Set in the shadowed alleys and liminal spaces of Kuala Lumpur, Abang Adik is a stark yet tender portrait of two undocumented brothers navigating a world that refuses to recognize their existence. Directed by Jin Ong, this debut feature is at once raw and poetic, shining light on the forgotten lives of stateless individuals in Malaysia — people without IDs, rights, or even funerals.

Abang, the older brother, is deaf and mute but fiercely protective, while Adik, restless and impulsive, dreams of escaping their precarious reality. Their bond — marked by unspoken loyalty, simmering frustrations, and moments of painful tenderness — anchors a film that is as much about personal identity as it is about systemic neglect.

What makes Abang Adik so compelling is how it balances harsh social commentary with lyricism. The camera doesn’t shy away from the brutality of poverty, but it also captures moments of unexpected beauty — a silent embrace, a shared meal, a gaze through a barred window. The sound design, especially in relation to Abang’s condition, is cleverly employed to evoke the isolation and intimacy of silence.

Jin Ong’s direction is confident and unsentimental, and the performances — particularly from Jack Tan and Wu Kang Ren — are emotionally grounded and quietly powerful. Abang Adik may be about those society refuses to see, but it ensures that we don’t forget them.