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Ricardo Perez-Solero

Andi is in bed dying from a mysterious illness, his body wracked by spasms, but these are no natural causes. This onslaught is spiritual punishment for, among other offences, killing his boss and seducing the dead man’s beautiful widow, Nisa.
“I will not succumb to your charms again,” intones a guilt-laden Nisa, “because I have read Koranic verses to dispel them.” Then, thanks to the prayers of a remote Islamic teacher, Andi dies, his body emitting the foul stench of a sinner.
Having achieved her supernatural revenge, Nisa is presumably burden-free, and heathen Andi is buried in a forest. Soon there is a storm and a bolt of lightning sets a tree aflame, which falls on the tomb, lighting it on fire.
“We offer our audiences a moral message that says if you do something like this, there will be consequences,” says 28-year-old Raditya Jason, the actor who played Andi in this episode of Indonesian soap operaAzab.

It is common in religious soaps in Indonesia, where Muslims make up 88 per cent of the total population of 270 million, for the all-powerful Creator to kill the antagonist – either a bad Muslim, or someone who deviates to profane beliefs. But in the latest trend of divine punishment, which began in 2018, the offender’s corpse is systematically destroyed in near-cartoonish ways with the help of thunderstorms, earthquakes, strong winds, wolves, crocodiles, tigers.
In a particularly popular episode of Azab that became the source of viral memes on social media, divine retributioninvolves throwing a body into a cement mixer, swirling it around with the legs sticking out.
“There’s a religious factor there, but not a mystical one. It’s more a religious family story. A daily life story,” says Raditya, who always plays the antagonist, every episode’s moral punching bag.


As outlandish as this all sounds, Azab won the 2018 national television industry Panasonic Gobel Award for a non-serial soap opera (a category for soaps with no ongoing storyline but independent episodes with a common theme – in this case divine punishment).
The overacting, schmaltzy music and lo-fi special effects that characterise religious shows such as Azab are on display in all Indonesian soaps. Known as “sinetron” – a portmanteau of “cinema” and “electronic” – they are part of a huge, influential and incredibly productive industry.
Islamic soap operas – sinetron religi – began in the early 2000s to attract more Muslim viewers after decades of restrictions on Islam under dictator Suharto’s rule. While only one or two strictly Islamic sinetron series currently break into the top-10 most-viewed in the country, during the month of Ramadan almost all sinetrons increase religious content, and it isn’t uncommon for secular shows to retain their name but add a seasonal religious element.
In Studio Persari, a huge filming compound on the outskirts of Jakarta, Toto Hoedi, who has directed episodes of Azab, is supervising the production of Islamic melodrama Pintu Berkah (The Blessings’ Door) with the ease that only decades of experience can bring.
For Toto, Islamic soap operas are successful because “those who watch sinetron are mostly Muslims, we are not talking about something excessive but only what is close to their hearts based on religious values”, he says. “People don’t always like it. People don’t always believe [the extreme divine punishment] but the audience response and high ratings mean the show is accepted.”

With Studio Persari’s multiple sets, which can serve as parks, graveyards or hospital rooms, production houses work through frenetic shooting schedules to produce one full episode each day, to air on one of 15 national stations viewed by tens of millions of mostly middle- and lower-class households.
This high-speed production method, called “stripping”, is also used to shoot daily soaps in Brazil, South Korea and India. In Indonesia, the longest-running sinetron, like the current prime-time champion, comedy Tukang Ojek Pengkolan (Motorcycle Taxi Driver), or Islamic comedy Tukang Bubur Naik Haji (Porridge Seller Goes on the Haj), have aired, on average, more than one episode per day for almost five consecutive years.
Often scenes are shot with multiple cameras in a single take, and sometimes the schedule is so tight that shooting takes place on the same day as the episode is broadcast. Producers check minute-by-minute ratings data to adapt daily to the public mood and viral trends; crews work 12-hour shifts with only three days off each month.
“Today shooting, tonight editing,” says Ferry Fernandez, 36, the prolific producer of Tobali Putra Productions, in his office in Jakarta, laid back in a traditional batik shirt under a hip hop-style hoodie. “We call it live scene.”

