1847. Decorated in the Mexican-American war, much to the chagrin of his superiors, Capt John Boyd (Guy Pearce) is exiled to serve out his time at a snowbound fort in the high Sierra Nevadas. His arrival, however, is shadowed by an emaciated, dishevelled Scot calling himself Colqhoun (Robert Carlyle). The stranger tells of a wagon-train stranded by bad weather, its pioneers huddled in a cave. When supplies ran out, he says, at first they turned hungrily on the dead -- then one another. Horrified, Boyd and Colonel Hart (Jeffery Jones) lead a rescue party into the mountains and horrors more terrible than they ever imagined.

Ravenous works almost despite itself. The premise is batty, the story hokey and its realisation insane. That it went through three directors -- Antonia (Priest, Face) Bird finally assumed the reins -- is not surprising. That the resulting grisly comedy is quite this much fun maybe is.

The cast hustle at an hysterical pitch throughout; somewhere even the less than reliable Carlyle can find a niche. The bumbling Jones is terrific, and Pearce is more than capable of looking worried for 90 minutes. The welcome homoerotic tension between him and Carlyle -- and similarities to either version of The Thing -- are probably more happy accident than grand design. Toss in some dodgy mysticism and Ravenous plays like a rather camp vampire flick.

Or, in the strictest sense, Grand Guignol: tales of grue and madness essayed at the very limits. Life's tough for a cannibal, says Carlyle. It's hard making friends. There are some great set-pieces (the dinner party), lashings of gratuitous nastiness and gallons of gore, all iced with that everything-and-the-kitchen-sink Michael Nyman/Damon Albarn score. Ridiculous, of course, and lacking a satisfying pay-off, yes, but black-comedy horror-westerns frankly don't come much better than this.