Social Reflection Through Absurd Horror: Edwin & Menfo Tantono on the Production Design of Sleep No More

Edwin admits that he never set out with a checklist of genres he wanted to explore. Yet for a long time he carried one conviction: someday he would make his own horror film, even if he did not know when.

Before discussing the film itself, it helps to step back for a moment. After exploring crime thriller in Borderless Fog (2024), martial arts in Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash (2021), culinary culture in Aruna & Her Palate (2018), and teenage romance in Posesif (2017), horror might seem like an unexpected turn. But for Edwin, the logic is simple. “I’ve always made films out of everyday life, and everyday life has become increasingly frightening. So it makes sense that the output becomes a horror film,” he said.

He then connects this idea to a longer historical arc. In the 1920s, after World War I, rapid industrialization and the erosion of old values gave rise to European horror films such as The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) and Nosferatu (1922). In the 1930s Dutch East Indies, the global economic crisis caused export commodities such as rubber and sugar to collapse in value. Doea Siloeman Oeler Poeti en Item (1934) and Tie Pat Kai Kawin (1935) emerged in that same period. Every wave of horror has a context behind it. There is always a world moving too fast, until people need a form through which to express their fears.

“Horror is celebrated because it seems clearly separated from reality. But if we dissect it, that world is always connected to the audience’s world,” Edwin said. “That’s why horror films in Indonesia continue to resonate. We’ve never really resolved our own problems, so we relate to them.”

Now, in an era when the internet has transformed nearly every aspect of life and artificial intelligence is beginning to replace human labor, Edwin feels that something distinctly human is being pushed aside. “I’m more unsettled by why I have to make this horror film now,” he said. The statement sounds almost diagnostic. Out of that anxiety, Sleep No More was born.

One of the film’s most striking aesthetic choices is its refusal to follow contemporary horror formulas. Sleep No More feels closer to Indonesian horror from the 1980s, embracing absurdity, body horror, dark comedy, and visual effects that appear handmade.

Menfo Tantono, the film’s production designer, explained that the decision to rely on practical effects was less about budget limitations than about trust in the process. “The problem with CGI is that if we can’t execute it at a Hollywood level, it can easily fail. Practical effects can feel more tangible and, honestly, more fun. Everything becomes more measurable. We know exactly what kind of image we’re going to get when we’re shooting,” he said.

They looked to several concrete references. Jaka Sembung Sang Penakluk (1981), in which the character Si Hitam, played by WD Muchtar, loses his head but continues moving. Bayi Ajaib (1982), which used prosthetic skin to create disturbing facial transformations. “One reference that may be less familiar today was Jan Švankmajer’s Czech film Little Otik (2000), which we studied during development,” Menfo explained.

He added, “Edwin is a very analog-minded person. He likes things that still feel human.”

Edwin expanded on this idea in an interesting way. He is not anti-digital. But he values processes that can be physically handled. “We worked with puppeteers, set designers, makeup artists, SFX artists, a rigging team that personally selected the steel cables used to pull actors, and even a props team that sourced real human hair for detailed shots. All of it is tangible. The process itself feels convincing, from design to trial and error, because we can measure it. We’re not surprised by the results,” he said.

Then he touched on something deeper than technical considerations. “When you look back at 1980s horror films, the effects are often crude. But they stay in your head. Technically they’re rough, yet they’re impactful. We know the effect is artificial, but I don’t feel deceived because the line between what is real and what is not remains clear. With CGI, everything is presented as if it were real. Maybe audiences will find this strange, but it’s a risk we’re willing to take because we believe in effects that are more honest.”

Menfo summed it up succinctly: “The highest awareness when watching a film is realizing that what you’re watching is not real. Those imperfections are precisely what make it feel alive.”

Sleep No More presents a ghost that cannot be seen: capitalism. The terror comes not from a supernatural figure, but from systematic exploitation, imprisoning routines, and bodies forced to remain productive until they must grow new joints simply to keep working.

To build that world visually, Menfo and his team conducted field research. They visited a hairpiece factory in Bali, documenting concrete details: production tools, the use of nails to comb hairpiece, and the process of creating foam from mixed chemicals. “The reality is not exactly like it appears in the film, but scientifically it can be justified,” Menfo said.

