Quarterly Review of Film and Video

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Deconstructing Pocong, the Indonesian Sacred

Ghost: A Diachronic Analysis of Mumun (2022),
Indonesian Contemporary Horror Film

Justito Adiprasetio & Annissa Winda Larasati

To cite this article: Justito Adiprasetio & Annissa Winda Larasati (2023): Deconstructing
Pocong, the Indonesian Sacred Ghost: A Diachronic Analysis of Mumun (2022),
Indonesian Contemporary Horror Film, Quarterly Review of Film and Video, DOI:
10.1080/10509208.2023.2230116

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/10509208.2023.2230116

Published online: 01 Aug 2023.

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QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO
https://doi.org/10.1080/10509208.2023.2230116

Deconstructing Pocong, the Indonesian Sacred Ghost: A

Diachronic Analysis of Mumun (2022), Indonesian
Contemporary Horror Film
Justito Adiprasetio and Annissa Winda Larasati

Introduction
A body wrapped in a white cloth with tightly bound shroud strings,
smeared with soil, packed with maggots, jumping and flying aggressively,
strangling, spewing bodily fluids through the mouth, emitting green light
from the eyes, seeking revenge and killing, becomes elements of the repre-
sentation of the pocong in Mumun (2022). Mumun (2022) manifests how
the lurking pocong within the universe of Indonesian society’s fears is pre-
sented on the contemporary Indonesian cinema screen. The pocong in
Mumun (2022) becomes an iconography of a ghost, which, although resur-
rected from an Indonesian soap opera from mid-2002 to 2003, possesses
both generic and unique characteristics. Generic because it is presented in
similarity to the patterns of many Indonesian horror films post-reforma-
tion, after the fall of the authoritarian New Order regime. Unique because,
even though its representation is closely related to Islamic religious rituals,
the pocong as a ghost does not (ever) dominantly occupy the cinema
screens of other major Islamic countries such as Malaysia, Brunei, or even
Middle Eastern countries. Prior to the reformation, one would also not
find the pocong dominating Indonesian cinema screened three decades ago.
At that time, no flying pocong or pocong could spew and vomit disgusting
bodily fluids or emit green light from their eyes. Mumun (2022) stands as
evidence of how ghosts in Indonesian films are representations of various
discursive intersections, influenced by discursive practices, and even hybri-
dized with other ghost representations.
Pocong refers to a spectral entity in South East Asia folklore. It is
believed to be the spirit of a deceased individual ensnared within their bur-
ial shroud. Referred to as “kain kafan” in Indonesian, this shroud is a
Justito Adiprasetio is an Assistant Professor at the Faculty of Communication Science, Universitas Padjadjaran.
He and his wife wrote Memaksa Ibu jadi Hantu (Mother Who Forced to Haunt). He also wrote Komunikasi dan
Kuasa (Communication and Power), which discusses the history of communication science in Indonesia.
Annissa Winda Larasati currently works as an adjunct lecturer in Television & Film Studies, Universitas
Padjadjaran. Along with her husband, she wrote her first ever book which discussed maternal horror in
Indonesian films was published under the title of Memaksa Ibu Menjadi Hantu (Mother Who Forced to Haunt)
on 2022.
ß 2023 Taylor & Francis Group, LLC
2 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

specific length of white fabric traditionally used in Islamic funeral rites to

envelop the deceased. The lifeless body is draped in a white cloth that is
fastened over the head, under the feet, and around the neck (Good &
Good, 2020). Based on traditional belief, following a person’s demise, their
soul remains on earth for 40 days. If, after this period, the fastenings on the
burial shroud are not undone, it is said that the deceased’s body will
emerge from the grave as a warning, indicating that the soul must be set
free (Thompson, 2019). Once the ties are undone, the soul will depart from
the earth permanently. Due to the appearance of traditional Indonesian
burial shrouds, Pocong entities have acquired the moniker of “candy
ghosts” in Western contexts. Mumun (2022) adopts folklore with various
aspects of the story and represents a typical figure of pocong. Mumun
(2022) is one of the main Indonesian films that rely on pocong to frighten
audiences, especially after the Indonesian film industry rose after the fall of
the New Order authoritarian regime.
During the era of the authoritarian New Order in Indonesia, the domin-
ant power of the government influenced the cinema industry, reflecting the
state’s ideology and political economy through regulations, censorship, con-
trol, and ownership. After 1998, the fall of President Soeharto, there has
been a shift in Indonesian cinema, and audiences have taken on a more
significant role as consumers driven by their own tastes, fashion preferen-
ces, and desire for identity expression, instead of being considered as a
homogenous mass as they were previously controlled by the state (Barker,
2019).
The resurgence of Indonesian horror films occurred after the downfall of
the authoritarian regime of the New Order and took place during the same
period as the release of Ringu (1998) and The Ring (2002). The revival of
Indonesian horror films initially rode the wave known as the New Asian
Horror. One of the key moments in the revival of Indonesian horror films
was Jelangkung (2001), considered one of Indonesia’s most successful films
post-reformation (Sutandio, 2012). Jelangkung (2001) marked the resur-
gence of Indonesian horror films, following the setback of the national film
industry due to the influx of imported films and the occurrence of the
monetary crisis (Sasono, 2011). After Jelangkung (2001), a distinctive char-
acteristic is that Indonesian films were flooded with supernatural horror
movies featuring various ghosts and monsters, with storylines intersecting
with religious aspects, and Mumun (2022) is one of them (Larasati &
Adiprasetio, 2022).
Mumun (2022) cannot be considered a successful Indonesian film.
Although it achieved significant financial profits, these profits did not dir-
ectly correlate with the critical reception from reviewers and film critics.
Mumun (2022) criticized as one of the overly banal archetypes of post-
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 3

