What could possibly be better than one Thai horror movie? How about eight? Terror Tuesday: The Extreme is an anthology series created by Chayan Laodtrakool, inspired by the popular radio program Angkhan Khlumpong (Terror Tuesday). Each episode focuses supposedly on true-life horror stories, all set across Thailand.

While our binge-watching culture might tempt you to watch all eight 45-minute episodes in one go, I suggest pacing yourself instead. Not only will this help your brain appreciate the variety of stories that tackle unique concepts, themes, and intense visuals, but some of these tales are genuinely frightening. With many featuring great plot twists, you should allow yourself to appreciate them before swiftly moving on to the next.

Creating an anthology is a fresh take, unlike one long-running film that can lose its impact too soon. It allows viewers to choose their viewing order – should they dare to live a little on the edge. The series explores deep-rooted fears and bizarre mysteries, all inspired by real-life experiences in Thailand. While it doesn’t emphasise what is true or not, some episodes offer no trigger warnings for certain themes, so it’s worth noting this, particularly when watching episode two.

If you do choose to watch in order, the first episode, titled Our Little Sister, follows a young woman, Aye (Cherprang Areekul), who is struggling to cope with the death of her younger sister, Elle (Praewa Suthamphong). Her mother, also finds it hard to cope and chooses to adopt a doll that looks exactly like her deceased daughter. But once her mum gets the doll delivered, she’s told of three rules of how to take care of the doll; otherwise, bad things will happen. The doll must be fed three meals daily, like a normal person. Ensure it’s back in the box by midnight and kept out of sight. Finally, do not let the doll cross a red string placed in the garden, as it will break the binding of the spell.

It’s a slow build to see just what the doll will bring, but when they do begin, the jump scares are well done. While you may see some of them coming, the sharp, thunderous use of sound strikes like lightning, amplifying the impact, and together it does make you jump with fright.

While the doll brings comfort to her mother, who seems happier, it only deepens Aye’s hurt and anguish, who goes to look for answers from the doll. When one specific rule is broken, the line blurs between what is real and fake, pushing dealing with grief to take an even deeper and darker turn. The story navigates the family dynamics that include sibling favoritism. While you feel bad for the mum, wronged by a cheating husband, her portrayal of a grief-stricken mother is beautiful-going from psychotic and commanding to soft and understanding in a split second. It also navigates the various levels of grief – the guilt of surviving, trying to live, and resorting to desperate measures to bring a loved one back, such as bringing their soul to the doll. Ultimately, it’s the mother’s possession by grief that is the scariest aspect of this story.

At just 43 minutes, the short film covers the main parts well, but there are some unanswered questions, such as how the doll came to be. However, these loose ends are all nicely wrapped up in a plot twist we don’t see coming. This twist then reshapes the whole way you’ve watched and been sold the story. It’s been told in a way that is compelling, and scary, yet packed with so many emotions and layers of death and grief. 

Wedding Dress 

This deserves a trigger warning for those who suffer from eating disorders, as it takes a dark turn in the last 20 minutes. The title Wedding Dresses makes you think of nothing but lovely visions of white, love, and happiness. But the reality is nothing of the sort. In the first 60 seconds, we see a hunched-over, clearly malnourished dressmaker who has been working herself down to the bone to finish the complicated details of a wedding dress. The flickering lights, reminiscent of the Saw franchise, add to the gritty and dirty atmosphere; despite being surrounded by sparkly wedding dresses – the supposed symbol of beauty and the most beautiful dress a woman can wear – there is an overwhelming sense of unease.

We are introduced to a new dressmaker, Milk (Panisara Rikulsurakan), who is hired to work at Nuch Dressmakers. Dressed to the nines, her boss gives Milk a grand tour of both her new home and workplace. While the shop appears glamorous, upstairs tells a different story – cold, eerie, and filled with a lingering sense of unease. Warned about one specific floor due to its strobing and dodgy lighting, you know that once night falls, the fear will begin. 

When it does, a zombie-like dressmaker arrives, and the terror commences. On her first day, she’s given the keys to run the store while her boss heads to Phuket. There are moments of unexpected comedic relief, such as when a specific customer at her dress fitting finds that her perfect dress is too small. Something takes over Milk, who blurts out that the customer is a “fat pig” and should just lose weight. The customer threatens to spread negative reviews on social media unless alterations to the dress are completed within the next seven days. If I were to nitpick, though, I’d question who waits a week to find the perfect wedding dress.

But it’s the following, where Mill gradually unravels and goes crazy, that is gripping, moments of vomiting clumps of hair; it makes you want to watch through your fingers, fearful for what’s next. The person who haunts the shop reveals a deeper, more complex commentary on the lengths women feel they must go to for their weddings. It’s a sad reflection of a society where women feel they have to be tiny to fit into their dream dress or to even find a man who would want to marry them. The discussion on plastic surgery and the seemingly normal attitude towards diet pills in pursuit of the ‘perfect’ body is still never enough. The deep cause is psychological and tied to eating disorders. It again features another fabulous twist that you do not see coming. 

Ode to Family 

A family with a corrupt link to the police force is forced into hiding after Chawin (Poon Mitpakdee) becomes the prime suspect in a horrible accident that befalls the family. He is rejected by his family members when his father is arrested by the police. In their new home, Win is intrigued by a strange room sealed shut with a padlock, clearly keeping something inside. It turns out to contain a talismanic parchment, and the doors lead to a room where a family once died. The story itself is a slow burner; it takes time to fully take off and keep you engaged. There are moments when it feels like something is finally about to happen, only for it to be snatched away. 

