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Jakarta Globe Saturday/Sunday, December 13/14, 2008

A Day With a Screen Legend

These are the consequences of the decisions I have made throughout my life. So I have to be consistent with my choices, Hakim says. In a way it is a moral burden if I choose to let go of my commitments because at times they involve the livelihoods of others. Hakims compassion for others and her nationalism are evident in the roles she has chosen to play in films such as Daun Di Atas Bantal (Leaf on a Pillow), about the lives of street children; Serambi (Verandah), about the aftermath of the tsunami in Aceh; and Cut Nyak Dhien, about an Acehnese freedom fighter. Hakim is also an advocate for public education and childrens welfare. If I can help someone who is in need and release them from their troubles that is what makes me smile, she says. When I am in trouble and help comes my way, it is an incredible feeling. Because I have felt that, I want others to feel the same. In 2008, Hakim was appointed by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, or Unesco, to be a Goodwill Ambassador for Teacher Education in Southeast Asia. Her own foundation, The Christine Hakim Foundation, provides nutrition for malnourished children in West Java Province. We [as public figures] do not always have to contribute to the community, but perhaps I want to give meaning to my own life. I feel if I do things only for myself then my life is less meaningful. But if my life can give meaning to others, then it has more purpose. A friend decides to fly back to Jakarta with Hakim and takes the last available seat in economy. Without a second thought, Hakim gives up her business-class seat to her friend. I much prefer sitting in the back of the plane, she says, waiting patiently for the crowded line to move forward. Besides, it is the safest place in case of a crash. At lunchtime, Hakim takes out a brown paper package of rice from her favorite street sound rigs are strewn around the area. Hakim recognizes a few of the crew members and stops to chat. They discuss a movie that is currently in production in Jakarta. The verdict is not good. Hakim shakes her head sadly. That film has been rife with problems from the start, she says. Once in her car, Hakim sinks back into her seat, clearly travel-weary. On three occasions I wanted to stop making films she discloses, pausing for thought. But my soul is in film. As humans, we all have a calling. We all have our own duties to fulfill of that I am convinced. Whenever I face a major predicament, in other aspects of my life positive things, such as recognition for my work, appear. So how can I stop? These awards symbolize peoples hopes and appreciation their support. And so I continue, Hakim says. Back at her office in South Jakarta, Hakim rolls out a mat and begins to pray. The soft recitation of bismillah in the name of Allah resonates throughout the room. After praying , she changes into a boldly patterned top and a ruby-red Spanish-style tiered skirt. Hakim says she does not find it hard to be a woman working in a patriarchal culture. I do not want to be a man. My femininity has become my strength. It sets me apart from men. It is an asset, she says. In life, you have to be able to be tender and hard. I can be hard, believe it or not, she says. Darkness hangs over the capital as Hakim makes her way to a gallery opening, where she is guest of honor. In the end, it is my life, she says. But when people already respect and believe in me, they only want to see me as that person [they see onscreen]. They need to understand that I am also human and can also make mistakes. She reaches her destination and glides out of the car with a grand smile for the wall of photographers who greet her. Then Christine Hakim disappears into the throng.
Actress and producer Christine Hakim with Phillipe Zeller, the French ambassador to Indonesia, and Sigit Pramono, the publisher of the Jakarta Globe, at the opening of a French photography exhibition in Central Jakarta. Above: AFP Photo/ Mychele Danau, Left: JG Photo/ Titania Veda.

Playing out her life on celluloid, whether it is as an Acehnese rebel, the mother of street children or even a prostitute , Christine Hakim has a strength that runs counter to her glamor queen reputation

Report Titania Veda

t is noon when Christine Hakim makes an entrance on the staircase of a hotel on Bali Island. The weather is balmy and the air has a faint smell of salt. Hakim wears a batik shirt with a cloud pattern and a jade-green lizard-skin tote bag slung over her shoulder. Her signature streak of green hair is barely noticeable when pulled tightly back. Hakim runs into Trade Minister Mari Elka Pangestu, who has just addressed a conference, at the reception desk. The press immediately swarm around them. Mbak Christine! the photographers and journalists call out. Hakim answers questions with good humor and the poise that comes from being in the public eye for more than three decades. There is still no one in the film industry who can rival her, whispers a journalist. Since Hakim launched her acting career in Teguh Karyas Cinta Pertama (First Love) in 1973, barely an unkind word has been written about her in the media. It is not hard to see why. As I age, my maternal side develops. I treat them like they are my children, even the older journalists, Hakim says. I jest with them, pretending to be difficult. They in turn try to coax me, as a child would coax their mother for a treat, to give them an interview, she adds with a wink. After the press conference, Hakim heads for the airport. The appearance of her very famous face the vermilion lips, the warm eyes under darkened lashes, the beauty spot causes many people to do a double take. Besides being a screen icon, Hakim was the first Indonesian to be invited to sit on the jury of the prestigious Cannes International Film Festival and she also graced the cover of TIME magazine as one of their Asian heroes of 2004 for her contributions to film and society. Yet it is with a deep sigh that she sums up her life in the limelight in one word: heavy. It was my never my intention to end up this way. I just wanted to be a good person, she says, referring to her humanitarian work.