reformation horror films that rely on the pocong. Offering no novelty or

surprises, Mumun (2022) falls into the tideous and monotonous narrative
of the classic pocong. Mumun is a hit-and-run accident victim with unfin-
ished burial rituals harboring unresolved revenge and love. Presented with
B-rated film quality and typical comedic elements, Mumun (2022) stands as
a monument to how contemporary pocong films fail to haunt and instead
become mockery. Mumun (2022) is comparable to Rings (2017) and
Blumhouse’s Fantasy Island (2020) in the discourse of US films: attempts to
resurrect existing horror but ultimately trapped in patterns, structures, and
representations that fail to immerse viewers in fear.
Horror cinema essentially offers more than just reflections or indica-
tions of the psyche, fears, and collective thoughts; they also provide a ful-
ler and more manageable space to negotiate complex cultural experiences
on a large scale in the real world. Through its generic aim to disgust,
frighten, or anger its audience, horror can confront viewers with revela-
tions about reality. While Mumun (2022) generally tends to fail in deliv-
ering these objectives, we can still interpret Mumun (2022) as part of the
resonating echoes of our fears regarding religious and supernatural ele-
ments post-reformation. Indonesian society fear or lack thereof toward
the pocong, the main ghost in Mumun (2022), ultimately reflects two
things: our socio-cultural dynamics in perceiving horror and ghosts and
Indonesia cinema’s success or failure in (re)producing the pocong in
films.
This article, using Mumun (2022) as its primary object of analysis dem-
onstrates how the dynamics of Indonesian society’s fear of the pocong is
the result of intersections between cinema, trans-media, trans-popular cul-
ture, and even involving transnational discourse. This article based on the
assumption that cinema is part of the semiosphere—the semiotics of cul-
ture—where the horror film genre is one of the semiotic objects that dir-
ectly responds to other semiotic objects (Lotman & Clark, 2005).
Therefore, isolating the film and its various elements as independent
objects is impossible. The interpretation of horror films should consider
the audience and how the combination of signs produces specific mean-
ings within larger signifying structures embedded in social contexts
(Altman, 1999).
This research attempts to read diachronically how the pocong enters cin-
ema screen, and becomes a part of the dynamics of fear in Indonesian soci-
ety. As explained and exemplified by Foucault, the diachronic dimension
can be unraveled not only by mapping the continuity of discourses but by
unraveling the complexities of mutations, transformations, modifications,
and even discontinuities within the discursive order that operate in human
history today (Foucault, 2005, 1976).
4 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

Mainstreaming Pocong: New Piety, Transnationality, and Transmedia

Storytelling
Mumun (2022) tells the story of a couple, Mumun and Juned. Their love
story comes to an end after Mumun gets into an accident and is hit by a
car. Juned, who loses Mumun, tries to come to terms with the loss of his
beloved. However, on the day of the funeral, Husein, the gravedigger, for-
gets to untie Mumun’s pocong shroud in the Islamic burial ritual. As a
result, the pocong of Mumun roams around, frightening the villagers as
they search for the cause and who is responsible for her death.
Loosely quoting Freud, at times, a dead body is just a corpse, but at
other times, that corpse becomes intertwined with social discourse, ideas,
attitudes, and fears (Freud, 2003). In Stephen King’s words, horror “they
often serve as an extraordinarily accurate barometer of those things which
trouble the night-thoughts of a whole society (King, 2010).” The pocong, as
a haunting figure in Mumun (2022), becomes a site of intersection between
vengeance, unfinished worldly affairs, and incomplete burial Islamic rituals.
The pocong becomes an artifact representing the fear of the space between
the real world where humans live and the imaginary supernatural world.
The pocong also represents the continued influx of new Islamic piety into
popular Indonesian cinema after the reform era.
The opening film that represented the pocong in the realm of Indonesian
cinema after the reform era, after the fall of the authoritarian New Order
regime was Pocong 2 (2006). This film was a revised version of Pocong
(2006), which was not allowed to be released due to concerns that it would
evoke trauma related to the violent events of Indonesia’s 1998 reformation.
Pocong 2 (2006) tells the story of two siblings, Maya and Andin, who are
haunted by pocong after moving into a new apartment. After some time, it
is revealed that the pocong that are haunting them are victims of murder
committed by Wisnu, who experienced trauma from the rape and murder
of his sister in the past. Unable to accept what happened to his sister, he
starts targeting young women to be killed, wrapped in burial shrouds, and
buried alive, similar to what he did to Andin.
Post-reformation, especially after the release of Pocong 2 (2006), directed
by Rudi Soedjarwo, the pocong has been repeatedly resurrected to haunt
the screens of Indonesian cinema. Based on the author’s records from the
period of 2000–2020, 37 Indonesian horror films represent the pocong as
their main ghost (The author excludes films that use the term ’pocong’ but
do not explicitly depict the representation of the pocong like in these films
such as Sumpah Pocong di Sekolah (2008) and Pocong Setan Jompo (2009).
This number is significantly large, especially compared to the representa-
tion of the pocong in horror films before 1998. Based on the author’s
research, during 1970–1998, only one film explicitly featured the pocong as
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 5

