Letters from Prague 2016

Widyawati Sophiaan embodies Sulastri Kusumaningrum, the mother of Julie Estelle as Kemala Dahayu Larasati (Laras). Sulastri’s will bequeaths her house to Laras, but with a strict condition: she must send a box of old letters to Tio Pakusadewo, an elderly man living in Prague who works at a stage theater. Though Laras is eager to honor the bequest after her divorce from an unfaithful husband, she wrestles with the demand and ultimately accepts it, hoping it might offer a doorway to a quieter future. The letter of the law clashes with the stubborn sting of memory, and the first clash comes when Jaya—Mahdi Jayasri in the letters—rejects the presence of the correspondence, retreating into his own grief.

Julie Estelle as Laras finds herself cut adrift by that initial refusal, and in a moment of cultural dissonance, she leaves for a hotel, overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of Prague’s rhythms. In a surprising turn, Tio Pakusadewo as Jaya agrees to give her shelter in his apartment, softening the hard edges of the situation and opening a path to a shared space where the past can be revisited, questioned, and slowly reconciled. Laras begins reading the letters on her own, and the stories inside them begin to reshape her understanding of her mother’s life and the man who keeps returning to it across continents and decades.

Through the letters, Laras learns a history she had only glimpsed. Jaya had once been Sulastri’s fiancé, someone who could not return decades ago because Indonesia’s turbulent shift toward the New Order barred many dissenters from returning home. He, along with three peers, left Indonesia by the Port of Belawan and found exile in Prague, living far from the country they had promised to restore and protect. This revelation reframes Laras’s earlier impression of her mother’s quiet endurance, suggesting that Sulastri’s daily waiting affected the family’s psychology and the atmosphere of their home. Jaya admits that he once refused to accept the letters, choosing to cast his past aside; yet Laras’s insistence, delivered with both care and clarity, moves him to a tearful acceptance.

The story shifts again as a new day begins. After a cooling-off period, Jaya invites Laras to a casual lunch, and she discovers within him a genuine, compassionate side—the kind of person who holds others’ pain with quiet strength. He shares more about his life in exile and the costs of opposing the regime, content with the choices he made, even as they continue to haunt him. In return, Laras shares her own memories and stories with him, transferring pieces of her life to the man who has witnessed the shadows of their shared history offstage as well. An intimate spark grows between them, and Jaya even writes a song dedicated to Laras, a tender gesture that marks a new kind of kinship forming between them. By the end of the day, Jaya commits to treating Laras as a daughter, and Laras accepts this new, chosen bond.

The morning that follows brings a charged confrontation with the truth of the past. Laras asks Jaya to forgive what happened and to return to Indonesia, a request that triggers anger in him as he voices his hatred toward the country. Laras recognizes that he may never fully forgive himself for what he has carried for years. In a pivotal moment, Jaya receives a reply letter from Sulastri, which reveals a startling detail: Laras’s full name is the one Jaya had hoped to name his own possible daughter. Sulastri’s message explains that she deliberately urged Laras to travel to Prague to deliver Jaya’s letters, hoping that their meeting could help him heal the long-armed wound of the past. Faced with this revelation, Jaya physically stops Laras from leaving, and the two ultimately find reconciliation in their shared understanding of how memory and forgiveness can travel across borders and time.