According to market research firm Nielsen Company Indonesia, series advertising spend topped US$2.1 billion between January and November last year, with prime-time soaps’ profit margins allowing directors, and stars such as comedian Erick Estrada, to earn the same or more for two episodes than they would for a film. Sinetron religi can be lucrative, too, but critics argue that portraying such a “black-and-white” view of Islam is detrimental in a society with five other official religions: Catholicism, Protestantism, Buddhism, Confucianism and Hinduism.
Academic Inaya Rakhmani, who specialises in the commercialisation of Islam on Indonesian television, says that the market mechanisms behind sinetron religi have served to reinforce divisive religious stereotypes and promote conservatism. She argues in an academic paper that “self-censorship among sinetron religi producers is a balancing act between achieving high ratings and avoiding triggering protests”. And to avoid sanctions from the Indonesian Broadcasting Commission (KPI), an inde­pendent board of censors has been elected by parliament.
Religion is a sensitive topic in Indonesia, where a 1965 blasphemy law has been deployed more than 150 times by conservative Islamic groups, in what Human Rights Watch calls a bid “to discriminate against religious minorities”. Even though most of the country practises a moderate form of Islam, blasphemy cases have increased drastically in the past 15 years, alongside a rise in Islamic fundamentalism.
The highest profile conviction came in 2017, when former governor of Jakarta Basuki Tjahaja Purnama, popularly known as “Ahok”, a Christian, was sentenced to two years in jail for blasphemy after an edited video purportedly showed him insulting the Koran. The verdict put an end to protests led by radical Muslim groups – with the support of a former governor and other political foes – that pushed for a heavy sentence.

The fear of repercussions for “causing offence” is not limited to politics. In 2018, comedians Tretan Muslim and Coki Pardede received death threats and were subject to accusations of blasphemy after they uploaded a video to YouTube in which they cooked pork and joked about it.
In sinetron, as in the rest of the public sphere, the rule when portraying religion is “take no chances”, and the line between good and evil needs to be clear. The “good and evil” of sinetron religi has continued without legal repercussions because it is tailored for the Muslim majority. And they follow a playbook to keep it that way.
“No production house will give an antagonistic role to women wearing hijab,” explains actress Betari Ayu, graceful in a pink head veil and displaying a candid smile. Because she wears the hijab, “I must always be the good part, the tormented and crying part”, says the 20-year-old.
In the Jakarta satellite city of Bekasi, the actress has just finished a scene for Pintu Berkah in the mansion of a retired army general who rents it out for TV produc­tions. In this episode, her pious, hard-working character suffers great mistreatment at the hands of an evil foe, a woman who shows her spiritual turpitude by appearing unveiled. (While the hijab is a prevalent choice of everyday dress for women in Indonesian society, the veil was rare in the 1970s and 80s, when it was considered a political statement against Suharto’s secular regime.
Sinetron always portrays Muslims as the good guys while the other people who don’t appear to be Muslim, or don’t wear Muslim attire, are the bad guys
Sudarto Toto, activist
“If I get an offer [for a character] that is not veiled, I will not accept it,” says Betari, who has rejected better paid roles without a hijab.
“Sinetron always portrays Muslims as the good guys while the other people who don’t appear to be Muslim, or don’t wear Muslim attire, are the bad guys,” says Sudarto Toto, activist and programme manager at NGO Pusaka, who was himself accused in January of hate speech for defending the religious rights of the Christian minority in West Sumatra. “There’s also a lack of respect for traditional beliefs. Those who practise shamanism are the bad ones.”
Pusaka, which advocates for minority rights in Indonesia, warns that simplistic representations of Islam in entertainment can lead to intolerance.
The main body in charge of defending religious and cultural diversity in the archipelago’s television content is the KPI, which critics such as Muhamad Heychael, a lecturer at Multimedia Nusantara University, just west of Jakarta, accuse of limiting creativity and acting only when some­thing becomes a public issue, while shows like Azab get away with showing violence because it is in the name of Islam.
“If you support this kind of sinetron, people will support you,” says Heychael. “If KPI does something against it, people will tend to see it as anti-Islam.”

According to non-profit media research centre Remotivi, where Heychael used to work, most KPI sanc­tions relate to sexuality. A kiss or a sexy dress will lead to sanctions. While extreme divine punishment shows did come under scrutiny in late 2018 for going too far with their treatment of shrouded bodies and funerals, they were not the main concern of the monitoring body, and Azab continued airing until the end of last year. The show’s demise was not due to protests, it simply ran its course and the audience lost interest.
“[Twenty years ago], we could produce films that talked about atheism, even sexuality, more openly,” says Heychael. “Before, it was a different situation.”
Some industry players, such as Tobali Putra Productions, see the arrival of streaming platforms as a potential game-changer that could allow freer content, away from the censors and the pressure of conservative groups.
In his office, among manga figurines and Game of Thrones posters, Fernandez credits the creative freedom he has enjoyed in his latest projects to the Indonesian streaming service Genflix, which is not yet regulated by the KPI.

