Considered Thailand’s response to the early aughts J-horror craze, Shutter made a massive splash at the box office in its native country in 2004. When Shutter premiered the following year in North America on April 23, its terrifying reputation had preceded it, and rumblings of an American remake were already underway. Despite sharing the recurring J-horror staple of a long-haired vengeance-seeking female spirit in white, this particular supernatural tale offered originality in the form of unreliable narrators and grim moral complexities. Shutter delivered a compelling character-centric story that’s unafraid to go full throttle on well-executed scares.

The feature debut by Parkpoom Wongpoom and Banjong Pisanthanakun, the plot revolves around photographer Tun (Ananda Everingham) and his girlfriend Jane (Natthaweeranuch Thongmee). They’re a happy couple in love, but they open up the doors to supernatural torment when a distracted Jane accidentally runs a woman over while driving home from a friend’s wedding. Tun, who’d been drinking, convinces Jane to flee, leaving the woman alone in the middle of the road. Subsequently, strange images begin showing up in Tun’s photography, and spooky things start happening to the couple. The obvious is that their wrong-doing prompted justice and punishment from beyond the grave, but the narrative takes its time unraveling shocking truths.

It’s the story’s structure and character work that sets Shutter apart. Played with charm and an almost tentative sweetness, Everingham quickly sells Tun as someone morally weak but well-meaning. It’s as much Everingham’s performance as it is the central romance between Tun and Jane that sets him up as a protagonist with a rooting interest. Something that turns out to be a brilliant red herring.

Wongpoom and Pisanthanakun rely on the storytelling conventions of J-horror to lull the viewer, then they subvert them. First, with the hit and run accident as the inciting event, the apparent reason driving the revenge of the evil spirit. Then, Tun’s friends, the very ones he celebrated with at the beginning, start committing suicide. Tearful questioning by a grieving spouse in front of Jane sows the seeds of doubt. Tun harbors secrets, and it could threaten not just his relationship with Jane, but their lives.

It’s at this point that the hauntings escalate. There are the traditional ghostly scares, but Wongpoom and Pisanthanakun weave in a lot of ingenuity in the scare department, too, making full use of the photography. The ghostly Natre (Achita Sikamana) makes her presence known in professional pictures, the darkroom, and even in one clever bathroom scare that ends in welcome levity. It’s another late-night driving encounter that threatens to leave your pants soiled; Natre is one seriously pissed off ghost, for a good reason.

As with many stories of this ilk, Tun and Jane eventually trace Natre back to her hometown, to learn the truth of Natre’s fate and ensure she’s laid to rest properly in the hopes of quelling her unrest. It comes with significant reveals of Tun’s connection to Natre, as well as a climactic showdown between the living and dead. All of which would make for a solid entry in supernatural horror. But it’s during the happily-ever-after false ending that Wongpoom and Pisanthanakun finally show the rest of their hand; Tun never was the protagonist at all. He and his friends deserved everything coming to them, including Natre’s sentence for Tun. It’s a final jolt type twist and one that offers a satisfying conclusion. Justice has been served, and Natre is a curse tailor-made only for the monster that made her.

From a narrative standpoint, it gives a reprieve to the standard J-horror ghost. Sadako and Kayako spread like supernatural diseases, without discrimination. In Thailand, the belief in spirits and ghosts is quite common, and they’re often considered benevolent. There are wicked spirits, too, often stemming from horrible deaths. There’s a popular Thai saying to the effect of, “You may not believe, but never offend the spirits.” A small offering or shrine can go a long way to peaceful coexistence.

Despite a ghastly appearance and the effective way in which she terrifies, Natre is benevolent. She haunts and claims only those who harmed her directly, and their vile actions were in dire need of retribution. For Jane, there was no malintent, only truth.

The best horror movies deftly balance the scares and story. They elicit severe chills yet keep us engaged with fleshed-out characters and narrative. Shutter does both remarkably well, imbuing the tropes of a horror trend with its own culture and transforming it into something far greater.