In Thai director Phuttiphong Aroonpheng’s career to date, strange things have happened in the jungle, although for a distinct purpose. Those acres of tropical vegetation are imagined as a deeply political space as well as one where fantastical phenomena arise, which always induce a dark awe, with no tonal preciousness or whimsy to be found. In his breakthrough, Manta Ray, the 2018 Venice Orizzonti winner, we saw an armed soldier stalking the terrain, his uniform completely wrapped in sparkling Christmas lights. He returns to the section this year with The Burning Giants, whose opening scene sees a mysterious plume of smoke rising from a man-made space beneath the trees; whilst that initial description evokes a lair from a Sean Connery James Bond film, what Aroonpheng devises, as we discover later on, is even more imaginative and uncanny.

The Burning Giants is also something of a “mystery box” movie, uniting a disparate ensemble of characters that puzzle out the disturbing events, then offering only a partial resolution that creates even more forking narrative paths. It certainly has a more conventional cinematic language than Manta Ray, agreeably moving away from that film’s contained and festival-film-familiar “two-hander” structure. Following the smoke sighting, armed police Lak (Pakapol Srirongmuang) and Chief Sompong (Teerawat Mulvilai) chance upon Yak (Awat Ratanapintha), a member of the Karen indigenous group who’s staggering around, ridden with burn marks. Seeing the marks as a possible sign of fatal infectious disease, and fearing a mass pandemic, he’s arrested and then quarantined once they return to the nearby urban area, where it becomes immediately apparent that he has little chance of being freed.

With his conscience stirring, despite his slow-wittedness, Lak gradually shows empathy for the prisoner and seeks further explanation for the physical symptoms he is suffering from. Coincidentally, his wife Aepoh’s (Phunthida Phairuangkij) sister Aeva (Waywiree Ittianunkul) happens to be Yak’s wife, with whom he shares a daughter. There are suggestions that Yak is an indigenous rights activist as well, which tallies with Aroonpheng’s initial inspiration for the film, which involved a similar, real-life disappearance: the aforementioned police were collaborating with developers wishing to clear the jungle – the traditional homeland of Thai indigenous groups – for a national park. This also provides further understanding of why Yak and his wife have endured long periods of physical separation.

Everything culminates – somewhat – in circling back to explain that initial smoke-filled prologue, which, whilst tempting not to spoil, adroitly links the indigenous persecution occurring today with the country’s heritage, and its foundational myths and folklore. What we witness late in the film is in total tonal and pictorial contrast to its majority, yet Aroonpheng can seemingly express his anger and empathy towards his subject only in this boldly abstract way. That he introduces even more new characters following this underlines that its many narrative strands might not amount to the sum of their parts, yet as The Burning Giants ends, it’s hard to deny we’ve seen something striking and possessed with a visionary fervour.

The Burning Giants is a co-production by Thailand, France, Singapore, Taiwan and the Netherlands, staged by Diversion, 13 Little Pictures, Nord-Ouest Films and Sluizer Film Productions. Its international sales are handled by Lucky Number.