the main ghost: Setan Kuburan (1975). The emergence and significant
increase in quantity indicate a change and elevation in the position of the
pocong within the realm of fear in Indonesian society after the reformation.
Looking back, Setan Kuburan (1975) utilizes a slightly different formula
compared to Mumun (2022) as it does not involve romance but still
emphasizes unresolved matters. Setan Kuburan (1975) tells the story of a
moneylender in a village who dies after being crushed by a tree. In Setan
Kuburan (1975), the pocong is represented as being jumped over by a black
cat, which later causes it to wander and demand payment from those who
have not yet repaid their debts.
Although some films represented pocong as a ghost, such as in Malam
Satu Suro (1988), pocong never became the main ghost in films over a long
period. Pocong only served as a representation of the ghostly manifestation
element that later transformed into other ghosts, such as sundel bolong in
Malam Satu Suro (1988), or as an addition to add a sense of terror in the
final part of the film, as seen in Pengabdi Setan (1980).
The time gap of over three decades between Setan Kuburan (1975) and
the Pocong 2 (2006), which emerged in the mid-2000s, raises the question:
What laid the foundation for the resurgence of pocong in the Indonesian
horror film repertoire?
The emergence of Pocong 2 (2006), followed by a series of other pocong
films, including Mumun (2022), indicates a shift in the discourse of fear in
Indonesian society. Larasati dan Adiprasetio (2022) captures the significant
increase in Indonesian horror films, particularly in the spiritual horror
genre that relies on religious nuances, in the post-reform era. Pocong as a
ghost is resurrected amidst the bustling atmosphere of post-reform carnival
haunted house.
The representation of pocong becomes a symptom of the increasingly
close relationship of Indonesians with supernatural and religious discourse.
It becomes part of the Indonesian people’s fantasy to explain the uncertain
things on the border of reality and the vague: the reality of the afterlife and
the relationship between the living and the dead (Hutchings, 2014). In
order to bind and delve into the pocong, we can turn to Freud’s explan-
ation that ghosts and perceptions of ghosts stem from something repressed
and hidden in the deepest recesses of the subconscious. The influence of
religion and beliefs in the supernatural awaken the realm of the uncanny—
a Freudian term difficult to translate—and make many people feel as
though they have experiences with the dead, corpses, and their return.
Indonesians’ fear of pocong arises from the “an uncanny effect often arises
when the boundary between fantasy and reality is blurred, when we are
faced with the reality of something that we have until now considered
imaginary, when a symbol takes on the full function and significance of
what it symbolizes (Freud, 2003).”
6 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

Pocong is usually depicted as originating from certain places considered

sacred or “keramat” such as graveyards or locations with previous mystical
stories or places where the death occurred (Sutandio, 2014). The ancient tra-
ditions of Southeast Asia, which Hinduism and syncretic local religions domi-
nated, believed that the spirits of the deceased would not immediately
disappear upon transitioning to the afterlife. Despite the ritual of pocong
being part of Islamic practices, this belief system does not solely rely on spe-
cific Islamic beliefs (Wilkinson, 1906). The blending of old beliefs and Islam
has made the pocong a distinct representation of a ghost in Southeast Asia.
This explains why representations of ghosts like pocong are rarely found in
other Islamic cultures, such as the Middle East, Africa, or other parts of Asia.
Rakhmani’s study (2014) demonstrates how the consolidation of com-
mercial television dynamics and the rise of new religious fervor in society,
particularly after the reform era, have led to the incorporation of Islamic
symbols on television. The representation of Islam, which cannot be
rejected by both vocal and moralistic Muslim viewers and the diverse gen-
eral audience, has gained a privileged position during prime-time television.
The stable business agreements between media organizations have pro-
pelled the wave toward “mainstream Islam,” reflecting the symbiosis
between the growing influence of Islam and commercialization in the
Indonesian television industry (Rakhmani, 2014). The soap opera Jadi
Pocong (2002–2003), which serves as a reference for the film Mumun
(2022), is part of this mainstreaming process, particularly within the realm
of horror with religious undertones. The presence of the pocong ghost rep-
resents a spiritual turn in the discourse field of Indonesian cinema.
The term “spiritual turn” refers to a significant increase in spiritual hor-
ror and the diminishing presence of other horror genres such as monsters,
slashers, and psychological horror, especially when compared to Indonesian
horror films of the 1970s and 1980s (Larasati & Adiprasetio, 2022). The
spiritual turn also saturates the discourse of Indonesian horror films after
the reform era with ideas about the intersection of the physical and spirit-
ual worlds, usually aiming to convey the notion that the spiritual realm has
something important to tell, remind, and pass on (Cherry, 2009). So far,
the most popular discourse in spiritual horror is a variation of the
Freudian concept of the “return of the repressed.” One of the most com-
mon depictions is the unjustly killed entity making contact with the living
to unravel the mystery of their death. Sundel bolong1, kuntilanak2, and vari-
ous modified and transfigured variants such as “suster ngesot” (crawling
nurse)3 and the pocong itself rely on the same anchor. However, the spirit-
ual turn alone cannot fully explain why, within the realm of signification,
the pocong resurfaced only after more than two decades of being buried,
specifically in the post-reform era.
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 7

Several scholars have attempted to explain the phenomenon of the emer-

gence and mainstreaming of pocong. One argument often cited by film
pundits refers to what Ekky Imanjaya and Nayla Majestya presented during
their presentation at the Madani International Film Festival 2022. Ekky and
Nayla explain that the increase in pocong films is due to a tendency of
“exploitation” in Indonesian cinema, which also intersects with the main-
streaming of Islam (Madani International Film Festival, 2022). That explan-
ation may answer how a genre, representation, or element in the film is
repeatedly depicted in film reproduction at a particular moment. However,
is not the argument about exploitation not specific to pocong as a ghost in
Indonesian films? Couldn’t the argument also be used to explain why kun-
tilanak is repeatedly reproduced in Indonesian films, or lady in white, vam-
pire, and zombie representations, as well as other ghost representations?
Even for other genres, aside from horror, that is excessively reproduced for
capital accumulation? However, the argument that pocong exists due to the
exploitation of Islamic or Madani-themed ghosts does not consider pocong
as a particular phenomenon. It also fails to consider the discursive practi-
ces, particularly intertextuality and interdiscursivity, of pocong films with
other cinematic texts or texts outside of cinema.
By examining the visual traces of pocong that emerged in the early
2000s, the author sees pocong as a signifier of terror in films that is a con-
sequence of the intertextual and interdiscursive effects of pocong represen-
tations within the structure of media signification and other platforms
(Lim, 2007). Pocong has become part of transmedia storytelling that visually
emerges in the post-reform era.
The existence of technology and media is essentially not substitutive but
complementary in a grand narrative, operating within a wide range, from
religion to the state governmentality or from capitalism to the imagination
of a frightening supernatural world (Ferguson, 2013). Whether intentional
or not, the interconnectedness of one story with another, with similar fig-
ures and congruent horrors across various mediums, will drive the creation
of fearful imagination within a large audience scope. In the past, horror
stories moved and spread slowly, merely within the realm of conversation,
but with transmedia storytelling, fear can be easily transmitted and subse-
quently ingrained through continuous repetition (Ndalianis, 2012).
The print media that bombarded pocong visuality and narrative was
Hidayah, the magazine with the largest circulation in Indonesia from 2000
to 2004. Although there were magazines before that exposed mysticism,
such as Misteri, and focused on content with an Islamic theme like Sabili,
Hidayah was the only publication in the form of a magazine that promin-
ently showcased pocong visuality on its cover pages and content.
Hidayah, a spin-off magazine from a similarly titled magazine in
Malaysia, had a significant influence on embedding the horror of Islamic
8 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

