2025 ended with a bang for Indonesian cinema. Since its release on 27 November, Agak Laen: Menyala Pantiku!—the sequel to the wildly popular 2024 hit Agak Laen!—has drawn 10.97 million admissions. Muhadkly Acho’s comedy caper surpassed the box-office success of Ryan Adriandhy’s Jumbo, which dominated the first half of the year with 10.23 million admissions and briefly held the record as the highest-grossing Indonesian film of all time. Meaning: in a single year, Indonesian cinema broke its own national record twice. The last time this happened was in 2012, when Faozan Rizal’s Habibie & Ainun (4.6 million admissions) overtook Rizal Mantovani’s 5 cm (2.4 million) in the closing months of the year.

The broader numbers also look impressive. In 2025, Indonesian films collectively recorded 82,643,141 admissions across 201 theatrical releases, commanding the market both in output (43% of releases) and audience share (64% of admissions). Yet, when compared to 2024, some troubling signs emerge. The previous year saw 80,610,026 admissions from only 146 releases—an average of roughly 552,123 admissions per film. In 2025, that average dropped to 411,159 per film. In fact, Jumbo and Agak Laen alone accounted for 26% of all box-office admissions for Indonesian films in 2025, placing a heavy reliance on just two titles.

The diminishing returns raise important questions. While the peaks are reaching new heights, the industry’s dependence on tentpole releases suggests a fragile foundation. Has the Indonesian film market reached a ceiling, or can it find ways to sustain growth beyond its biggest blockbusters?

Earlier in the year, the industry dared to dream as Jumbo set new heights to aspire to. Produced by a fully Indonesian crew, the animation feature was a novelty for local moviegoers, and its prolific theatrical run from March to May 2025 added to the excitement. People championing the film as a challenger to Avengers: Endgame as the highest-grossing film in Indonesian cinemas—the Marvel title set the record with 10.97 million admissions. The milestone was eventually out of reach, but Jumbo’s achievement was still widely considered a breath of fresh air for Indonesian cinema in the opening months of 2025.

Not long after, in July, there was Yandy Lauren’s Sore: Istri Dari Masa Depan (Sore: A Wife from the Future), a fantasy romance that tugged on the heartstrings of many Indonesians. At the time, Sore: Istri Dari Masa Depan’s time-loop story was considered fresh among popular Indonesian films. The narrative puzzles and the charming leads only add to the film’s public appeal, generating social media engagements and leading the film to be selected as the national representative for the Academy Awards. This positive energy is mirrored amicably in the box-office earnings, with 3.12 million admissions recorded for Sore: Istri Dari Masa Depan.

It is that hopeful energy that went painfully missing in the latter half of 2025. In the year’s closing month, the Indonesian film industry simply went autopilot, churning out two to three new releases every week. Barring Agak Laen: Menyala Pantiku!, almost none of the releases during the period make substantial ripples in the box-office chart.

This hints at market oversaturation. In general, horror occupies 45% or 90 films of the 2025 theatrical releases, with drama following behind with 66 films. Of those myriad horror films, five rank within the top ten domestic films at the box office. Pabrik Gula tops the lot with 4.73 million admissions, making it the third highest-grossing domestic film of the year, followed by Petaka Gunung Gede (3.24 million, 4th); Jalan Pulang (2.81 million, 7th); Kang Solah: from Kang Mak x Nenek Gayung (2.51 million, 8th); and Qodrat 2 (2.21 million, 9th). Of all these titles, Kang Solah is the only film released in the second half of the year, and it is a crossover project that platforms two popular IPs. The other four titles are also derived from pre-existing IPs—Pabrik Gula, Petaka Gunung Gede, and Jalan Pulang emerge from viral social media threads, while Qodrat 2 is obviously a sequel.

Indonesian cinema is entering the new year at a crossroads. On one side, there is a degree of risk-aversion as the Indonesian moviegoing public mostly flock to what they are familiar with. On the other hand, audiences could respond well to niche films, but projects like Jumbo and Sore: Istri Dari Masa Depan are high-risk endeavors that most production companies in Indonesia could not entertain. Balancing these two sides would be crucial for the industry’s future prospects.

The financial heartbeat of Indonesian cinema still pulses through the silver screens. Box-office sales remain the primary lifeline for producers seeking to recover the high costs of production and promotion, while streaming platforms arrive later—like a second wind—bringing in additional income after the curtain has closed. The first spark of funding is often lit by a shifting circle of private backers and individual investors.

