A few years ago, when The Duke was trying to persuade The Duchess that yes, a relationship is most definitely the best option to be taking, I informed her of a film to be shown on BBC2 on a particular evening, by the name of Wisconsin Death Trip. Eager to please this highly intelligent and very funny and also disarmingly handsome fella what was so enamoured of her charms, The Duchess dutifully tuned in for to watch this film about the Wisconsin.

To be honest, I don't think she's ever forgiven me. It's not to everyone's tastes, is the point to be made.

Wisconsin Death Trip is, however, one of The Duke's Favorite Films Of All Ever, a haunting, bleak, hypnotic, eerily tranquil trip through the state of Wisconsin (in particular, a town by the name of Black River Falls) in the last decade of the 19th century.

Michael Lesy's 1973 book, Wisconsin Death Trip, illustrated the bizarre, often violent, fates of an alarmingly high number of residents during those last uncertain years before the dawning of the twentieth century. By way of archive photographs and newspaper reports, Lesy's work presents tales of mental illness, soaring infant mortality rates, seemingly unprovoked murders and suicides and any number of bizarre customs and superstitions, many brought to the area on the backs of the Norwegian and German settlers.

One could well deduce that the whole damn state went mad, for no apparent reason. There are economic pressures to consider, along with the harsh climate, but even these, admittedly trying, preoccupations offer little genuine explanation for the lunacy going on.

James Marsh, in his 1999 film adaptation, doesn't try to provide any answers of any worth. Via those self-same photographs and newspaper reports, he presents to us a plethora of seemingly unrelated incidents, conveniently slung into Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter categories, and all narrated by none other than Ian Holm, AKA Bilbo Baggins from The Adventures Of The Hobbits.

Marsh films a slew of vignettes to provide sufficient cinematographic flair, since a series of still photos might not be the most cinematic of offerings (excepting Chris Marker's fantastic La Jetee, what so impressed Terry Gilliam that he remade it as Twelve Monkeys). The result is that it creates the somewhat discomforting sensation of seeing ghosts materialize before our very skull-globs. The past comes to life in way which even those theme-parks with the folks dressed up like "olden-times" can't match.

A glance at the cast of characters might give one some indication of what to expect;