When I am in trouble and help comes my way, it is an incredible feeling. Because I have felt that, I want others to feel the same.
Christine Hakim

stall in Bali. She politely refuses a stewardesss offer of utensils. Her down-to-earth attitude sitting in economy, eating rice with her hands appears to puzzle the other passengers, who watch her constantly. Acting is a profession, just like any other. Life does not only encompass acting, Hakim says. The gist of life is not there [in film] but comes back to my existence as a human being. There is no difference between one person and another. We all have pluses and minuses. I do not feel I am better than anyone else. Arriving at Jakartas Soekarno-Hatta airport, Hakim sails through immigration, past a sea of officials smiles. The kindness of others makes my life easier, but it has also become a burden for me. People are nice to me because they appreciate, respect and believe in me. In that sense, I have to tread carefully so as to not disappoint anyone. The arrival hall is almost empty aside from a film crew on break. Their camera and

Vintage Eastwood Makes Gran Torino Worth the Ride

At this point in his career, when Clint Eastwood stars in and directs a film, all bets are off. Things that would be old-school and sentimental in other hands morph into something different when he is involved. If Tina Turners motto is that she doesnt do anything nice and easy, Eastwoods would be that the ordinary is just not his style. Which brings us to Gran Torino, Eastwoods second directing project this fall, his first work as an actor since 2004s Million Dollar Baby and a film that would be less interesting if he were not involved. Working from a script by first-time screenwriter Nick Schenk, Eastwood has, with his impeccable directing style and acting presence, turned Gran Torino into another in his ongoing series of films that ponder violence, its place and its cost. It combines sentiment and shootouts, the serious and the studio, in a way that has become Eastwoods own. It is also a film that is impossible to imagine without the actor in the title role. The notion of a 78-year-old action hero may sound like a contradiction in terms, but Eastwood brings it off, even if his toughness is as much verbal as physical. Even at 78, Eastwood can make Get off my lawn sound as menacing as Make my day, and when he says, I blow a hole in your face and sleep like a baby, he sounds as if he means it. Eastwood plays retired worker Walt Kowalski (a distant relation of Brandos Stanley, perhaps), a man with a formidable scowl and the temperament to go with it. Kowalski is Mr. Fed Up, someone with a bad word for everyone, whether it be feckless sons, pierced grandchildren or priests he considers to be too young to pry into his life. Newly widowed, Kowalski is especially upset with changes going on in his Detroit neighborhood. Hmong immigrants, refugees from Southeast Asia and especially Vietnam, where the Hmong helped American troops during the war, have moved in everywhere, even next-door. An equal opportunity bigot whose R-rated language (fishheads is about the only printable epithet he uses) flays all immigrant groups equally, Kowalskis blinding prejudice comes in part from memories of experiences in the Korean War he is doing his best to repress. This role may sound like standard Archie Bunker, but it is hard to resist when Eastwood, an actor with presence to burn and who snarls dialogue like a cornered wolf, takes it on. Perhaps the best thing about Shenks script is that it enticed Eastwood to end his selfimposed acting hiatus and bring his one-of-akind aura back to the screen. Classically against his will, Kowalski is drawn into the life of the neighborhood, specifically the plight of Thao, played by Bee Vang, the fatherless teenage boy next door who is being pressured to join a local Hmong gang and foolishly attempts to steal Kowalskis prize Ford Gran Torino. Kowalski also likes the sassiness of Thaos slightly older sister Sue, played by Ahney Her, an actress who like the rest of the neighbors is a member of the Hmong community. As this closeness grows, Gran Torino will start to feel familiar and create concern that this is all there is to the film. It is familiar, but only up to a point. Suddenly, that point is past and much more serious questions come up, questions of responsibility, of vengeance, of the efficacy of blood for blood. These questions seem to take Kowalski by surprise. Its almost as if Eastwood all at once finds himself in a different movie than either he, or us, really expected. But if the past few years prove anything, its that anywhere Eastwood is, moviegoers are wise to go. Los Angeles Times

Gran Torino, Clint Eastwoods second directing project this fall, is his first work as an actor since 2004s Million Dollar Baby, which won the Oscar for Best Picture. AP Photo/Chris Pizzello

Eastwood, an actor with presence to burn and who snarls dialogue like a cornered wolf, brings his one-of-a-kind aura back to the screen