Guilt and Its Depiction in Southeast Asian Horror: Analyzing Shutter (2004) and Siksa Kubur (2024)
Any child in any part of Southeast Asia grew up with the manifestations of horror in orally passed gossip of the abandoned and now haunted house down the block, a woman with long raven locks, a pale complexion and an empty hole for a stomach haunting the willow tree in the back of your house, to be careful of jasmine scent at night, and not to go home after maghrib. Tales of horror and superstition in Southeast Asia has always existed as apart of our culture. It is not a surprise then to know that Southeast Asian countries are at the top producers of horror films, especially Indonesia and Thailand, with Indonesia holding a Guiness World Record on the most horror-focused film industry, and in 2024, approximately 60% of all domestic productions were horror movies (AFP, 2025). Meanwhile, Thailand is a regional pioneer, known for the highest export rate of horror content in the region.
The Indonesian film Siksa Kubur (2024), directed by Joko Anwar, and the Thai film, Shutter (2004), directed by Banjong Pisanthanakun and Parkpoom Wongpoom is an example of how horror can be deeply rooted in cultural beliefs while simultaneously responding to global cinematic trends. Joko Anwar himself is the one culturally considered to be leading the charge for Indonesian horror, and has produced many well-made horror movies under his belt. But although both films explore themes of guilt, punishment, and the supernatural, they diverge significantly in their cultural frameworks, historical contexts, stylistic approaches, and industrial conditions; while also seeking to answer the research question of how does Southeast Asian horror films depict religious guilt?
Firstly, we must understand the cultural background of Indonesia and Thailand. In Thailand, Buddhism and animist beliefs coexist (Evans, Starr, Manolo Corichi, & Miner, 2023), Shutter reflects a worldview in which the spiritual and material worlds overlap. The ghost of Natre is not merely a monster, but a manifestation of unresolved injustice. Her presence aligns with regional beliefs in restless spirits, entities that linger due to trauma or unfinished business. The film’s depiction of guilt is therefore rather relational and cyclical. Tun’s wrongdoing (his complicity in sexual violence and subsequent silence) invites karmic retribution. The supernatural does not act as divine judgement, but as a natural consequence of moral imbalance. As critics not, the film explores “guilt and inescapability of past sins” and frames the haunting as deeply personal rather than cosmic. (Anthony, 2026)
In contrast, Siksa Kubur is deeply embedded within Indonesian Islamic culture, where the whole concept of siksa kubur (torment in the grave) is a well-known theological belief. The film explicitly draws from religious teachings, with its director conducting extensive research into Islamic doctrine in order to ensure accuracy (Ady Prawira Riandi, 2024). The imagery of the grave, divine punishment, and questioning after death reflects widely recognized religious narratives.
Here, guilt is not merely social or psychological. It is absolute and divinely judged. Cultural familiarity with these beliefs intensifies the horror, as audiences are not simply watching fiction, but confronting ideas that may exist within their own faith.
Historically, Shutter was released during the 2000s boom of Asian horror cinema alongside films like Ringu and Ju-On. This period was marked by globalization and the internationalization of Asian horror aesthetics. Scholars argue that Shutter adopted a “pan-Asian look” to appeal to global audiences while still retaining elements of Thai spirituality (Ainslie, 2011). As a result, its treatment of religion is subtle and implicit. Rather than referencing doctrine directly, it embeds spiritual beliefs within narrative structure and symbolism. This reflects a transitional moment in Thai cinema, balancing local identity with global marketability.
By contrast, Siksa Kubur is a product of contemporary Indonesian cinema, which has seen a resurgence in horror films that explicitly engage with religion. It was even released during the Lebaran holiday, a period associated with reflection and spirituality, the film strategically aligns in its themes and cultural timing. This reflects a broader trend in Indonesia’s film industry, where horror is increasingly used to explore religious and moral questions in a post-reformation society.