mysticism in readers’ minds, starting from the early period of 2001. The
early editions of Hidayah itself were taken and adapted from the best mate-
rials of the Malaysian edition of Hidayah. The explosive rise in Hidayah’s
circulation in 2004, reaching 320,000 copies per edition, surpassed not only
the circulation of the magazine in its home country but also outperformed
all other publications that had emerged earlier and had a long track record
in the competitive media landscape in Indonesia, such as Gadis, Kartini,
Tempo, and Intisari (Irawanto, 2011). This indicates that Hidayah became
one of the most influential media outlets at that time. The massive circula-
tion of Hidayah exemplifies how pocong could be quickly revived within
the realms of horror in Indonesian society in a relatively short period.4
Hidayah magazine was first published in October 1998 in Malaysia under
the Varia Group in a digest format.5 During that period, 30 mystery maga-
zines were published monthly in Malaysia in the same format. Although it
had a large audience, Hidayah was not Malaysia’s most prominent Islamic
or mystical media at that time (Supriansyah, 2007). The emergence of
pocong in visual representations post-reformation owes its debt to a trans-
national exchange involving aspects of dakwah (Islamic propagation)
between Indonesia and Malaysia. Malaysian horror films in the 2000s that
exploited the pocong (known as “hantu bungkus” in Malaysian terminology)
were released after pocong had become one of the dominant visual objects
in Indonesian cinema, as seen in Hantu Pocong Ikat Tepi (2015).
Unlike magazines such as Suara Quran, Kasyaf, and Cahaya Sufi, where
the dominant discourse revolves around the spiritual and esoteric aspects
of Islam and its dissemination in Indonesia, or media outlets like Sabili,
Suara Hidayatullah, and Media Dakwah, which have heavily politicized
content, particularly in their criticism of modern democracy, Hidayah tends
to focus on mystical stories packaged with religious teachings: what should
be done, what should not be done, and the rewards for each action
(Irawanto, 2011). Although it contains inspiring stories about how good
deeds are rewarded in a religious context, the most dominant stories in
Hidayah are about punishments, curses, and supernatural occurrences in
the afterlife or the realm of the grave due to not following religious com-
mands, breaking prohibitions, or harming others. The stories revolve
around bizarre, grotesque, and even astonishing events.6
Exposure to post-death conditions and the realm of the grave results in
stories and visual representations packaged within the magazine covers and
illustrations that are heavily dominated by the figure of a corpse, specific-
ally the pocong. Hidayah repeatedly features the pocong on its covers in ter-
rifying conditions: covered in blood, chained, entangled, submerged, and
restrained. Hidayah presents religious horror even before readers have a
chance to open the pages of the magazine. Hidayah became the first and
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 9

most consistent media platform after the reform era, associating the pocong
with horror and promoting it to the Indonesian public.
This can be understood when the pocong and the horror that had
emerged in print media later infiltrated television through the soap opera
Jadi Pocong (2002–2003). Although at the time, the director of Jadi Pocong
(2002–2003) claimed that it was based on Betawi folklore that had existed
for years, the fact that it appeared after Hidayah magazine had filled the
racks of newspapers and magazines throughout Jakarta and even Indonesia,
indicates that it ultimately benefited from the mainstreaming of the pocong
that had been established earlier.
Hidayah was later adapted into a soap opera format from 2005 to 2007.
Each episode of the soap opera Hidayah (2005–2007) stands independently,
without continuity between one episode and another. Similar to what was
presented in the magazine format, the moral messages in each story are
displayed explicitly. “Azab” (divine punishment) is the most dominant
theme in the soap opera Hidayah (2005–2007). Although the representation
of pocong is not as explicit as in the magazine format, the depiction of
pocong being subjected to curses can still be seen in many episodes.
The continuous and tense bombardment of visuality in print media and
television played a crucial role in constructing the audience’s imaginative
universe regarding pocong in the early 2000s. This discourse formation gave
rise to films like Pocong 2 (2006), other pocong-themed films, and even
Mumun (2022). These media outlets employed what Jenkins (2010) called
transmedia storytelling. Transmedia storytelling is a technique of storytell-
ing and sharing experiences that transcends platforms and media formats,
involving multiple storytellers and relying on signification that can some-
times be arbitrary but remains bound to the context (Jenkins, 2010).
The significant context of transmedia storytelling within the realm of
Indonesian religious horror narratives, particularly regarding pocong, is
influenced by the resurgence of Islam due to populism and the main-
streaming of Islam in the media, as eloquently described by Hadiz (2016)
and Rakhmani (2017). Hidayah, the soap opera Jadi Pocong (2002–2003),
and the film Pocong 2 (2006) are part of the religious discourse framework
that encourages the audience to differentiate between the physical world
and the realm of the supernatural, a dimension that presents a diverse
array of creatures, ghosts, monsters with various characters and forms.
Most spiritual horror films are derived from or become contemporary
versions of folklore and mythology intertwined with religious aspects
(Balmain, 2008; Koven, 2023). Folklore and mythology blur the boundaries
between reality and fiction: the origins of their stories are often claimed to
be based on true events. It is common for each edition of Hidayah to be
claimed as derived from a “true” story that offers moral lessons, as well as
10 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

