Burgeoning Indonesian filmmakers are obsessed with surprising audiences, and that can be awkward. Take Wregas Bhanuteja’s Andragogy and Yandy Laurens’ Falling In Love Like In Movies, for example. Both are exceptional works, but those films’ idiosyncrasies and turnabouts (not to mention, their shockingly complicated psychological warfare) can be too head-spinning for unassuming audiences. When a picture is too sophisticated to elicit a repeat viewing, does it still, then, constitute a good film?
In many ways, it’s as if 13 Bombs In Jakarta serves as a wake-up call to those grandiloquent youngbloods. Ironically, something as straight-shooting as 13 Bombs was crafted by none other than Angga Dwimas Sasongko: someone who was once bonkers enough to put the work-in-progress Iqbaal Ramadhan and the GOAT-class Tio Pakusadewo in the same film. Judging from 13 Bombs’ final product, however, it appears that the 38-year-old visionary has finally realized that shock value and avant-garde tricks can be snobbishly overrated. A more lasting resonance can be accomplished by simply honing the basics to their utmost perfection.
13 Bombs In Jakarta tells the story of a terrorist organization led by Arok (Rio Dewanto) who threatens to drop – go figure – 13 bombs across Jakarta. From every boom to every bang, Sasongko orchestrates the pulsating thrills with the level of precision and rigorousness of a sharp-eared Kapellmeister. No beat overpowers one another, and no instrument is ever wasted. 13 Bombs may not be Sasongko’s most revolutionary work, but it does present Sasongko at his most meticulous. This also means that, perhaps for the first time in his career, Sasongko does not invest much in either unprecedented narrative or even character development. However, 13 Bombs is never meant to enlighten its audiences. It was made to entertain them, pure and simple, and Sasongko succeeds in this.
The actors, meanwhile, are a mixed bag. It’s heartbreaking to see Chicco Kurniawan become the cast’s weakest link, his performance somehow trapped between puppy-eyed stiffness and soap-opera sappiness. Lutesha struggles to be a team player and keep her natural charisma in check, further underlining how restraint remains her Achilles’ heel as an actor. Ardhito Pramono gives his all by playing against type, but his commitment is immediately bogged down by Kurniawan’s and Lutesha’s hiccups.
The actors who shine are, ironically, the ones who understand how to blend and support. Unlike Lutesha, Ganindra Bimo understands the importance (and the beauty) of restrained and modulated acting, resulting in a stoic showcase that is riveting to watch. Rukman Rosadi and Putri Ayudya’s performances are too heavy on dramatic edges. But thanks to Bimo’s controlled tempo and intensity, their scenes are securely anchored in suspense and not Andronicus-level theatricality.