some notes: again, this is a more formal review which will sound different from most of my ramblings
For most of us, our experiences with crocodiles stop at the murky enclosures in wildlife reserves, or maybe the small circular logo on the side of our white rubber Crocs. However, for Johan and his mother (or “Mama”), the titular characters in Crocodile Tears (2024), it’s impossible to imagine a life without these reptiles. Indeed, Tumpal Tampubolon’s directorial debut foregrounds their family-run crocodile farm in Indonesia, and the dangers that lurk within.
In case you’re not as caught up with the reptilian family as Johan and Mama are, here’s a fun fact about their life cycle: during the last few weeks of incubation, the mother crocodile tends to carry the eggs in her mouth. Following that, the fate of the reptilian fetuses is entirely dependent on the mother. It can go two ways: care or cannibalism.
With this knowledge, it’s perhaps easier to understand the nature of Johan and his mother’s odd relationship. They spend their days feeding dead chickens to their crocodile ponds, entertaining park guests and playing badminton. Codependency defines their interactions – they still share a room, where Mama hugs Johan to sleep every night. And for the most part, Johan is beholden to her every need too.
Things change, however, when he meets Arumi, a girl whom he’s immediately attracted to. As the two spend more time with each other, they fall in love and he starts to slip outside the insulated eggshell he’s always been used to.
However, he can’t avoid the cracks forming. At this junction, Johan has to choose between Arumi and his mother; between independence and tradition; between past and future. Twisted family history adds complications, and it’s gradually apparent that the farm is hiding more unsavoury, supernatural truths than it seems.
As far as Asian and Southeast Asian coming-of-age movies go, the narrative isn’t particularly innovative. Themes of love and family have been well-explored among similar films before, but Crocodile Tears (2024) true strength lies in Tampubolon’s style and his careful, practiced restraint. The story takes its time to lurk in the waters, building tension before letting loose during the heightened ending, in true crocodilian fashion. He favours a more subdued narrative, leaving much up in the air for viewers’ personal interpretations, including the mythological aspects that lead to the final twist.
“If you know Tumpal, you will understand that this film is really him.” - Mandy Marahimim, during the post-screening Q&A
Besides, Crocodile Tears (2024) serves as a genre chameleon of sorts. Though advertised as a horror or a thriller, its more eerie elements only reach full force later into the film. Yet, it never really reaches a point where your heart palpitates with fear or anticipation. On the other hand, the film’s comedic elements are more successful in compelling its audience, with superb timing and dialogue.
Bringing the whole film together, however, are the actors themselves. The film’s excellent casting pulls off a convincing performance that adds to the film’s emotional complexity. Marissa Anita, who plays Mama, excels in this department in particular. While discussing her personal interpretation of her role, Anita commented, “This is the question being asked by Mama: what is love exactly? Is love to possess, to hold on to this person? Is it to let go? Or is it the balance in between?”
Seven years in the making with 17 different drafts, it’s clear that Tampubolon’s debut was made with lots of (chicken) blood, sweat and (crocodile) tears. While it's not a personal favourite, I definitely look forward to seeing Tumpal Tampubolon’s future in Southeast Asian cinema.
- j