Marlon Brando and Al Pacino were major influences on the 1965 Indonesian mass killings of communists.

At least that’s what Anwar Congo would have you believe.

This excuse, that Hollywood movies imprinted a bloodlust in their Indonesian viewers, is one of many that Congo drops throughout “The Act of Killing,” a documentary directed by Joshua Oppenheimer and produced by Werner Herzog.

The film follows Congo and other leaders of Indonesian death squads as they recreate their war crimes in the style of Hollywood movies.

Before leading mass murders, Congo and his friends were small-timeblack market movie ticket dealers, recruited by the army to lead the extermination of communists, ethnic Chinese and intellectuals.

Instead of facing an international trial for crimes against humanity after the genocide, Congo and his associates were lauded as national heroes.

“The Act of Killing” attempts to force Congo to confront the brutal truth behind his war crimes by reenacting them under the ruse of a film memorializing them. Congo has never had to face these truths before due to the praise by the Indonesian government and the fearfully subdued populace.

What results is both horrific and laughably absurd, with the ultimate joke being the banality of the horrors the film exposes.

The film is horrific in that Congo and the other killers display little outward attrition for the gruesome murders that they personally took part in by the hundreds.

Congo demonstrates his efficient method of mass execution at one of his old killing sites, tying a string around a post, wrapping it around the victim’s neck, and pulling from the other side, almost with a level of nostalgia.

Even more terrifying is the Indonesian people’s general acceptance of Congo as a national treasure. Congo’s appearance on a national Indonesian talk show to promote Oppenheimer’s film resembles a Hollywood icon making his modern-day comeback.

The studio audience, although most likely paid to give these reactions, claps and laughs at Congo’s jokes as he reminiscences about his murders, bringing into question the sanity of the nation as a whole.

The film serves as a culture shock for those of us in America who are used to the Hollywood ideal of a happy ending, where the bad guy eventually pays for his crimes, which is ironic considering the supposed influence of Hollywood films on Congo.

What makes “The Act of Killing” so poignant is its violation of how we expect society to react to unspeakable acts of violence and atrocities.

Yet, under the surface of Congo’s boasts and jokes about killing communists there is a deep-seated guilt that unwillingly manifests itself in disturbing ways throughout the movie.

The climactic moment of this guilt manifestation occurs near the end of the film, when Congo revisits his old killing ground at night. His remembrances of those murders leads to violent physical convulsions that make all his previous posturing seem like a sad attempt at justification for his actions.

Indeed, it seems throughout the film every character vainly tries to give credence to the gross human rights violations that have recently characterized their nation.

They repeatedly remind the camera that the word “gangster,” which classifies many of those in power, translates into “free man.”

It seems the entire reason Congo decided to participate in this film was to justify the murders that made his name but ultimately haunt his every action.

“The Act of Killing” is a testament to the fickleness of history and truth, presenting the audience with a live-action example of the maxim that those who win wars are usually the ones who also record their history.

Sometimes even to the extent that an act of killing can be blamed on a few actors and movies from Hollywood.

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