The problem was that the Bali factory was too harmonious. The production standards were good, the atmosphere comfortable. It did not fit the story’s needs. Eventually they found the right location: the old PFN (Produksi Film Negara) building in Jakarta, whose architecture already felt intimidating before any set dressing was added.

“Structurally, the building was already intimidating. That matched what we wanted to achieve,” Menfo said. “From there we added elements to intensify the atmosphere: making it feel messier, more oppressive, more humid. We hung mannequin arms from the ceiling, lined up face molds across the room, installed bars and chains around the space. Psychologically, these characters are trapped by routine, so physically we wanted to suggest that confinement. Those detailed elements were what we wanted to explore.”

Edwin has a personal connection to the building’s history. In 2014, Edwin and Lab Laba-Laba worked with its celluloid film archives. PFN was a state film factory used as a propaganda machine during Indonesia’s New Order era, producing works ranging from Pengkhianatan G30S/PKI to Si Unyil.

“That building carries a frightening history for filmmakers; it was a propaganda factory,” Edwin said. “Film has always been an intersection of art and industry. It shows how a government can consciously use cinema to shape public thought.”

Within that context, the dioramas appearing in the film take on heavier meaning. Dioramas are commonly found in factories, housing complexes, museums, and historical sites. But when placed within a propaganda context, something changes. “These dioramas were deliberately created by those in power as instruments of historical propaganda. They become frightening once you understand the agenda behind them,” he said.

Sound design received equal attention. Edwin spoke about the room’s echo, the distant hum of fans, the prosthetic footsteps at the beginning of the film, the sound of fire from a stove, and boiling water. “Sound is every bit as intense as the visuals. They are equally significant,” he said. One element he highlighted was the endlessly repeated announcements by the character Bu Maryati: motivational slogans that, when looped continuously, “work like mental conditioning,” in Edwin’s words. In the dormitory scenes with Putri and Ida, there is the sound of a malfunctioning water pump, an everyday noise closely tied to the landscape of poverty under capitalism. “Maybe it’s subtle, but we can experience it and then question it.”

Formally, Sleep No More differs from Edwin’s previous films. But when he traces the thread running through his work, a consistent set of anxieties emerges. Kara, The Daughter of a Tree (2005) dealt with the inescapable traps of capitalism. Blind Pig Who Wants to Fly (2008) and Postcards from the Zoo (2012) explored alienation and dysfunctional relationships. Possessive (2017) and Vengeance Is Mine, All Others Pay Cash (2021) examined toxic masculinity. “Even though it wasn’t planned, most of what I make comes from my own life,” Edwin said. “I usually realize it only after the film is finished.”

He does not claim ideological fluency. “I’m not trying to be overtly political because I’m not skilled at articulating ideology verbally. But I believe the values I hold will always find a way through.”

Menfo sees Edwin from another position, as a close collaborator. “Edwin is a director who always wants to try something new. Repetition or anything too established makes him restless. He doesn’t want to remain in a comfortable position. His independent spirit probably lies in his drive to explore.”

Edwin responded more personally: “Maybe one of my coping mechanisms is refusing to repeat the same thing.”

“What remains consistent across my films, even when the format and genre change, is my belief that film is a medium of reminder, an alarm,” he continued. “The frustrating part is that none of the problems we face are actually new.”

Although some of his films are quite narrative, Edwin is known for storytelling filled with symbols, giving his work a distinctive absurd quality. He sees this absurdity as connected to contemporary ways of consuming audiovisual content.

“I’ve noticed that today there is a growing demand for everything to be explained. This comes from consuming increasingly formulaic storytelling, so anything outside the formula is perceived as new and absurd,” he explained. “But it’s not entirely new.”

He applies the same logic to the recent resurgence of analog photography. For Edwin, who grew up with analog technology, its return is largely nostalgic. For younger generations who never experienced that era, analog feels like a new technology. “It’s interesting how we revisit old technologies and even cinematic languages that have existed for a long time, then reinterpret them as something new,” he said.

Perhaps that is where Sleep No More situates itself: it addresses a latent problem through methods that are not truly new. Like Godzilla, which emerged as a reminder of ecological destruction, cinema tries to render these monsters in a form that is engaging, even fun.

“The main question is: how do we make our world more human?” Edwin concluded.

Sleep No More opens in theaters across Indonesia on June 4, 2026.