Nonzee Nimibutr
Nang Nak

"Husband and wife played with a red thread, the thread of love.
They began to twist it around their fingers, around hands, feet
And when their bodies were covered by the red thread, they discovered it was too late
And that their destiny was bound by the continuous oscillation of life and death".

S I L E N C E.

1999: A spiral was born in Thai cinema. 

Who is Nonzee Nimbutr? 

If I asked you this question, you’d be bewildered, with an expression worthy of my nickname. Yet, Nimbutr is one of the most elegant and ambitious Thai directors of contemporary cinema, fascinated by the folklore of his people and the elegance of sound and images. He knew how to experiment with Tarantino-like crime films (his debut in 1997) and erotic melodrama (Jan Dara), dabbling in what seems to be his favorite genre: horror.

This controversial genre includes the terrible, unwatchable "The Wheel," a true visual agony that destroys the beauty of two imaginative episodes in the triptych "Three" (a horror film that unites three medium-length films by three different nationalities, in this case, Korea, Thailand, and Hong Kong), where the art of the episode "Memories" and the poetic consistency of the jewel "Going Home" elevate the set. But the ugliness of that clownish puppetry, of marionettes, palms, and exotic touches, is hard to forget. And, unfortunately, "The Wheel" was the very first step I took towards approaching this versatile and, in his own way, fascinating director. I began watching "Nang Nak" with reluctance, despite considering how highly praised it was by many and how culturally important it was, staging a tragedy/legend handed down from generation to generation and how it influenced subsequent Thai horror. A bit like "The Exorcist" practically influenced all of American horror arsenal, and beyond.

But let’s return to "Nang Nak".
I approached the work in question somewhat slyly, drowsy on myself, ready for the inevitable masochism. Yet the very first images captured me, and before me opened a magnificent fan of sensations, emotions.
Soon, I realized: "Nang Nak" is a jewel. The stupidity of "The Wheel" is nonexistent here: contrary to the poor fragment, Nimbutr knows how to play with horror, melodrama, and auteur cinema without falling into clichés, sudden scares, or the stupidity of senseless urban legend/superstition.

"Nang Nak" is so free from clichés, from unwritten rules of horror and cinema in general that it is absolutely precious. A film that practically renounces any form of dialogue, stripping them down to the essential (many dialogues are composed simply of the names of the protagonists, shouted, as if to realize they exist, to live, and therefore, to love), skillfully juggling the use of silence, as a sharp, dark, unsettling sound. The silence that is stripped beneath light, very light natural rhythms, and underneath a soft exotic soundtrack that caresses the soul.

Under this magnificent use of sounds and a beautiful cinematography that alternates lights and colors based on the shadows of the forest where the protagonists are embraced, the plot of the film unfolds: a very famous popular legend in Thailand, which tells of a happy couple in the nineteenth century. Their names are Mak and Nak. He is a caring husband, forced to leave for war. She is the faithful and pregnant wife. Precisely at the most delicate moment of the wife’s pregnancy, the man must abandon her to take up arms. And the girl dies in childbirth, while the mortally wounded man is at risk of dying.

With the help of a professional doctor, the fighter manages to recover and return happily to the wife who greets him with kisses and hugs. You'd say... but wasn’t she dead? Well, yes, but he doesn’t realize it. He doesn’t know she is a ghost, just as she doesn’t know that he actually died in the war and hasn't healed at all. Husband, wife, and child are thus afflicted by the disease of death, which spreads to the locals in the form of cholera. One day Um, Mak's best friend, warns him about the woman’s secret, and he, not believing him, kills him. Nak does the same, determined to take out all those who dare disturb their family tranquility.

And in the end, what the two lovers wanted was not to sow discord among the living, but to survive as dead against the threats of the living in a sort of dreamlike Eden. 

The art of changing: Horror, Drama, Erotic

Nimbutr splendidly and masterfully mixes the love story with pure horror, also using sequences of memorable intensity (Nak buried underground, sits, rises to the surface, and with her legs still buried, extends her hand to her beloved promising him eternal love) without ever falling into Hollywood triviality and easy feelings. The continuous landing from bloody and effective gore splashes, alternating the charm of love scenes never so true and sensitive. "Nang Nak" is an emotion, a pain. Pure love in a nineteenth-century forest of rare beauty and harshness. A megagalactic success at home, unknown to us, perhaps also due to the difficult approach of the film. The constant distressing silences, the fixed and fluid shots, and the allure of folklore, elements little loved by many Western people. For those who love cinema, this film remains essential: a celluloid kaleidoscope.

With a pointless remake, also Thai, entitled "The Ghost of Mae Nak," with the same story set in modern times.