the stories of Jadi Pocong (2002–2003) and Mumun (2023), which are
labeled as retellings of actual events.
Many ghost stories from the past have been reincarnated multiple times,
then retold with ornaments and modifications in the following generations,
allowing Western ghost and monster figures such as lady in white, bell
witch, bloody mary, Frankenstein, Dracula, and vampires to endure for
hundreds of years and be resurrected multiple times in films. The same
goes for adaptations of events considered real and existing, such as The
Exorcist (1973), The Conjuring series (2013, 2016, 2021), and Annabelle
(2019). The possibility of reviving various forms of ghosts as symbols of
terror involve more than one media product. The nature and narrative
structure of the horror genre are almost always transmedia to successfully
enter the realm of fear (Carrol, 1990). The collective efforts of the media
lead us to resurrect the once faint presence of the pocong, popularize it,
and force Indonesian audiences to become familiar with Mumun (2022).
Transmedia storytelling serves as a mechanism that enables the resurrec-
tion of the pocong within the semiosphere of Indonesian horror films in
the 2000s. Various media outlets then creatively tell stories about the ori-
gins of the pocong, its experiences, and how it becomes a body that never
truly dies. Transmedia storytelling also builds familiarity among the public,
associating the pocong closely with curses, horror, and terror (Harvey,
2019). Within the realm of the pocong in Indonesia, its stories spread
through digital forums such as Facebook, Kaskus, and Twitter. The Twitter
account @poconggg, created in 2009, narrates pocong and horror stories,
rapidly gaining millions of followers.
Transmedia storytelling can be seen as a particular case of the creation
of trans fictionality—the transposition of fiction across multiple media. It is
a method for transferring highly familiar elements into new discourses,
enabling expansion, modification, and transformation in terms of storytell-
ing (Ryan, 2013). This allows the ghosts in horror films from various coun-
tries to appear in creative and innovative narratives in every aspect of their
reproduction.
However, no matter how creative the forms of reproduction may be in
horror films, there is always a thread of discourse that connects these
ghosts to their original folklore or mythology. For example, the appearance
of Dracula is a blood-sucking creature vulnerable to sunlight. The Bell
Witch is an entity or spirit that manifests as a fortune teller with non-
material powers and the ability to move across time boundaries. Zombies
reanimated human bodies in the past due to magic or voodoo, and now,
due to viral infections and fungi. In the context of Indonesia, transmedia
storytelling also allows the audience to be very familiar with ghosts like the
sundel bolong” and kuntilanak while also creating innovative versions such
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 11

as the hantu Terowongan Casablanca (Casablanca tunnel ghost)7 and the

suster ngesot (crawling nurse). The pocong is bound by consensus as a body
ready to be buried, with its typical attire and a unique origin—wrapped in
a white burial shroud that covers it but cannot find peace to leave the
world.
Based on the horror stories that emerge in various cultural contexts, we
can see a relationship between the inspiration of mythology, folklore, spirit-
ual discourse, and transmedia storytelling, which influence the performative
dimension of horror narratives. In traditional communities, myths are peri-
odically remembered through various rituals by narrating or dramatizing
them within the circle of cultural production, the circle of initiates (Eliade
& Trask, 1963). The repetition of mythic rituals plays a role in community
solidarity around common values, manifested through mythic representa-
tions and translated into collective behavioral norms, comprising the para-
digmatic components of myths (Cassirer, 1979). Worship rituals within a
religious community, for example, are an example of how audiences are
compelled and compel themselves to believe in the spiritual world and the
supernatural, something beyond their existence. In modern society today,
films, especially Mumun (2022), are part of this cultural production circle,
and film watching becomes a ritual for continually reproducing the fear
and society’s belief in the supernatural.
Horror is a crossroad of social and formal properties and a fragment of
collective memory (Harvey, 2019). This extends to the expectations held by
the audience before engaging with horror artifacts, expectations learned
and remembered from previous experiences. An illustration that can be
presented to demonstrate how this can happen is the difficulty of imagin-
ing, for example, someone who comes from a distant place in Indonesia
and has no prior experience of interacting with stories about pocong,
including the context that pocong and pemocongan are part of Islamic bur-
ial rituals, being afraid and being able to enjoy watching pocong for the first
time. Similarly, Indonesians who have minimal or no exposure to stories of
frightening creatures during Christmas would find it difficult to imagine
being afraid of creatures like Krampus, whose story variations spread in the
folklore of countries such as Austria, Germany, Croatia, the Czech
Republic, Italy, and even America (Ridenour, 2016).
Horror indeed relies heavily on the audience’s experiences and emotional
responses. The audience anticipates various tensions and responds to the
effects that emerge from their memories and expectations based on their
assumed collective experiences (Hanich, 2017). Undeniably, subjectivity
plays a decisive role and is influenced by the breadth of individual experi-
ences (Hanich, 2011). There is a concept known as “narrative competence”
of the audience, which, in the context of media exposure, arises from
12 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

experiences of reading, listening, and watching, as well as being strongly

influenced by various conversations and oral stories, allowing someone to
decipher horror cues (Cherry, 2009). The audience’s exposure to generic
conventions associated with various popular cultural products has become
so profound that these conventions have shifted from conscious negotiation
to becoming ‘cognitive schemas’ (Harvey, 2019). In some cases, this is con-
sciously acknowledged by horror producers in various mediums, such as
pocong, which retains some of its original identity.

