Ryder plays--rather, is posed as--Maya Larkin, a formerly possessed schoolteacher who tags along on exorcisms at the behest of her saviour, Father Lareaux (John Hurt). Their latest case has turned her into an amateur cryptologist as she hastens to decode the stream of numbers scrawled by a haunted serial killer (John Diehl). Her findings spell out "Peter Kelson," and the next time she watches television, there he is, a 32-year-old crime novelist providing the viewing public his opinions on the trial of yet another homicidal maniac, George Viznik (Brad Greenquist).

Wonderful, ambiguous scenes follow, including one in which Kelson (Ben Chaplin) becomes convinced that Viznik can see through a two-way mirror. But there's no payoff to Greenquist's convict, and the screenplay fast loses its edge. Answers come too easily after an unannounced Maya pays Peter's office a late-night visit and leaves behind a spooky-ooky audiotape that reveals, in demonic tongue, Kelson's fate as a human vessel for the reborn Antichrist. (Kelson himself is unable to hear the cassette's contents.)

Why is it that in these movies the Devil always leaves a roadmap to when, where, and how He'll strike next? Does Satan have an underlying desire to get caught, a la O. J. Simpson? Who knows? Everybody else in Lost Souls appears motivated by whatever course of action is the most photogenic. (Ditto for the overdressed extras.) That's because a veteran d.p. directed it, always a mixed blessing. Janusz Kaminski, Spielberg's nineties-era cinematographer, knows from pretty pictures, but here his chiaroscuro images (via cameraman Mauro Fiore) communicate nothing save for talent, and therefore end up looking garish.

Maya chain-smokes and Peter wears dark clothing, attributes that assure our leads will artfully refract light. The characters barely move, however, so Lost Souls often resembles a slide show instead of cinema. Which is at odds with the "clock story" set in motion (Peter will transform on his thirty-third birthday, i.e. tomorrow), and the genre's thirst for suspense. Kaminski professes within the contents of Lost Souls' DVD affection for Roman Polanski's psychological thrillers (The Tenant, Rosemary's Baby), and that evocation defends, if not justifies, the film's wary pace. But of all the things to borrow from Poland's answer to Hitchcock--well, that and a superb ending.

Lost Souls on disc is the umpteenth winner from New Line Home Video. The top-notch, 16x9-enhanced presentation doesn't smooth out Fiore's rich in grain, high-contrast 2.35:1 cinematography, and the audio has moviehouse impact. There are few discrepancies between the Dolby Digital 5.1 and DTS (5.1) mixes; check out the bathroom dream sequence at the close of chapter seven for the best of each split-surround world. Kaminski and Fiore contribute biographical commentary to the feature and ten deleted scenes (a handful of which are alternate edits of passages that did make it into the final cut). Little of consequence was deleted, though Ryder's Maya leaves a more lasting, confident impression from the outtakes. Pink Floyd The Wall-esque menus, the theatrical trailer (DD 5.1 and anamorphic), cast and crew filmographies, and two pieces of DVD-ROM-exclusive content (Pierce Gardner's script plus the original Lost Souls website) round off this handsome package.-Bill Chambers