Pokemon Dubbing Indonesia -

Risa Sarasvati, now the most famous voice actress in Indonesia, still voices Pikachu. She records her lines in a professional studio, but she keeps a broken VHS tape of Pak Bambang’s old dub on her desk.

"I thought I was stealing," he says, wiping his eyes. "But I was just translating. Love needs a language."

For three years, Pokémon in Indonesia went underground. Kids traded bootleg manga and whispered about the "old voices." Then, in 2005, a legitimate miracle occurred. , a new free-to-air network, purchased the official rights to dub Pokémon: Advanced Generation .

It was controversial. Purely, sacrilegiously controversial. Purists raged on early internet forums (which loaded slowly on Telkomnet Instan). "Pikachu isn't supposed to talk !" they cried. Pokemon Dubbing Indonesia

The producer was silent for a long time. Then he laughed.

"Your Pikachu," he said, "is very rude. And very loved. Continue."

"Jangan sentuh temanku!"

But the kids? The kids of the 2005 generation loved it. It was their Pikachu. A Pikachu that complained about homework, that asked for indomie after a battle, that told Satoshi he was being an idiot. Risa had turned a mascot into a character. The official dub, directed by a veteran named Pak Hendra, aimed for accuracy but kept one foot in the chaos of the past. They kept "Team Kriminal Bodoh" as an homage. They made James (Kojiro) speak with a thick Medan accent, and Jessie (Musashi) with the haughty, elongated vowels of a Surabaya socialite.

This was the era of the "VHS-dub." Unofficial, unlicensed, and unforgettable. A man named Pak Bambang, a former radio announcer turned electronics seller in Glodok, Jakarta, was one of its accidental architects. With a cheap microphone, a borrowed VCR, and a team of his friends—a noodle vendor, a high school teacher, and his own wife, Ibu Dewi—he would record new audio over the silenced English tracks.

She got the job. But she wasn't Satoshi. She was the voice of Pikachu. Risa Sarasvati, now the most famous voice actress

And in that split second of pure, unscripted improvisation that Risa fights to keep in every session, Pikachu screams:

The show became a phenomenon. Twice a week, streets would empty at 7 PM.

It began not with a grand announcement, but with a whisper. In the chaotic, beautiful, static-filled afternoons of 1999, Indonesian television was a patchwork of smuggled VHS tapes, re-runs of Brazilian telenovelas, and local sinetron that all seemed to share the same crying soundtrack. Then, like a bolt of yellow lightning, Pokémon arrived. "But I was just translating

Not the "Pika-pika" of the Japanese version. Not the nasal "Pikachu!" of the English one. Risa’s Pikachu spoke in full, broken Indonesian sentences.

The final scene of the documentary shows a new generation: a 10-year-old boy in Yogyakarta, watching the latest Pokémon episode on his tablet. It’s the official Indonesian dub. Pikachu is mostly saying "Pika." But when Ash’s Lucario is about to take a fatal blow, Pikachu leaps in front.