INDONESIA'S MEAN STREETS

But these are just statistics. What is life really like for those children who may turn out to be Indonesia's lost generation? Daun di Atas Bantal (Leaf on a Pillow), by director Garin Nugroho, provides an 80-minute window into that world - though, in a sense, the view is slightly distorted. Daun was made last year (partly with government money), just before Indonesia tumbled into the economic vortex. While the movie reflects none of the scale of today's suffering, it still delivers a searing, documentary-style account of what happens to children when they are dumped at the very bottom of society. Through Jogjakarta street urchins Kancil, Sugeng and Heru can be perceived the reality of the countless other Indonesian youngsters who now find themselves homeless, scavenging and thieving and prey to who knows what kind of evil.

Just as he did with his 1995 street-survival documentary Dongeng Kancil Tentang Kemerdekaan (Kancil's Tale of Freedom), Nugroho has taken real-life characters as his stars. Kancil and Sugeng appeared in that documentary, after which they returned to the streets. The director found them again. Why? He says it is his way of countering the authorities' refusal to recognize Indonesia's disenfranchized as "real" people. This denial, he says, has helped lead the country to the brink of the precipice. "[These people] have never been emancipated in terms of communication. This has created a social and cultural chasm whose impact we can now see in the frustration of our friends in Irian [Jaya]."

In a cinema market numbed by big-budget Hollywood action movies and conveyor-belt local productions, Daun has proved to be a surprise hit. Since its release in early August, it has regularly filled the two Jakarta movie houses where it is running. To some extent, this is thanks to the presence of Christine Hakim, who plays the role of a street vendor and surrogate mother to the three boys. Hakim, the unchallenged first lady of the Indonesian cinema, was also the producer.

Executive producer Desiree Harahap says the movie is a slightly watered-down rendering of what really goes on in the streets of Jogjakarta and other cities in Indonesia. For all that, it delivers a shocking message. All three youngsters die violent, horrible deaths, and one scene, in which Heru pushes a safety pin clean through his lip, is chilling.

Hollywood's Variety magazine praises Daun for bringing "a poetic humanity, free of preaching and heavy emoting" to its subject. Writing in Indonesia's Gatra magazine, Mauluddin Anwar says the director has stayed true to his mission. "This is classic Nugroho - take your main players from the world that is the setting for the story." Nugroho, at 37 still the bad boy of Indonesian cinema, is not greatly given to listening to critics. "They normally equate my documentary approach with failure," he says. "But by using this technique, I can assault the public with the reality of what happens in their streets."

Daun was selected for screening in the Un Certain Regard section of this year's Cannes Film Festival. Nugroho's earlier works have also done well overseas. His first, 1991's Cinta Dalam Sepotong Roti (Love in a Slice of Bread) won him the Best Young Director award at the Asia-Pacific Film Festival in Seoul. Surat Untuk Bidadari (Letter for an Angel) took Best Film in 1994 in both the Tokyo Film Festival Young Competition and Italy's Taormina Film Festival. And 1995's Bulan Tertusuk Ilalang (. . . And the Moon Dances) secured Best Director at Nantes.

These films were only fleetingly on release in Indonesia - not because of their content but because the dominant cinema chain, owned by a cousin of president Suharto, considered them poor box-office material. If it was true then, it certainly isn't the case any more. Long silenced, Indonesians have discovered their political voice. Nugroho - and through him the ever-growing ranks of the underprivileged - have found an audience.