I went into Keluarga Yang Tak Dirindukan expecting a familiar Indonesian family melodrama, and after watching the first two episodes, I found something that sits somewhere between a traditional sinetron and a more grounded streaming drama. The opening hour establishes the emotional stakes quickly: Santoso’s accident shifts the family dynamic overnight, pushing Thoriq into a reluctant leadership role while Firzha reacts in ways that feel more defensive and emotionally volatile. Zahra, the adopted sister, enters the story almost quietly, but her presence adds a perspective that softens the otherwise heavy tone. The premise itself is straightforward, but the way the series handles moral conflict gives it an edge that feels more contemporary than many daily dramas.
What struck me first was the pacing. The first episode moves at a steady rhythm, giving enough time for each sibling to feel distinct. Thoriq’s sense of responsibility is written with restraint rather than exaggerated heroism, and Arbani Yasiz plays him with a kind of calm exhaustion that makes his decisions believable. Miqdad Addausy’s Firzha, on the other hand, is intentionally harder to read. His resentment and buried anger create friction in almost every scene he shares with Thoriq, and the show leans into that tension without immediately offering easy resolutions. By the end of episode two, their ideological clash about how to care for their father becomes the emotional spine of the narrative.
The performances carry a lot of the weight, especially because the dialogue occasionally slips into familiar melodramatic territory. Nabila Zavira’s Zahra is a quiet highlight. She isn’t written as a moral compass in a heavy-handed way; instead, she observes and responds, which makes her moments of confrontation feel earned. Kiki Narendra’s Santoso, despite limited screen time due to the accident storyline, anchors the family’s emotional history through flashbacks and hospital scenes. There’s a lived-in quality to the ensemble that suggests the actors were given room to build relationships before filming, and that chemistry is noticeable in small interactions, like awkward dinner table exchanges or tense hospital corridor conversations.
Visually, the series aims for a more cinematic approach than typical television dramas. The lighting feels softer and more deliberate, and there are several quiet establishing shots that allow the audience to sit with the characters’ environment. Welly Djuanda’s cinematography leans toward muted colors and grounded framing, which helps keep the story from feeling overly sensational. That said, the editing can feel slightly uneven. Some emotional beats linger longer than necessary, while a few transitions between family scenes and external conflicts feel abrupt, as if the narrative is still figuring out how much time it wants to spend on secondary characters.
Thematically, the show is clearly engaging with the idea of the “sandwich generation,” and the first two episodes explore that concept through practical dilemmas rather than speeches. Financial pressure, career sacrifices, and conflicting definitions of loyalty come up repeatedly. I appreciated that the writing doesn’t portray any character as entirely right or wrong. Thoriq’s sense of duty sometimes borders on self-erasure, while Firzha’s frustration reveals deeper insecurities about being overlooked. Zahra’s position as an adopted child adds another layer, questioning whether obligation comes from blood ties or shared experience.
Still, the series isn’t without its flaws. At times, the dialogue leans too heavily on exposition, especially when introducing side characters like Angga and Michelle. Their motivations are explained rather than revealed through action, which slightly breaks the natural flow of scenes. The second episode also introduces multiple subplots quickly, and not all of them feel necessary yet. A workplace storyline involving Thoriq, for example, appears designed to expand the world beyond the family home, but it currently feels underdeveloped compared to the central conflict.
Another aspect that feels inconsistent is the tone. The show wants to balance realism with heightened drama, and occasionally those impulses clash. A few emotional confrontations are staged with intense music cues and extended close-ups that feel closer to traditional sinetron conventions, while other scenes adopt a quieter, almost minimalist approach. The contrast isn’t always seamless, and it can make the narrative feel uncertain about its identity during certain moments.
Despite these issues, the first two episodes succeed in building curiosity about where the story is heading. The writing poses several questions without rushing to answer them. Firzha’s guarded behavior hints at past grievances that haven’t fully surfaced, while Zahra’s calm demeanor suggests she may eventually challenge the family’s assumptions about sacrifice. The ending of episode two, which frames the siblings’ differing responses to their father’s condition, works as a strong narrative hook because it doesn’t rely on shock value; instead, it leaves the audience considering how far each character is willing to go for someone they love.
What I appreciate most is that the show doesn’t treat family conflict as purely tragic. There are small moments of humor and awkwardness that keep the tone human, like casual teasing between siblings or quiet exchanges with hospital staff. These scenes prevent the drama from feeling overly heavy, even when the subject matter is emotionally dense. At the same time, I do wish the series trusted silence more often. Some of the strongest scenes are the ones where characters sit with discomfort rather than explaining it, and when the script leans into lengthy speeches, it slightly dilutes that authenticity.
Overall, watching Keluarga Yang Tak Dirindukan feels like observing a family that is both familiar and unpredictable. The storytelling is at its best when it focuses on interpersonal dynamics rather than external plot devices. The performances are grounded, the visual style shows ambition, and the central conflict has enough emotional complexity to sustain a longer narrative. Yet the pacing and tonal shifts reveal a series still negotiating its balance between traditional television drama and a more restrained streaming format.
After two episodes, I’m invested, even if I’m not fully convinced the show has found its rhythm yet. It presents a thoughtful look at responsibility and loyalty without offering easy answers, and that ambiguity keeps me curious. If the writing tightens its focus and allows the characters’ choices to unfold more organically, the series has the potential to grow into something deeply affecting rather than just another family drama built on familiar tropes.
Final Score- [6.5/10]
Reviewed by - Anjali Sharma
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Publisher at Midgard Times