Tuesday, 21 Jul, 2026

The Digital Panopticon: Deconstructing Consent and Trauma in Gina S. Noer’s Like & Share

In Susan Sontag’s seminal 2003 essay Regarding the Pain of Others, she posited that we live in an era where reality is fundamentally shaped by spectacle. The camera, she argued, provides a window into experiences that would otherwise remain unreachable to the spectator. Yet, this window carries a heavy ethical burden: What separates a work that fosters genuine empathy from one that merely commodifies trauma? To frame an image, as Sontag suggests, is also to exclude; by choosing what to capture, we inevitably choose what to leave in the shadows.

Gina S. Noer’s 2022 film Like & Share serves as a piercing cinematic exploration of these questions in the age of digital hyper-connectivity. By focusing on the lives of two teenagers, Lisa (Aurora Ribero) and Sarah (Arawinda Kirana), the film navigates the precarious intersection of adolescent identity, online culture, and the systemic violence of the patriarchy.

The Main Facts: Life Within the Frame

Like & Share follows Lisa and Sarah, two high school students deeply entrenched in the world of social media. Their daily lives are defined by the constant act of recording—capturing their surroundings, their friendships, and their aspirations to become popular content creators through ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response) videos.

The film serves as a mirror to modern youth culture, where the line between "private life" and "public content" has become dangerously porous. However, the film’s central conflict arises when these young women transition from being the ones holding the camera to becoming the subjects of non-consensual exploitation. The film tackles the harrowing reality of Online Gender-Based Violence (OGBV) and the Non-Consensual Distribution of Intimate Images (NCDII), forcing the audience to confront the ethical implications of consuming such content.

Chronology: From Content Creation to Victimhood

The narrative arc of Like & Share is a deliberate progression from agency to violation.

  1. The Performance of Identity: In the opening acts, we witness Lisa and Sarah navigating their burgeoning sexuality and their desire for visibility. They are active participants in the digital sphere, consciously choosing to frame themselves for an audience.
  2. The Breach of Boundaries: The narrative shifts when the boundaries of consent are violated. Through the character of Sarah, the film illustrates the chilling ease with which intimate, private moments are weaponized.
  3. The Normalization of Violence: The film tracks the fallout of these events, moving beyond the immediate trauma to expose the systemic failures that follow. It examines how victims are treated by their peers, educators, and the digital platforms themselves.
  4. The Confrontation: The final phase of the film focuses on the struggle for reclamation. It is not a story of a "perfect victim," but of complex individuals grappling with the aftermath of betrayal in a society that often prefers to blame the victim for their own exploitation.

Supporting Data: The Patriarchal Architecture of Violence

Like & Share distinguishes itself by refusing to scapegoat the internet. Instead, it positions the digital landscape as an extension of an existing, deeply rooted patriarchal structure.

The film meticulously builds its case through the "over-shoulder" cinematography, which places the audience in the room with the characters, forcing a sense of complicity. Noer uses the mise-en-scène to highlight the feeling of being watched—Lisa and Sarah are constantly framed through windows, mirrors, and doors. This "digital panopticon" is not just a feature of their smartphones; it is a feature of their society.

The film explores several key social indicators of this environment:

  • The Household Hierarchy: Lisa’s home life reflects a patriarchal power structure where her mother, driven by financial necessity, must remain subservient to her stepfather. This environment conditions Lisa to believe that her autonomy is secondary to the needs of those in power.
  • Institutional Misogyny: The film portrays a sports teacher who violates student privacy by sharing private videos of students in swimsuits. This is not merely an isolated incident; it is a manifestation of a culture that treats women’s bodies as public property.
  • The Myth of the "Perfect Victim": Perhaps the film’s most vital contribution is its refusal to paint Lisa and Sarah as flawless. They possess sexual desires, they make mistakes, and they participate in the very culture that eventually consumes them. The film asserts that these traits do not strip them of their rights.

Official Responses and Socio-Political Context

The release of Like & Share arrived at a pivotal moment in Indonesian history, coinciding with the enactment of the Law on Sexual Violence Crimes (UU TPKS). This legislation marks a significant shift in legal philosophy—moving away from victim-blaming and toward a model that prioritizes the testimony of the survivor and mandates state-funded recovery services.

Like & Share: Yang Tidak Tertangkap Layar dari Rekaman KBGO

While previous Indonesian films have attempted to tackle these themes, many relied on metaphors or "gimmicks" to navigate the political climate. Penyalin Cahaya (2022), for instance, used the imagery of photocopiers and theatrical fogging to discuss power abuse in universities. While visually striking, these abstractions often created a distance between the audience and the raw reality of the victim’s experience.

Gina S. Noer, by contrast, chooses directness. The film engages with the reality of consent—specifically the misunderstanding that checking into a hotel room implies consent to sexual activity. By stripping away the metaphorical veil, the film demands that the audience stop looking for "innocent victims" and start looking at the systems that permit the violation of human agency.

Implications: Challenging the Audience

The broader implication of Like & Share is a call for a paradigm shift in how society views OGBV.

The Question of Complicity

When Lisa, in the early parts of the film, watches a video of a woman being assaulted, she is initially just another passive consumer of content. The film forces the audience to join her in that realization: the moment she understands the subject of the video did not consent, her act of "watching" transforms into an act of participation. This is a profound interrogation of the audience’s own role in the digital ecosystem.

The Redefinition of Agency

The film suggests that the struggle for bodily autonomy is not merely about saying "no," but about having the space to exist without being "framed" by others. When Sarah is assaulted by Devan, the film shows the audience that Devan understood the concept of consent—he exercised it in other areas of his life—making his choice to violate Sarah a deliberate act of power-seeking.

Moving Beyond Meta-Commentary

Like & Share suggests that in an era where sexual violence is finally becoming a mainstream conversation, artistic "self-censorship" or excessive use of symbolism can actually become a form of harm. By using metaphors to soften the blow, filmmakers risk turning the victim’s trauma into a sanitized, palatable narrative. Noer’s film argues that the subject matter is too urgent for such luxuries.

Conclusion

Like & Share is a rare piece of cinema that stands as both a narrative achievement and a social document. It does not offer easy answers. It does not provide a neat, triumphant conclusion where the world is suddenly cleansed of misogyny. Instead, it leaves the viewer with uncomfortable questions about their own consumption habits, their understanding of consent, and the quiet ways in which they may be contributing to the very culture that perpetuates gender-based violence.

By choosing to be "lugas"—straightforward and uncompromising—Gina S. Noer has created a film that doesn’t just watch the pain of others; it demands that we acknowledge our role in the framing. In a world of infinite scrolls and instant shares, Like & Share serves as a vital reminder that behind every screen, every video, and every image, there is a person whose agency is not a commodity for public consumption.

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