At first, Boyd mopes around the secluded outpost. He's wracked with guilt for having played dead in a battle, which got him carried behind enemy lines by Mexican soldiers. He wound up at the bottom of a casualty pile, and the blood of those corpses trickled down Boyd's face and into his mouth, giving him enough energy to make a surprise and somewhat unfair attack on the soldiers. It also killed his appetite, maybe for life.

The appearance of a frostbitten stranger at Fort Spencer effectively disrupts Boyd's malaise. He is Colquhoun (Robert Carlyle), and he has a gruesome tale to tell. It seems a shortcut had dire consequences during his trek with some prospectors through the Sierra Nevadas; few of them survived the weeks of raging weather and spoiling food that followed. Those who died became rations, the last thing Boyd wants to hear.

There might still be a living soul among the group Colquhoun left behind. Forewarned about the "Weendigo" myth--that the taste of human flesh has an addictive power--skeptical Hart (Jeffrey Jones), the fort's appointed leader, heedlessly forms a search party led by Colquhoun and including Boyd to find her. Their mission rapidly turns ugly: a wounded Toffler (Saving Private Ryan's Jeremy Davies) is awakened in the night by the sensation of Colquhoun licking his bloody bandages. The movie has foreshadowed its next developments nicely: we anticipate that Boyd will survive longer than the others in the inevitable struggle against Colquhoun because he's a chicken, because he'll "play dead."

Ravenous is stylistically consistent but all over the map tonally speaking. This keeps us giddily on our toes--we're never sure if we'll be cringing or laughing come the following scene. The action reaches Python-esque levels of bloodletting, so chances are, you'll be doing both. Ravenous is metaphorically about guts, too: Boyd's plight raises interesting questions pertaining to honour. It was refreshing to spend time with a character in a horror film, or any film, for that matter, who considers running away for good a better choice than facing his enemy in a showdown.

Director Antonia Bird achieves a credible sense of place and time: Fort Spencer looks cold, its surrounding territory unkind. The period atmosphere has been accomplished with minimal assistance from the costume department--it's all in the brilliant photography and production design. One would rightfully presume that an ultra-modern score by Damon Albarn (of the British band Blur) and Michael Nyman (who wrote delicious music for Holly Hunter to play in The Piano) would take us out of Boyd's period world, but it's so moody and exotic that we are transported even further, into Boyd's head. While Bird deftly navigates the story through turns of comedy, terror, and finally dolor, she hits a bump in the road at mysticism--or should I write hokum? Ravenous bites off more than it can chew in its second half (allow me that lone Gene Shalit-ism), while its highly visceral climax--one of the great endings--could exist without Colquhoun's supernatural defense of cannibalism. Colquhoun doesn't apologize for his taboo cravings--the movie, unnecessarily, does.

I really do love Ravenous, so I'm selfishly pleased that Fox has released it on DVD as a Special Edition, despite tepid box office reception. I believe it will go on to home video sleeper success. The disc is letterboxed at 2.35:1; despite its lack of 16x9 enhancement, the image is eye-popping, with deep, deep blacks and penetrating whites. Colours are strong without bleeding, and shadow detail is seemingly infinite. Occasional grain and scratches on the print do not substantially detract from the picture quality. The Dolby 5.1 mix is loud. Between this and Titanic, I was worried about blowing a speaker. The track is most aggressive during the musical passages: Nyman and Albarn's score really exploits the full range afforded six-track digital sound. There is also a significant amount of bass and surround activity when Boyd flashes back to the Mexican-American War. Dialogue is never difficult to comprehend. A 2.0 Dolby Surround mix, the default, is also an option.

The best of the disc's wealth of supplemental material is a Deleted Scenes section, all but one of which can be viewed with or without commentary from Bird. Totaling ten minutes, these omissions add texture to an already layered movie. I was surprised to learn that Bird was forced to cut one passage because the sight of a fleshy bone earned unintentional laughter--isn't Ravenous a black comedy? There are also three--three--separate audio commentaries. The first teams Bird and Albarn; I got the feeling that Bird didn't let loose as much as she might have (this was a very troubled production) in order to give equal time to the musician. Albarn nevertheless provides rare insight into the art of scoring a movie. Robert Carlyle delivers the second commentary. He waits until his character's first appearance to start speaking (at the start of chapter four); viewers might grow impatient with him despite his considerable charisma, as he leaves a lot of dead space.

On yet another track, screenwriter Ted Griffin and actor Jones wax nostalgic on the making of Ravenous. As much as I love the end product, Griffin's admittance that he ran out of ideas halfway through writing the script (on spec) shows. This was my favourite commentary, because the scribbler's voice is so rarely heard. Other extras: a trio of photo galleries offering preliminary sketches of the set (very impressive--Fort Spencer could have been a real place) and army uniforms, as well as dozens of production stills and two 'Easter Eggs.' Lastly, the included trailer and TV spot demonstrate just how difficult a movie like Ravenous is to market--indeed, the efforts of Fox's publicity department went unrewarded.-Bill Chambers