The Last Executioner

Chavoret Jaruboon enjoys a carefree youth, idolizing Elvis, playing guitar for G.I.s and earning a few pennies. His life takes a turn when his girlfriend becomes pregnant, pushing him to seek a stable job to support the family. The scene sets up the tension between passion and responsibility.

A fortune-teller's premonition of death shadows his days, hinting at a destiny intertwined with mortality. The omen foreshadows the dark turn his life will take and frames his relationship with fate. The omen lingers as he grows up.

To provide for his expanding family, he seeks a secure job rather than chasing fleeting stardom. The decision marks a pivot from the rock scene to a formal, state-sanctioned role. This shift seals the path toward a life bound to the machinery of execution.

He becomes the state's executioner, trading guitar strings for the grip of a pistol. The career officially begins, and he steels himself for years of carrying out capital punishment. The transformation marks the start of a controversial life under the shadow of death.

The transformation is complete as the same hands that once played music pull the trigger. Over 19 years, he administers executions and takes dozens of lives, using over 500 bullets. This period anchors his reputation and fuels the film's meditation on mortality.

From the film's opening, the god of death haunts and mocks him, a constant companion in life-and-death choices. The supernatural presence challenges his sense of control and humanity. It frames every decision as a negotiation with fate.

A controversial case involving female inmate Duangjai tests the fairness of the Thai justice system. Chavoret's actions and the possible innocence argued by others spark questions about karma and mercy. The case becomes a focal point for debates on judgment and doubt.

The film weaves Thai beliefs about amulets, merit, and the afterlife into his world, showing how rituals shape his sense of meaning. He contemplates how karma transfers to his family and future generations. These beliefs intensify the moral weight of his actions.

Guilt over the executions weighs on him, driving attempts at karmic reconciliation. He seeks ways to balance the lives he took with the life still within him. The inner conflict becomes a central drive of his later years.

The film's structure splits into the boy, the rock-star executioner, and the aging man, weaving reality with subconscious imagery. This blend deepens the meditation on fate and responsibility. The boundaries between memory and present become blurred.

Waller frames Thai justice and Buddhist beliefs as a question rather than a given, inviting reflection on punishment and mercy. The interplay of death, merit, and law challenges the audience's assumptions. The film invites an ethical reevaluation of what justice means.

In old age, he confronts his own karma and faces the possibility of reconciliation with the lives he ended. The film culminates in a quiet, introspective meditation on life, death, and the cost of mercy. The story closes on a note of self-questioning and contemplation.