Stories move from person to person when they are told. Initially, stories required the presence of the storyteller and the listener in the same space and time. These two important elements became less significant when stories could be transferred onto paper, first written, then printed, and finally uploaded. Space and time were eliminated so that stories could move from person to person, making mass communication possible. Thus, a window is opened to transfigure stories into something more; stories into something more; as they could create a continuation instantly and simultaneously, giving birth to greater notions. What is here and now is no longer necessary; what is there and forever can be realised through stories. They transcend the objectification of the communication process; they become their own space and time.
Like the story of a domestic worker who was raped by her agent on her way to the big city. It is a painful story that has been told many times and written about so often that it feels dull when absorbed without sympathy. Words have neglected the issue of bodies experiencing bitterness; they are merely news. Teguh Karya, in Secangkir Kopi Pahit (1985), focuses on the things that are omitted from the news as a way of looking more deeply at the issues faced by migrants to a development center such as Jakarta, a region of economic struggle. He focuses on the character Sukarsih, represented by the testimony of Buyung, a journalist who was unable to publish Sukarsih’s story because he had to testify before the police. Togar, his fellow journalist, was accused of kidnapping Sukarsih after interviewing her at a guesthouse. Although the pain experienced by Sukarsih is clearly represented by the film’s gaze, fully revealing who the perpetrators are, it remains neutral towards the representation of the police officer, who cannot pass a premature judgment. The cold clatter of the officer’s typewriter records all the information from the dispute between Buyung and the gang of agents/rapists, Parjo and Marni. The truth, which has been passed around, frozen in text, stored as testimony and chewed over by the legal system to produce the latest truth, the most just systemic truth. Togar, who is as absent as Sukarsih when his reputation is being debated, is in a statement that is increasingly far from the actual events, merely the text of a report.
Togar’s reputation has become a source of trouble in Secangkir Kopi Pahit. When he was cleared as a suspect in a kidnapping case, thanks to Sukarsih, who set the record straight, he became a suspect in the murder of his wife at the end of the film, Lola, who will not rise from the grave to clear Togar’s name. It is ironic for Togar, who should be familiar with fate as a representation in text, even though he more often sits at the other end of the typewriter. Like officers, Togar and Buyung work to transfer reality into written stories—unlike officers, however, their stories will be quickly propagated in the form of news in newspapers. The responsibility of concluding the whole truth is given to the public, who are not required to go through the rigours of the law. Anyone who shares their stories has been mediated by journalists, who are in turn mediated by the editorial system, to present “balanced” news. The complexity of the transfer of stories and the morality of those who transfer them is used as a framework by Teguh to show how stories about the city are marketed like brochures to outsiders, stories from Jakarta to outside Jakarta, or from the so-called Jakarta. Togar also stands on the complexity of storytelling: first as a storyteller, second as the subject of the story, as a legal subject, and finally as the subject of film aesthetics, which occupies the artistic argumentation of the film.
Togar, A Journalist in the Statement
Togar is a name that is thrown around by the film in many situations, a character that reflects the original title of Secangkir Kopi Pahit, ‘Merobek Angan-angan’ (Tearing Apart Dreams). In fact, he is indeed unfortunate, as suggested by the Editor-in-Chief to Togar, he becomes an example of perantau1, or people in migration. This identity sticks and almost precedes the name that comes from his hometown, Batak Toba, which marks him in his perantauan. One day, after some time and generations, the identity of those who migrate to Jakarta like Togar, will fade and solidify into being a Jakartan. Complicatedly, being a Jakartan also carries a fluid set of origins, as it is not only the Batak people who dream of being in that city. Teguh’s choice to frame Togar’s migration in Jakarta and not in Yogyakarta, the city that was once Togar’s stopover for studying, reveals a heterogeneous situation with other bloodlines, leading to their cultural, daily, and even religious blending.
Then Togar met Lola2, a Minahasa3 by blood who had settled in Jakarta much longer. Lola had truly become a Jakartan, leaving her Minahasa identity behind in a body that shared the same fate of facing cross-ethnic problems, economic ones. She represented the complexity of history, society, and personal life that appeared in layers, like the situation of a food stall cum living space in an alley. The space of Lola’s self will be peeled away by Togar through newspaper articles until he reaches her bed. Once there is no way back from the room, the blood that mixes the experiences of two distant islands through marriage, on land other than that of their ancestors, is carried by our shared imagination. Historically, newspapers are also the tools that generate those aspirations, giving birth to the idea of a modern nation. Without modernity, Togar and Lola might not have been able to see the complexity of each other’s history, society and culture as shared property. Teguh Karya is actually offering not just an object, not just a cup of bitter coffee as clear as torn dreams, but a slice with a sensation that continues the story of the unity of the people of independent Indonesia.
