The laughing ghost: Inside Thailand’s haunted new wave of cinema

“Thai people believe that ghosts can visit you in your dreams,” Boonbunchachoke shares. “Your dream is supposed to be one of the most personal, intimate properties of your own. When I was writing, it kind of coincided with what was happening in real society, when authorities try to erase activists by using text messages or chat history in their phones as evidence that they might say something considered a threat to national security.”

From the tragic folklore of Nang Nak—which led to one of the most influential Thai films, Pee Mak, a horror comedy also starring Hoorne as the ghost Nak—ghost stories in Thailand offer both escapism and a social mirror. Cinematic ghosts cry, chase, seduce, and sometimes sit down for dinner with the living. The humor has never been just a gimmick. Beneath the punchlines, puns, and absurd romantic beats are memories of loss, censorship, and economic precarity, all folded into the language of the supernatural.

A Useful Ghost takes that lineage and twists it toward satire. “I want the film to feel elegantly perverted and perversely elegant,” Boonbunchachoke adds. Visually, the film is a bright fever dream, presented as a fairytale. The rounded corners of the screen allow the pops of color to shine through—from the red of the vacuum cleaner to the deep blue outfit of the living Nat. Boonbunchachoke assures that the color choices are purely aesthetic and not symbolic to any Thai political party. 

But the reception across western and Thai audiences are stark. “For people in the west, I often encountered in reading the reviews how capitalism reduces humans into an object. The key word is capitalism,” Boonbunchachoke says. “In Thailand, it will be authoritarian, or something like that.” While the film continues to receive accolades from festivals, in Thailand, the film did not perform as well as mainstream films. The director “expected worse” as a lot of viewers were surprised that the film was so political. “Some people would say it is too extreme, in your face, too blunt. But I think that’s my whole point, to speak so bluntly, so in your face,” he says.

For Art Parnitudom, a Thai writer and director now based in New York, who began his career as a narrative cinematographer, it is encouraging to see films like A Useful Ghost succeed both artistically and commercially, proving that original work can still find broad audiences. “Audiences are not going to the cinema just for a spook or a giggle (anymore), but something more—to experience something fresh and authentic, allowing them to reflect on themselves and the world in a way they’ve not done before,” he says. According to Parnitudom, films that are green-lit in Thailand are either comedies, horrors, or a combination of both. For him, A Useful Ghost exemplifies a new wave of Thai cinema that transcends genre—using horror and comedy not as labels, but as vessels for “an exploration of grief, connection, and what it means to reflect on a darker past…and evoking something honest.” 

What helps the horror elements shine is also the comedy. “Thai humor is casual and playful,” Parnitudom says. “It reflects our joy for life.” On screen, that lightness has evolved into something more self aware and satirical. While slapstick remains a staple, contemporary Thai films have now seem to allow humor and horror grow organically out of character or circumstance. “You can’t separate Thai culture from its cinema,” he adds. “Horror comes straight from the folklore we grew up with—spirits, karma, the unseen. Comedy comes from everyday life—the absurdities, the quirks of people and social hierarchies.” In horror-comedy, these two sensibilities collide, producing something “funny, unsettling, yet strangely familiar.”

For Thai audiences, the experience is layered with nuance, reflecting a culture that is indirect, subtle, and polite. “Emotion is often conveyed through what’s unsaid,” Parnitudom explains. A fleeting glance or gesture, or awkward situation, can evoke laughter or unease in ways that are more understated to non-Thai audiences–perhaps what had led to the difference in reception for A Useful Ghost.

Now, with international eyes on Thai cinema, Parnitudom sees the new wave of the genre’s identity crystallizing. “These films don’t imitate western conventions, but to reinterpret them through our own rhythm and folklore,” he says. 

As Thai filmmakers gain even more international attention—from the tender surrealism of Apichatpong Weerasethakul to the biting wit of A Useful Ghost—what emerges is a cinema of nuance, subtleties, and contradictions, confirming that laughter can be an essential part of surviving our daily horrors.