Ziam

Most people see a zombie apocalypse and look for a shotgun or a sturdy cricket bat. Singh, the protagonist of Ziam, looks at a rotting horde and decides his elbows and knees are perfectly adequate tools for the job. There is something inherently satisfying about watching a traditional Thai martial art applied to the skull of a shambling corpse, and Ziam leans into that satisfaction with the kind of slick, neon-drenched confidence we’ve come to expect from contemporary Thai genre cinema.

I watched this on my tablet while my neighbor was relentlessly power-washing his driveway, and honestly, the rhythmic thrum of the water against the pavement weirdly synced up with the bone-crunching choreography. It gave the whole experience a 4D feel that I didn't ask for but strangely appreciated.

Elbows, Knees, and Rotting Flesh

Directed by Kulp Kaljareuk, Ziam is a lean, 96-minute sprint that understands exactly why we’re here. We aren't looking for a deep philosophical treatise on the nature of viral evolution. We’re here to see Prin Suparat (known to his legions of fans as Mark Prin) trade his "Lakorn" heartthrob image for a face full of dirt and zombie viscera. As Singh, a former Muay Thai fighter, Suparat brings a grounded, weary physicality to the role. He doesn't move like a superhero; he moves like a guy who knows how much it hurts to hit something.

The film's "Contemporary" DNA is evident in its pacing. In an era where streaming has conditioned us to expect immediate gratification, Ziam doesn't dawdle. Within fifteen minutes, the social fabric has unraveled, and Singh is already putting his shins to work. The action, choreographed with a frantic energy, avoids the "The Volume" feel of many recent Hollywood blockbusters. Instead, Pramett Chankrasse’s cinematography favors tight, claustrophobic spaces—narrow hallways and cluttered urban alleys—that force the combat to be intimate and messy. Mark Prin handles the stunt work like he’s trying to punch his way out of a contract, and it's easily the most convincing he’s ever been on screen.

The Kantana Polish and Ghostly Echoes

Production-wise, Kantana Motion Pictures has always been a bit of a titan in the Thai industry, often pivoting between high-end commercials and ambitious genre swings. With Ziam, they’ve managed to bridge the gap between "glossy" and "gritty." The zombie makeup is impressive, steering away from the over-the-top CGI "vampire-monsters" seen in some Western franchises and opting for a more tactile, rotting-skin-and-cloudy-eyes aesthetic.

The supporting cast provides the necessary emotional stakes, though they occasionally fall into the background. Nuttanicha Dungwattanawanich (Nychaa) plays Rin, Singh’s girlfriend, and while the "save the girl" trope feels a bit dated in 2025, the chemistry between the two leads—honed through years of Thai television—carries a genuine weight. However, the real scene-stealer for me was veteran actor Johnny Anfone as Vasu. He brings a gravitas that suggests a much larger world outside the immediate carnage. There’s a specific scene involving a flare and a flooded basement that showcases Chatchai Pongprapaphan’s score—a blend of traditional Thai percussion and modern industrial drones—that had me holding my breath even though I knew exactly how it would play out.

Where the Bones Crunch and the Plot Thins

If there’s a critique to be made, it’s that the screenplay by Nut Nualpang and Vathanyu Ingkawiwat doesn't take many risks. We are firmly in the "A-to-B survival" territory. While the action is top-tier, the character arcs are essentially straight lines. Jason Young appears as Kim, a character that feels like he walked in from a different, more cynical movie, providing a bit of human-on-human friction that the film probably needed more of.

Interestingly, Ziam seems to be responding to the global "K-Zombie" phenomenon. It’s impossible to watch a fast-moving zombie film today without thinking of Train to Busan or Kingdom, but Ziam asserts its identity through its cultural specificity. The way Singh uses the environment—incorporating Buddhist shrines or traditional marketplace tools into his defense—gives the film a texture that feels authentic rather than exported. It’s a film made for a global streaming audience that hasn't forgotten its home turf. Apparently, the production had to halt briefly during filming because a local street food vendor refused to move his stall for a week, claiming his "garlic pork was more important than their monsters." Honestly? I believe him.

Ziam is exactly the kind of mid-budget genre exercise I want to see more of in this decade. It doesn't overstay its welcome, it showcases a local star in a new light, and it delivers on the "barehanded fighter" promise of its tagline. It might not reinvent the wheel—or the zombie—but it kicks both of them repeatedly until they stop moving. If you’ve got 96 minutes and an itch for some high-stakes martial arts horror, this is a solid choice for your next "watch list" addition. Just maybe skip the garlic pork before the more graphic scenes.