This rhythm, familiar and cyclical, offers investors a measure of predictability. Yet the market itself is restless, shaped by the dominance of cinema chains—chiefly Cinema XXI—that hold sway over distribution. Recent successes of local films have opened more doors for domestic titles, though they must still compete for space with imported films. Beyond the silver screens, political turbulence following the latest presidential election has unsettled cultural and business landscapes, adding another layer of uncertainty.

In recent years, streaming platforms have become a consistent patron for medium to small-scale projects. Naturally, each platform has its specific target audiences. Vidio—renowned for broadcasting European football leagues—seemingly caters to predominantly male viewers by producing action flicks and adult-themed comedy, while Netflix—with its branding as premier film destination—prioritizes a more cinephile audience through auteur-driven projects and genre-based novelty projects. As the market for streaming services in Indonesia has been volatile since the end of the pandemic, the financial success of this model varies from one project to another, but in the long run, this development provides a reliable pipeline for emerging filmmakers. Promising talents such as Sidharta Tata, Aco Tenriyagelli, and more recently Monica Vanesa Tedja have entered the mainstream market through this pathway.

More niche projects often find their bloodlines through international co-productions. Film festivals notably function as platforms for networking and information exchange, and in this space, JAFF Market emerges as the leading name in Indonesia. Organized concurrently with Jogja-NETPAC Asian Film Festival at the end of the year, JAFF Market is renowned as the first film market in Indonesia. In 2025, the event welcomed around 6,700 investors, distributors, producers, and other film professionals from 19 nations. Kamila Andini’s Empat Musim Pertiwi (Four Seasons in Java) emerges as one of the most widely talked-about projects in the three-day event.

What makes JAFF Market unique is that it combines the transactional nature of a business event and the fanfare of a pop culture expo. Film launches and fan meets would take place in the same space, and often at the same time, as pitching forums and industry talks. The organizer claimed the event oversaw USD 2.5 million worth of transactions, with Angga Dwimas Sasongko’s Ratu Malaka (Queen of Malacca) and Yosep Anggi Noen’s Laut Bercerita (The Sea Speaks His Name) hyped and primed for future theatrical releases.

For much of its history, film distribution has been a rather foreign concept in Indonesia’s cinematic landscape. Cinema XXI, long the dominant player across the archipelago, has carried the dual mantle of exhibitor and distributor, shaping both the circulation and screen time of domestic films. For production companies, the path is straightforward: strike a deal with Cinema XXI, whose vast network controls 63% of the market, and filmmakers receive half of each ticket sold after taxes. Alternatives exist—CGV Cinema (formerly Blitzmegaplex) and Cinépolis (formerly Cinemaxx)—but each requires separate negotiations and has a significantly smaller number of screens.

In practice, the industry has been more accustomed to importers than to independent distributors, and here too Cinema XXI reigns supreme. Through its subsidiary Omega Film, the company holds an exclusive partnership with the Motion Picture Association of America, making it the sole gatekeeper of Hollywood’s premium releases in Indonesia. Rival chains must negotiate with Cinema XXI to screen those titles. Yet the landscape is shifting. While the clamor for Hollywood blockbusters remains strong, newer chains are carving niches by embracing films from South Korea, Japan, India, China, and Thailand. Festival titles also occasionally reach major cinemas, either through locally organized events or independent distributors.

This signals a gradual push toward greater diversity on the big screen. Still, the more pressing issue in 2025 is the backlog of films waiting for slots in major cinema chains. Ironically, in this case, Indonesian films have become victims of their own success. As titles surpassing one million admissions have become more common, cinema chains extend their runs, keeping popular films on screens until their momentum naturally fades. This strategy has allowed the industry to celebrate multiple record-breaking hits in a single year. Yet it also squeezes out smaller or niche films, which must compete not only with foreign imports but also with the extended runs of local blockbusters. The result is a decline in average admissions for Indonesian films compared to the previous year.

The dominance of the silver screen outlines a familiar distribution cycle for most Indonesian titles: maximize ticket sales before transitioning to smaller platforms. But with cinema chains more crowded than ever, the industry urgently needs new markets—and new distribution models—to ensure that diverse voices and films can find their audiences.

