iamianiman

Some films do not need spectacle to move you. They do not need explosions, grand effects or glossy soundtracks to demand your attention. Abah Saya Uncle Mike belongs to that rare category of cinema that comes in without fuss and then slowly unravels its heart until you find yourself deeply invested, almost unwilling to look away. This film is based on a true story.

At its core, this is not simply about Uncle Mike and his three adopted children. It is a reflection on what it means to live together in this messy, multicultural Malaysia of ours. The film reminds us that culture and faith are not the only bridges we can walk on. What matters is the individual. And when you strip everything else away, kindness is the only currency that holds value for us. There is something profoundly beautiful in that reminder. Something that makes you want to believe again in the country we often take for granted.

For some viewers, the opening might feel like an advertisement. It has the warmth and tender rhythm of those Petronas Raya ads that always try to make us cry. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that Abah Saya Uncle Mike is more than just a commercial message stretched into two hours. It does not exist just to push a tear or two. It truly wants to tell a story, to honour Uncle Mike and his children and to hold up a mirror to our community.

The performances are what anchor this film. Idan Aedan has never been this good. He wears despair like a second skin and you can see it in the way his eyes carry weight far heavier than his years. The slump of his shoulders and the way he drags he walks, they speak of burdens words cannot capture. There are moments where he stands alone and you feel every ounce of loneliness he is forced to endure.

The younger actors, Merah Muhaimin and Umar Shakur are newcomers who we feel have what it takes to become great actors. Merah as Rasyid burns with a bottled-up anger that he cannot quite contain. He feels like a storm that never finds a shore. Umar Shakur has fewer lines but his quietness carries meaning. His silences are not empty but they are loaded. To see such young actors hold the screen with this kind of raw honesty is actually refreshing.

And then there is Andy Teh as Uncle Mike. His presence is a balm. His voice, his gentle Malay accent and his stillness, it all fits perfectly into the soul of a man who carries more than just responsibility. He becomes a father, not by blood but by choice. And it is in his warmth that the children and we as the audience find comfort and safety.

Even the small details shine. The product placements for Mirinda and 7UP deserve praise because they never once feel like advertisements. Instead, they become props with purpose in the story. It is rare for local cinema to get this balance right, but here it works as naturally as a conversation over dinner.

Still, Abah Saya Uncle Mike has things to improve. The struggles of the children sometimes repeat themselves a little too often. The hardships land but they echo too similarly in the first half. It makes you wish for more complexity and more variety in their pain. And when the final act arrives, it feels abrupt almost as if the film decided it was time to wrap up and rushed to the finish line. It does not ruin the journey but it does leave you wishing for more.

Even with these flaws, what the film achieves is something many bigger productions fail to capture which is sincerity. It carries a big heart in a small frame and by the end, it asks us not just to sympathize but to also reflect. Reflect on kindness, on cultural beauty, on the strength that comes when humanity comes first.

Verdict: Abah Saya Uncle Mike is a tender and emotional piece of cinema that captures the strength of kindness and the beauty of living interculturally. With powerful performances, especially from Idan Aedan and Andy Teh, it breathes sincerity into every scene. Its heart is undeniable. Its sincerity is present. This is a story that will make you remember and above all, reflect on what it means to be human in a world that too often forgets.

Some horror films do not arrive with the promise of reinvention yet they manage to give us something refreshing just by refusing to follow the same tired formula. Labinak: Mereka Ada Di Sini is one of those films. It does not change the genre, it does not revolutionize what horror can be but in a landscape where Indonesian horror often feels stuck in the same cycle of ghosts and demons, this feels like a gust of different air. And sometimes, that is enough to make us lean in.

The story works because the characters are not just victims running aimlessly into darkness. They are trapped by life itself. Trapped by fate. Their struggles are grounded in something painfully human, a longing for a better life and the heavy realization that sometimes, no matter where you turn, there is no escape. This layer gives the terror more weight. It is not just about surviving monsters, it is about surviving the cruel trick that life has played on them.