Filmmakers face similar issues in India, where locally produced Netflix series such as Sacred Games, made outside the scope of the country’s Central Board of Film Certifica­tion, have received post-airing warnings about foul language and nudity.
But outside government controlled or influenced entertainment streams, content both sacred and profane remains free from the watchful eye of hardline and moralist groups, for now.
Indonesia’s KPI has announced its intention to monitor overseas online services such as Netflix, but Fernandez is confident that whatever happens online, television will remain, with all its restrictions, the dominant platform for years. Like other creative forces in the sinetron world, he yearns only for freedom.
“With digital platforms, we can make a lot of things that cannot be made on regular TV,” says the producer. “It’s like an orgasm.”


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Inside the cruel everyday world of Indonesia’s popular Islamic soap operas

A family at home in West Jakarta, Indonesia, watch a sinetron TV show. Photo: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 08, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Actress Betari Ayu of âPintu Berkahâ poses during an interview. Some Sinetrons have been criticised for reinforcing divisive stereotypes and commercialising religion in the muslim-majority country[POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 07, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Yurike Prastika, Betari Ayu and Zafira Pasha during a scene of âPintu Berkahâ shot at Studio Persari in Jakarta. Sinetrons use a production system known in the industry as âstrippingâ. Frenetic filming schedules ensure a new episode is aired every day and with timing so tight, scenes are often shot with multiple cameras in a single take. [POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 10, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Actor Erick Estrada gets ready to shoot a scene of Aku Bukan Ustadz. Sinetrons use a production system known in the industry as âstrippingâ. Frenetic filming schedules ensure a new episode is aired every day and with timing so tight, scenes are often shot with multiple cameras in a single take.[POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 08, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Cast members of âPintu Berkahâ get ready to shoot a scene inside a mansion located in the outskirts of Jakarta. Sinetron, from the Bahasa word âelectronic cinemaâ, It is a colossal soap opera industry worth billions of dollars in advertising that tops Indonesia's TV audience ratings[POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 08, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Cast members of âPintu Berkahâ during a scene shot in a mansion located in the outskirts of Jakarta. Sinetron, from the Bahasa word âelectronic cinemaâ, It is a colossal soap opera industry worth billions of dollars in advertising that tops Indonesia's TV audience ratings[POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--October 08, 2019 - Jakarta (Indonesia). Furry Setya Raharja during the shooting of a scene of âTukang Ojek Pengkolanâ the actual top-rated Sinetron in Indonesia. The Sinetron follows the life of a motorcycle taxi driver struggling to earn a living and the plot resonates with Indonesia's working class[POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT:  Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

When a rising star of China’s live-streamers fell in love offline, it cost her the virtual world

Nai Nai live-streams while sitting in a taxi with a fan after her birthday party in Shanghai, China, last March. Photo: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, eats noodles in front of her fans, March 2019.â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai (right), a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, joins other live-streamers at a military boot camp for a broadcasting program, March 23, 2019â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, live-streams a battle against Jiang Bo (R) March 31, 2019. â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, learns Korean K-pop dance to improve her shows, March 26, 2019â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, blows out the candles on her birthday cake as her male fans who were attending her party watch her on their smartphones, March 17, 2019â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer from Shanghai, China, fights like lovers with her friend, the famous live-streamer Jiang Bo in Wuhan city March 19, 2019.â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, live-streams in Wuhan city as passerbys look on. , April 01, 2019â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

-ONE TIME USE ONLY--Nai Nai, a 23-year-old live-streamer in Shanghai, China, talks with her agent Wang Jianbing, March 18, 2019.â¨â¨Nai Naiâs fans are mostly Chinese men between 15 and 30 years old who post messages and virtual gifts, visible to everyone logged on to her chatroom. â¨â¨Chinaâs liveÂ­streaming industry reached 425 million subscribers in 2018 out of a current total internet user base of more than 829 million, according to government statistics cited in Chinese state media. LiveÂ­stream hosting is an increasingly popular career choice, especially for young Chinese women like Nai Nai.[12APRIL2020 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Justin Jin

