The Best and Worst Films to Come Out of Malaysia International Film Festival 2024

A celebration of local and international cinema.

There’s something poignant about the chosen theme at the Malaysia International Film Festival (MIFFest) this year. Returning for its seventh edition, taking over multiple screens around Kuala Lumpur from 21st until 28th July, the festival emboldens local filmmakers to break free of the shackles that have placed a limit on creativity with the tagline “Uncaged.”

This is certainly reflected in MIFFest’s official selections where 50 titles from over 30 countries, spread across a number of programmes such as A-Lister, Neon, and Afterdark, are presented in an unadulterated celebration of international cinema. Some of the high-profile films here include Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s Evil Does Not Exist, Justine Triet’s Anatomy of a Fall, and Wim Wenders’ Perfect Days.

Having said that, the main highlight of the latest instalment of MIFFest is the nine original features in the Competition segment. Vying for the top prize at MIFFest’s Malaysia Golden Global Awards, the films bring the respective filmmakers’ unique insights and fresh perspectives of the world to a panel of jury presided by Indian director and actress Suhasini Maniratnam. 

GRAZIA Malaysia was in attendance of the festival screenings and here are our reviews:

Abang Adik

Director: Jin Ong

One of the finest films that came out last year returns to the silver screen and it hits just as hard the second time around. In the gritty Abang Adik, set against Pudu’s dilapidated buildings and reeking wet market, Jin Ong shines a light on the country’s unyielding yet criminally undiscussed issue of statelessness through the eyes of undocumented orphans Abang and Adi.

Lending the film its coarse textures are the bête noire brothers who despite their shared connection carve their own paths to survival. The earnest Abang goes on the more dignified route, taking up back-breaking work at the public square, whereas the hard-headed Adi sees an opportunity in the hardship that he endures, breaking the rules by flogging phoney IDs to others.

Ong’s empathetic eye allows reality to seep through the pixels, reined in just before the sentiment becomes cloying. His vision is brought to life by our own Jack Tan and Taiwanese Wu Kang-ren, who is especially effective in his role as the deaf-mute Abang. The model-turned-actor turns in a searing performance, which reaches boiling point in the third act, that has to be seen to be believed.



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Rapture

Director: Dominic Sangma

Distressed by the mysterious kidnappings that have been plaguing their remote hilltop settlement and the lacklustre law enforcement that follows, the villagers seek out divine intervention. But evil hides in plain sight in Dominic Sangma’s Rapture. The arrival of a Virgin Mary statue that’s hoped to provide solace instead comes with a grim prophecy of an apocalyptic darkness.

At its heart, this slow-burn folk horror is a pondering of a society in decline as fear is weaponised and religion manipulated for personal gain. A community that was once one with the night, gleefully swimming in it to hunt for cicadas, is now afraid of its darkness. Fear brings out the worst in people, Sangma contemplates, as his characters go into combative mode and take matters into their own hands.

But for all the talk of fear that’s supposed to loom over this rural community, the tension in Rapture never registers as genuine, leaving the chaotic end feel unearned. The anointed protagonist isn’t given the meat he deserves to truly anchor the film and the blank expressions sprinkled across the film’s 127-minute runtime do little to communicate the gravity of the film’s premise.



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The Editorial Office

Director: Roman Bondarchuk

When the world is on fire and all you can do is watch it burn. The Editorial Office follows a wide-eyed nature researcher Yura who stumbles upon an unlawful forest fire and is determined to bring the matter to light. But the truth is a slippery little thing that has its way of jumping into another’s grip. Yura learns this the hard way as he shops his exposé around the publishing block.

Set at the height of the Russia-Ukraine war, the film deals with the theme of integrity in the face of systemic abuse that skews the perception of truth, rendering it insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The scrawny Yura continues to scream into the void, save for a dangerous liaison with a feminist colleague Lera, even when his own life is going up in flames.

It is a story of journalistic martyrdom in a futile pursuit of honour—or at least it could’ve been. Roman Bondarchuk ultimately undermines his protagonist’s struggles and sacrifices by letting the film devolve into a tonally confused cult horror as he sloppily wraps it all up. Like the deep-faked mayor who is TikTok dancing his way into power, Bondarchuk makes a mockery of his subjects.  



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Sujo

Director: Astrid Rondero & Fernanda Valadez

Good things sometimes come in small packages and that is indeed the case with Sujo. Inspiring as it is intimidating, this intimate coming-of-age drama is a gem of a film that follows the titular character who is likewise a diamond in the rough. Here, the far-removed town of Tierra Caliente is the mise-en-scène of a crude life where loyalty to the cartel is blind and boundless.

Following his father’s betrayal of a local drug lord, Sujo is forced to live in isolation with his devoted aunt, Nemesia. Teenage years then come sneaking and he too falls prey to life in the grey area, finding a sense of belonging he so craves. But giving himself into the cycle means risking the same fate that befell his father and it doesn’t take long before it lays claim to his life.

“Do you think people can change their lives?” asked Sujo at one point. Allowing him a choice between running from the past or racing towards the future—or the illusion of it—Astrid Rondero and Fernanda Valadez, amid the film’s immaculate sound design, pose the question whether we are truly the masters of our destiny or merely a vessel (mis)guided by the gusts of wind.



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Within a Budding Grove

Director: Hoby Zhang

We are all products of our environment but unlike his contemporaries, Hoby Zhang looks inward for the root of the problem. His meek and mousy heroine may have blended in the background for long stretches of Within a Budding Grove but Xili is no less an enigma. Her intrigue creeps in within the first few frames when she sneakily stalks a school friend getting in a car familiar to her. 

Zhang’s narrative structure is non-linear, but the payoff is worth the uncertainties. Determined to help her boyfriend raise funds for his film, Xili plots to blackmail the friend, her father’s secret lover. Her motive is anyone’s guess but given the paternal nature of the love interest and the absence of the father—his face often evades the camera—it isn’t hard to draw up theories.   

The film continues to prod the audience, lest they are lulled into a false sense of security by Wu Jianfeng’s lush cinematography, as it stealthily shifts gears by throwing in twists that are neither necessary nor nocuous. Manipulations, while the norm for Xili as lies and deceits are ingrained in the very fabric of her being, mark her slow descent to nothingness as tragedy strikes and guilt mounts. 



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