The meaning of the sensation of coffee as the poetics of Secangkir Kopi Pahit is refined in the film along with its duration, and is introduced so overwhelmingly at the beginning of the film. This arrangement is also Teguh’s starting point for criticising the diffusion of economic motives into the apparatus where collectivity is imagined. The opening scene of Secangkir Kopi Pahit is presented in media res, or in the middle of an event: Lola is carried lifelessly by a crowd, accompanied by the hysterical moans of a woman, Togar’s mother or his inang. This opening does not bother to draw the audience into the world of the film, but simply and quickly presents them in the middle of a tumultuous scene. This rush acts like a news headline, taking the essence of the issue and piquing the curiosity of the observer, thereby capturing their attention. If this scene, which opens the film and becomes the subject of Togar’s trial, is later reported by Buyung, who attends the trial as a friend and journalist, we can guess at a possible headline that Buyung might interpret as:
“A YOUNG MAN FROM TOBA FIGHTS FOR HIS GOOD NAME AFTER BEING ACCUSED OF MURDERING HIS WIFE”
Or
“TOGAR: A FINAL PORTRAIT OF OUR MIGRATION TO THE CITY”
Speculative headlines, especially the first one, which may interpret the events of the film in a single sentence, demonstrate how newspapers work. The inverted pyramid principle, which prioritises the most important information, also negotiates the time available to readers, who may not have much time to devote to an article. It ensures that the main points of the news can be absorbed first, with the necessary details to follow upon further reading. It is quite possible that there are other forms of news that Buyung could write, such as in-depth writing or opinion pieces, which allow for more complex reporting of stories. At the same time, we can argue that what happened to Togar, viewed from an outsider’s perspective, is equivalent to Sukarsih’s plight, a story that has been repeated many times. This can be seen in the headlines of the newspapers where Buyung and Togar work, which tend to discuss tragedies or opinions about the situation in the city. News articles that tend to be brief open up opportunities for stereotyping, speculation, or assumptions about the truth on the part of the reader. If Buyung had written the name of a particular ethnic group in his headline, then opinions about those of the same ethnicity, who may have had nothing to do with the events in the news, would have been thrown into the logic of the sentence. Headlines can condense an entire human life into a few words that are recognisable to the general public. ‘Accused of murder’ will stick to his personal story, even though through this phrase the media has tried to frame him according to the presumption of innocence of a system that requires the presumption of guilt like a prosecutor. Vocabulary ultimately produces a specificity of social representation with a massive effect when newspapers become the bread and butter of the masses. The sensation at the beginning of the film still needs to be introduced by Teguh as a sensational story to understand another approach to sympathising with our story.
The important extension of the scene, as the logic of the film’s long construction, also lies in, first, the credit title that precedes the opening scene and second, the gesture that Togar makes after Lola is carried away in the scene. In the first extension, the cold clatter of a typewriter, similar to the cold clatter of an officer’s typewriter, accompanies four black and white still images sourced from scenes throughout the film. Teguh clearly establishes that the film will discuss news writing. However, as a reflection, Teguh also targets the kind of news writing he wants to discuss. The absence of text (other than the names of the crew and actors) when the typewriter clicks are heard reveals the audience’s unavailability of what kind of text could be and is being written from the photo montage, which is most likely a news story. The arrangement of sound and image gives the impression of ‘news being written’ rather than showing ‘the content of the news’. Thus, the idea of ‘writing’ that emerges from an obscured text is the dimension of the personality of the writer. This assumption is further strengthened by the fourth and final still image, Togar’s face, which seems to be looking at the camera but is actually glancing at a child washing a car, presented in a long shot that allows the audience to contemplate the story hidden in the image. The text that viewers independently compose in their heads is as vague as the text obscured by the clatter of the typewriter, placing them on an equal footing in the subjective or personal realm. It is this aspect that constantly interferes with work that prioritises objectivity in reporting events. Teguh’s awareness of this struggle enables him to enter the system operating behind the typewriter.
The second extension was a continuation of something unknown, but no longer an impression, rather an expression. The wailing voice of Togar’s mother mourning Lola’s death was drowned out and swallowed by the noise of the ceremonial parade that was sending a young man merantau. Togar’s gaze, which catches their arrival in the distance, causes him to separate from the mourning procession and cross over to the joyful procession while shouting DON’T! As a scene without context, it is reasonable to consider Togar insane, because he has linked education with death, the desire to leave with tragedy, a montational association that is still far from relevant throughout the film. Teguh’s In media res has placed Togar at a distance of “reporting” in the viewing experience that has not yet argued for the possibility of sympathising with his actions.
