Mira Lesmana's latest cinematic endeavor, propelled by a seemingly profit-driven momentum, emerged as a spectacle that, while undeniably competent, left the discerning audience with a bittersweet aftertaste. Positioned as a nostalgic bridge spanning a sea of memories, the film weaves a tapestry laden with clichés, skillfully sugar-coated to render them palatable. Yet, amidst the expected tropes, Riri Riza's narrative prowess manages to elevate the experience, transforming what could have been a mere indulgence into a compelling narrative worth revisiting mentally long after the credits have rolled.
One cannot overlook the role of music, a vital component intricately interwoven within the film's fabric. The melodies, while inherently accessible, lack the potency to etch themselves deeply into the listener's consciousness. Here, the formidable legacy of Elfa Secioria, established over two decades ago, casts a daunting shadow, one that Sherina, Belanegra, and Alvin Witarsa struggle to match. The power, finesse, and emotional resonance that Elfa infused into the original composition remain an indelible benchmark, setting a standard that proves formidable to surmount for the contemporary musicians involved in this rendition.
The film, when viewed collectively, presents a cinematic journey worthy of communal enjoyment. It successfully taps into the wellspring of nostalgia, evoking shared memories and emotions. However, the true litmus test of any cinematic creation lies in its ability to beckon the viewer for a return voyage. In this aspect, the film falters. Its allure, although potent in the moment, lacks the enduring magnetism necessary to beckon the audience for subsequent screenings.
In essence, Lesmana's creation stands as a testament to the delicate interplay between memory, storytelling, and auditory resonance. While it successfully treads the waters of nostalgia, it ultimately falls short of becoming an enduring classic. The film, though a commendable effort, reminds us that in the realm of cinema, capturing the ephemeral essence of memory requires more than a mere reiteration of past glories. It necessitates an alchemical fusion of narrative innovation and musical brilliance, a delicate equilibrium that, sadly, eludes this otherwise proficient cinematic spectacle.
