Reviews
“Joko Anwar’s Nightmares and Daydreams” Review – An Ambitious Semi-Anthology Series
Joko Anwar, a driving force behind Indonesia’s modern film industry, is the creator of Netflix’s new anthology series Nightmares and Daydreams. The Satan’s Slaves filmmaker slips in and out of these seven episodes, with his fingers directly on the pulse of a select few. However, even when not personally directing or writing, Anwar’s unique touch can be felt in every inch of the journey. What initially looks to be a chain of unconnected stories turns out to be an odyssey with a specific and often unsettling destination.
Unlike other anthologies, there is no particular character who guides the audience in and out of the sub-stories and clarifies their experience. On the contrary, each tale kicks off with no kind of formal introduction — apart from a surreal opening sequence — thus allowing the series to access that certain sensation of nodding off and slipping into a dream. Everything appears relatively normal until a hint of unusualness emerges. Something else of note, and perhaps a word of caution, is how Nightmares and Daydreams approaches itself. Those hoping to see the same degree of extreme terror and gore found in Anwar’s other genre offerings, should adjust their expectations. That’s not to say there aren’t the occasional spots of red stuff, though. They are just few and far between.
The creator kicks everything off with the longest episode, “Old House.” Co-directed by Ray Farandy Pakpahan and Randolph Zaini, and co-written by Tia Hasibuan and Rafki Hidayat, the opener is the show’s most overtly sinister offering. “Old House” establishes a throughline in Nightmares and Daydreams; most stories tend to fixate on desperation, be it money or closure. It’s usually the former, as new viewers will come to see. Anwar’s past associate Ario Bayu plays Banji, a poor taxi driver who immediately regrets putting his senior mother (Yati Surachman) in a nursing home. The fact that this place sponsors the mother’s stay should be a red flag, yet the son’s realization not only comes too late but also at a high cost. “Old House” doesn’t exactly play things coy with where the story is heading, however, fans of Satan’s Slaves should be satisfied with the premiere. Barring the underwhelming visual effects, this episode precisely captures the show’s partial desire for nightmarishness.
The proceeding stories fall more into the region of daydreams, albeit disturbing ones. “The Orphan” is the first of two especially moralistic entries; Tommy Dewo’s one directed episode, with Hidayat as writer, concerns the impoverished and bereaved couple (Yoga Pratama, Nirina Zubir) who adopt a child (Faqih Alaydru) with a supernatural ability. The theme of preexisting misery, as a result of bad circumstances and socio-economic disparity, continues as these wretched characters use this boy in hopes of becoming instantly wealthy. That sense of greed would be loathsome elsewhere, whereas in “The Orphan,” the quality of avarice is refreshing when studied in context. It is more interesting to see characters try to change their fate rather than accept them as a sort of personal growth.
Up third is “Poems and Pains,” a strong contender for the series’ most compelling episode. Zaini and Anwar deliver one twist after the other in this imaginative thriller. Here a frustrated pop author (Marissa Anita, Impetigore) experiences the same injuries as one of the characters in her new novel. Digging deep into her psyche and past will finally uncover the shocking origin of this phenomenon. Again, Indonesia’s political and economic background plays a role in the mystery and outcome. In terms of pace and thrills, “Encounter” is the slowest and least supplying. Lukman Sardi heads this genre drama about a struggling fishing village succumbing to in-fighting and paranoia as the residents fight for ownership of a photograph of a supposed angel. Pakpahan and Anwar introduce the first major sign of the show’s overarching story.
By now viewers have noticed each episode prefaces itself with an unmissable timestamp — the setting’s year is always given — and mention of the central location of Jakarta. This may seem negligible, but Nightmares and Daydreams is, in fact, painting a bigger picture. These stories’ shared backdrop is one with a long history of political turbulence. The show is providing a semblance of escapism, when in truth, everything shown here is a reflection of reality. Zaini and Anwar’s heartstrings-pulling fifth episode, “The Other Side,” is indicative of this point as a couple (Kiki Narendra and Sita Nursanti, Satan’s Slaves 2: Communion) and their son struggle during the ‘90s-era recession. The patriarch aches for happier times, and he literally gets lost in his nostalgia. As to be expected, that reminiscence has dangerous consequences for everyone.
Image: Asmara Abigail and the cast in Joko Anwar’s Nightmares and Daydreams: ‘P.O. Box.’ Credit: Courtesy of Netflix © 2024
Nightmares and Daydreams nears the finish line with the penultimate “Hypnotized.” Pakpahan and Hasibuan’s collaboration is more paternalistic horror with a heavy slather of Twilight Zone strangeness. The troubled father (Fachri Albar, V/H/S/2) of this section witnesses the bizarre consequences of an ethical transgression, and setting things right proves impossible. The apparent straightforwardness is topped off with a substantial step forward in the series’ bigger narrative. Finale “P.O. Box,” helmed by Anwar and co-written by Hidayat, follows a diamond appraiser (Asmara Abigail, Impetigore) in search of her missing sister. Her horrifying discovery brings everything together with force and ambition, although despite the explosive conclusion, there is still plenty of room for the series to continue.
While Nightmares and Daydreams slightly misleads with its anthology angle, the chapters building up to the grandiose climax still can, more or less, function as standalone tales. On their own though, not every episode is as successful as the next — a rule of thumb for all anthologies — but together they make up pieces of a mighty journey into the headspace of Indonesia’s most innovative filmmaker.