Representation of Pocong: Conventions and (Actually) Foreign

Hybridization
Mumun (2022) adopts and simultaneously breaks conventions. When we
examine the representation of pocong in Mumun (2022), such as the body
wrapped in white cloth with a tied shroud, covered in blood, infested with
maggots, jumping and flying aggressively, these elements can be identified
in how pocong generally operates in folklore or even urban legends that
exist in everyday life. Some pocong films adopt different conventions, with
identifiable common threads, but through various modifications and trans-
figurations tailored to their respective narratives.
However, other representations found in Mumun (2022) are products of
traceable hybridization. This hybridization places Mumun (2022) as a nexus
of local folklore development, the influence of the once-popular New Asian
Horror in Indonesia, and the influx of Hollywood films with various ghost
representations and narrative modes.
Mumun, who can spew bodily fluids through her mouth, is a convention
derived from the aggressive form of ghosts or monsters in many horror
films worldwide. For example, in the Evil Dead franchise (1981, 1987,
2013), the evil spirits known as Deadites often spew blood and other fluids
when attacking their victims. In Ju-on: The Grudge (2002) or The Grudge
(2004), the Japanese and American versions respectively, the ghost Kayako
Saeki frequently spews black liquid from her mouth as an ominous sign of
her presence. In The Exorcist (1973), the character Regan MacNeil, who is
possessed by a demon, spews green fluid during the horrifying process of
exorcism. In Slither (2006), alien creatures that control human bodies often
cause their hosts to spew slimy fluids and other foreign objects when
infecting their victims.
Mumun, who can choke with her hands, is a representation of pocong
that breaks the archetype found in many Indonesian pocong films.
Indonesian Pocong films depict pocong as a ghost that cannot directly inflict
harm. For example, films like Pocong 2 (2006), Pocong 3 (2007), 40 Hari
Bangkitnya Pocong (2008), and Pocong Jumat Kliwon (2010) portray pocong
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 13

as only capable of moving without actively attacking. In Pengabdi Setan:

Communion (2022), pocong is portrayed as a figure that can exert pressure
with its body covered in a white shroud, without any part of the body emerg-
ing from the cloth. The act of choking is necessary to demonstrate how a fig-
ure from another realm or a different creature can injure humans in a brutal
and painful manner. Pocong with protruding hands can be seen in two ver-
sions of Pengabdi Setan (1980) and Pengabdi Setan (2017). Pocong attacks at
the end of these films with its torn white shroud. However, both films do not
explicitly show how the hands emerging from the white cloth can harm their
targets. Sadako Yamamura in Ringu (1998) or The Ring (2002) in the
American version kills her victims by choking. Similarly, Ghostface in Scream
(1996), Candyman (1992), Freddy Krueger in A Nightmare on Elm Street
(1984), Michael Myers in Halloween (1978), and The Tall Man in Phantasm
(1979) rely on choking to injure and even kill their opponents. Choking
becomes a distinctive representation of ghosts or monsters that both depict
and symbolize the most painful threat to human physicality.
The green eyes of Mumun (2022), a reproduction of the representation
from the soap opera Jadi Pocong (2002-2003), is also a common convention
in many films. The Pang Brothers’ film, The Eye (2002), released slightly
earlier than the soap opera Jadi Pocong (2002-2003), features a terrifying
representation of green eyes. The Eye (2002) tells the story of a 20-year-old
classical violinist from Hong Kong who undergoes a corneal transplant
after receiving a pair of donor corneas. These eyes enable her to see horri-
fying deaths in the future. The mysterious and frightening green eyes are
also possessed by Sadako Yamamura in Ringu (1998) in the Japanese ver-
sion of The Ring (2002) in the American version, and by Kayako Saeki in
Ju-on: The Grudge (2002) in the Japanese version or The Grudge (2004) in
the American version. This consensus is not surprising, as it is also repre-
sented that supernatural entities like Valak in The Conjuring 2 (2016) and
The Nun (2018) have green eyes. Green or glowing eyes are equivalent to
red or glowing eyes. Both represent aggression and terror.
Meanwhile, the scene in Mumun (2022), where it opens its mouth as if
to bite, is another version of what was depicted in the soap opera Jadi
Pocong (2002–2003). Unlike Mumun (2022), the soap opera Jadi Pocong
(2002–2003) featured a pocong with fangs that could bite. The long fangs
are related to the aggression of the vampire representation in Hong Kong
horror films that were once very popular and repeatedly aired on
Indonesian television during the 1990s.
Although in certain elements and narrative aspects, the pocong offers a
form of creation, innovation, and even hybridization with elements from
other stories to fold horror, terror, and fear. A binding thread exists among
these diverse stories, namely the mythological inspiration that profoundly
influences specific communities.
14 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