Madness, or perhaps sensationalism, which is presented through the distillation of the issue of “perantauan” into a matrix of “individual grief”, frames the reality of the film, which is not discussing reality vis-à-vis but rather the way reality is represented. In other words, like the concept of sound-image in the credit title, Togar’s personal anguish works as a perspective for viewing the world of film as a world narrated through melodramatic elements, transcending real reality. Through this, Togar’s self is also placed as a conceptual bridge, in line with the material bridge where he blocks the parade, a connecting role of knowing and not knowing. As a journalist, he works as a pillar of information dissemination, which Teguh uses as a counterpoint to dreams, creating tension between the dream of a happy migration and the subjectivity of a migration full of sorrow. In this floating structure, the camera swings along with Togar’s hand as he gestures at the line, marking the point where the film’s gaze resides, Togar’s gaze. Moving away from Togar’s black and white image, his perspective now penetrates the gaze of the mechanical witness, which is not as cold as a police typewriter, but manages to break through the constraints of verbatim. Teguh seems to be saying that we will be in the truth of I-cinema.
The Power of Words in Expressing Reality
Because of Togar’s anxiety, who wants to run and try to intercept them from their journey, is a long road that Secangkir Kopi Pahit tries to tread. The film, like the news content that follows the headline, pulls back the narrative and strips away Togar’s “maturity”, until he becomes a “material” again. He was once a keen observer, a model migrant who saw the world as a possibility. The world, in a state of endless possibility, will be possible according to the observer’s beliefs. For this reason, he came to believe that daily affairs, such as economics and work, for Togar as a journalist, could be separated. This happened briefly when he started out and worked as a factory worker, but it became clear when he succeeded in publishing the news. Togar’s declamation about the meticulousness of his first news story, which discussed the issue of prostitutes, was insensitive to the fact that Lola was going on a date with a man, casually, because she and Togar were not yet married at this point, not because of love or desire, but to overcome economic demands. The list of diagnoses from Togar’s critical reading of the problem remains impotent in providing alternative solutions for Lola, who continues to sell her love. The camera’s gaze turns away from Togar and chooses to focus on Lola leaving, causing Togar’s voice to shift to the background, like the sound of news on the radio, subverting the important-unimportant positions of urban grandees. Perhaps the nature of this camera gaze is similar to a restless camera that sways with Togar’s anxiety, staring at Lola’s shop from another time. It is worth remembering that it is not the sequence from headline to news report that guides the film’s plot, but rather the cross-referencing of documents in the process of Togar’s trial.
Teguh Karya’s film language represents temporal complexity when viewing written stories. Since it can be transferred onto paper, the story has been separated from the body that produced it and reborn as an independent entity. So when Togar declaims his first news as loudly as he can, he is trying to return the story he wrote back to his body, even though the story has changed form and is now owned by many people who can access it anywhere and anytime. The written story is actually in the past; reading it is reviving it so that it appears in the present. The time contained within is revived through the act of reading, becoming a rule that drives the cinematic aspects of Secangkir Kopi Pahit, especially the editing. Indeed, as a fictional film, the existence of the Secangkir Kopi Pahit script has created a relationship between the text and the activation of the text through acting that actualises its narrative potential. However, the activation in question is also intertwined with the fictionality of the film’s universe, as the possibility of a read text that guides the logic of the film’s world through its temporal reasoning. Instead of targeting the metafiction of the script’s textuality, which is more common in films, the film targets the verbalisation of information as a conception of montage language and aesthetics.
It is a summary of documents and testimonies being presented in a courtroom. This summary serves as a read text guiding the film’s temporality. Togar is literally on trial throughout the film for the murder of his wife. His relationship with Lola is presented as a question to assess whether he was negligent or deliberately caused Lola’s death through legal means. Linearly, the trial occupies the most recent time frame compared to Togar’s two years in Jakarta, which is why the dramatic composition between scenes in Jakarta is arranged as flashes of the most important events to portray who Togar is. Jakarta has happened, and Togar cannot rewrite that chapter in his life now. Watching it (from the audience’s perspective) – or listening to it (from Togar’s perspective) – gives a fatalistic sensation of perantauan. The emphasis on Togar’s fatalistic dimension is not only because of time but also through the testimony of third parties. Many flashes of scenes reproduce the visual character of the interview process, such as with Buyung, Mr Editor, Lola’s children and even Inang. They are plunged into an atemporal situation, which cannot be called the past (Togar’s period of perantauan) or the present (in the courtroom), standing as interview recordings. This characteristic can be traced by presenting faces that face the frame but look outside the spotlight: a hint of the minimal presence of at least two figures behind the spotlight of the frame, the one recording and the one asking the questions. This composition creates a talking head visual character commonly found in audio-visual news coverage or documentary films. Togar is portrayed as a subject who is narrated or reported on through the eyes of others. He is disguised as a representation in their stories, or to emphasise the irony, made the subject of the news. His personality and experiences are translated into text and expressed not by his own mouth. Presumably, the pseudo-interview was included in the discussion of Togar’s trial. Thus, the reality of the film can be read as a declamative reality that materialises as a result of investigating fragments of information concerning Togar’s personal life.
