RAVENOUS

Much ado has been made over Ang Lee's controversial Brokeback Mountain--much deserved ado.

A film in which the taboo longing of homosexual love between two cowboys is handled in all it's heartswelling/heartbreaking glory, the picture moves past simple queer politics and for-the-boys entertainment. It's a timeless story of forbidden love.

But all the hype over Brokeback Mountain made me ponder other films concerning rugged men engaged in homosexual content or rather, in the case of the movie I'm about to discuss, homosexual subtext. Antonia Bird's woefully underlooked Ravenous.

Opening with the words of Nietzsche: "He that fights with monsters should look to himself that he does not become a monster" Ravenous follows that nugget with this trifle: "Eat me." Initially, the brief line seems designed only for cheap laughs (which it gets), but as the picture continues, it takes on a greater significance. Instead of another stupid insult, "Eat me" becomes a sexual plea.

The juxtaposition of these quotes is only the beginning of what is one of the strangest most underrated mainstream/art house/period piece/monster movies I've ever seen. More Roman Polanski's The Fearless Vampire Killers than Frank Marshall's Alive, Ravenous mixes dramatic tones, genres, messages and moralities into a curious pastiche. This fascinating and entertaining portrait of cannibalism is not simply about the choice between eating and not eating; it's about deviating or not deviating.

A twist on the familiar film territory of the vampire legend, Ravenous is seen through the traumatized eyes of John Boyd (Guy Pearce), a cowardly military captain who's banished to a desolate mountain outpost in California during the Mexican-American War. There Boyd joins an eclectic group of wartime weirdos that includes a geeky emissary to the Lord, a drunken doctor, an alpha-male soldier and a drug-addled cook. Soon after Boyd's arrival, a wild-eyed, half-dead Scotsman named Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle) stumbles down from mountains. Colqhoun relays a horrific account of being snowbound with a group of settlers (the infamous Donner Party) who, in order to survive, resorted to eating each other. From this experience, the expedition's leader, Colonel Ives, acquired a blood lust so strong he began preying on the group's surviving members. On hearing Colqhoun's story, commanding officer Hart (wonderfully played by a droll Jeffrey Jones) organizes a search party to find the evil Ives.

But the troop discovers that the object of its search is none other than Colqhoun, and with glorious gore, terror and humor, the Scotsman attacks the group. Boyd eventually makes it back to the post, but he is horror-struck--he has been forced to eat human flesh to survive. Colqhoun also returns, this time in the guise of Colonel Ives, and immediately continues his wanton ways while attempting to bring Boyd into his flesh-eating fold.

Like so many vampire films before it, Ravenous examines (via the Native-American myth of Weendigo) the lust of consumption. Like the bloodsucker, the more the cannibal feasts, the stronger and more insatiable he becomes. And, as is the case with previous vampire pictures, Ravenous has an intriguing homosexual subtext. The sexuality of these characters would no doubt have been brought to the forefront were it not for the mainstream target audience. There is a striking sexual chemistry between the somber Boyd and the rakish Colqhoun that has to be intentional on the part of the director (who made the homosexual film Priest, just as a major side note). There are just too many clues. And though the ideas of Manifest Destiny, religion and wartime morality run discursively throughout the picture, Ravenous offers a more intriguing metaphor in pitting the smart, funny and sexy cannibal against the hypocrisy of the straight establishment.

Though he would be viewed as an animal in "polite" society, Colqhoun is the most refined of the outpost's troop. When disguised as Ives, he's a flawless dandy, with perfectly coiffed hair, a curled mustache and stylish clothes. In another scene, when Colqhoun spies two military officials and a Native-American female guide nearing the post, he says to himself, "Breakfast, lunch and reinforcement"  with "reinforcement," I believe, referring to the woman. He can chew on some ladies, but only men can be truly potent food. The final bang (gangbang?) in Ravenous comes in the fantastic closing sequence of lusty bloodletting between Colqhoun and Boyd. The scene is so incredibly homoerotic that the female guide, who feels out of place, simply ups and leaves. The men's extensive fighting is shot like a rake's pursuit of a chaste maiden. With gorgeous intensity and heaving bosoms, Colqhoun and Boyd tussle and tussle.

Using monsters as a metaphor for homosexuality (a classic tecnique--look at a few choice 1930's Universal horror pictures) always runs the risk of offending someone, and Ravenous is no exception. When I originally published this review, I received letters complaining about my comparison. As if I found homosexuality a monstrous act. But obviously, I'm not saying Ravenous is about deviant outsiders who must die. Neither is the director (nor did William Friedkin's brilliant Cruising but the overly sensitive never understand that film either). Due to the excellent, charmingly lethal performance by Carlyle, Colqhoun can be seen as a heroic outlaw--an Oscar Wilde in cannibal form. A guy who lives in a world of hypocrites, who could very well die for his desires. I like him. It's hard not to.

Re-watch, or watch for the first time, Ravenous--it's subversive and bizarre and, even for those not into gay sexuality, a bloody turn-on. A film that would do Fassbinder proud. I just hope it will someday run as a double feature with Brokeback Mountain. There's always another side to the story--one "beautiful," one "bad" or an intriguing mixture of the two. With Ravenous, throw in some gore. The bad, the bloody and the beautiful.

Read more Kim Morgan at her blog SUNSET GUN

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