Running Time: 106 Minutes
Starring: Abimana Aryasatya, Endy Arfian, Bront Palarae, Morgan Oey, Yoga Pratama, Mike Lucock, Danang Suryonegoro, Lukman Sardi, Kiki Narendra
For those unaware of Joko Anwar, the Indonesian filmmaker is a well-regarded creative both in and out of the horror community. His two Satan's Slaves films are amongst the highest-grossing Indonesian horror films, while the creative also has an anthology horror series named after him. That's the kind of clout that puts him alongside Guillermo del Toro and Alfred Hitchcock. For his latest feature, Anwar returns with Ghost in the Cell, an effective blend which makes for a must-see viewing experience.
The story opens with Dimas (Endy Arfian), a journalist who is writing a report detailing multiple workers dying under a massive corporation's employment. This angers his boss, who believes the focus on the employee's deaths leaves the paper looking like a trashy rag. It is clear that, even while his company is going out of business, the boss prioritises journalistic integrity above all else, including his marriage. What comes next is a spectacularly gruesome death, one that leaves Dimas framed for murder.
He is sent to a high-security prison that is a den of corruption, run by a tyrannical warden with quite the ego. The prisoners are instructed to obey the warden's every word, otherwise they will face cruel treatment for not complying. Larger worries soon arise when an invisible force starts brutally murdering inmates, leaving them resembling art displays. It leaves enemy gangs and corrupt guards working together to try finding a way of surviving.
At the heart of this prison are two figures. Lording his power over the prisoners is Jefry (Bront Palarae), the warden who takes pleasure inflicting brutality, using his belt with the passion of a Pootie Tang fan. Standing up to him is Angoro (Abimana Aryasatya), who tries defending his fellow prisoners from such cruelty within an unjust system. But his heroics leave him imprisoned for longer than his original sentence, with the impact shown during a sweet moment when his children visit. It is a standout scene packed with heart, showcasing the ramifications for him doing what is right.
Those issues quickly become secondary when the splattery kills occur. They unfold so imaginatively, delivering grotesque visuals in ritualistic and artful ways that bring to mind TV's Hannibal. It also helps that these creepy images are shown off with a fantastic practicality. Inflicting this damage is a ghost whose shape changes depending on the victim, but has a similar design which will unnerve anyone with trypophobia.
But do not think that this is a downbeat work, as it has a killer sense of humour throughout. A knowing moment is set during a prison shower sequence, as suggestively saucy music plays while capturing sculpted bodies within the frame. When people with more "everyday" body types enter the screen, the music cuts and the camera tries moving away, as it breaks up a more Hollywood-esque fantasy of who inhabits the prison. It also never gets old when a dance number pops up with fantastic timing. With the intersection of dancing and violence, it truly is murder on the dancefloor.
Woven into the story is effective social commentary, where the prisoners feel there is no future outside as they feel hard work means nothing in their country. It is understandable why they would feel that way when, in the prison alone, an unfair system sees "high value" prisoners treated like VIP customers in a swanky hotel, with the guards appealing to their every whim. One moment best captures the sheer audacity of the situation, when the head of the prison tells a high value prisoner how he shouldn't be in the same place as robbers and scammers. When the wealthy members can exit the prison whenever they desire, it is no wonder they treat the situation like a holiday instead of incarceration.
A key moment shows the luxurious look of the rarely used prayer room, before the camera moves to the underfunded arts room next door, barely containing anything despite having far more people inside. That shot effectively captures the difficulty faced by the arts, as those in power devalue and underfund it. It is something that the British government has long attempted, calling to mind a 2020 advert which crassly encouraged people in the arts to retrain in cybersecurity. There will always be those keen to demolish the arts in favour of areas they consider "more worthy", but that will never quell the transcendent feeling that art can bring, as it brightens up otherwise dreary days and makes life worth living.
While the third-act may hinge upon accurate impersonations, it works because it helps hammer home the important changes that people can make through their own actions. In a prison where building anger makes violence an everyday occurrence, the ghostly threat leaves the people trying to find a way of calming their tempers to survive. There's nothing like self-preservation to help one partake in anger management. Change may seem overwhelming in the face of oppression, but Joko Anwar effectively captures how the undying human spirit can lead us towards a better tomorrow. Amidst the laughs and the impressive gore, Ghost in the Cell is the most hopeful prison-set work since Paddington 2.
Ghost in the Cell made its UK Premiere at FrightFest 2026
Comments