It's not entirely off the mark to suggest that Stephen Gyllenhaal's adaptation of Graham Swift's Waterland is something like a John Irving novel as envisioned by Terry Gilliam – elliptical, temporally unmoored and given to surrealism-tinged situations that somehow ring of truth. However one chooses to describe it, Waterland remains one of the minor classics of the Nineties, a haunting, offbeat work that stays with you.

Jeremy Irons stars as Tom Crick, a British ex-pat living in Pittsburgh with his troubled wife Mary (Sinead Cusack) – Mary yearns to have children but due to an unfortunate childhood incident, cannot. Tom has resigned himself to a life without offspring, but Mary can't let go as easily; her unwavering obsession with producing a child begins to wear on Tom, who finds Mary "slipping away" into their past, a lonely, strange time spent roaming the windswept Fens on a remote English coast. While Tom wrestles with his domestic troubles, he's using his youth as a parable for his high school history class. Soon, past and present are colliding in unexpected ways, forcing Tom to confront himself and his actions.

Waterland deals frankly with topics that charge this otherwise winsome narrative with bracing jolts of electricity – as played by Lena Headey in her film debut, the teenaged Mary is sexually precocious and well aware of her effect on men. I won't divulge a pivotal sequence that serves as the narrative turning point, but her work in the film's crucial scene is utterly heartbreaking, revealing the depth of a heretofore carefree girl. Grant Warnock, who plays the teenage Tom, is also superb, as is David Morrissey (Basic Instinct 2) as Tom's brother Dick, Pete Postelthwaite as the boys' father Henry and Ethan Hawke as Mathew Price, a smart-assed high school student of Tom's. Gyllenhaal's daughter, Maggie, also makes an appearance here – the whole cast is excellent, with no weak links and Peter Prince's adaptation is seamless. Waterland is a deceptively simple tale, well told, that showcases terrific acting and evocative locations; with a small but fervent cult of fans having awaited its release on DVD, here's hoping that having the film more widely available generates the respect and recognition this film deserves.

The Video:

Waterland makes its DVD debut with a somewhat washed out 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer that also suffers from a little shudder in the film's opening moments. About four or five minutes in, the image calms down and remains sharp and clear throughout, showcasing Robert Elswit's burnished cinematography.

The Dolby Digital 5.1 soundtrack is a little boomy, but overall, dialogue is heard clearly, as is Carter Burwell's memorably baroque score – a few instances of immersive surround effects are heard, most notably when the teenagers happen to be in a particularly windy stretch of the Fens. A Dolby 2.0 stereo track is also on board.

Gyllenhaal contributes a genial, if silence-riddled, commentary track that covers casting, adapting Swift's novel and filming abroad; the other alternate audio track is an hour-long interview with composer Carter Burwell, moderated by Image Entertainment's Nathaniel Thompson. The discussion covers Burwell's artistic choices as well as how he came to the project.

Waterland is a haunting, compelling film that has gained minor cult status since its release in 1992 – with acceptable sound and picture, it arrives on DVD, perhaps to gain a whole new generation of admirers and be re-discovered by those who missed it the first time. Recommended.