It’s a distinct and warm feeling when the opening scene of a movie tells you you’re in a maestro’s hands. Within a few frames, a director welcomes you to their film with the confidence of a perfect host. I don’t often feel that even with movies I end up loving dearly by the end. Plenty of masterpieces have cinematic throat-clearing to get through at the top. Such is not the case for Mattie Do’s newest film The Long Walk. An entrancing opening three minutes provides a commanding start to a slow-burning ghost story. One man. An old motorbike. A skeleton, and a collection of earthy shots and tactile sound cues introduce a story world that Do unfurls one gorgeous and unnerving sequence at a time.
Synopsis
In a near-future and rural Lao village, an old man (Yannawoutthi Chanthalungsy) forages for scraps he can sell. His only companion is the ghost of a young woman (Noutnapha Soydara) he has known for 50 years. He can see her because of his unusual psychic gift. He has grown up from a boy to a weathered old man while she remains unchanged. The ghost does not speak, but the old man realizes that she has the ability to cross through time. Most importantly, she can take him with her. He makes her take him 50 years into the past so he can talk to his younger self (Por Silatsa) in hopes of changing the course of his life. The man’s obsession with the past begins to impact his present. The veil between the two grows thinner as he presses on.
Blending Genres
The Long Walk, written by Do’s and frequent collaborator Christopher Larsen, offers a spellbinding genre blend. The near-future setting is subtle, exemplified only by high-tech arm implants people have that serve as credit card replacements. Otherwise, the setting and production design hew to a rural scarcity clearly commenting on the circumstances experienced in modern-day Laos. That lo-fi sci-fi (say that ten times fast) melds seamlessly with the ghost story components. Do favors an approach reminiscent of Kenji Mizoguchi’s Ugetsu (1953) and other folk horror-infused ghost stories in that there are no exaggerated effects. The young woman, and every other ghost we encounter, simply looks like a normal person. Ghostliness is conveyed by performance and circumstance. As if that was not enough, Do and Larsen also incorporate a dollop of noir with the interlacing mysteries of missing women across timelines.
Haunting Performances
The noir aspect solidifies through Chanthalungsy’s look and performance. With a weathered face and hardboiled attitude Bogart would no doubt approve of, he brings the old man to life as a quiet loner always puffing on a vape. Smoke spills from his mouth and nose in a multitude of scenes. Do’s work with cinematographer Matthew Macar revels in the haze. As we learn more about the old man’s life, those noir leanings amplify the ghostly avenues with Chanthalungsy holding the center. His performance betrays so little of the compounded grief of his character’s life, something that began with his mother’s (Chanthamone Inoudome) untimely death during his childhood. It is only through his grappling with the past and moral ambiguity in the present that we get a read on who this man is. Chanthalungsy is pitch-perfect, simultaneously sympathetic and strange.
While in a different tenor altogether, Silatsa’s performance as the younger version of the same character is remarkable. The film’s press notes share that Do “discovered” the 10-year-old “two days before principal photography started” on The Long Walk. He joined the cast with no acting experience, which you would never know by watching him. Much like how I wrote about Pem Zam in Lunana: A Yak in the Classroom, Silatsa delivers a raw naturalism to his role that connects both him and the film to the Italian neo-realism of the 1940s. Yet, it’s not simply the vérité impact here. Silatsa holds his own with every other performer in moments tender, heartbreaking, and horrifying. He charts a performance from discovering the young woman through crashing together with his future self that conveys a young boy grappling with a world spinning out of his control.
Do’s Direction
Holding all of this in sublime harmony is Do’s thrilling direction. Her approach here as well as across her previous two features expresses a mind devoted to reinventing the cinematic ghost story. Do’s camera frames each ghost delicately, clarifying that none of them are meant to be feared. She places those ghosts, the old man, and the boy in an earthy palette of greens and browns that tether her story firmly to its setting. Her penchant for wide angles, especially of the village’s dirt road, and lilting pans produce a restrained rhythm. Larsen’s script is a slow-burn through and through. Do reflects this aesthetically by keeping her camerawork calm, whether it is still or in motion. Her work is that enviable blend of elegance and economy, and it renders The Long Walk unforgettable.
The Long Walk is destined to join the ranks of the greatest contemporary ghost stories. In a time when the genre is having a major moment, due in large part to Mike Flanagan’s success over at Netflix, Do’s film stands with the absolute best. It is haunting in ways both literal and metaphorical and should hopefully solidify Do as a must-see filmmaker.
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Devin McGrath-Conwell holds a B.A. in Film / English from Middlebury College and is currently pursuing an MFA in Screenwriting from Emerson College. His obsessions include all things horror, David Lynch, the darkest of satires, and Billy Joel. Devin’s writing has also appeared in publications such as Filmhounds Magazine, Film Cred, Horror Homeroom, and Cinema Scholars.