Not much actually happens here, at least not in the usual sense. A dying man in rural Thailand receives visits from his sister-in-law, a young monk, his dead wife, and a son who has reappeared in the form of a red-eyed monkey spirit. They talk, eat, reminisce, and—without fuss—contemplate the crossing from life to whatever comes after.
The film drifts between the everyday and the surreal with no warning, as if ghosts dropping by for dinner were no stranger than the rice on the table. Its rhythm is unhurried, its images sometimes startling, sometimes oddly banal. A princess makes love to a talking catfish. A cave becomes a womb. Elsewhere, silence and shadows do the heavy lifting.
It’s a trance more than a narrative, one that asks you to stop worrying about meaning and simply sit with it. A little too dreamlike and soft-edged for me, but unforgettable in flashes.