In Indonesia, cinema is more than just a place to watch movies—it’s also a mirror of social divides. Today, most theaters are tucked inside gleaming shopping malls, spaces that quietly signal who belongs there through price tags and polished decorum. For older generations, this feels worlds apart from the past, when cinemas often stood in the heart of traditional markets, open-air hubs where people from all social backgrounds could freely mingle over shared stories on the big screen. The contrast is stark, and geography makes it sharper still. Of the 2,145 screens across 497 cinemas operating in 2025, more than half are located on Java, the smallest of Indonesia’s five major islands, with nearly a third clustered in Jakarta and its surrounding areas.

For years, this imbalance was often blamed for the stunted growth of Indonesian films. The argument holds some truth: the low number of screens prevents filmmakers from fully tapping into the nation’s population of over 200 million, while the uneven spread of cinemas marginalizes audiences outside Java and hinders the growth of local markets on other major islands. This was evident in the early 2010s, when foreign titles dominated market share and overshadowed domestic films. By 2025, however, the situation had reversed. Quantitatively, Indonesian films now lead the market with a 43% share, compared to Hollywood’s 21% and South Korea’s 13%. Yet, as reflected in the declining average admissions for Indonesian films, the market remains too crowded for most titles to sustain meaningful theatrical runs.

The commonly proposed solution is simply to build more cinemas, under the assumption that more screens mean more breathing room. But this only addresses part of the problem. The other, often overlooked, challenge is cultivating moviegoing habits in cities and towns without a recent history of cinema culture. People don’t automatically go to theaters just because they exist—especially when those theaters are located inside shopping malls. Ticket prices alone are considered a luxury for many Indonesians, ranging from IDR 35,000 (USD 2) to IDR 75,000 (USD 4.43), which amount to 1–3 percent of the minimum wage in most major cities. Moreover, social life in Indonesia does not always revolve around malls; each city and town has its own cultural center of gravity.

A wiser solution, then, may not be simply building more cinemas, but building different kinds of cinemas—especially those that are more affordable and socially accessible. In February 2026, a startup called Layar Digi announced an ambitious partnership with Alfamart, a convenience store chain with 18,000 outlets across Indonesia, to launch digital micro cinemas in 50 cities starting in March. Tickets would cost just IDR 15,000 (USD 0.89), and the cinemas would be located on the second floor of Alfamart stores, which can be found everywhere from major cities to remote villages. The concept is appealing on paper, but its success in practice will take time to prove.

There have been little updates about filmmaking technology in Indonesia as the infrastructure remains concentrated in three main hubs. Jakarta, the nation’s capital, hosts a wide range of established facilities that have long been trusted by both domestic and international production companies. Batam, an island just a short ferry ride from Singapore, offers two soundstages, a one-hectare backlot, and diverse natural landscapes suitable for large-scale productions—all operated by Infinite Studios. Meanwhile, Bali, the country’s iconic tourist destination, attracts filmmakers not only with its beaches but also with specialized facilities. In the highlands of Bangli, Bali Movie Studio provides soundstages and post-production services, including analog filmmaking, which has seen renewed interest in recent years. For decades, filmmakers across Indonesia have relied on the technological infrastructure concentrated in these three cities, even as film activity has significantly expanded beyond Java and Bali.

Where Indonesia excels is in the availability of production service companies. In 2025, the Ministry of Education and Culture—an essential authority in the permitting process—registered 46 fixers and service providers in the country. Of these, Jakarta and Bali dominate, with 21 and 14 companies respectively, while Yogyakarta, another key filmmaking region, hosts 3. Other areas such as Bandung, Bekasi (West Java), Tangerang Selatan (Banten), Batam, Surabaya (East Java), Tomohon (North Sulawesi), Palangkaraya (Central Borneo), and Medan (North Sumatra) each have just one company. Although the distribution appears uneven, it reflects the typical pathways foreign productions take when filming in Indonesia. Jakarta and Bali, as major transportation hubs, often serve as gateways for crews and equipment, with local fixers coordinating logistics and collaborating with production service providers in other regions when necessary.

The persistent challenge lies in the fragmented permitting system. Filming in public areas requires a lengthy process involving approvals from Indonesian embassies or consulates, immigration, and the Ministry of Culture. There is also a matter of separately negotiating with police for crowd permits. For shoots in national parks or conservation zones, additional permits must be secured from the Ministry of Environment and Forestry. This process can take six to ten weeks. While streamlining remains necessary in the future, the rather convoluted bureaucracy doesn’t stop Indonesia from attracting international productions. Recent examples include Jim Taihuttu’s De Oost (2020), shot in Semarang’s colonial heritage district; Gareth Edwards’ The Creator (2023), which used Mount Bromo’s dramatic landscapes to depict a futuristic world; and Dev Patel’s Monkey Man (2024), which recreated Indian urban vistas on a studio lot in Batam.