The existence of the courtroom in Afrian Purnama’s critique not only logically explains the elasticity of time (appearing from tracing things that are not coherent) but also signifies the presence of another gaze, namely that of the state4. Afrian sees the logic of court investigations as not only allowing the narrative to proceed non-linearly, but also creating a position of gaze that is autocratic in nature. However, this logic not only represents the aspect of power, as Afrian explains, but also the formal aspect that shapes the political dimension of the film. More than the conception of the state in the highest and most legitimate authority, Teguh also targets something more essential through Togar’s sentencing, namely the situation narrated by the text. This is certainly reflected in the fatalistic nature of Togar’s representation of perantauan and his personal assessment through the eyes of others, but the situation can be expanded by looking at the speculative article that Buyung will write. Through this potential article, which the film emphasises through a black and white photo of Togar leaving the courtroom, another part of the state that will judge Togar is mentioned. The courtroom serves the official system that represents the people, such as the government that regulates the law, which tends to be elitist (in a limited sense), closed and systematic. Outside this representation is the civil world that also creates the truth about subjects that are distant in space and time. They assess it through the dissemination of information channeled by mass media such as newspapers, which means through daily publications.
The World in the News
Newspapers appear in many scenes, placed in the background and occasionally brought back into the foreground of the film. People read them on buses, trains, in food stalls, at home, to the point where it is always clear who Togar’s writing will ultimately reach: the public perception. Reading newspapers was common in Indonesian cinema during the New Order era because that was the culture that existed in reality when the film was produced. Outside of the film universe, the newspaper culture in Indonesia during the New Order era occurred alongside the existence of other mass media such as television and radio. Television, as the most advanced communication medium in Indonesia before the internet, was dominated by a single broadcast or TVRI channel until 1988, when RCTI was established, giving the masses a choice of how to access information. Teguh is focused and does not show the presence of television in any space, which means he will discuss an even older form of information distribution. A medium that played a role in creating visions of Indonesia before later circumventing those visions of Indonesia.
Stories, especially biblical stories, were originally written with great difficulty on limited materials such as animal skins, palm leaves, and even stones. They were considered sacred, and knowing the stories required an intermediary, such as a religious leader who would build a ritual stage that made the information seem divine. Thousands of years later, a blacksmith from Mainz invented a machine that could print stories multiple times using movable metal type. Gutenberg, the inventor, could not yet be considered German because he was still part of the Holy Roman Empire, a kingdom that still received revelations from the ruler, from top to bottom, vertically. Gutenberg’s printing press changed the relationship of mandate from vertical to horizontal through the rapid and inexpensive reproduction of sacred texts, allowing people to receive information. Over time, this information increasingly discussed each other’s stories until they were connected, imagined, moved, and became the conditions for the emergence of the modern state that shifted the power of heavenly mandate, giving Gutenberg German nationality. Inside the machine, there were only Latin letters, which meant that all languages that wanted to be disseminated had to be translated into Latin letters. It also translated words that even the most uneducated people could understand through vernacular languages. The machine was brought to regions without nations, regions of the Global South colonised by the West.
In the early seventeenth century, the machine arrived in the Dutch East Indies via the Dutch trading company, the VOC. Three hundred years later, with that machine, Tirto Adi Suryo pioneered a newspaper using the Malay language with a complete system from printing to journalists owned by natives of the colonised land, Soenda Berita, and perfected through the newspaper Medan Prijaji. News owned by the indigenous people continued to circulate, written in a language familiar to the community so that they could think about themselves while imagining extraordinary ideas, such as a country. The independence of the Third World was realised thanks to their own stories, which they shared with each other as comrades-in-arms. The role of newspapers continued, talking about their own nation until they were able to speak up. For this reason, in 1982 (and beginning with UU No. 11 of 1966), the press needed permission from the state to speak through the SIUPP, or Press Publishing Business Permit, which marked legal control over freedom of speech. When Secangkir Kopi Pahit was released, three years after the SIUPP, newspapers were still being printed and had become part of the culture, even though they only spoke horizontally.
The SIUPP policy allows for the existence of many newspapers compared to a single channel, such as television, even though the state still plays a role in regulating the language used. The public can still choose, sometimes opting for newspapers that are more local in nature, thus creating a more segmented information absorption situation. In such a media situation, the newspapers featured in Secangkir Kopi Pahit may not all be Sinar Pagi newspapers, the name of the media outlet where Togar and Buyung work. At the same time, it is also possible that the entire representation of the newspaper as Sinar Pagi is a cinematic reality that demonstrates a closed system of information distribution: some produce the news and those who read the news. Togar’s Anguish will also be known to those who read it later. Teguh then asks a more critical question: where will the fate of Togar’s Anguish, which has been turned into news, end up after it is read? The public’s desire for knowledge, which is not always related to national consciousness during the movement era, is quickly satisfied once the information is absorbed and the knowledge-filled newspaper is turned back into raw material. To answer this, Teguh shows the newspaper that has truly become a background element in Secangkir Kopi Pahit, used as a vehicle windscreen wiper, window cover, tablecloth, and even, in the climactic scene, to catch a journalist’s vomit.