Coincidentally, I think both movies are a great mirror of how Southeast Asian horror movies started versus how far its come, with a theme of how belief in Thai was washed down in order to appeal to a broader global audience, and in Siksa Kubur the director was not afraid to embrace the religious theme of it, unafraid of whether or not global audiences understood or not, driving home the sense of culture and religion of Indonesia within the horror movie, prioritizing local resonance over international neutrality.
One can also notice the stylistic difference between the two horror films, and how both films highlight their contrasting religious framework.
Shutter employs psychological and horror techniques, with slow pacing and atmospheric tension, a minimalist sound design, visual motifs such as photographs capturing unseen presences. The use of photography is particularly significant as it symbolizes hidden truth: what cannot be seen still exists. The gradual revelation of Natre’s presence mirrors the unfolding of Tun’s guilt. The famous visual of the ghost sitting on his shoulders literalizes the metaphor of literally carrying guilt, transforming an internal burden into a physical reality.
In contrast, Siksa Kubur adopts a more visceral and explicit style. It contains graphic imagery of death and decomposition, direct representations of punishment, and more symbolic religious elements such as serpents associated with torment in the grave. Rather than implying guilt, the film forces the audience to confront with it directly. Its techniques are didactic, reinforcing its theological message. It doesn’t hide its warning. It is right there. Repent or this is what awaits you.
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Where Shutter invites interpretation, Siksa Kubur delivers a warning.
In essence, the two movies, despite their differences in language, culture, history, and styles talk about the same thing: guilt. However, they conceptualize it differently.
In Shutter, guilt is tied to moral failure (Tan’s complicity in violence), silence and denial, and social accountability. The haunting is not random, but merely a response to injustice. Importantly, the ghost seeks recognition rather than simply blind revenge. The horror lies in the inevitability of truth. Tun cannot escape what he has done because it so embedded within his own psyche.
Meanwhile, In Siksa Kubur, guilt is framed within a religious moral system. The film explores: faith versus skepticism (skepticism is treated like a sin), the reality of divine punishment, and the consequences of disbelief and moral negligence. The narrative suggests that every action is recorded and judged, echoing the teachings that every debt will be repaid. Both the good and bad. Here, guilt is not subjective, it is objective and universal. It is determined by divine authority rather than personal conscience.
And yet guilt is ever present. The message in both movies is still the same and that guilt, no matter what form, must be addressed. And either you address it on your own or something else will do it for you.
In terms of audience engagement both achieved relative success, though in different ways.
Shutter was a commercial success in Thailand and gained international recognition upon its release, becoming one of the most influential Thai horror films, and with its success came multiple remakes ad demonstrates its adaptability and broad appeal with many online communities still continuing to praise its psychological depth and memorable twist ending. So safe to say that it has gained a niche internet following to this day and regarded as a cult classic.
Siksa Kubur, however, quickly drew a large audience, surpassing 2 million viewers shortly after its release (Ady Prawira Riandi, 2024). But the reception is more polarized. Some viewers appreciate its philosophical depth and religious exploration, while others critique it for potentially reinforcing fear-based interpretations of religion. This creates a context in which horror becomes a vehicle for ethical discourse rather than just pure entertainment.
In conclusion, Siksa Kubur and Shutter reveals that religious frameworks fundamentally shape how religious frameworks fundamentally shape how guilt is depicted in Southeast Asian horror films. While both films assert that guilt is inescapable, they differ in the source and nature of that inevitability.
In the article written by Kar-Yen Leong, he talks of ghost stories and how prominent it is in Southeast Asian mythology. It is rooted in real sites of violence, where traumatic histories remain unresolved or suppressed, such as locations associated with mass killings or political repressions are seen as eerie, quiet, or even haunted. These spaces turn into vessels of memory where we use the supernatural as a substitute of a history we cannot openly discuss due to the taboo nature. It becomes a coping mechanism. (Leong, 2021)
Thus, horror in Southeast Asia persists not merely because of religious belief, but also because it exists a means of articulating what history, politics, and society often leave unspoken; so, films like Shutter and Siksa Kubur do not simply depict guilt.
They give form to the invisible forces of memory, silence, and moral consequence that continue to shape the region.
