Salina Christmas

A recent film on the invasion of Lahad Datu reminds us of a 1981 war classic, Bukit Kepong (Kepong Hill), about an incident during the Malayan Emergency. The latter inspires our novels. Both films make us ponder over a disastrous possibility, should we choose a path other than peace.

I finally watched Takluk: Lahad Datu at the cinema. Five stars. I watched the film because the Director of Photography is Teck Zee Tan, who filmed that terrifying horror Rahsia (2023). I write wartime horror stories, so I’m also curious about one of the screenwriters, Peter Toyat, who has a few horror films to his credit. Also important is the film editor, Wei Hong Tan, who matched the emotion of each scene with perfectly timed edits. He did a comedy film before. No doubt he’s done a lot of commercial features and shorts. My BTEC in multimedia only gives me scant knowledge on editing, grading and so on. But my author instinct finds Tan’s timing spot-on. You jump where you need to be surprised and that’s enough.

Director Zulkarnain Azhar has a vision for a franchise. His vision is interpreted well by his crew. He plans ahead, which is good. I normally don’t watch patriotic Malay films, especially recent ones. But I make an exception for Takluk: Lahad Datu because of the horror credentials of the key crew members, namely Tan and Toyat. War is horror, one that’s literal and no longer a supernatural fantasy, unlike my novels.

Loosely based on the 2013 invasion of Lahad Datu, Sabah, by 235 terrorist from the Philippines, the film explores the sense of injustice that motivates the invasion, the fears of Malaysian police special forces – many of whom are family men – and Malaysia’s indignant at the torture and desecration of the bodies of the fallen policemen. Compared with the actual travesty that was committed by the terrorists in real life, the film’s gory depiction of decapitation and mutilation is tolerable. Just.

The scene at the Bajau stilt houses in which desperate policemen jump into the sea to hide underneath the wooden platforms, is reminiscent of Bukit Kepong (Kepong Hill), the 1981 war classic directed by Jins Shamsuddin. It’s the film that inspires one of the chapters of my first novel.

These terrorists were representatives of one of the claimants of the bygone Sultanate of Sulu. Like the film explains, they practiced a syncretic belief that combines religious extremism and witchcraft, which did nothing to their cause – a major theme in my books.

The scene at the Bajau stilt houses – the most horrific of them all – in which desperate policemen jump into the sea to hide underneath the wooden platforms, is reminiscent of Bukit Kepong (Kepong Hill), the 1981 war classic directed by Jins Shamsuddin. In the 1981 depiction of the actual 1950 tragedy, policemen who aren’t caught and burned alive by the Communist terrorists escape into the river and hide in the water. It’s a film I watched as a child and it’s the film that inspires one of the chapters of my first novel, The Keeper Of My Kin (see The Night of the Flying Blades). My horror and disappointment were revisited again in 2022 as an author in London when, during the research for that chapter, I discovered that the brutal siege at Kepong Hill was masterminded by Mat Indera, a product of a religious school (madrasah) who turned to the dark side after World War 2.

My horror and disappointment were revisited again in 2022, as an author in London, when I discovered that the brutal siege at Kepong Hill was masterminded by Mat Indera, a product of a religious school (madrasah) who turned to the dark side after World War 2.

I see a parallel between Mat Indera and the fictitious Raja Iskandar of Takluk: Lahad Datu. In the 2024 film, Raja Iskandar (played by Eman Manan) claims that his ancestral land Batu Jugar was stolen. He wants the injustice done by the European colonisers to be addressed. The Spanish and the British tore his ancestral land apart. This is the subtext of the story. Raja Iskandar sees himself as a victim, but he makes victims out of those who oppose him. The Malaysian negotiators insist that Malaysia has moved on – insinuating the dialogue that countries in Southeast Asia are still having with each other with regards to their sovereignty. Malaysia’s sovereignty lies within the borders that they have since 1963. The film is sympathetic to the protagonist. It permits Raja Iskandar to have his voice. But it doesn’t excuse the violence perpetrated by Raja Iskandar and his men.

In the 2024 film, Raja Iskandar claims that his ancestral land was stolen. The Spanish and the British tore his ancestral land apart. Raja Iskandar sees himself as a victim, but he makes victims out of those who oppose him.

Within the darkness of Takluk: Lahad Datu, there is lightness to be enjoyed. Our favourite characters are the sniper Inspector Steven (played by Jonathan Lee) and his shooting partner, Shooter 1 (played by Sam Fikri). Calm, quiet and effective, both captivate the audience with their precision. They’re not given many dialogues save a point of view in the form of a rifle’s crosshair. But the gamer’s gaze speaks volumes.

To the non-Malaysian audience, this is probably one war movie too many. The visuals – gloriously photographed from various perspectives – depict war as what it is: shock and awe. The birds’ eye view scene in which bullets are vomited out of a machine gun like a slot machine hitting the jackpot is mesmerising and off-putting at the same time. The bullet cases gleam like gold in the sun. Viewed from above, the magnitude hits us. Brilliance shouldn’t be framed like this. Zulkarnain Azhar has achieved what he wanted to achieve: we can’t take our eyes away from this terrible sight. This is one possibility we have to consider for our future, should we choose a path other than peace.

This is one possibility we have to consider for our future, should we choose a path other than peace.