The Raid: Redemption (Serbuan maut), or: A seemingly guilty pleasure you can love guilt-free

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The Raid: Redemption (Serbuan maut) (2011)

Directed by Gareth Evans

***SPOILERS***

The Raid: Redemption seems to be, in every sense of the phrase, a “go for broke” film. It completely abandons the misguided and not-at-all true notion that films require a detailed narrative and allows the fists (and the knives (and the bullets)) to fly. Hell, The Raid: Redemption pretty much owns zero narrative whatsoever. The underlying storyline is utilized to explain each character’s motivations, but the action solely moves the movie forward. And while it’s absolutely relentless in its pursuit of blood and glory, The Raid: Redemption isn’t always going for broke—which is a good thing. A delineating narrative isn’t necessary for an engaging experience, but for the sake of humanity, the action needs to define the characters in ways a detailed narrative always has since, I don’t know, the invention of storytelling? In this sense, The Raid: Redemption works beautifully—even if you don’t realize upon first glance. And while there are moments of contradiction and lethargy on the filmmaker’s part, the film is consistent enough to stand out as a glimmer of hope in modern action cinema.

Right off the bat, director and writer Gareth Evans attempts to establish a theme of identity. Jaka (Joe Taslim) gathers his team and discusses the mission at hand. He describes Mad Dog (Doni Alamsyah) as a ruthless character. And he refers to Andi as the composed counterbalance to Mad Dog’s capriciousness, but will also “not hesitate to put a bullet in your head.”  Tama (Ray Sahetapy) is shrouded in mystery, but clearly labeled as the mastermind—and the ultimate destination. Rama (Iko Uwais) is an unknown soldier who blends in with the rest of the crowd. And Wayhu (Pierre Gruno) is the hard-nosed lieutenant, disgruntled by the lame turnout of department underlings. And without a narrative to facilitate any character growth, we can expect the action to ultimately define these characters. And, in keeping with the theme of identity, that would mean defying these expectations Evans has laid out. And yeah, pretty much every character defies expectations. But when is it proficient…and when is it just plain lazy?

It’s a somewhat mixed bag. While the film owns an underlying narrative, the narrative is eventually utilized to justify these characters and explain their motivations. This means Evans has his work cut out for him. The character that best exemplifies an adept use of action for humane reasons is Andi. Andi defies expectations the second he comes face to face with Jaka for a one-on-one fight. Until this point, Mad Dog has kept Andi’s disturbed pheromones down and craftily maneuvered his way towards the raid, countering the manner in which Jaka described this duo. But when the time comes to put a bullet in Jaka’s head, Mad Dog stops. He removes the bullet and professes his passion for hand-to-hand combat, echoing Jaka's statement, but taking the statement to new heights with one hell of a fight, signaling just how noble and unforgiving Mad Dog is when it comes to fighting. He becomes a ruthless killer, gritty and merciless for the entire masterful fight, until the final moment, in which he becomes a ruthless Mad Dog and snaps Jaka’s neck. This stamp pretty much drives the nail in the coffin on our expectations of Mad Dog, while also indicating where this movie is heading. Until the fists fly and they’re forced to act, we really can’t understand these characters and their motivations.

Rama is another glimmer of hope. And, luckily, he’s the star of the film. He may just seem like another soldier dressed in black, but his expertise in ass kicking amounts to more than a welcoming cinematic experience. It’s hinted from the get-go: he tells his father he will “bring him back.” Bring who back? Nuh-uh…where’s the fun in that? But when we do find out that Andi is his brother and this entire raid conveniently worked as an excuse for Rama to retrieve him, his plight gains an avalanche’s worth of approbation. If we had known this detail from the beginning, there'd be less emotional punch. But with the slightest hint of Rama’s plight, we are able to accept that the film is building towards something. And even if it isn’t an emotional involvement, there’s still a reason to care. Rama is beaten bloody, ambushed, hunted, and he manages to fight or hide his way out of every situation. He’s knocked down, but always gets up. All in all, he’s a fighter and he never gives up. You can get behind this guy, even on the sole notion that he’s fighting for something. Anything. But when Rama finds his brother and we see the slightest bit of nostalgia and ardor between the two, we also see Rama’s entire journey in a different light. Not only is Rama persistent, but he also fucking loves his brother. He wants him to come home. Suddenly, the action owns a purpose outside of pleasing the targeted pubescent audience—it has come to give Rama personality.