Visually, the film finds a balance between CGI and practical effects. And that balance matters. Horror should feel tangible, like it could reach out from the screen and touch your skin. Here, the practical effects bring grit and texture especially in the gore which is as messy and bloody as you might secretly hope for in this kind of film. Buckets of blood splash across the screen, while pinkish at times but still deliciously disgusting. It is rare for Indonesian horror to lean into gore without digital shortcuts and while not perfect, this effort is admirable. The ghosts however, do not always look convincing. When the film leans too heavily into CGI, the effect slips into cartoonish. It makes us wish they had trusted the practical side more.

The pacing and tone however, leave us divided. It is entertaining, yes. The scares are there, yes. But we cannot help but feel the film could have gone further. It plays a little too safe for something with so much potential. It does not reach the nerve-wrecking tension of Rumah Dara Macabre nor does it carry the dread of Eden Lake nor the psychological sharpness of The Silence of the Lambs. It feels designed for a broader audience and in doing so, it sacrifices the chance to be truly terrifying. It's still an entertaining watch nevertheless.

And yet, the final act redeems much. The last twenty minutes erupt into a grand finale filled with ritualistic horror that feels both alive and terrifying. The setting recalls the haunting energy of Desa Penari Badarawuhi with its dance-like rituals and cultish atmosphere. Here, the film finally embraces its darker potential and for a moment, we are caught in its spell.

Verdict: Labinak: Mereka Ada Di Sini is a film that does not redefine horror but still offers something to savor. Its mix of practical gore, suffocating atmosphere and a finale that burns into your memory make it worthwhile. It stumbles in parts. Sometimes too safe and sometimes too reliant on digital tricks but it still manages to deliver an experience that feels fresh in the Indonesian horror scene. Imperfect yet satisfying, it reminds us why horror thrives when it dares to get a little dirty and a little different.

Some films arrive in silence, not to dazzle us with spectacle but to remind us of the fragility of being human. Hanya Namamu Dalam Doaku is one of those films. It does not reinvent the genre of illness dramas but it carries with it a sincerity that still lingers long after the credits roll.

At the center is Vino G. Bastian, once again proving why he remains one of Indonesia's most magnetic actors. While we have seen more layered work from him in Miracle in Cell No. 7, here he still carries the weight of a man drowning in his own fate. We see fear flicker across his face. We feel the exhaustion of his silence. We sense the dread of a life slipping away piece by piece. Yes, some of his expressions feel familiar, almost recycled from past performances but when he lets the vulnerability break through, it is powerful enough to sting.

The film tells the story of a man diagnosed with ALS and his refusal to share his condition with those closest to him. And here lies both its strength and its frustration. On one hand, it gives us a raw look at how illness is not only physical but also psychological. The weight of pride, fear and shame can be heavier than the disease itself. On the other, the justification for his silence feels unconvincing. As the minutes go by, we find ourselves less moved by his sacrifice and more irritated at his stubbornness. Instead of sympathizing, we grow angry because we know how unfair this is to the family who loves him.

Yet, there are moments where the film transcends its flaws. A heated conversation between husband and wife lingers like a scar, their words are sharp, filled with love and fury in equal measure. In scenes like these, the film pulses with life. Dialogues strike deep, emotions spill over and suddenly you are reminded of why stories like this matter. They are not just about dying but about living with truth, faith and kindness.

It is true that Hanya Namamu Dalam Doaku treads a path well-worn by many other ALS films. It is more basic compared to You're Not You or Fathers & Daughters. It avoids the complexities that could have made it extraordinary. But despite its conventional storytelling, its heart remains in the right place. The film urges us to appreciate, respect and honor people living with ALS and to never take for granted the everyday courage it takes to simply keep going.

Verdict: Hanya Namamu Dalam Doaku may not be groundbreaking but it is undeniably heartfelt. Its emotional weight comes from its themes of faith, family and the quiet dignity of those living with ALS. While it falters with a protagonist whose choices often frustrate, the film still manages to capture moments of raw truth that leave a mark. It is imperfect, sometimes too safe but it carries a message worth hearing and a reminder worth holding close to our hearts.