DIRECTOR: Yandy Laurens
STARRING: Sheila Dara, Dion Wiyoko, Goran Bogdan, Lara Nekic
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 59 minutes
LANGUAGE: Indonesian, Croatian, English
PLOT: A solitary young man in Croatia finds his quiet life upended when a mysterious woman appears, claiming to be his wife from the future, sent back in time to help him change his ways and become a better version of himself.
GENRE: Drama
FILMING LOCATION: Groznjan, Croatia
To check out all previous submissions for Indonesia, click HERE.
STARRING: Sheila Dara, Dion Wiyoko, Goran Bogdan, Lara Nekic
RUNNING TIME: 1 hr 59 minutes
LANGUAGE: Indonesian, Croatian, English
PLOT: A solitary young man in Croatia finds his quiet life upended when a mysterious woman appears, claiming to be his wife from the future, sent back in time to help him change his ways and become a better version of himself.
GENRE: Drama
FILMING LOCATION: Groznjan, Croatia
To check out all previous submissions for Indonesia, click HERE.
FILM REVIEW:
(This review contains spoilers.)
“If I have to live ten thousand times, I hope I'll always choose you."
Yandy Laurens’ Sore: Wife from the Future is a disarmingly tender exploration of love, regret, and the elusive promise of self-improvement, wrapped in the guise of a sci-fi romance. Set against the quietly melancholic backdrop of Croatia’s sunlit streets and misty coastlines, the film follows a young man whose solitary existence is disrupted by the arrival of a woman claiming to be his wife from the future. What begins as an almost absurd premise slowly unfolds into something unexpectedly moving, a meditation on how the smallest choices can echo through time and alter the shape of a life.
Laurens’ direction is marked by restraint and emotional precision. Instead of leaning on high-concept visuals, he lets the film breathe through everyday intimacy and natural rhythm. His visual language, filled with warm, diffused light and long, contemplative takes, draws attention to the textures of ordinary life. The Croatian setting becomes a quiet character of its own, its streets and coastal winds echoing the protagonist’s loneliness and confusion. The result is a film that feels both grounded and gently surreal, a poetic middle ground between realism and fantasy. Every frame seems to whisper that change begins not with revelation, but with awareness.
What distinguishes Sore: Wife from the Future from other time-travel narratives is its emotional sincerity. The film refuses to explain the mechanics of its premise, instead letting the mystery remain as a metaphor for the uncertainties of love and growth. The interactions between the man and the woman oscillate between comedy and melancholy, creating an intimacy that feels deeply human. Laurens allows silence to speak louder than dialogue, using it to reveal vulnerability and the struggle to change. The story’s gentle pacing invites reflection rather than excitement, making its emotional resonance linger long after the credits roll.
Sore: Wife from the Future is less about time travel than about self-redemption. The woman from the future is not a miracle but a mirror, forcing the protagonist and by extension, the audience, to confront how easy it is to let time slip by without purpose. Laurens’ film argues that transformation rarely happens through grand gestures; it is born in the quiet decision to live better, to love harder, and to see one’s flaws clearly. The main point of the film is simple yet profound: the future is not something that happens to us but it’s something we build, choice by choice, every day.
(This review contains spoilers.)
“If I have to live ten thousand times, I hope I'll always choose you."
Yandy Laurens’ Sore: Wife from the Future is a disarmingly tender exploration of love, regret, and the elusive promise of self-improvement, wrapped in the guise of a sci-fi romance. Set against the quietly melancholic backdrop of Croatia’s sunlit streets and misty coastlines, the film follows a young man whose solitary existence is disrupted by the arrival of a woman claiming to be his wife from the future. What begins as an almost absurd premise slowly unfolds into something unexpectedly moving, a meditation on how the smallest choices can echo through time and alter the shape of a life.
Laurens’ direction is marked by restraint and emotional precision. Instead of leaning on high-concept visuals, he lets the film breathe through everyday intimacy and natural rhythm. His visual language, filled with warm, diffused light and long, contemplative takes, draws attention to the textures of ordinary life. The Croatian setting becomes a quiet character of its own, its streets and coastal winds echoing the protagonist’s loneliness and confusion. The result is a film that feels both grounded and gently surreal, a poetic middle ground between realism and fantasy. Every frame seems to whisper that change begins not with revelation, but with awareness.
What distinguishes Sore: Wife from the Future from other time-travel narratives is its emotional sincerity. The film refuses to explain the mechanics of its premise, instead letting the mystery remain as a metaphor for the uncertainties of love and growth. The interactions between the man and the woman oscillate between comedy and melancholy, creating an intimacy that feels deeply human. Laurens allows silence to speak louder than dialogue, using it to reveal vulnerability and the struggle to change. The story’s gentle pacing invites reflection rather than excitement, making its emotional resonance linger long after the credits roll.
Sore: Wife from the Future is less about time travel than about self-redemption. The woman from the future is not a miracle but a mirror, forcing the protagonist and by extension, the audience, to confront how easy it is to let time slip by without purpose. Laurens’ film argues that transformation rarely happens through grand gestures; it is born in the quiet decision to live better, to love harder, and to see one’s flaws clearly. The main point of the film is simple yet profound: the future is not something that happens to us but it’s something we build, choice by choice, every day.