The mythological inspiration in pocong stories across various media

forms serves to uphold values within their diverse boundaries. The pocong
is portrayed as a guardian of values, emphasizing that every action will
receive consequences, even before the day of judgment. In the stories found
in Hidayah, one can discover how the pocong represents a phase or
embodiment that redeems actions and/or deeds during one’s lifetime. A
clean or intact pocong is the result of good deeds. In contrast, a cursed and
afflicted pocong represents the consequences of bad deeds during life,
depicted as a figure emitting worms and maggots, rejected by the earth,
with the grave filled with water, and so on.
In contrast, Mumun (2022) portrays how the pocong is depicted as seek-
ing revenge for the wrongdoing of others who caused their death. Like the
soap opera Jadi Pocong (2002–2003), Mumun haunts those who killed
them and instilled fear in those who fail to fully investigate their death.
Mumun seeks to settle unfinished matters in the world.
The main question that can be further explored is whether the conven-
tions depicted in pocong films, including Mumun (2022), are conventions
that tend to remain unchanged with modifications or if they are indeed
developments that rely on mediatization.
A colonial document reveals that the pocong ghost in the Malay culture
in the early 20th century was referred to as hantu bungkus, hantu golek, or
hantu guling. Richard James Wilkinson, a British Empire colonies adminis-
trator, a Malay scholar, and a historian, in his collection of papers titled
“Malay Beliefs,” first published in 1906 and republished with descriptions
related to other aspects of Malay life in 1957, explains that:
The souls of the dead are considered in Malaya, as indeed everywhere else, to furnish
arich recruiting-ground for the army of evil spirits. They supply the hantu bangkit or
sheeted bogey of the graveyards, and the more peculiar hantu bungkus (also known
as hantu kochong and hantu golek) which is so tied up by its funeral-wrappings that
it can only make its way along the ground by rolling over and over on its side. [ … ]
(Wilkinson, 1906)

In the discourse of early 20th-century Malay culture, the pocong was rep-
resented as a rolling ghost and did not leap like in many Indonesian horror
films, such as in Setan Kuburan (1975), nor did it fly like in Mumun
(2022). The pocong was not imagined to extend its hands; instead, it only
rolled. Although this knowledge about the pocong may be derived from
colonial accounts, it is evident that the representation of the pocong has not
remained fixed over the past century, and the emergence of horror in the
past was conveyed through very simple gestures.
This is also reflected in British Orientalist, Richard Olaf Winstedt when he
was documenting mysticism in the Malay region (1925). Winstedt mentioned:
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 15

Besides these two classes of malicious birth
spirits and familiars, created from the
corpses of man, there are graveyard spooks of the sheeted dead. In Patani one of the
most noted of these (hantu bungkus) is thought to appear as a white cat or to lie like
a bundle of white rags near a burial ground. “Should a person pass it who is afraid,
it unrolls, twines itself round his feet, enters his person by means of his big toe and
feasts within on his soul, so that he becomes distraught and dies in convulsions,
unless a competent medicine
man can exorcise it in time to save his life and
reason.” A bold person anxious to see ghosts has only to use as a collyrium the tears
of the wide
eyed slow loris!
(Winstedt, 1925)

Although the pocong is represented as a ghost capable of causing harm,

it does not directly attack through physical aggression. The pocong only
attacks under preconditions of fear and enters a person’s consciousness if
they disturb it first.
In a time when visual screen technology was not widely available and
oral storytelling was relied upon, the image of a rolling ghost was sufficient
to create fear. There were limits to the representation that did not need to
be breached merely to frighten people.
The advent of film technology greatly expanded folklore. The medium
allowed for the extensive exploration of horror that heavily relied on
human sensory experiences (Ndalianis, 2012). In the 1970s, when cinema
technology was still limited, a jumping pocong was terrifying enough for
the audience’s consensus. In the 2000s, with advancements in camera tech-
nology, cinematography, editing, slings, and computer-generated imagery
(CGI), the public demanded additional abilities from the pocong, such as
flying and rapid movement, along with the aforementioned attributes. The
pocong on the cinema screen represents an extension of folklore mediated
by technology. Ultimately, the pocong we see today is a social and techno-
logical construction, inheriting a consensus that has never been complete
or fixed.

What Makes Mumun (2022) and Pocong Fail to Haunt the Audience
As mentioned earlier, Mumun (2022) is a tedious film. It presents atmos-
pheric horror, reminiscent of Indonesian horror from 4 to 5 decades ago,
but fails to deliver cohesive terror. The repetitive appearances of the
pocong, without a strong storyline, make the horror portrayed in the film
lack a climax. Mumun seems to be presented with the assumption that the
mere presence of the pocong will always be terrifying. This is due to the
immense intention to capture a nostalgic atmosphere for viewers who have
watched the soap opera Jadi Pocong (2002–2003), those who are in a state
of fear of the pocong due to the influx of post-2000 pocong films, as well as
16 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

those exposed to transmedia storytelling involving the pocong since the

release of Hidayah with all its bombardment.
Although horror stems from the organization of images through story-
telling and various modalities that expose the audience, the pocong myth,
which is patterned, primordial, and paradigmatic, fails to function in
Mumun (2022). Despite using additional elements, including extensions of
folklore and mythology, and attempts to adopt elements from other horror
films, Mumun (2022) fails to offer anything new and does not provide a
viewing experience that can evoke fear in the audience.
What is displayed in Mumun (2022) exhibits the symptoms of many pocong
films released after Pocong 2 (2006). The comedic elements present in Mumun
(2022), for example, can be felt in films like Pocong Minta Kawin (2011),
Pocong Ngesot (2011), 3 Pocong Idiot (2012), Kungfu Pocong Perawan (2012),
Penganten Pocong (2012), and even Djoerig Salawe (2020), each of which fails
to offer novelty and feels like repeating worn-out material. Even pocong films
that do not rely on comedy, such as Pocong the Origin (2019) and Hidayah
(2023), those pocongs still fail to provide a fresh atmosphere within a new
story structure. Although not all pocong films in Indonesia fall into the miser-
able failure of horror films, an apparent pattern can be observed.
Phillips (2005), when analyzing the range of horror films in America,
explains a close relationship between the elements in horror films and various
anxieties present in the broader culture. One of the most essential reasons
why horror films can successfully haunt viewers is the presence of “shock”
moments in horror. Phillips (2005) states, “If in love familiarity breedscon-
tempt, in horror it can be said that familiarity breeds boredom and derision.”
The history of horror and ghosts provides easily found evidence for this argu-
ment. It can be observed how many sequel films or films featuring ghosts in
generic representations have failed to captivate audiences.
Although earlier in this writing, it has been explained how horror films
will certainly owe their debt to the familiarity of specific ghost figures and
their identities to bind the audience to the relevance of horror with them-
selves, it does not mean that excessive familiarity and repetition are the right
strategies to create a horror film. There is a reason why many ghosts are
used as jokes to fill comedic films with sexual undertones, such as in the
Scary Movie Trilogy or B-rated American horror films. Whether consciously
or unconsciously, monsters or ghosts and the stories surrounding them that
are too familiar become objects of mockery and lose their scariness.

