Under The Whether

Directed by Putri Sarah Amelia​

Screening at The Brattle, May 6th, 2026

A middle aged woman who’s going through a perimenopause phase, tries to replace her busy daughter with a cat, but too bad, the cat is in puberty.

There are subtle objects and gestures, like the dried up open orange, or the vibrant red jam being spread by Ara, that feel loaded with bodily intimacy. How did you approach these small domestic details in relation to the menstrual cycle and the rhythms of the body?
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For me, menstruation, menopause, and bodily changes are deeply physical experiences, but they are also lived through daily routines. Through food, textures, stains, scents, silence, and repeat.
Because of that, objects like a drying orange or red jam become extensions of the body itself. The orange represents something that was once full of fluid and vitality but is now changing form. While the jam is associated with menstrual blood and the hormones of fertility. Jam has those little lumps and granules, which remind me of menstruation and are reflected in Ara’s scene where she is about to get her period. This is a contrast with her mother, who is also experiencing the symptoms of changes happening in her own body during perimenopause.

​I want these domestic details to feel intimate without being overly literal. These symbols are meant to reflect objects that represent both the mother and the daughter in the phases they are going through. What women experience is sometimes difficult to explain, but I try to portray those internal states through the perceptions that we could build visually.

There are so many powerful emotional beats in the film, like when the mother collapses into a fetal position, which becomes her turning point toward self-care and acceptance. How did you develop the visual language of the film and come up with these scenes?

The visual language of this film emerges from the emotional state of the mother, Susi. I wanted the camera to observe her gently, giving space for her vulnerability to exist without judgment. There was a discussion between me and the actor (Maryam Supraba) when we were trying to portray a feeling that is kept inside—something confusing, where you don’t quite know what to do except hold yourself in a fragile state. It’s something I often do myself when I feel anxious, and I shared that with Maryam; she responded by agreeing to that kind of blocking. I also chose for her to curl up on the floor to create a stronger sense of grounding.

At the time, I thought of the moment when she curls into a fetal position as coming from the idea of regression as a response to pain. When the body feels overwhelmed, it instinctively seeks protection, softness, or a return to the earliest sense of safety. That scene becomes a turning point, because surrendering to vulnerability can also mark the beginning of her acceptance of everything that she is gradually losing in her life: her husband who has passed away, her eldest child who has followed their spouse on assignment, her youngest child who wants to move out, and even Piping, the cat, who also leaves the house. In the end, Susi is left with only herself.

The film repeatedly frames the mother as small within her environment, often through doorways or wide shots. What did you want that sense of scale and seclusion to communicate about her internal state, and how did you think about the house as a space filled with memory and absence?

Yes, you could say that I often frame Susi as appearing small within the house because I want to visualize how she feels emotionally distant from both herself and her surroundings. Even in familiar spaces, grief, hormonal change, or loneliness can make a person feel displaced.

The house in Under the Whether is not just a physical setting; it also holds traces of relationships, routines, and memories. It contains presence and absence at the same time. I use door frames early on as a way to suggest connection and relationships. But when the space becomes empty corners and wide shots, it helps convey that tension: she is inside the house, yet emotionally she is searching for a connection that now feels distant. A house that’s large, even with objects on every corner, can still feel empty when its owner is left with only herself.

 I loved the scene with the TV in the distance, with “waiting for connection” on the screen, and then the return of the daughter (and eventually the cat), which introduces a sense of reconnection. How did you approach the film’s theme of caregiving as a cycle that shifts between mother and daughter (and cat), particularly in the moment where menopause is reframed by the daughter as something positive and followed by her taking on a caregiving role through comfort and touch?

In that moment, I see it as a bridge between two characters who are both processing loss and change in their lives. Susi is trying to come to terms with what her body is going through and the new phase of life that she is entering, while Ara is also in a phase of grief after her relationship with her partner has ended. That’s why Ara decides to return home, seeking a sense of comfort.

In truth, they both need each other, but they are equally too proud and find it difficult to express it directly. So I deliberately built their relationship through subtext, rather than through overly explicit dialogue. There are many emotions present, but not all of them can be spoken.

The words “waiting for connection” on the TV screen, for me, are not just about a television signal. It also feels like a kind of loading moment for Susi—a pause where she is processing everything and asking herself, “after all these changes, what should I do?” From there, the answer slowly leads toward acceptance.

That’s why I see this scene as a moment of reconnection between Susi, Ara, and also Piping. Piping is present as an “object” or medium that, unconsciously, brings them back together. Sometimes strained relationships are not healed through big conversations, but through small presences that allow the people in a home to slowly draw closer again.

For me, the root of their problem is not a lack of love, but the fact that they have different ways of expressing it. Susi is more accustomed to showing love through quality time and acts of service—her care is expressed through presence and everyday actions. Meanwhile, Ara is more comfortable with physical touch and words of affirmation. So when Ara finally comforts her mother through touch and attention, that is when they begin to understand each other’s love languages. Sometimes the mother takes care of the child, sometimes the child takes care of the mother. The roles may shift, but the love remains the same.

How did your personal perspective or experiences influence the way you told this story?

My personal perspective shaped this story through my observations of the lives around me. I’ve always been interested in the emotional lives of women that often go unspoken. Especially experiences related to the body, life transitions, and the dynamics within family relationships. I imagine this film as a love letter to women who may find it difficult to talk about what they are feeling or going through.
I want this film to create space for those experiences to be seen with empathy—whether for women who have gone through them, are going through them, or will go through them in the future. But I also intend this film for men, so they can better understand the mothers, wives, partners, sisters, or daughters in their lives.

The seed of this story actually began about seven years ago, when my relationship with my mother was filled with conflicts and we both struggled to understand each other. However, the film truly came to life in 2024, when I had become more mature and started seeing things from a different perspective. At that time, my mother was entering menopause, while I was extremely busy pursuing my career. At that point, I realized that what she needed was actually simple: to be heard and accompanied. Yet something that simple felt difficult for me to give at the time.

The element of Piping also came from a real-life experience. In the middle of an emotionally exhausting situation, my cat was being particularly noisy due to being in heat and was difficult to manage. From there, Devina and Eliza—the screenwriter and producer of this film—and I began discussing how personal moments like that could be shaped into part of the story.
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So this film is not entirely autobiographical, but it does come from fragments of real experiences, which we then reworked with dramatic adjustments to serve the story. For me, it is precisely from those personal details that a story can feel more honest and resonate more closely with many people.

Putri Sarah Amelia (she/her) is a lecturer and film writer & director. Her concern for humanitarian issues of minority groups, identity, women and gender equality leads her to continue to explore these issues in her research and work. She studied film directing at the Jakarta Arts Institute (IKJ) and then continued her studies in Urban Art and Cultural Industries at the Postgraduate Program of IKJ, also an alumna of LOCK-Full Circle Lab Indonesia 2019.
Her film Jemari yang Menari di Atas Luka-Luka (Golden Frames in the Closet) has won national and international awards including the National Jury Winner at the Minikino Film Week 6, Short Shorts Film Festival and Asia 2020 in Japan, Winner People’s Choice Award for Best Short Vancouver Queer Film Festival 2021, and won the Best Short Film of the 2020 Film Festival Indonesia (FFI).
She currently works in the Bachelor of Film Program at Multimedia Nusantara University and continues to focus on making short films before having her feature debut.