The Poetics of Vomiting
Before analysing the seminality of the scene depicting vomiting, it is necessary to understand how newspapers are concluded to be objects that are synonymous with the contents of the stomach. The basic premise of violence inspired by individuals or community groups in textual representations is certainly one reason, but the system that creates this violence, which operates at every stage of news production, also plays a part because it is lubricated by productivity factors. The second derivative of explicitly showing people reading newspapers is an understanding of the viral nature of news. Civilians are not only literate but also accept the curation of stories that are designed to be delicious bait to be bought by the crowd. Before a newspaper is read and discarded, it needs to be purchased, and in order to be purchased, it needs to be desired. That desire can range from a desire to improve one’s life to a desire for physical satisfaction. They are mixed together in a newspaper’s editorial as a negotiation of information distribution. In such a situation, the dominant economic system becomes apparent, unlike if we imagine a civilisation that provides free access to information (even in the current era, online news is run by the attention economy), which is the result of my story that you can quickly and widely access. Togar still tries to separate the subjection of the public information system to the dominant economic ideology—capitalism—when he unhesitatingly shares his first salary with Buyung, who has two wives. Gradually, Togar will realise that civic responsibility cannot be separated from the bodily needs that shape his life decisions, just as the nature of Teguh Karya’s film this time is not an imaginative blow to the system, but a tracing of where the self ends up within the system.
If Lola was someone who was initially overlooked by Togar’s idealism, then Manggana, a fellow Batak from the same university, was utterly repulsive in Togar’s eyes. The most modern aspect of Manggana was his rationality, and the most rational person would desire profit and be averse to loss. Just as he was reluctant to provide shelter for Togar when he first arrived in Jakarta, boasting about revolutionising the nation’s economy, the motive for separating life and work — or calling, between the personal and the civil — or the public sphere, was a truly arrogant separation. Manggana’s mentality of not wanting to lose will ultimately be his downfall when he becomes destitute and without the support of the traditional system that cares for him. Spitting on Manggana’s fate is also ignorant because Togar also needs to realise that being an ink labourer and a cement labourer is the same under the umbrella of the country’s economic growth. The prioritisation of profit in capitalism brought about by liberal ideology contaminates those who engage in it, even surpassing the noble motive of improving the nation. Therefore, the sweetness of the story about the centre must be immediately regurgitated until the sourness of the stomach acid is felt, so that the true bitterness can be swallowed whole again.
This substance is scattered across three scenes that are spread out according to Togar’s personal relationship with the world that he always lets go of. Literally, this substance takes the form of vomit that crosses Togar’s throat, a somatic expression and cinematic language of the protagonist, who encounters something despicable. He could no longer place the abjects he encountered in the world at a safe distance to write about them. Over time, they became attached to his professional and daily identity, until he felt the need to get rid of them, which Teguh expressed through the act of vomiting. Teguh used this act to discuss the murkiness of the world of journalism, Togar’s awareness of his surroundings, and the poetics of a cup of bitter coffee. He first felt this sensation spreading throughout his body after discovering that Buyung was willing to insult others for money ‘in an envelope’. The dignity of journalists, which they both possessed, was defeated by the cost of visiting in-laws. Togar, who was still single and idealistic, may not have been able to fully sympathise with the foolishness of his friend, who had two wives and could only share the bitterness between cold beers, a substance that dulled Togar’s sensitivity to the world. His awareness declined, and the veil over his mind left behind animal instincts that made him jump on Lola’s body.
There are no bed scenes in the sense of sex following the I-camera of Togar or the gaze of the court in the first piece. Sex is only implied by Teguh’s editing. There are artistic consequences to Teguh’s decision to turn away from the scene, preferring instead to see the peaceful sleep of children lulled by the sound of trucks. This reasoning acts as a counterpoint to the tabloid press or libidinal counter-press that often operates at the base level of cheap newspapers printed on cheap paper, which sell well thanks to the masses’ animalistic appetite for sex and violence. After Gutenberg popularised the printing press, it was also used to popularise desires that were in line with economic motives. In journalism, this is found in yellow newspapers that specifically discuss topics of crime, violence and sexuality. In Indonesia in 1970, the Pos Kota newspaper was published, which discussed these topics while selling huge numbers, popularising this form. Togar entered the journalism scene, not in the era of Rosihan Anwar’s movement, but in a world of journalism that had a jaundiced angle. Similarly, on the screen, which allows for the representation of passionate events, we can see examples such as the films Bukan Sandiwara and Istana Kecantikan, which openly discuss sex as a social issue. With just a suggestion, Teguh shifts the conversation of sex as a cover to reveal other conversations. What is explored from the absence of bed scenes is a position, which later becomes a polemical position (in the sense of sexual violence) when representing the violence experienced by Sukarsih. With editing that obscures the events of passion, it can actually highlight the underbelly of mass consciousness that is seen and discussed in the media. With a blanket that covers the substance of the narrative and expresses the theme, we can place it as the third title of Secangkir Kopi Pahit, Muntah Pagi setelah Seks (Morning Vomit after Sex)5.
