‘Tale Of The Land’: Busan Review

Dir/scr: Loeloe Hendra. Indonesia/Philippines/Taiwan/Qatar. 2024. 98mins

Conflict over Indigenous lands is a source of lasting trauma for a young Dayak woman in Tale Of The Land.  Indonesian director Loeloe Hendra’s languid first feature is a tale of loss and exile in which an individual story is used to reflect wider issues around changing times, vested interests and hostile environments.

Unfolds at a gentle, unhurried pace that matches the fragile emotional state of its central character

Hendra, who first caught the eye with his short film Onomastika (2014), allows his intriguing debut, which premieres in Busan’s New Currents section, to unfold at a gentle, unhurried pace that matches the fragile emotional state of its central character May (Shenina Cinnamon). Following the death of her parents, May now lives with her grandfather Tuha (Arswendy Bening Swara) on a floating house that drifts on the waters around the island of Borneo. The building is part sanctuary and part prison, and production designer Digit D. Pratama has created a convincingly dilapidated structure that appears to have been plucked from its roots and cast on to the waters. It is patchwork and ramshackle with a corrugated roof in need of constant repair. “Will our house sink?” asks an anxious May. Tahu seems convinced that their ancestors will take care of them

May and Tahu have a self-sustaining existence. They have chickens on board, fish all around them and make a small living selling rattan hats and woven goods at local markets. There seems no reason to risk the apparent dangers of life on land. Cinematographer Fahrul Tri Hikmawan adds to the drab feel of their existence, locating the story in a palette of greys with little distinction between the overcast skies and the murky waters. There is more lyricism in later images of a large herd of buffalo heading into a lake, or inky silhouettes caught against the fading daylight.

Tahu appears protective of May, constantly warning her not to leave the boat or step on dry land. Every course of action is accompanied by warnings of danger. The screenplay starts to make us question whether his concern is just a mask for a more controlling nature. Everything he says has an edge that belittles or demoralises May, chipping away at any confidence she may still possess.

Shenina Cinnamon’s wan look and subdued manner effectively convey May as a woman trapped both physically and emotionally. Her fear of the land is confirmed when she tries to step ashore and suffers from a nosebleed before losing consciousness. Only fresh chicken blood seems capable of rousing her from a deep sleep.

May’s concern for an injured water buffalo initially prompts her to try and reach land. Eventually the beast is transported to the side of the floating house and left in her care, but that act of compassion brings her into contact with buffalo herder Kai (Mohammad Syabir), his kind-hearted sidekick Yus (Yusuf Mahardika) and also Lawa (Angga Yunada), the owner of the buffalo.

There are echoes of Where The Crawdads Sing in Tale Of The Land, as Hendra keeps the focus on May, her relationship with the water, the land, the animals and the world of her ancestors. There is a slow release of small details about May’s family, the actions of a local mining company and the fate of those whose land can no longer be considered sacred or home. A sparingly-used trickle of fantasy and dream sequences speak to the rituals and traditions of her people.  It is an often elusive narrative but the emotional line is clear as the pressures build on May, and there is hope that she might find the inner resolve to conquer all her fears.