Kriss: A Strange, Dusty Bit of Balinese Folklore

If you're looking for something that feels like a polished, modern studio drama, keep walking. Kriss is for the kind of person who enjoys rummaging through old film archives just to see how weird things were back in the day. If you hate slow, silent-era pacing or stories that rely on heavy-handed tropes, you are going to absolutely loathe this.

It’s a strange, dusty little movie. The whole thing feels like a fever dream set in the tropics. You have a prince who’s basically a walking disaster and a coolie who just wants to live his life. And then there's Dasnee, who is treated more like an object to be moved around than an actual person. The way the movie handles her agency—or complete lack thereof—is pretty uncomfortable to watch by today's standards. But hey, it’s old. It’s what it is.

The goona-goona plot point is where the movie really leans into the strange. The prince’s sister basically acts like a dark fairy godmother, helping him drug the girl so he can get his way. It’s gross, sure, but it moves the plot toward that final, inevitable confrontation. The film feels like a cousin to The Bat Whispers in terms of its dramatic, almost stage-like sensibilities. It’s got that same stiff energy.

The highlight—if you can call it that—is the sword. The Kris. It’s treated with this heavy, almost comical reverence. When the husband finds it in the bed, the look on his face is priceless. It’s that moment of pure, silent realization. You know exactly what’s coming next, and the movie doesn't bother with any subtlety.

I found myself wondering if this would have worked better as a short. It drags in the middle. The scenes of the prince moping around the palace are endless. It makes me miss the tighter pacing of something like Leathernecking, where at least things were happening, even if they were silly. Here, everything feels muted by the humidity.

There’s a weird, detached quality to the camerawork. It’s like the camera is scared to get too close to the actors. It keeps its distance, which makes the drama feel a bit like watching ants in an enclosure. 🐜

• The sword scenes are surprisingly dramatic.
• The dialogue is sparse, which is honestly a blessing.
• The ending is exactly what you expect, but it hits hard anyway.

If you find yourself comparing it to Tosca, don't. It doesn't have that level of operatic sweep. It’s more of a jagged, personal story about pride. I didn't love it, but I definitely didn't forget it.