Joko Anwar’s Nightmares and Daydreams is now streaming on Netflix.
Image: Joko Anwar’s Nightmares and Daydreams poster. Credit: Courtesy of Netflix © 2024
Movies
‘Recluse’ Review – Harrowing Haunted House Horror With Lots Of Skeletons In Its Closet [Tribeca 2026]
A haunted house story is tense, terrifying storytelling when it’s properly executed. There’s been a growing tendency in horror to blend together harrowing haunted house stories with traumatic homecomings. A family member’s illness or death triggers a return to something dark that was intentionally left behind. Recluse hits all the tropes that one expects to find in this type of horror film, yet it manages to push this story in a daring, disturbing new direction that uses sound as a superpower.
It’s a unique lens to experience a familiar story about family secrets, generational trauma, unresolved grief, and the importance of not just legacy, but preservation. It’s a hell of a directorial debut from Henry Chaisson that’s guaranteed to get under the audience’s skin as they’re dragged through this painful, toxic tale.
Recluse is a gothic haunted house story where an isolated audio engineer, Joan (Sasha Frolova), returns to her family’s estate to check in on her father after he suffers a terrible accident. Joan suddenly discovers something much more sinister that paints her family’s tragedies in a very different light. Chaisson’s debut functions as a fascinating companion piece to this year’s undertone, which does a lot of the same things.
These two films make for a fascinating case of parallel thinking that tackles comparable subject matter through a similar lens, albeit in a bigger, less claustrophobic story in Recluse’s case. In fact, it’s the perfect horror film for anyone who was let down by undertone and didn’t feel like it brought enough to the table. It’s a considerably more conventional horror film, but this isn’t meant to denigrate its high quality. Recluse may hit some familiar notes, but it’s a scary, well-crafted haunted house horror story that goes for the jugular.
A gripping mystery that involves the tragic, unresolved circumstances that surround Joan’s mother teases a chilling connection to the recent horrors that have afflicted her father. Joan desperately tries to put these pieces together and give her family some sense of grander peace before she’s pulled under and becomes another victim of this festering curse that’s systematically worked its way through the Wyatt family. By doing so, Recluse digs into some deeper commentary on collective trauma, a very literal look at the “sins of the father” adage, and how one selfish decision can ripple through generations and fracture off into different dilemmas. By the end, Recluse has brilliantly flipped the powerful concept of legacy on its head by illustrating the horrors and sense of entitlement that can be born out of this idea.
A legacy is just another name for a curse under the right context.
”Listen” is a simple but powerful command from Joan’s father that she briefly obsesses over. In a way, it becomes Recluse’s grander mission statement, whether it’s in response to Joan listening to the people in her life, the signals that her body and mind are telling her, or the world’s greater whims. It’s important to reconnect with these grounding pillars, especially when it feels like control is slipping away.
Recluse excels with how audio and soundscapes can create entire universes that are full of rich details that transport individuals to these environments. There’s also a level of objectivity when it comes to audio recordings and the evergreen permanence that they’re able to provide. Joan’s career as an audio engineer makes sense for someone who wants to cling to hard evidence and proof of existence. It provides great insight into Joan without ever getting lost in contrived exposition.
Joan’s entire life is built around audio engineering, and so it makes sense that Recluse features excellent sound design that really goes above and beyond with its production elements. All of the sound design is expertly handled and turns the film into something special. These auditory elements intuitively keep the audience on edge so that they’re more susceptible to the actual scares that eventually strike. The smallest sound effect gets turned into a crushing, cacophonous assault. It’s a really effective way to build terror. Writer/Director Chaisson also handles the film’s music, which achieves a sublime, unnerving dissonance that further heightens the free-floating anxiety.
The story at the center of Recluse is slightly generic in some respects, but the film’s visual language and tone make it feel distinctly memorable. It also doesn’t hurt that the home that Joan returns to is basically an eerie art studio that’s full of contorted paintings. Recluse never struggles to generate mounting dread and terror that pump through every scene. Powerful, thoughtful cinematography consistently reinforces the film’s themes. Joan is constantly reflected in different surfaces or viewed through mirrors. She’s also often confined to tight, constricting framing that all speaks to her refracted identity during this moment of loss and her attempts to regain agency and control by making sense of something that’s seemingly unexplainable.
Recluse is full of truly disturbing visuals that make it seem like Joan is lost in a dream that turns out to be an extended nightmare. It’s a surreal journey reminiscent of invasive psychological horror like Silent Hill, with a touch of Sinister and Hereditary thrown in for good measure. There are so many individual frames that could endlessly fuel urban legends and creepypastas.
It does a great job with how it presents Joan’s fragile state of mind, where chilling flashes of the past sneak up on her and unresolved trauma manifests into unsettling imagery. There are endless shots that are obscured in darkness, or shadow is creeping in from the corners of frames like a suffocating force of nature. It’s very rare that a scene is fully lit. It leads to a very lonely, isolating atmosphere that’s easy to get lost in.
Chaisson’s debut stands out from the many other high-minded haunted house horror films without succumbing to the same pretensions that often drag down these stories. It’s a grief-stricken character study that’s full of upsetting visuals that scratch at something visceral and raw. The horror elements connect, and the answers to its grander mystery provide an appropriate and believable sense of closure. Those who are looking for an atmospheric horror film that isn’t afraid to be different while still channeling something real will appreciate Recluse.
Recluse made its world premiere at Tribeca; release info TBD.
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