In a vowed attempt to import American Gangster-style films into the Indonesian sphere, The Last Wolf is the most ambitious piece of work yet, from anti-conformist writer and director Upi. Venturing into a decidedly male genre, Upi tells the story of masculine friendship betrayed, tracing the style of a classic genre which remains relatively untried in her country; the result is a film decidedly contaminated with melodrama, with situations and emotions often pushed to their limits. All sketched out according to the motto homo homini lupus (Man is a wolf to his fellow man).
In a suburb of Jakarta, five boys grow up according to a pact of brotherhood. They are Ale (Fathir Muchtar), Jarot (Vino G. Bastian), Jago (Dallas Pratama), Lukman (Dion Wiyoko) and Sadat (Ali Syakib). The five form a gang led by Ale, the most charismatic member of the group. Swearing eternal loyalty and friendship, they fight continuously against rival gangs for territorial control. In between fighting with fists and sticks, their rise to power appears to be truly unstoppable. They decide to immortalize their image by dressing up as gangsters and having their photo taken in a studio, as a keepsake to remember “where they came from”.
Then, one day, during a particularly violent fight, Jarot beats an adversary to death with a rock in order to save the life of Ale. Jarot is arrested and ends up in prison where he has to suffer the brutal abuse inflicted by the other convicts. Eventually, however, he takes his vengeance, thus acquiring absolute supremacy over the other prisoners.
Meanwhile, in the outside world, the four remaining companions betray their pact of eternal friendship, abandoning Jarot to his fate and concentrating on climbing the ladder to the top of the crime world.
When Jarot leaves prison, none of his four companions have come to meet him, instead he finds Fatir (Reza Pahlevi), his mute childhood friend who was himself marginalized by the group and has now become a ruthless killer for the powerful gang, “Black Dragon”. Like a play script, the Black Dragon gang enter into a conflict with Ale’s, whilst Jarot has to keep secret his relationship with Aisyah (Fanny Fabriana), the sister of his ex- friend. Jarot also discovers that his own sister Yani (Zaneta Georgina) performs as a singer in a nightclub where she attracts the unwanted attention of the Black Dragon. Tragedy inevitably awaits just around the corner…
Making use of top-rate technical contributions, with The Last Wolf Upi creates a film that is both vibrant and passionate, plus elegant and balanced at the same time. It moves with a smooth understanding between style and situation; a nonchalance which comes from the knowledge of cinema which inspires her writing. The little nods towards the cinematic tradition of American Gangster films are evident and the audience will delight in being able to pick out the references which are more or less explicit, in particular to the works of those such as Coppola, De Palma and Scorsese; those great Italian American cinematographers of the ‘70s. Complementing this impression which might be considered derivative, the skill of Upi imposes itself in a tendency to exasperate the emotional components of the film: the relationships between the protagonists are complex and the links which tie them together extreme; the explosion of melodramatic components, also excessive and almost overbearing, is a constant when the adversarial natures of the characters are exposed. This tangle of contrasts and mixed feelings is managed by a group of young actors with remarkable intensity and great presence, with the once again outstanding favourite of Upi’s, Vino G. Bastian in the role of Jarot. Able to switch from the saddest introspection, to a cry of inconsolable desperation, from afflicted contrition to rampant fury, he confirms himself as the most versatile and talented actor of his generation. For the soundtrack, Upi has chosen to rely on the music of God Bless, a popular Indonesian group, confirming her incorruptible rock spirit and a further exciting shake-up to her quivering creation.
Paolo Bertolin