Summary
Director Edwin allows many elements to breathe in the geopolitical thriller Borderless Fog, which features a formidable lead character played by Putri Marino.
Borderless Fog is not a movie to take lightly. Director Edwin (Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash, Posesif) was not in the mood to make the viewing of this film comfortable. But for all its simple premise, the meanings and foreshadowing are more potent than the primary objective itself. Coupled with authentic cinematography, this Indonesian crime thriller deserved to be noticed.
Before I get into the premise, it’s helpful to understand the geography involved in this movie so that audiences can grasp the tensions within the rife geopolitics. Borderless Fog is set in Borneo, a large Island in Southeast Asia. The island is shared by the Malaysian states of Sabah and Sarawak, Indonesian Kalimantan, and the small nation of Brunei.
Judging by its description, this is not an easy island to parse either; it has a highly biodiverse rainforest that’s thousands of years old. At the start of the movie, the politics and culture involved were described:
“The story takes place at the Indonesia-Malaysia Border, on Borneo Island, home to Dayanese, Malay, and Chinese. From 1967 to 1990, the Indonesian and Malaysian military worked together with the local community in the operation to defeat the Paraku communist forces. One of the Parku leaders, Ambong, successfully escaped and is said to hide in the forest, as a ghost. Until now, the area near the border, is still haunted by never-ending violence.”
Borderless Fog follows Sanja Arunika, a Police Inspector with the Indonesian Police Department. She is accustomed to Jakarta’s metropolitan life but, due to a past that is not answered in the first act, is transferred to Kalimantan. She’s tasked with solving a serial murder case in Borneo, on the border.
As Sanja unearths the killings on the border, she is thrown into spiritual superstition, police corruption, and suspicions of trafficking. Her situation is several mysteries, including what is burdening her; she has a past where she prefers to be away from the city and to be placed in the swirling humidity of Borneo that’s going through an unspoken division.
Talking of unspoken, Director Edwin allows audiences to assume the evident conflict between authorities on the Indonesia-Malaysia Border. But with Sanja, you have a character trying to balance her morality, attempting to do what’s right and fighting against unseen forces that go beyond paperwork fudging. A clear power dynamic shifts the longer Sanja tries to uncover the dirt beneath this investigation.
Applause is to be made to Putri Marino, who plays Sanja with ease, giving the vibe of Alien’s Ellen Ripley. She has the remnants of the feminist icon as she hardens herself in a physiological rift-raft between men and authorities to lean to the truth.
But her performance is marvelous. It’s not what she has to say; it’s how she performs. She has a way of making her form on the screen the most important. In the opening scenes, a higher-up questions her use of rose-tinted glasses, which she coolly responds to without a care in the world. Putri allows Sanja to be the aura that the movie needs. She needs to be the city girl infiltrating the wild to figure out a series of murders. And she looks exactly like that.
That’s why it’s essential that the director’s vision fleshes out the environment of Borneo. The humidity, the interconnections between wildlife and villages, the community’s leaning towards superstition, and the absurd difficulty of succeeding in figuring out a serial killer is at the heart of the movie but central to the lead character’s determination—not to mention the ghosts of her past that form her psyche.
Putri Marino as Sanja in ‘Borderless Fog’ (Credit – Netflix)
This is why I loved Borderless Fog. Often, directors make the mistake of believing that the only lead character must be human. But, like the popular TV show Lost, the lead character can take many forms. The island in this movie, its inhabitants, and the swirling tension caused by border politics are characters within themselves, and Sanja, our fearless, trauma-riddled woman, has to contend with it.
But a warning: this Indonesian film is hardly a quick throw-on. It requires patience. Let Sanja’s experience flesh out. And the result? The third act will truly reward you.