Coming back to Jaka’s description of Andi, we can also view him a different, sympathetic light that balances the film’s cruel nature. Undoubtedly spotting his brother on those monitors, Andi’s abrupt killing of two associates dispels our preconceived notions. It echoes Jaka's earlier statement that Andi wouldn't hesitate to "put a bullet in your head," but the grittiness of shoving a knife into your associate's neck takes such a statement to the nth level. It seems he’s keeping in line with Jaka’s description, which paints Andi as a quiet, intelligent, and sporadic killer, we come to find out that it was simply done to protect Rama. Continuously these characters are built, and continuously do these characters respond with a symbolic kick to the jaw, challenging both the characters and the viewer to hold their breath in their assessments. It gives weight to the characters, but it also creates a sense of tension and involvement, both of which propel the story along with the adamant and meaningful action at hand.

The story really loses traction with Wayhu’s story. Contradicting the restrained method in which Evans leaks the personalities of Rama, Andi, and Mad Dog, Wayhu is introduced wearing a baby blue and white striped polo—thanks a lot for the heads up, Evans. And as he shoots children and eventually reveals his lack of authoritative approval for the raid, we see that Wayhu has other plans for this mission. It’s really no surprise when he shoots a subordinate and takes Tama in his own hands. And in the end, as Rama takes Wayhu away in handcuffs, we see the true purpose for Wayhu: he’s a parallel for Rama. While Rama was originally viewed as an expendable soldier, he’s now in control of the situation. While Rama’s plight was profound and meaningful, Wayhu’s plight was selfish. But Wayhu’s story angle, much like Rama and Andi’s reunion, fuels this tale. There’s an underlying mystery surrounding his involvement in the mission, but never once is it offset by the given genre’s assets. Instead, it always exists under the surface, up until the final moments where he shoots Tama and pulls the trigger on himself. The only moment of suspense lies in the prospect of his brains being splattered on the wall, but it’s ultimately anti-climactic because of its utter irrelevancy and lack of substance. In turn, propelling Wayhu’s storyline to the same amount of relevancy to Rama’s becomes an insult, rendering the comparison between the two less consequential and more useless.

Luckily for Evans, he’s obligated to give the final fight to Rama, Andi, and Mad Dog, which eats up a considerable amount of time and only allows Wayhu’s limp storyline to lazily interweave its way through the fight, never really holding as much engagement. And during this fight, we see a trait that could be utilized more often in horror films: employing the environment. That looming, intransigent building on the film’s poster pretty much comes to have a life of its own. It towers above our characters, its insides a mystery, teasing us and the police force of its inevitably harsh interior. Constantly it dictates the action, but it also dictates the characters. The policemen are cool and collected at first, methodically maneuvering throughout the rooms and handcuffing the occupants. But the PA system instantly turns on them, warning the residents and igniting the ensuing riot. The police try to remain diligent in their structured proceedings, but the building quickly turns them into killing machines, forced to react to remain alive. The television monitors witness their every move, eventually coming to hold emotional weight when they discover Andi hiding Rama from Mad Dog, while also serving as the source of tension as Tama interrogates Andi. As Rama explores the building and fights his way to the top, we explore the inside as its extremities are utilized for creative fight sequences. The final fight takes place in a small square room, contained and absolute, while the sprawling foot chases propel everything towards the resolution. As this building crumbles, so does the narrative and our expectations of these characters, serving a dual purpose that’s hard to come by in film.

And, as the film draws to a close, the building separates Andi and Rama. As the fence closes, we see Rama choosing one path and Andi choosing another. And neither is perpetuated as righteous. There’s been some confusion over the use of the word “Redemption” in the film’s title, but it’s really not hard to pinpoint. Ultimately, Rama believes he is saving Andi from a life of hell. But Andi has rejected society (and vise versa), and this gray, granite, immovable, separated building has become his sanctuary. The very core of Rama’s plight involved redeeming his brother’s past actions, but Andi feels no need to redeem himself. He’s a monster, but he’s also accepted himself as a monster. Defying expectations from Rama and Jaka (and the viewer), Andi isn’t a ruthless killing machine with no soul, but a very real human being who’s accepted his fate. “Redemption” almost comes to own a tongue-in-cheek aura, asking the viewer: “Is there really any redemption in this bloody battle?” The ambiguity surrounding such a question challenges the nature of most action films—but not The Raid: Redemption. It may be an exhausting film that leans too heavily on its fight sequences and pushes its own scarce storylines too far, but it’s a fully realized cinematic experience you’ll rarely come by, pushing the boundaries of hand-to-hand combat filmmaking and the notion of expendable characters. And hey, paired with character-oriented action, you can blow off cinephile snobs and love this movie guilt-free. Isn’t that what really matters?