![]()
Hello! It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I hope this letter finds you well. A few years have passed since our last issue, yet our curiosity and desire to keep questioning have brought us back together. Naturally, we started dreaming up this third edition of
P E A R S not long after the second came out in 2021—or maybe even during the making of it. Ideas always have a funny way of appearing when we’re deep
in the work.
You might notice something different about this edition—not just in how it looks or reads, but in what it’s asking. While our previous issues centered on introspective questions— femininities across gender, the struggles of body dysmorphia—this time, we chose to look outward, toward something that quietly shapes us all.
One of the things my friends and I used to do was host "nobar"—an Indonesian word for gathering to watch movies or shows together. We’d do it weekly, tuning in to the latest episode of a reality show or revisiting an old favorite. But when the pandemic took that away, something changed. Sure, we had all the time in the world to binge whatever we wanted—but it didn’t feel the same.
Then came a kind of small salvation: Netflix Party. This little bit of technology let us stream things together again, even from afar. Each week, we’d watch something side by side on our screens, then stay on Zoom long after the credits rolled—talking, laughing, dissecting every detail. And in those shared hours, we were reminded that some things are simply better experienced together. That storytelling—whether on a big screen or a small one—still has the power to connect us.
That’s why, for this third edition, we turned our attention to the moving image—those flickering stories that kept us company, sparked our imaginations, and drew us closer. This issue celebrates how stories move us—and move through us—while also asking lingering questions: What will happen to movie theaters now that streaming is the norm? And why do women’s stories so often feel one-dimensional?
As you turn these pages, you’ll discover the inherently communal power of the moving image—traced in Yudhistira Agato’s essay on the rise of streaming platforms, and mirrored in Beata Primana’s inward journey, where cinema becomes a lens for exploring identity. In her beautiful personal piece, she reminds us that sometimes, we’re all still searching.
We’re also thrilled to feature profiles of two inimitable women in the Indonesian film industry: Tatjana Saphira and Ratu Felisha. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different—Tatjana, with her familiar warmth and quiet strength, and a name often associated with drama films; Ratu, bold and candid, known for her striking presence in horror movies. But as our writer Inaya Pananto sat down with each of them, she discovered a shared thread: a fierce passion for storytelling and a quiet resilience in navigating an industry that still isn’t always built to support women. Through open, generous conversations, they reflected on their creative processes, the pressures they face, and what lies ahead in both their personal and professional lives.
Visually, we wanted this issue to be a cheesy love letter to the moving image. From Tatjana’s campy transformations through the lens of Martin Westlake, to Ratu’s dramatic turn in an editorial inspired by ’90s soap operas—a nostalgic favorite of photographer Torik Danumaya. We also restaged some of our favorite dramatic scenes with a theatrical twist, brought to life by Hilarius Jason and twelve cast members styled in striking looks from mostly homegrown designers. It’s a playful homage to the characters and stories still restaging themselves in our minds—ones we hope will bring a smile to your face.
Last, but by no means least, we pay tribute to the people behind the camera—those whose names often float past in the closing credits, though their work anchors every frame we see. In a clever visual profile, Arjuna Asa reimagines how credit is given, and who gets to truly be seen.
This has been, by far, the most challenging edition we’ve ever produced. In the years when our schedules barely aligned, ideas were turned down, and promises fell through, I found myself asking—why are we doing this? Where are we going with it? Does this matter?
But over the time it took to make this issue, we rediscovered the thrill of dreaming and seeing our work come to life in print. We also remembered how fun it feels to collaborate. And maybe most importantly, I was reminded of something I first felt during those late-night Netflix Parties: some things really are better when experienced together. So everyone, we invite you to enjoy our take three.
