakers in Indonesia who attended back in 2005 and 2007, but I didn’t really have the courage to submit an application. Still, my producer told me I should try to get in. But I didn’t go to film school, I said, and he said, that’s the reason you should go. This was actually the second time I applied. The first time I was rejected.

–How did they inform you the second time?

One of the staff told me that even on my first attempt she was excited about letting me into the program, but for some reason they had to reject me. She really liked my film, and when I made a second attempt I was selected because the film I submitted was a much stronger film for them.

–You do have a film playing at the festival, right?

Yeah. But I told them the reason I wanted to apply and be part of the program is that in Indonesia we have lots of islands, lots of languages, but whenever people talk about Indonesian films they are always about Jakarta. I rarely see stories set in my region, the eastern part of Indonesia. That’s the reason.

–Have you seen the movies in the Indonesian section this year.

I saw most of them even before I came to Busan. I’ve seen all the shorts. 

–Can you give me an idea of the Indonesian film market. I only see Indonesian films at festivals, so I was wondering what the real market is like in Indonesia.

It’s huge. We have movie stars and big directors. And the thing is that even during COVID there was a fairly big audience in theaters. We had streaming platforms like Amazon, but watching movies in theaters is part of our culture. With all of those things we faced we still managed to get 10 million people paying for one film, the highest grossing film in Indonesia in 2022, right after COVID. I think Indonesians, or most of them, think of entertainment as watching films in theaters. It’s what you do with your family. Usually it’s horror films.

–Most of the mainstream Indonesian films I’ve seen are horror films.

But we don’t really have much options. We don’t have other films that are produced differently. We have so many films that go to festivals, but because the way they are packaged the storytelling is different, and so they don’t get much money for the production. 

–So there are independent movies released in Indonesia?

They are screened at regular theaters, but it’s hard, because independent films don’t attract a big audience. Often they are sold directly to streaming platforms. I would rather watch these films in theaters, but since they don’t expect a big audience for a theatrical release they may sell it directly to a streamer.

–Do you yourself aspire to be a mainstream filmmaker in Indonesia?

I do, sometime in the future. I’ve always wanted to connect with a large audience through my films, but I also want to express personal feelings. I have a strategy for my first and second features. They will come from my personal experiences, and after that I hope to make mainstream films.

–But it sounds like you want to show life in Indonesia outside of Jakarta. 

In my city we have this culture that we are proud of, and our own language. Even the shittier movies that are set in my home town will get a big response from audiences in the area. It will receive a lot of attendance in Makkassar, even if it doesn’t get shown in Jakarta. They will always go to watch it. It’s a pride thing. 

–Are there taboos and restrictions as to what you can talk about?

Of course. We have a censorship board. It’s one of the problems I’m facing because my first feature would be a queer film, and most of the producers would be reluctant to produce it, not because they’re homophobic—they aren’t—it’s just the censorship. Amd they’d be afraid of not being able to recoup the money they spent. They know that the Indonesian market is so big, but your film will be difficult to screen in a regular theater due to censorship issues and the possible response. 

–I’m familiar with foreign musicians having restrictions on what they can say and wear when they perform in Indonesia.

There are so many restrictions. They don’t allow us to make queer films. They don’t allow us to show nudity or lots of profanity and violence. Also we can’t make films about communism, even if you try to talk about communism in a subtle way.

–What about in a historical way?

It’s still really hard.

–Did you finish making your Academy film?

We finished production 3 days ago and now we’re in post-production. We just locked editing and will do the color. The films are screened on October 12. There are always 24 fellows split into two groups: four directors, four DOPs, one production designer, one sound person, one editor. And we produce a film together. It’s super interesting. 

–You have a limited amount of time in which to make a complete short film.

And all four directors have to end up on the same page. [laughs] It’s pretty hard, actually. 

–Is that the most difficult aspect, coming together on decisions?

We all came from different backgrounds. The directors in my group include one female director from Kyrghizstan, an Iranian filmmaker, I’m Indonesian, and another from Syria. We had some frictions because of communication. We talk really differently. Our body language is different. Sometimes we receive information differently, maybe negatively though it isn’t meant that way. The script we chose to do—the original writer was quite attached to it, and once we started discussing how to improve it she had problems. Like, this doesn’t make sense, and in this scene we should change it in this way. Eventually, she said you can do anything you want. It’s pretty intense. 

–How does the dean, Nobuhiro Suwa, participate in these activities?

He comes to the production and gives interesting advice. It’s not a lecture type thing. He comes to the production site and sees the way we direct and offers advice. He also gives advice on editing.

–I assume everybody has their own ideas, so the most vital instruction would be on technical matters—how to get what you want done.

He doesn’t interrupt. 

–And all the students speak English?

Yes. Suwa-san speaks in Japanese, which is interpreted into Korean by a translator and then the Korean is translated by someone else into English. It’s quite a process.