In Indonesia, LGBT communities viewed as a moral threat – condemned by religion and, increasingly, by law

Indonesia’s LGBT communities face increasing persecution, punishment and public humiliation as the Muslim-majority nation loses tolerance for what it perceives to be moral crimes. Photo : Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--Dondu and Tee are two homosexual men who have been in a relationship for the last 8 years. They both work for NGOs focused on HIV prevention, advocacy and research. Dondus family stopped talking with him once they found out he was gay and he spent most of his young life with his aunt. Hes really worried about the current situation and he warned Tee many times to be really careful when hes going out since dress like that you can get harassed or killed.  Tee was diagnosed HIV-positive in 2010 and Dondu, who doesnt have the virus, has helped him to take care of his health ever since.[07APRIL2019 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--Masboi and Bintang met through Tinder and they have been together for a year. Masboi is a transgender man and Bintang is a cisgender woman unsure if she identifies herself as bisexual or just lesbian. Masboi felt like a boy since his childhood but he wasnt sure about transitioning until he was 30 years old. Bintang doesnt remember when she started feeling attracted to tomboy looking girls and she was in denial until recently. She thinks that what they do is a sin according to their religion, but she is trying her best to be a better human being despite of what the religion believes. They were both raised in conservative muslim families. [07APRIL2019 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--Ezra is a young homosexual man who was born and raised in Jakarta. In 2017 was arrested in a raid in a sauna with other 141 men. He was then sentenced to 2 ? years under the antipornography law with other 9 men. It was only after the raid that her mother knew he was gay, something he wasnt ready to tell her. Since his release from prison, he has been struggling to find a job as his name and photo were all over the media. Ezra is now trying to keep a low profile and hes doing his best to overcome this very difficult moment for him and his family. [07APRIL2019 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--Rio and Rangga are a young male homosexual couple who met each other in Grinder and now live together in a condominium in Central Jakarta. Rio discovered he was into guys when he was very young . During his childhood Rio was physically and psychologically abused by his uncle, who lived in the same house. His mother found out he is gay when she got into his Facebook account and told all his family. She didnt accept his choice and he told him that she would like to kill him if it was legal. He was 18 back then, and a few months later he got kicked out from his house by his uncle, at that time he touched rock bottom and even had suicidal thoughts. Rangga was born in the US and he lived in different places before arriving in Jakarta when he was around 10 years old. He is studying medicine. [07APRIL2019 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]CREDIT: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

--ONE TIME USE ONLY--Mei was born biologically as a woman, but she doesnt like to use conventional labels to identify herself. Mei was born and raised in Jakarta from a tolerant Indo-chinese-buddhist family and doesnt like when people use gender pronouns to address her. Mei considers herself a demisexual and needs to have a strong connection in order to feel attracted to someone. Before the relationship with her girlfriend Khun, Mei was married with a man and had children. Now divorced, Mei had her first relationship with a woman at the age of 33. When Mei started dating women she had to talked to her children about it to avoid misleading gossips. Mei said to the youngest: Is she kind to me? What do you think about her because some other people will say she's not a nice person? They will say bad things about us. You know what you know, we are happy and she's my partner. Mei works as photographer and model while Khun works in a garment company[07APRIL2019 FEATURE POST MAGAZINE]

Indonesia’s LGBT communities face increasing persecution, punishment and public humiliation as the Muslim-majority nation loses tolerance for what it perceives to be moral crimes. Photo: Thomas Cristofoletti / Ruom

Is Netflix haram? Indonesia’s Islamic clerics are ready for a fatwa – if you are

The Netflix show The First Temptation of Christ became a lightning rod for controversy. Photo: Handout

The Netflix show ‘Messiah’ has been criticised for its portrayal of Muslims. Photo: Netflix

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Religious soap operas are big business in the Muslim-majority country, where secular filmmakers face death threats from hardline viewers.


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Inside the cruel everyday world of Indonesia’s popular Islamic soap operas

.css-1c6uqr6{color:inherit;font-weight:inherit;font-size:inherit;font-family:inherit;line-height:inherit;overflow-wrap:break-word;}Religious soap operas are big business in the Muslim-majority country, where secular filmmakers face death threats from hardline viewers.

Religious soap operas are big business in the Muslim-majority country, where secular filmmakers face death threats from hardline viewers.