Starring Jenjira Pongpas. In Thai, with English subtitles. Rating unavailable.

Soldiers in a remote, bucolic setting are struck by an odd form of sleeping sickness that finds them semipermanent guests at a quiet country hospital.

Even the people still walking around seem to be under some kind of spell in this latest, whimsically dreamy venture from Thai writer-director Apichatpong Weerasethakul. He has a weakness for folktales, animistic curses, and reincarnation, as seen in similarly themed films like Tropical Malady and Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives. Here, what starts as a naturalistic-appearing look at (admittedly off-the-main-path) life becomes increasingly unhinged—not that it seems to bother anyone doing the unhinging.

Things centre on Jen (Jenjira Pongpas), a middle-aged woman with legs of uneven length and an occasionally seen American husband. As a child, she attended the school converted to this hospital, where she volunteers. She’s befriended by Keng (Jarinpattra Rueangram), a medium and possible government spy who can communicate with the snoozing soldiers, although that’s not necessarily connected with their morning hard-ons.

The women bond with one young man (Banlop Lomnoi) in particular, and he becomes a kind of son to Jen. No one is perturbed by the loose, unexpected connections between people and places, or by increasingly bizarre explanations of odd behaviour, as with the travelling saleswomen who claim to be ghosts of long-gone Laotian goddesses. Turns out the soldiers are simply reliving past battles in their sleep, with that earth-digger outside disturbing the bones of ancient armies.

Will viewers buy all this? It hardly matters. The rhythms of this two-hour meditation may be unfamiliar to most popcorn-munchers, but the cleverly made Cemetery is packed with so much wry humour, gentle mystery, and strange beauty—the soldiers have “anti-snoring machines” that change colour like mood rings—almost anyone would enjoy spending some time there. Some.