Created by Sashti Nandani, and co-directed by Kamila Andini and Ifa Isfansyah, the five-episode series opens with flashbacks of a terminally ill Soeraja (Pritt Timothy) is visited by, and who ends up pleading his son Lebas (Arya Saloka) to find a woman called Jeng Jah (Dian Sastrowardoyo). The lad is given a tin jar which contains a key to a safe in his grandfather's office, but when he gets there, his only clues become an old photograph showing a big group of people, and a bunch of letters written to Soeraja by Dasiyah that happens to be Jeng Jah's second name.
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Based on the eponymous best-selling novel written by Ratih Kumala, the Netflix series “Cigarette Girl” is one of the most interesting shows currently showing on the popular streaming platforms, vintage not only in terms of the era it plays in, but also regarding its topic. In times when the only trigger warning for Takashi Miike's blood drenched serial killer mini series “Connect” on Disney+ goes: “Contains tobacco depictions” as if cigarettes were the actual murder weapon there, we are invited to embrace an Indonesian soap opera whose core setting is the tobacco industry, and one woman's passion for creating new flavors for the brand.
We are transported from Jakarta (in 2001) to Kota M. of 1964, when we get to meet Dasiyah as a young woman passionately involved in ‘all men's business' that no one sees her in. Women are only permitted to work as handrollers in the tobacco business, as we get to know, and although the owner Idroes Moeria (Rukman Rosadi) supports his daughter's interest, he doesn't intent to break the tradition to the fullest, as all women should, (of course) get married, have children and take care of the house. The suitor is already chosen, and the daughter has no say in this matter, until she does – putting everyone in a slightly scandalous situation. The surprising outcome of that sensitive matter is that she gets out of it in a seemingly very elegant way, at least for a solid period of time.
“Cigarette Girl” is not a typical story of two broken hearts crushed by unfortunate circumstances, a trope over-used in the soap opera format. It also has a bit of history to offer alongside a basic insight into the women's hardships in Indonesia not such long time ago. “Your duty is to clean the house and find yourself a husband” is the way other men in the industry speak to Dasiyah who – treated as unequal doesn't stand a chance to negotiate with them. Tobacco production and sale, just like smoking, is men's thing. On the other hand, punishment for disobedience on the job is equally merciless for both sexes.
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When we land in the world of young Dasiyah, her family is about to get hit by big changes post 30 September 1965 movement. From riches to rags, they will lose their complete property overnight, and even worse – Idroes will be robbed of his life.
There is a constant switch between the first decade of the new millennium and the past, between romance and a serious tobacco business. The real passion here is less teary and sweaty than smoky, and the bloomiest words are used to describe the scent of the fresh or dried tobacco leaves. It is ash over crush. Nevertheless, there is a romance involved, and it starts the moment a young, irresistibly handsome Soeraya played by Ario Bayu (Joko Anwar's regular cast) appears. It is a type role we are not used to see him in, but the bedroom eyes kind of fit him even when the story glazing becomes too sugary. Luckily, there is always some kind of other drama that cuts the cheese in half.
You may get tired trying to understand connections between the many people in two different time spans, separately or intertwined, but you won't help but marveling Hagai Pakan's costume design that add to the overall elegance of the set design dealt by Wihana Erlangga and Dita Gambiro, and decorated by Danang K.C.
Pour yourself a cup of coffee and Netflix-travel to a place you otherwise can not experience that much anymore without at least a trigger warning.
