2024
Humour has always been an integral part of Thai horror, a cinematic genre characterized by its internal hybridity and fluidity. Despite some attempts to align local productions with Western or Japanese horror, the majority of Thai horror films continue to mix scares with laughter, frequently featuring the ‘unholy trinity’ of ghosts, slapstick comedy and the kathoey – a Thai third gender category, often depicted in such productions in terms of the Gothic body that is simultaneously the site of ridicule and fear. This article examines the work of two directors who have embraced this approach – Poj Arnon and Yuthlert Sippapak. While Poj Arnon’s films have often been branded as tasteless and nonsensical, each of his 30-something productions has made a healthy profit, attesting to their popularity. In contrast, Yuthlert Sippapak’s works have baffled audiences at several international festivals and the director himself has been promoted as an inscrutable auteur. This article focuses on two major film series by these directors – Hor Taew Tak by Poj Arnon, and Buppah Rahtree by Yuthlert Sippapak. The article uses these films to illustrate a distinction between Thai horror comedies and Thai popular horror films, arguing that the comic elements are an indispensable part of their Gothic framework and a feature characteristic of Thai popular horror film in general.
This article argues that the negative portrayal of medical professionals in contemporary Thai horror is to a certain extent reminiscent of the tensions between the official and popular attitudes to Western bio-medicine and Traditional Thai Medicine (TTM) in Thai society. The article argues that medical doctors, together with other members of the professional community, such as for instance architects, or journalists, represent a relatively high level in the Thai social hierarchy which can be openly criticized without much fear that the films will be cut by censors. Last but not least, the article will look in more detail on Paween Purijitpanya’s debut feature The Body #19 (2006). Set within the less-than-glamorous world of medical professionals, the film toys with the concept of the mental disease (schizophrenia), which in traditional Thai folk medicine has consequently been attributed to spiritual possession. This dual spiritual/medical nature of the mental disease in Thai popular perception, has allowed the filmmakers to create a film that can be seen as simultaneously repeating and breaking the established Thai horror formulas. At the same time, while directing our attention to the notion of disease, the film offers an interesting, though subtle representation of the disintegration of the traditional hierarchical Thai society and its values.
The waiting woman is a ghost who appears to be endlessly waiting – for recognition, for her lover, for a chance to reincarnate, or to exact revenge. In Asia, her roots can be found in early medieval Chinese records of the strange, arguably the oldest written ghost stories in the region. The romanticized version of this ghost, introduced in Tang Xianzu’s drama Peony Pavillion (Mudan ting, 1598), influenced many writers of Japanese kaidan (strange) stories and merged with East and Southeast Asian ghostlore that continues to inspire contemporary local fiction and films. The article proposes to read the figure of the waiting woman as a representation of the enduring myth of the submissive Asian femininity and a warning against the threat of possible female emancipation brought about by the socio-economic changes caused by modernisation.
The chapter looks at three distinct themes in what we could loosely term Asian ‘apartment horror’ films that are characteristic of the specific sociocultural contexts and urban cultural economies they represent: (1) the portrayal of the contiguous community where ghosts co-habit the space alongside the living; (2) the alienating character of modern urban communal lifestyles, where ghosts are more visible than the living, and the biggest fear of both groups is that of loneliness and isolation; and finally (3) the placement of the ghost as a representation of a failed dream of economic success that continues to drive the migration of Asian rural populations to the cities.
The promotion of Asian Horror as a single marketable category arguably began at the turn of the millennium with the release of Hideo Nakata’s Ringu (1998) and Ringu 2 (1999), introduced to the world through the festival circuit. The long-haired vengeful spirit of Sadako Yamamura was hailed a ‘new’ figure of evil, critics welcomed the emergence of ‘J-horror,’ and film distributors rushed to cash in on the growing appetite for Asian ghosts and monsters. Originating in the novels of Koji Suzuki, Sadako is a character bound in a cycle of repetitions, appearing in five novels and seven movies to date in Japan (not counting manga and television series), spawning one Korean and three American remakes, and present as an instantly-recognisable pop-cultural reference in countless other productions. This brief discussion of Asian Horror will therefore focus on the novels and films of the Ring cycle and examine the evolution of Sadako as a representative ‘face’ of Asian horror.
This article focuses on the four most significant Japanese Ringu movies, mapping out contemporary Japanese horror as a culturally-fostered response to the fear of chaos in the techno-centric orderly system. The representations of chaos, whether affecting spatial and temporal reality, psyche, or social structures can be seen in virtually every contemporary Japanese horror film, while technology re-emerges as a channel for the supernatural and a site of supernatural materialisation. Sadako Yamamura, Chaos personified, may serve as a perfect example of the above.
If we agree that globalization translates into a quick and massive flow of capital, people, products, services and ideas across borders then cinema has been a global enterprise since its very beginnings. While local film industries may not share the global distributing potential of Hollywood, this does not mean that their production and post-production methods lag behind. The case of Thai film is not so different here, negotiating the dynamics of the global (e.g. filming equipment, skilled crew, or distribution formats) and the local (e.g. conceptualization, scriptwriting, or narrative formation). Contemporary Thai horror film has long been Thailand’s calling card on international film markets. Known in Thai as nang phi (ghost films), the films remain faithful to their narrow supernatural formula focusing most commonly on the figure of a vindictive phi tai hong (a spirit of the violently dead). Recently, however, the familiar anthropomorphic renditions of ghosts known from older Thai horror films seem to undergo the steady process of de-materialization and de-literalization, challenged through the intervention of technology and reappearing as critically constructed metaphors. This article argues that this change in the way these ghosts are portrayed on film can be seen as a result of the increasing globalization of Thai film industry per se, as well as a reflection on the broader economic, political and social transformations brought about by the powers of globalization in Thailand.
This chapter traces the development of the Chinese-style ghost story in Asian literatures from the classical Chinese genres of zhiguai, and chanqui, through their transformation into Japanese kaidan, to contemporary versions of them. It discusses the structural characteristics and shared themes of such stories, and argues that their modern reincarnations can be divided into reproductions (where contemporary stories are written in a style closely resembling older texts), utilizations (where contemporary authors make use of their audience’s knowledge of the old texts), and hybridizations (where contemporary stories alter older texts, introducing elements of local folklore, modern settings, or other literary influences). As the name suggests, stories of the strange relate to all manner of extraordinary phenomena. To simplify things, the discussion will be limited to the stories that understand ghosts as the returning spirits or souls of the deceased, often taking very material forms in their interactions with humans. The ghosts in question should also be understood as individuals rather than a collective entity, even when they are described as one’s ancestors.
The chapter offers a selective survey of twenty-first-century Asian Gothic. The main focus of the discussion is the most prominent contemporary trend involving reconfigurations of Asian folklore and the ghost story. More specifically, this chapter investigates literary and film narratives dealing with individual and collective trauma that revolve around the figure of the vengeful ghost, texts which reclaim animism as inherent part of Asian modernity, and Asian Gothic’s interrogation of gender dynamics and empowered women. The first section of the essay discusses the emergence of the female vengeful ghost as the dominant figure of fear in Asian horror films. The second section examines the portrayal of ghosts in literature of the region and the way their haunting engages with historical trauma and socio-cultural anxieties of the time. The final part investigates narratives that highlight the connection of women to shamanism and magic and proposes to read female spirituality in terms of empowerment.