With the world’s fourth-largest population, Indonesia has become a powerhouse market for internet-based businesses. By 2025, the Indonesian Internet Service Providers Association (APJII) reported that 230 million people—83% of the population—were online. For streaming platforms, this massive user base translated into 26.9 million accounts, a staggering 69% jump from the previous year’s 15.9 million. Vidio, Viu, Netflix, and iQiyi were among the platforms driving this surge. In fact, Indonesia alone accounts for 44% of Southeast Asia’s streaming subscribers, making the archipelago the beating heart of the region’s digital entertainment industry.

Yet, despite the impressive growth, streaming still plays a secondary role in Indonesians’ digital lives. Those 26.9 million accounts represent less than 12% of the population. The reason lies in the country’s media habits. A nationwide survey conducted by APJII in December 2024 revealed that YouTube reigns supreme: 65% of respondents named it their go-to video platform. Vidio followed at 14.4%, while Netflix, WeTV, Viu, and Disney+ Hotstar trailed far behind.

This pattern reflects a deeper truth about Indonesian audiences: they are highly price-sensitive and shaped by decades of free public television. Paying for content is a selective choice, and YouTube’s free model—with ads seen as a tolerable trade-off—makes it the undisputed leader. For paid platforms, value is everything. Vidio’s success illustrates this perfectly. Owned by Emtek, Vidio offers not only a strong lineup of local films but also exclusive live broadcasts of football and badminton—the nation’s most beloved sports. In doing so, it positions itself as a modern-day “family television,” a role its competitors struggle to match. Netflix, Viu, Disney+ Hotstar, and iQiyi attract loyal niche audiences, while smaller platforms like KlikFilm, Bioskop Online, and Rangkai serve as boutique outlets for festival releases, indie films, and shorts—more luxury than necessity.

Still, the potential for growth is undeniable. Streaming services have become a lifeline for filmmakers whose works falter at the box office, offering them a second chance to reach audiences. At the same time, platforms benefit from showcasing these films to viewers who missed their theatrical runs. It’s a mutually reinforcing cycle: streaming fills the gaps left by cinemas, while audiences discover new ways to connect with Indonesian stories.

Indonesian filmmakers are increasingly turning to cross-border partnerships as a way to secure funding and expand their creative reach. For now, most of these collaborations remain focused on festival-oriented films, since such projects rarely attract domestic investors. But the momentum is undeniable, and the industry is beginning to see international co-production as a vital pathway for growth.

Among the most prominent players is KawanKawan Media, a Jakarta-based company that has built a strong reputation on the global stage. Their success includes Makbul Mubarak’s Autobiography (2022), Amanda Nell Eu’s Tiger Stripes (2023), and Chie Hayakawa’s Renoir (2025)—all celebrated in major film festivals. These projects pooled resources and talent from Indonesia, Malaysia, Japan, Singapore, the Philippines, France, Germany, and Qatar. Currently, KawanKawan is developing Mubarak’s second feature, Watch It Burn, which received a USD 30,000 development grant from the Red Sea Souk Award in 2024.

Another key name is Forka Films, now working on Kamila Andini’s latest feature, Empat Musim Pertiwi (Four Seasons in Java). The project brings together partners from Indonesia, the Philippines, Germany, the Netherlands, Norway, Singapore, and France. Andini herself has already established an international reputation: Yuni (2021), an international co-production, won the Platform Prize in Toronto, while Before, Now, and Then (2022) earned a Silver Bear for Best Supporting Performance in Berlin.

The Indonesian government has acknowledged these collaborations as a form of cultural diplomacy. At the 2023 Cannes Film Festival, then-Minister of Culture Nadiem Makarim announced the Dana Indonesiana Matching Fund, a program designed to support Indonesian filmmakers who secure international partners by matching foreign investment up to IDR 2.5 billion (around USD 150,000). Yet, as of early 2026, no public record confirms any projects benefiting from this scheme, raising questions about its execution.

Meanwhile, film professionals continue to push for a more coherent state strategy to encourage co-productions. One of the most discussed proposals is a tax rebate system, modelled after successful policies in Thailand and Cambodia. Implementing such a measure would require significant revisions to Indonesia’s Film Law, which dates back to 2009—an era when the global film industry and technology were far simpler than they are today. With cinema increasingly seen as a driver of the national creative economy, these changes are now under serious consideration.