The poetics of morning vomit after sex need to be digested through three perspectives: looking at the substance, then looking at the action, and finally looking at the clean-up. The fluid that Togar expels is a mixture of various issues that the film raises: it is an expression of Togar, who sleeps with the subject of his news story, a reflection of his direct contact with the world as it is, a subliminal response to the tainted dignity of journalists, and cold beer that has not been properly digested. Apart from being disgusting, the fluid is also residual in nature, a trait that serves as the film’s soggy foundation. The experience of seeing Togar vomit is a manifestation in the lyrical value of the phrase Secangkir Kopi Pahit into the visual problem of seeing a pile of filth. The act of vomiting signifies a rejection, mainly due to being slapped hard by consciousness that returns early in the morning. Togar feels the need to separate himself from the many problems and traits he has, stimulated by his experience of seeing Lola beside him. The alcohol fog prevents the bed scene from happening in Togar’s mind. The impulse to vomit works through an invisible montage in Togar’s head, which associates the connection between his body and the body of a woman he still considers despicable, perhaps because of her age or because he feels deceived. Such reasoning was at odds with his body, a division that spoke to the distance between his bodily experience and his personal intelligence, or in other words, revealed a disharmony between space and ideal. Beyond his rejection of Lola lay a poetics of the journalistic world that he rejected, perhaps due to frustration at having to witness the degradation of the world while being unable to intervene. This aspect does not occur in the first and second fragments of Togar’s vomiting, but occurs afterwards, where, seeing Lola’s readiness to care for Togar in the third fragment, Togar can be said to still vomit every time he is startled by Lola, even after they are married. From another perspective, centred on Lola’s expression and actions, there is sadness expressed through Togar’s vomiting, that what he does for the economy has caught up with him. The rhythm of the vomiting is an expression of a social perspective that continues to consider him disgusting, which he responds to with a handful of sincerity by caring for her steadfastly, but there is a problem with that woman. Finally, in the last fragment, there is a glimpse of all of Togar’s rejections through a shift in rhythm from the execution of a domestic script.
The journalist’s residue will compound with what he has created through his intelligence when Lola catches Togar’s vomit with a newspaper. All the complexity of information dissolves with his own stomach juices until the medium where collectivity is contemplated, where the state is born, returns to its material nature, cheap paper with many functions except to refresh the public with dissolved information. This encounter reveals the relationship between the journalist and his work, which has now become something despicable or worthy of being vomited upon, given Togar’s lack of complaint when Lola handed him the newspaper. Lola’s gesture of catching the vomit is also significant; the newspaper lands at the foot of the bed after Togar vomits, causing it to act as a screen covering the pile of filth. This action became an articulation of the final function, or the unrecognised function of newspapers, to cover up or hide something filthy through stories, especially the stories that Togar also wrote in Sinar Pagi. The poetics of the object became Teguh’s criticism of the newspaper institution, especially Indonesian newspapers that had abandoned their revolutionary nature in favour of serving the interests of the state, which was the root cause of all the systemic problems occurring in the city. The story of the city covered up the residue of the city, the place where the world continued after the shadow world was constructed by the print media. A world where what is represented continues to live on, in stalls and dilapidated alleys, spaces where Togar is immersed. In the third fragment, Togar blends into the world outside the news, which we must first recognise as the daily reality of film. A residual reality that functions through the excesses of all processes towards modernity, one of which is the process of perantauan to the city – or urbanisation.
Derivatives Problems from A Centre
Teguh presents the issue of urbanisation in the form of what has happened and is happening through the people who appear in Secangkir Kopi Pahit. The presence of all the characters in Jakarta, including Togar, Buyung, Mangana, Lola, the Editor, and the Garbage Man, is a trace of the migration that has taken place. They all have a homeland, and they are not Betawi people, who are also a long-standing cross-ethnic group that can be referred to as Betawi people. Jakarta, which was previously a port city, was always visited by outsiders, from Dutch colonists to Chinese traders, so it is not appropriate to say that there are native Jakarta residents. In other words, identity is a construct that is influenced by policies regarding space that apply according to the times. During the New Order era, developmentalism, which prioritised infrastructure and industrialisation as a national vision, became the modus operandi of the state apparatus. In the film, the first place Buyung finds Togar after moving is a cement factory, where the basic materials for infrastructure are produced, as well as a canteen, where the productive labour is reproduced through lunch. Developmentalism expected a trickle-down effect from the stable centre to other regions, so development was prioritised first in the centres of Indonesia, such as Java, especially Jakarta. This created a relationship between the main (top, central) and the periphery (bottom, regions) where the periphery was expected to support the main. The consequence is uneven development, creating a facade of a country that stems from a keyhole view, a glimpse of a vague vision of an imaginary utopian space throughout the country, through the roar of the modern story of Jakarta.
