Janur Ireng (Janur Ireng: Sewu Dino the Prequel, Kimo Stamboel, 2025)

If something seems to good to be true, it probably is. Sabdo (Marthino Lio) and his sister Intan (Nyimas Ratu Rafa) might be too young to know any better, but even they have their doubts when a mysterious man shows up after their house has burnt down claiming to be an estranged uncle. Their late father never mentioned having a brother or any family at all and did not ask for him when he was dying. As the siblings will discover, there’s a reason for that and they may not want this particular familial legacy no matter the trappings it comes with. 

A prequel to his previous film A Thousand Days (Sewu Dino), Kimo Stamboel’s Janur Ireng is partly a metaphor for the exploitative practices of the super rich who use their wealth to manipulate or abuse those with lesser means. Having grown up without much money and fallen into poverty after their father died to the extent that Intan had had to leave education, being suddenly adopted by their wealthy uncle plunges the pair into a new world they are not altogether equipped to understand even without all the weird black magic rituals and sense of unease pervading the country mansion. Intan complains that the house has creepy vibes, and there is something gothic about it aside from feeling lost amid its vastness. Intan dislikes sleeping alone because her new room is simply far too big, even it didn’t turn out to come with some unexpected residents. It’s wandering around the house that she discovers something shocking, unsure if it’s something she wasn’t supposed to see or if she was guided there by a mysterious force.

Sabdo, meanwhile, is taken on as his uncle’s heir and protege. He discovers that Arjo (Tora Sudiro) is trying to regain land lost to the family including a banana plantation he days will be his to run, though Arjo seems pretty wealthy already. He is, though, on frosty terms the “7 Families” who run things in the local area and appears to want to reassert his status. With little in the way of explanation, he gets Sabdo to repeatedly sacrifice goats and do other strange things “to protect the family”, which Sabdo goes along with because he doesn’t quite know how to refuse and is confused by this strange new life. But on the other hand, Sabdo is a stranger here. He’s only told that he’s a member of the family and has no other connection with it or proof that it’s true. His loyalty really is to Intan, and it may be that he stays and does these increasingly weird rituals because Arjo promised Intan what he couldn’t give her in sending her to school and allowing her to fulfil her dream of going to university and getting a good job. A friend had needled her a little bit about ending up like another girl who married young, laying bare the patriarchal nature of the society in which Intan is imprisoned even before finding herself more literally locked up in her uncle’s house. 

Even if Sabdo thinks he finds allies in this world, they too may be using him for their own ends and wielding the power of family against him. Arjo claims their success is down to the patronage of a demonic entity that keeps them safe from other supernatural creatures which what has made their family so wealthy and powerful, but there are reasons their father decided to leave this place even If it meant giving up on the privilege he was born with. There is definitely “a lot wrong with this house” as Sabdo says, though he only makes up his mind to leave it when he realises the threat it poses to Intan. She, however, has already been corrupted by the house as its ghosts and malevolent entities begin to get to her. Kimo Stamboel ups the ante with a series of increasingly bizarre sequences of severed eye balls and torn out hearts, culminating in another kind of ritual disrupted by a once in a generation act of black magic that sees party guests literally tearing their own heads off and continuing to dance. That does not, however, seem to be the end of it for Sabdo whose dark family legacy continues to overshadow his life in ironic ways as he does his best to escape the house his uncle built.


Trailer (English subtitles)

Gundala (Joko Anwar, 2019)

“If we see injustice before our eyes and do nothing then we’re no longer humans” the idealistic father of a future superhero instructs his young son, trying to impart a sense of humanitarianism as a basic moral good. It’s a lesson the boy will find himself unlearning and resuming later, his innocence well and truly destroyed by an often cruel and cynical society only to be reawakened to the idea that it doesn’t need to stay that way. Among the most recognisable names of Indonesian cinema, Joko Anwar turns his hand to the creation of a local comic book cinematic universe, adapting the 1969 comic Gundala by Harya “Hasmi” Suraminata for the present day filtering contemporary Jakarta through classic Gotham. 

Operating as an origin story for the titular hero, Gundala opens with the young hero Sancaka (Muzakki Ramdhan) unable to prevent his father’s (Rio Dewanto) death due to his fear of electrical storms when he is first set up by a duplicitous factory boss and then assassinated while leading a protest for fair pay and conditions. Soon after, Sancaka loses his mother (Marissa Anita) too after she is forced to go to the city for work and never returns. Ending up a ragged street kid, he’s saved from an attack by a rival gang by an older boy (Faris Fadjar Munggaran) who teaches him how to protect himself physically and mentally by convincing him that the only way to survive on the street is keep his head down and walk on by even if it looks like others are in trouble. 20 years later the adult Sancaka (Abimana Aryasatya) is an aloof young man working as a security guard at a print house where his sympathetic mentor Agung (Pritt Timothy) begins to remind him of his father in his conviction that “living is no use if you stop caring and only think about yourself”, while he also finds himself defending the woman next-door, Wulan (Tara Basro), and her young brother Teddy (Bimasena Prisai Susilo), from hired thugs sent to intimidate them because of their involvement in a protest against the forced redevelopment of a local marketplace.  

Events seem echo around him. The major villain Pengkor (Bront Palarae) is also an orphan but on the opposing side as the son of a cruel plantation owner murdered by his not altogether ideologically pure workers whose desire for fair pay and conditions he had resolutely ignored. According to cynical politician Ridwan (Lukman Sardi), Pengkor became a union organiser of his own, leading an uprising at the abusive orphanage he was placed into by a cruel uncle hoping he’d die and free up the inheritance, thereafter becoming a kind of godfather to the fatherless with a thousands strong army of eternally grateful orphans he saved acting as sleeper agents for a coming revolution. 

Pengkor’s nefarious plan involves fostering a conspiracy surrounding contaminated rice said to make the unborn children of the women who eat it turn out “immoral”, a generation of psychopaths unable to tell right from wrong. Fairly unscientific, it has to be said, but playing directly into the central questions of the nature of “morality” in a “immoral” society. Can it really be “moral” for bosses to exploit their workers and get away with it, for politicians to cosy up to gangsters and remain complicit with corruption, and for a man like Pengkor to be the only hope for orphaned street kids otherwise abandoned and ignored by a wilfully indifferent society? Pengkor decries that hope is the opiate of the masses, but that’s exactly what Gundala eventually becomes for them in his “electric” ability to resist, eventually rediscovering his humanity as he designates himself as the embodiment of “the people” pushing back against the forces of oppression and seeming at least to win if only momentarily.  

Young Sancaka’s fear of lightning is, in essence, a fear of his power and his social responsibility something he is quite literally shocked into accepting. In a world of quite striking social inequality, he finds himself the lone defender of the oppressed whose very existence spurs others, including previously cynical politician Ridwan, into rediscovering their own humanity in the resurgent hope of a better future. As someone puts it, peace never lasts long but you keep fighting for it because every moment is precious. Not so much a battle of good versus evil as a battle for the meaning of good, Anwar’s Gundala recalibrates the anxieties of the late ‘60s for the modern era and creates an everyman hero not only to resist them but to foster a spirit of resistance and humanity in the face of heartless cynicism. 


Gundala streams in Poland until 6th December as part of the 14th Five Flavours Film Festival.

Original trailer (English subtitles)