Imagine a vacuum cleaner that coughs up more than dust—a quiet intruder that brings a widow back to life through its whirring hoses. A Useful Ghost premiered in Cannes Critics’ Week as Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke’s striking debut, marking Thailand’s arrival on the supernatural-romance map.
At its heart is a framing device worthy of a narrative-driven indie game: an “Academic Ladyboy” orders a high-powered hoover to combat Bangkok’s choking dust, only to discover it’s haunted. The story then shifts to March, the grieving son of a factory matriarch, whose late wife Nat has returned as a sentient vacuum. Their reunion sparks a series of emotional and moral puzzles, as Nat uses her new form to cleanse lingering spirits born of workplace tragedy.
Tonally, the film oscillates between deadpan comedy and tender romance, punctuated by moments of social reckoning. Its humor feels as precise as a well-designed game mechanic—each absurd gag unlocking new layers of character motivation—while its supernatural elements underscore a critique of forgotten histories.
Set against cramped apartments, sterile factory floors and hushed hospital corridors, the visuals strike a balance between stark minimalism and bursts of color. The director’s choice to treat bizarre encounters with everyday calm creates a rhythm that invites viewers to settle in and let the haunting begin.
Mapping the Dual Narrative
From the opening sneeze of the “Academic Ladyboy,” A Useful Ghost establishes its frame like a prologue in a narrative-driven game, planting the dust motif as both literal hazard and metaphorical key. That first unexpected cough from the hoover signals more than a mechanical glitch—it invites us into a world where the supernatural is coded into everyday routines. This setup primes us for the central quest: uncovering the origin story behind each haunted appliance.
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When the tale shifts to March’s grief-stricken perspective, the film pivots as smoothly as unlocking a new level. Here, the emotional stakes surge: his late wife Nat’s tragic demise and her spectral return via vacuum become the emotional core. This transition feels earned, mirroring how a well-designed game eases players from tutorial to main campaign, guiding us from outer mystery into intimate drama.
Key turning points function like milestone checkpoints. First, Krong’s hoover service unearths the factory’s restless spirits, revealing systemic neglect. Next, Nat’s reunion with March meets familial resistance, dramatizing social friction in a confined space—think of a tense stealth mission where every move risks discovery. Then comes Nat’s utility in banishing other ghosts, which introduces a moral dilemma akin to choosing alliances in a branching narrative. Finally, the climactic clash between personal loss and collective guilt hits like a boss fight, forcing characters—and viewers—to confront the cost of forgetting.
Pacing here is deliberate: quiet, lingering moments let grief settle before sudden bursts of absurd humor jolt us awake. Yet the runtime occasionally drags in its midsection—trimming a few of those extended silences could sharpen the momentum and sustain engagement. By treating each tonal shift as an interactive beat, the film crafts an experience that feels both unpredictable and intimately human—one that leaves you pondering which ghosts we carry forward, and why.
Embodied Echoes: Crafting Life in the Inanimate
March and Nat anchor the film like a protagonist-and-companion duo in a narrative game, only here the companion is a hoover. Witsarut Himmarat channels a gamer’s measured restraint—each blink, each hesitant touch of the vacuum hints at longing—while Davika Hoorne adopts a ghostly poise that shifts to warmth when revisiting shared memories. Their chemistry feels tactile: March’s tentative reach for the machine mirrors emotional investment mechanics in story-driven titles, where affection builds through small, deliberate actions.
The “Academic Ladyboy” and Krong serve as your tutorial guide and sidekick. Wisarut Homhuan’s deadpan voiceover unspools the world’s rules with the clarity of an interactive prompt, while Wanlop Rungkumjad’s grounded presence steers us through tonal twists. Together, they balance whimsy and exposition, ensuring we never lose sight of emotional stakes.
Apasiri Nitibhon’s Suman is the adversarial NPC—a maternal matriarch whose anxiety and authority collide spectacularly with spectral intrusions. Gandhi Wasuvitchayagit’s government minister embodies the final boss of political power, seeking to “cleanse” history rather than confront it.
Across the ensemble, the cast treats absurdity as everyday logic—the way characters shrug off a vacuum’s courtship recalls cult indies like Los Espookys, reinforcing that genuine commitment to surreal premises can deepen thematic resonance rather than undercut it.
Echoes of Memory: Themes, Imagery, and Soundscapes
At its core, A Useful Ghost is a study in grief and reconnection—each scene feels like an emotional checkpoint in a narrative game where love unlocks new paths beyond mortality. Nat’s spectral return embodies memory and erasure: her vacuum form literally archives factory negligence and political violence, forcing characters to confront past injustices rather than delete them. This “utility versus exploitation” tension mirrors resource-management systems in indie titles, where an asset can empower or be co-opted, raising moral stakes with every choice.
Visually, Pasit Tandaechanurat orchestrates contrasts as striking as levels in a well-crafted game world. Lush greenery and Bangkok’s haze frame personal moments, then give way to sterile factory and hospital interiors that evoke clinical menace. Production design treats animated appliances with playful textures—bright plastics and squeaky hoses—while cold metal corridors reinforce institutional power.
Chaibovon Seelookwar’s score undercuts sentimentality with discordant, chip-tune–like cues that pop up like surprise sound effects in a platformer. Sound design leans into the uncanny: hoover coughs echo through empty halls, machinery hum resonates like an ambient audio track, heightening supernatural realism.
Throughout, humor morphs into political allegory with seamless tonal shifts—each deadpan gag seeds social critique, and sudden gravity drops keep us off balance. It’s the kind of genre-bending ride that asks: which memories do we choose to carry forward?
A Useful Ghost premiered on May 17, 2025, in the Critics’ Week section at the Cannes Film Festival. The film is a co-production between Thailand, France, Singapore, and Germany.
Full Credits
Director: Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke
Writer: Ratchapoom Boonbunchachoke
Producers: Cattleya Paosrijaroen, Soros Sukhum, Karim Aitouna, Tan Si En
Executive Producers: Chayamporn Taeratanachai, Rachel Y. Wu, Kris Eiamsakulrat, Kip Tiaviwat, Annie Yang, Tanat Tananivit
Cast: Davika Hoorne, Witsarut Himmarat, Apasiri Nitibhon, Wanlop Rungkumjad, Wisarut Homhuan
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Pasit Tandaechanurat
Editor: Chonlasit Upanigkit
Composer: Chaibovon Seelukwa
The Review
A Useful Ghost
A Useful Ghost fuses deadpan humor and melancholy into a hauntingly original experience, its narrative–mechanics interplay delivering genuine emotional impact, with a few pacing lulls.
PROS
- Inventive premise that blends comedy, romance, and social critique
- Strong central performances anchoring emotional stakes
- Striking visuals contrasting organic and industrial spaces
- Sound design that heightens uncanny atmosphere
- Genre-bending shifts keep viewers engaged
CONS
- Midfilm pacing occasionally drags
- Tonal swings can feel abrupt for some viewers
- Political allusions may be underexplained for international audiences