The newspaper in Secangkir Kopi Pahit never glorifies Jakarta. However, it still talks about Jakarta, even when discussing Sukarsih or Togar; in other regions, Jakarta is always present among them. It is conceivable that the mass communication produced by newspapers about Jakarta is always imagined as a place where extraordinary things can happen. This vision is commonly found in dreams of economic miracles, but for Togar, it is also an aspiration to become something. People move and gather, creating a highly competitive situation. The trickle-down effect actually drives people to settle in the nooks and crannies of Jakarta. On the periphery of the centre, where the residue of human migration resides, there is a daily life that must be negotiated. If the original Jakarta does not actually exist, then the possibility of becoming Jakarta can occur through the resilience of an identity in that new place, where even in 2025 there is no single prevailing identity, leaving only diversity. The concept of villages inhabited by certain ethnic groups also emerged, such as Kampung Ambon, Kampung Melayu, Pekojan, Kampung Bandan, Pecinan, Cililitan (Batak) and many others. With the distance between people from different islands becoming closer, mixing is very likely to occur, which will then lead to a multicultural identity. This intermingling is like vomit that has merged with the paper on which Jakarta’s vision is built; it is a material universe that tries to hide the universe of representation, but because it is wet, it is impossible. It needs to be addressed, and Togar is a model for that approach.
World Outside The News
The reality outside the universe of representation – or the world in the news, the world that creates the universe of imagination – is not only expressed through the meeting between Lola and Togar, but also through the cinematic articulation of Sukarsih’s experience. This idea is reinforced by the flash of the Editor-in-Chief’s interview inserted after the scene where Togar is punched by Parjo and splashed with water by Sukarsih, while Togar is covering his rape case in Cirebon. The Editor, who discusses Sukarsih’s case in the context of Togar’s case (an atemporal situation from the pseudo-interview scene), reveals his lack of understanding of the transcript of Sukarsih’s interview. The full quote reads as follows:
‘He (Togar) did have a run-in with the police once. Misunderstanding, I have read all the reports about this girl, it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the reality! He always puts the word reality in every report, reality, reality… reality… reality. I don’t understand.’
The tension in this passage can be seen as the main issue and the film’s position in criticising the media. On the first level, there is the Editor-in-Chief, who does not understand the experience of rape victims, whose answers are measured according to a rational (logical) matrix. There is a perspective on events that requires traumatic experiences to be recounted with clarity, without considering the psychological burden. The second layer works like a credit title in that the audience never sees the full report on Sukarsih, who only appears as an idea of being raped, not even through Sukarsih’s voice explaining her situation, but rather through text. The second layer can be traced to why she is very reluctant to meet Togar, who himself gets the news from the suspended Buyung. Sukarsih says, ‘I am not a prostitute,’ implying that in her previous meeting with the journalist (Buyung), she was written about or at least framed in the context of prostitution (possibly to explain Marni’s covert business as an agent, for which Sukarsih was used as an example). The third layer lies in Maruli Sitompul’s performance as the editor-in-chief who selects a single word, repeats it to draw attention, and ultimately reveals a limitation of the text while opening up other ways of communicating.
Teguh cast an odd gaze that confused the editor as he read Sukarsih’s report. When Togar approached her, chasing her into the bathroom, his grip became the gateway to Sukarsih’s memories, and the gaze in the film entered the scene of her rape. The incident appeared in the logic of the film editing that now represented Sukarsih’s psychological gaze, complete with subjective lighting from the green background. Buyung, who experienced the incident only from outside the room, through faint sounds that penetrated the door, could not see Sukarsih’s gaze, so it was not yet valid as something that could be reported. What records that gaze is the body, a reality that the Editor, as an individual grappling with the text, has yet to understand. For them, the journalists and the law, only the mark on the wrist, wounded by the rope, can prove that the event actually occurred. A mark that also saves Togar from legal entanglements.
Tinkering with Stories
What can be challenged about newspapers as another mode of communication is argued by Teguh, after discussing it at length, through the character of Togar, who not only reports on Jakarta but also experiences Jakarta. Here, visual stimuli, the paradox of his love for Lola, and Sukarsih’s psychology represent a different form of communication from text but sensory, or rather than sensationalism, it is sensation. Teguh, who has a background as a play director, approaches the narrative through the characters’ bodies, which means he has a sensitivity to the internal world that is often overlooked in text- or image-based representations, as is the case with Sukarsih. This internal world is another reality, which Togar previously distanced himself from in his view of the outside world, a separation that makes Jakarta a facade. Of course, Teguh does not want to deny the function of newspapers in redistributing information. His goal is to offer something else, where film is able to reveal realities that are missed in cold reporting, which removes explanations of subjects from the descriptive to the narrative.
