Disappointing for a Jane Campion film, but a cut above the general run, nonetheless. An erotic thriller by type, adapted from a best-seller by Susanna Moore, it leaves something to be desired in both potential areas of excitation. Perhaps surprisingly (for Campion, again), the woman-in-peril plot looks about as lowbrow as a Lifetime Channel original, or, factoring in the eroticism, a straight-to-video Shannon Tweed vehicle available in versions both R-rated and Unrated. Perhaps not so surprisingly, the basic situation has been tarted-up with literary elements somewhat higher-toned than we would expect from Lifetime or straight-to-video. In any event, there's no mistaking the level of commitment, the ferocity of effort, that Campion brings to her work, even if one might have reservations about the artiness of some of the visuals: the blizzard of flower petals at the outset; the Taxi Driver-ish Expressionistic color, by turns fruity and succulent, electric and crackling; the antiquated black-and-white of the fantasy flashbacks; the selective focus that leaves large areas of the screen in a blur; the trendy tremulous camera movement; the engulfing shadows. The total effect -- the variety of tones, textures, tactilities -- is sensual to an extreme degree, but never to a gross one. And always impressive is the fearless independence of Campion's personal brand of feminism, unflattering, unempowering, unidealizing. Meg Ryan, as a fortyish writer precariously situated in the killing zone of a serial dismemberer, gives herself up to the program -- herself, and all her little nose-scrunching, head-cocking endearments -- with an almost shocking abandon. The brunette Nicole Kidman wig (a reminder of who was originally cast in the role, and who still appears in the credits as a co-producer), coupled with the disfiguring Melanie Griffith lip job, might make it difficult, in the moments of carnality in particular, to feel that this is really Meg Ryan. (She doesn't look like Ryan. She doesn't act like Ryan.) If the head is doubtful, however, the body is believably fortyish. She demonstrates herself better suited to the part than you could ever have guessed. Mark Ruffalo, Jennifer Jason Leigh, Kevin Bacon. (2003) — Duncan Shepherd