Every moment of this film is enjoyable. For much of the movie, it struck me as no more or less than a solid example of the cinema of auteur Arichitapong Weerasthakul. He is, perhaps, the most sincerely and successfully magical-realist artist that cinema has known. The social rhythms seem utterly naturalistic, even when the main character, an old, recently handicapped hospital worker, is having a pleasant chat with ancient deities. As with early Peter Weir, Weerasthakul's natural landscapes are utterly, well, natural yet they seem to suggest a haunting, an otherworldly force that's face is the world, one which may or may not be benevolent. History, for Weerasthakul, is the haunting of the present and future by past lives and past worlds, spectral- beings that traverse and are traversed by the present.

During Cemetery's last scenes I came to think this may be Weerasthakul's most fully realized work. The penultimate shot is extraordinary. The main character stares out at a central square of the village where the film has taken place, which the current government is digging up, presumably to make way for some "modern convenience". Children play over the new ruins like spirits of the future levitating over a present fading into the past. Our lives, our worlds, can only exist atop the ruins and amid the ghosts of the past. Destruction is therefore creation. But that doesn't make destruction, perhaps especially in its contemporary, mechanized form, any less terrifying.

A young woman sings to her lover in public, ancient kings use the energy of sleeping soldiers to fight battles and figurine princesses come to life and discuss things like skin-tone and how much they appreciate offerings. Such characters and scenes are not brought about through computer animation, elaborate costumes or thrilling action sequences, but mundane and leisurely compositions.

The film follows Jen and Keng, local women who voluntarily visit and help care for soldiers in a remote and tiny hospital. The soldiers seem to be under the sway of a spell or perhaps dreams and thoughts of their own making. Keng is a psychic and has the ability to communicate to the soldiers in their sleep. The whole film is something of a meandering daydream or series of magic spells, which is both good and bad. It is cerebral, loosely organized and full of depth. It is a kaleidoscope of Thai culture, lawn ornaments, colored lights, dreams and figures from the past, present and future, among other things. According to the TIFF catalog the film blends "neuroscience, Khmer animism, meditations on war and death, and the quotidian details of everyday life in a small village." They mention this, of course, just in case you caught too much Khmer animism and neuroscience in previous films. Seen at the Toronto International Film Festival 2015.

In Thailand, an elementary school has been turned into a clinic to care for soldiers suffering from a mysterious sudden sleeping sickness. Jenjira is a housewife volunteer at the clinic. She takes more interest in one particular patient Itt. Whenever he wakes, she befriends him. Others claim the school was built on an ancient Royal cemetery and the soldier's energy are being drained to fight battles in the other world. Jenjira befriends medium Keng who claims to be able to be possessed by the comatose men.

The camera style is very static. The camera is set up in one position and the scene unfolds without any edits. These scenes last as long as a minute or two. It has a hypnotic feel at first but it does get boring after awhile. The central mystery keeps one's interest but it gets more and more perplexing. It becomes an exercise in surreal storytelling. There are some head-scratching things going on and sometimes I wonder if they are dreams. Also why are they digging up the field? It would be more compelling if the visuals could be more surreal. They need to be more imaginative and crazier. The movie needs to explain better or be completely inexplicable.