Narrative films or story films are not the most recent form of experimentation in film language, especially after the 1960s with the emergence of the New York underground scene, which may not have reached Indonesia due to its historical (global) disconnect. For this reason, Teguh works with what is available and tests it as material; in other words, he treats narrative as an object for experimentation. Non-sequential plots are one aspect, but another aspect is how narrativity works in the empirical view of systems, such as law and journalism. Even though both are objects of stories, lawyers will create stories about one side, and journalists will create stories about one event. Truth is inherently relative in stories, and Teguh illustrates this through the journey of a journalist who is at the end of one story and the beginning of another. The ontology of stories is brought together in a kind of dual texture, romantic melodrama with investigative movements in newspapers and law, neither of which provides a definitive conclusion.
Togar and Lola’s household is placed in the definitive lens of the system as a moral benchmark for Togar. It is something personal and made into a shared issue, perhaps something Togar had never imagined before. His love for Lola is gradual, full of rejection, such as when he drags her in front of the mirror or hits her on their wedding day, until he reaches the peak of the trinity of vomit he receives. In that poetic scene, Lola, who had just been accused by a customer at the neighbouring shop of being impregnated by another man (before she was married, but used as a reason for her to marry Togar), gave Togar the opportunity to divorce her. Togar refused, and in the most fragile state of a marriage, he decided to continue this project of love. Afterwards, as usual, he sat down, which was a signal to Lola that he was going to vomit. No stomach fluids spilt, everything was kept in his stomach, the newspaper remained dry, and Togar’s gaze was fixed on Lola’s eyes. There was no bitter sensation in seeing this reality. This is the position of a man in perantauan who no longer sees everything as ideal, but as it is, as everyday life full of contradictions.
Togar and Lola’s journey from lust to love is a collection of contradictory facts in a cold text in a courtroom. In a flash of an interview, Buyung also recants his opinion about the unhappiness of Togar’s marriage and says that he is very happy. Here we find something procedural, a linearity that is like a story, continuing even after publication. The definite and timeless nature of print is juxtaposed with the ephemeral and ever-changing nature of drama (in melodrama). Another dimension is the sensation in the translation of affect, based on feelings that do not always follow reason. At other times, affect influences movement, producing actions such as Togar’s commitment to caring for Lola’s children. The courtroom stage, narrated by Simorangkir, Buyung’s former lecturer who is now Togar’s lawyer, creates a framework through a complete chronicle of Togar’s personal life. Through the logic of action and reaction, cinematic in style and presented as cinema, Togar is freed from accusation; he is believed to love his wife. Perhaps this is the headline Buyung will write in his article later if he wants to tease his friend:
CAN PERANTAU LOVE THEIR FATE?
Footnotes
- Perantau or people who are ‘doing rantau’, in perantauan or merantau: ‘doing rantau’ – it’s a Malay word meaning “in-between” or “to wander away from home”. In the Minangkabau culture, it translates to shoreline, which then translates to “to move outside the land of Minangkabau”. The word becomes connotative in the Indonesian language with the word migration or diaspora, but the cultural specificity connotes a moral obligation to do so. In minangkabau it philosophizes to go outside the homeland to study in another land, and then use that knowledge to develop their homeland.
↩︎ - Readers should note that Lola undergoes a change in status from prostitute to Togar’s wife, with the former dominating the first part of the film and the latter dominating the second half. However, the film’s back-and-forth narrative makes it difficult to refer to Lola as either a wife or not a wife. Therefore, the decision was made to portray Lola as an individual and to emphasise her role when necessary.
↩︎ - The word Manado is more accurate in describing the background of the Lola tribe because it is mentioned in Togar’s monologue in the film, but the decision to use Minahasa was made to accommodate the ethnic groups inhabiting Sulawesi and not just a narrow area of Sulawesi, such as Manado as a city.
↩︎ - Secangkir Kopi Pahit by Afrian Purnama, Jurnalfootage, accessed on 14 December 2025 via Wayback Machine: https://web.archive.org/web/20200403232645/https://jurnalfootage.net/v4/secangkir-kopi-pahit/
↩︎ - The temporal dimension of vomiting after sex is never confirmed by the film, which is interior in nature, but it can be inferred by observing that the event occurs after nightfall. Thus, morning here is a stylistic choice to imagine what happens after nightfall.
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This article was written and published as part of “BUKAN SANDIWARA” KRITIK! Film Criticism & Curatorial Lab by Forum Lenteng.
Read the Bahasa Indonesia version of this article HERE
