While most filmmakers will usually tend to craft stories around subjects that are accessible and not too overly disturbing, there are a few that will intentionally push boundaries, perhaps not to court controversy but rather to establish a more challenging style of storytelling, or simply to provoke some kind of a reaction. Antonia Bird certainly seemed to have a penchant for these kinds of stories, and while she may not have made too many films throughout her surprisingly short career as a director, the few she did make are all fascinating in different ways. Perhaps her most well-known work is Ravenous, in which she takes us back to the 19th century, looking at the experiences of a young soldier who is promoted after a stroke of luck makes an act of cowardice seem like a moment of shrewd military strategy and is sent to occupy a vacant position at an isolated output in the snowy mountains of California, where he encounters many sinister secrets lurking around him, especially when a mysterious stranger makes his way into the lives of these soldiers. A dark, deceptive and often blisteringly funny dark comedy, Ravenous is quite an achievement in several ways – its strange sense of humour coupled with a genuinely bleak storyline immediately causes something of a stir, and we find ourselves utterly beguiled by the narrative, which is a profoundly odd examination of some controversial themes that we find forming the basis for one of the more off-kilter horror films of the 1990s, which was already an era in which the genre was taking on a very different form – and while it may not be the revolutionary work of terror that we encountered that same year with horror films like The Blair Witch Project and The Sixth Sense, there is still an element of surprise that keeps us engaged and interested, especially in how Bird configures this film to be much more than initially meets the eye.

Human nature has been a subject that has been explored in both philosophical and fictional works for about as long as we have been a sentient species – but yet, despite millennia of pondering and provoking, we have to find an obvious solution around what it means to be human, which is something many have attempted to understand, but very few have managed to resolve – and it is doubtful that we ever will. The answers are not found in a film like Ravenous, but this is entirely the purpose of such a work, which seeks to challenge and unsettle as a way of presenting a very different perspective. We find this to be a film actively manipulating genre to create something strange and profoundly off-the-wall, which is exactly what this story required, and which Bird was more than happy to offer to the audience. This is a film about humanity, particularly the darker side of our species, focusing on our animalistic tendencies. Every few years, we receive a film that reminds us that we are still parts of the animal kingdom, apex predators with the power of sentience and judgement, which is both a blessing and a curse since we are burdened with the knowledge of our power, which has inflicted more harm on the world than any natural disaster – and this is the precise point at which Ravenous makes its most impactful statement, each detailed moment of this film carrying a very serious message, which is deeply unnerving and quite unsettling, which is where it finds the most interesting qualities residing. Bird takes some bold swings with this film, and ensures that she perfectly encapsulates the spirit of the screenplay written by Ted Griffin, who set out to do something quite different, exploring the lives of cannibalistic individuals at a very specific point in the past, using them as a foundation on which it bases its deeply disconcerting depiction of the human condition, which is rendered in harrowing detail throughout this profoundly dark film.

To bring this film to life, Bird puts together quite an interesting ensemble of actors, all of whom unite to travel back to the pre-Civil War era, taking on these challenging roles that push them as actors, not only in terms of the density that comes with a lavish period piece but the psychological limits of such a story. Guy Pearce has been one of our greatest working actors for over thirty years, but yet remains deeply underpraised and rarely utilized as well as her perhaps deserved to be, which is one of the many reasons seeing him lead a film is a rare but enticing opportunity. Pearce is a tremendous actor, and Ravenous proves to be one of his most interesting performances, his portrayal of the moral John Boyd, who is forced to atone for his cowardice by being sent to a remote part of the country, where he is almost immediately plunged into a sinister conspiracy, makes for a profoundly strange and enticing work of fiction. He is joined by Robert Carlyle, who was at the peak of his popularity during this period – a slightly off-kilter actor known for playing more sinister roles, he is brilliant as the film’s main antagonist, playing one of the most despicable characters any of us will encounter, which is made even worse by the fact that Carlyle is so effortlessly charismatic in the role, it is shattering to realise that we are drawn into a hypnotic trance whenever he is on screen – he is the kind of villain that is engaging and interesting, and has genuine layers of complexity, which is an immediate sign of a truly exceptional, captivating performance that is deeply compelling and perhaps even slightly endearing, at least in terms of how the film frames him as this mysterious villain. The rest of the cast are all terrific – Jeffrey Jones is doing great work, as are Stephen Spinella, Neal McDonough and John Spencer, all of whom fit perfectly into the world of this film, and deliver very strong performances that make this film feel so extremely cohesive and captivating.

It would not be a thorough discussion of this film if we didn’t draw some attention to the deeper themes embedded within the story, and it is clear from its first moments that Ravenous is not a film that is in any way dismissive of the message that comes about organically when exploring this subject matter. History tends to be unnecessarily pacified, almost as if there is a belief that the public isn’t able to handle some of the more grisly elements of the past – and American history in particular has been sanitised to the point of almost being a parody of itself. Ravenous is certainly not a film that intends to offer the most realistic, hard-hitting depiction of the past, but it has many fascinating ideas that kickstart an engaging and complex examination of certain subjects that would otherwise have not been possible with a more conventional film. A good horror film needs to be rooted in reality in a way that feels like it is earning something of value, rather than just toggling between abstract moments, which is not at all necessary for such a film, since there are already enough intriguing aspects to keep the film afloat. We find the film provoking some deeper conversations in a memorable but very confrontational way – in addition to the aforementioned concept of exploring animalistic desire, Ravenous is a film built around the subject of lust, and how we are inherently violent creatures at heart, or at least in the perspective of those tasked with telling the story. This is not arbitrary nor entirely without meaning, since it all ultimately coalesces in an examination of the past, and how this same penchant for destruction and violence is the reason history is filled to the brim with hideous, harrowing moments, an endless stream of interminable chapters of violence, bigotry and despair, which are reflected throughout this film.

The gumption that it took to start Ravenous with a shot of the American flag is one of the many reasons we can find value in what it set out to achieve since this is not a conventional film by any means, and every attempt to soften the blow of the message is met with more interesting detail, something that grows and flourishes into a more disquieting portrait of the human condition, which everyone involved seemed very intent on showing as the embodiment of everything that has made life so difficult for every living being, both past and present. Humanity is a scourge on the planet, a plague that has infiltrated nearly every corner of this world, with the few untouched parts of it only being so due to their inaccessibility. Ravenous is not a film that is particularly enamoured with humanity in any way, and we find ourselves growing increasingly more shocked and provoked by this film, which dares to examine certain themes with a wit-fueled candour that can veer towards being hopelessly bleak on more than one occasion. Griffin may not be a writer whose name is known to many of us, but he has a proven track record of putting together intriguing and captivating scripts that push boundaries – and coupled with the incredible gifts of a director like Bird, who takes the opportunity to do something quite different quite this very strange, off-kilter material, we find that Ravenous is an absolute triumph, an intriguing and masterfully-crafted dark comedy with broad overtures of horror and despair, which are all interwoven into the fabric of this odd but exceptionally interesting work of postmodern terror, the kind that makes us very hopeful that there is still the potential for new kinds of horror to emerge when we give a platform to some of the more interesting artistic voices working in cinema.