When things finally start to take shape, the mother steals the show with her chilling portrayal of impending possession. You can sense it coming, but her performance is mesmerasing, leaving you wondering how far she will take the character. Once the key revelations are unveiled, the storyline gains unstoppable momentum, eventually reaching the climax it has been building towards.

However, as the whirlwind of events comes to a close, you may either grasp the intended resolution or, like me, find yourself slightly confused about the fate of each family member. It’s a dark and twisted tale, but it falls short and pales in comparison to the previous installments.

The Vow

Starting with a woman diving into a pool, believing her partner to be dead, the story then cuts to eight years later. The couple, Nat (Sutthirak Subvijitra) and Dao (Parada Titawasira) visit a traditional temple where the woman in charge warns them about performing a ritual for couples that reveals their future. The ritual involves asking the goddess of the Black Hills to deliver their scripture; she is known to be brutal to those who withhold the truth from their lover. When the goddess provides their scripture, the note is wet, leading Dao to believe it is unreadable. However, the viewer sees Nat read it: “Hide not any secrets.” The storyline leans more towards sadness than terror, as it depicts dreams being forfeited for the love and happiness of others.

Taking place at the holiday resort they manage, time flies as you become immersed in this young couple’s love story and their quest to make each other happy. The key component seems so simple – open communication and honesty. Yet, human emotions are complex, and sometimes it’s our truths that hurt our loved ones the most. The goddess acts as a medium, pushing the couple to be honest under the looming threat of being scored like a fish. This allows their secrets to unravel steadily yet quickly.

For me, seeing the decision-making that impacts one another and how the story is told makes it the strongest of the series. Instead of relying on possession or gore, it goes for the heart and the raw, unspoken emotions between two people in love. The use of folklore once again is clever, serving as a structure for the story, whereas the two actors tap into their chemistry wonderfully. 

The story beautifully blends skilfully filmed flashback scenes – both past and present – with the current events, which unfold in the dead of night during a rainstorm. Both actors impressively portray the young couple, making you truly believe in their love. For the most part, you can’t predict where the supposed jump scares will happen, nor can you guess what secrets are about to be revealed. Together, these elements create a gripping and emotional viewing experience. This is perfect for those who prefer suspenseful stories over cheap thrills and gore. It would be interesting to see a follow-up to this story, exploring not only Nate’s dream job in Sweden but also how the couple navigates life after their night of secret-sharing and narrowly escaping death at the hands of the goddess.

Spectral Class 

Whilst this is, of course, a horror series, this episode opens with a brutally gory scene: an old lady being beaten to death in front of a shrine. It’s uncomfortable to watch and brings a sharp contrast to the previous two episodes, which focused on the complex emotions of family and love. This one shifts into superstition and ghost stories told among kids at school. A teacher, Oil (Pat Chayanit Chansangavej), on her first day of teaching, grows concerned about one of her students, Nik (Prince Teerapat Nuken), and decides to visit his family. What she discovers is that they’re a little odd – an understatement, to say the least.

The distressed teacher transforms from timid to action-driven, while the grandmother becomes the true source of terror. Initially, she appears as someone you might pity, but she is, in fact, an abusive figure. The grandmother’s ability to terrify the viewer with minimal dialogue and subtle movements – paired with piercing scratches and screeching at her grandson – is chilling. These scenes of supposed deities make for effective jump scares, playing on personal fears. After all, if we’re honest, our own fears and insecurities are far more unsettling than any folklore tale.

As the teacher ignores the strange things she sees and hears, it could be interpreted as a metaphor for her own deeply buried inner issues. One particular scene, bound to haunt men, delivers a cautionary lesson about never scorning a woman, culminating in some grisly body modifications. This moment veers into dark comedy with its script and acting but swiftly snaps back into fear. Once again, the episode concludes with an abrupt ending, leaving the viewer perplexed and grappling with unanswered questions.

Girl Next Door 

We know the familiar concept of the traditional girl next door, and this plays on it well. Our main character, Bird (Nat Kitcharit), is ready for a fresh start. However, things quickly take a sinister turn. The moment he steps out of his car, he is confronted by gruesome images that unsettle both him and the audience. As he tries to get to know the girl next door (Piglet Charada Imraporn), it soon becomes clear that she’s not what she seems—and that’s when the danger emerges.  

On his first night, a mysterious note is slipped under his door, instructing him not to leave his apartment after midnight and to ignore all the creepy noises. When the clock strikes twelve, the relentless banging on the door becomes almost ritualistic, creating a strangely hypnotic tune rather than an annoying disturbance.  

From there, the story moves from strange to creepy, drawing viewers into detective mode as they try to figure out the cryptic and distant glimpses of the girl next door’s true intentions. At first, Bird seems like just another broken man weighed down by poor life choices, developing a crush on the mysterious girl. In fact, you’re led to believe you understand his character—a socially anxious man, disillusioned with life and battling a drug addiction that might be distorting his perception of reality.  

With a minimalist apartment, essentially just a tiny room, the story relies heavily on sound design and Bird’s performance to drive the episode forward. It proves that sometimes less is more. As with previous episodes, a 180-degree twist reveals to the viewer what’s really happening. The hallucinations shift back and forth between the past and present, blurring the line between reality and fiction. While these scenes are beautifully executed, they begin to feel repetitive and don’t push the plot forward significantly. However, this feels intentional, giving viewers a sense of Bird’s own experience—trapped with the enigmatic girl next door in a vortex spiraling into the unknown.  

The ending is incredibly abrupt, leaving room for interpretation and analysis of what truly happened. However, it also leaves the audience feeling slightly shortchanged, as several loose ends remain untied.

Rating:

Written by Kirsty Bright

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