Conclusion
This article shows that the representation of pocong in Mumun (2022) is part
of the resonance of Indonesian people’s fears with the dominant religious
 QUARTERLY REVIEW OF FILM AND VIDEO 17

discourse in the post-authoritarian New Order regime. However, if we strike

a tuning fork in a room full of crystal glasses, we will find a spreading hum,
struggling to survive and emerging from each glass; Mumun (2022) is the last
glass that emits the faintest hum of fear, almost inaudible.
Horror films after Mumun (2022) that still want to utilize pocong and
aspire to shake the audience’s crystal of fear must use a different frequency
and offer new elements of surprise. The surprise referred to here cannot be
defined solely as “jump scares,” which have been used excessively by
Indonesian horror film directors lately (Triwahyupriadi & Ayuningtyas,
2020), but rather as offering something new that allows the audience to
experience something they have never felt before: narrative structure, story-
telling, mise-en-scene that can be analyzed from acting, makeup, costumes,
settings, and other elements. Pocong, as a familiar ghost, must be served
with novelty that provides surprises for the audience.
One example of a ghost that can adapt to a new storyline in Indonesia is
the kuntilanak, which was then reimagined through the ghosts in
Terowongan Casablanca (2007) and the suster ngesot in The Secret: Suster
Ngesot Urban Legend (2008). Despite some critical notes on low-budget
films, these ghosts offer a familiar thread: women as victims of violence
and injustice, seeking revenge and haunting many people. Filmmakers can
also learn from strategies that anchor horror elements derived from urban
folklore, as seen in the Conjuring series (2013, 2016, 2021) that retell such
stories. However, it is essential to emphasize that in reproducing urban
folklore, the audience should not be able to predict which terror elements
will appear. Any frightening representation throughout the film, the plot,
and the variety of novelties should be shockingly present horror to the
audience. Suppose Indonesian filmmakers want to maintain pocong in the
realm of Indonesian horror films, they must employ creative and innova-
tive strategies that prevent pocong from being trapped in repetitive patterns
and generic atmospheres.
Another strategy that can be employed is to position pocong as part of
social allegory. Pocong (2006), directed by Rudi Soedjarwo, essentially does
this by addressing sensitive issues such as the 1998 Indonesian reformation
that involved violence, rape, and revenge, touching on trauma that ultim-
ately has healing potential. Lowenstein (2005) mentions that modern horror
often follows a pattern of “a shocking collision of film, spectator, and his-
tory where registers of bodily space and historical time are disrupted, con-
fronted, and intertwined. These registers of space and time are distributed
unevenly across the cinematic text, the film’s audience, and the historical
context [ … ].” This collision referred to as allegorical moments, not only
reveals the polysemic nature of horror but also raises awareness of how
horror can function as a vehicle to address—while challenging—
18 J. ADIPRASETIO AND A. WINDA LARASATI

representations and understanding of historical trauma and identity. Blake

also arrives at a similar conclusion, arguing that a critical exploration of a
country’s horror films can address past trauma (Blake, 2013). In Indonesia,
perhaps we have wasted the potential of pocong as part of an allegory for
the various traumas and violence inflicted upon and by our nation.

Notes
1. In Indonesian folklore, there exists a supernatural entity known as the sundel bolong. This
mythical ghost is depicted as a woman with stunning, flowing black hair and dressed in a
long, white gown. The term “sundel” refers to a “prostitute” or “whore,” while “bolong” in
Javanese translates to “hole.” Scholars of contemporary folklore suggest that this myth
originated within Javanese culture as a means to discourage the proliferation of
prostitution during the period of Dutch East Indies colonization (Pangastuti, 2019).
2. The kuntilanak, known as pontianak in Malaysia, is a legendary being that exists in
Indonesia, Malaysia, and Singapore. It shares similarities with the Langsuir found in
other Southeast Asian regions. The pontianak is commonly portrayed as a pregnant
woman who is unable to deliver her child. Alternatively, it is often depicted as a
vengeful, vampire-like female spirit. Another variation of the pontianak refers to the
ghost or white lady found in the folklore of Southeast Asia.
3. The suster ngesot originated from the story of a nurse who was raped and mutilated by
a doctor. Due to her severed legs, she haunts by crawling. Some scholars believe that
the suster ngesot is a transfiguration of the Lady in White in Indonesia, known as the
kuntilanak (Larasati & Adiprasetio, 2022).
4. Unfortunately, studies on Hidayah tend to be very limited, unsystematic, and only
mentioned in media scholarship analyses without being deeply explicitly explored. The
study that should have been conducted on the most successful magazine in the history
of media in Indonesia is submerged in the decadence of research on Indonesian
communication and media scholarship (Adiprasetio, 2022).
5. The same group later published Hidayah in Indonesia (Supriansyah, 2007).
6. During the 1980s and 1990s, various printed products exposing the concept of
“terrifying religion,” such as Komik Neraka (Comic Hell), were distributed in
Indonesia. Although the representations depicted the torment of human bodies in the
afterlife, the presence of pocong in Komik Neraka (Comic Hell) was relatively minimal
or even nonexistent.
7. The hantu Terowongan Casablanca originated from the victims of forced abortions
who were subsequently buried alive. Unlike the general story of the kuntilanak, the
hantu Terowongan Casablanca haunts a specific location and causes accidents.

ORCID
Justito Adiprasetio http://orcid.org/0000-0001-5698-2013

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