My back is to the wall where Legends of the Fall is concerned; I'm forced to file it, after repeat viewings, under "guilty pleasures." What other term fits a movie in which a virginal young man (Henry Thomas) chooses fighting in World War I over the alabaster, breathtaking Julia Ormond while his more virile brother (Brad Pitt) prefers tribal dancing in New Guinea to the same? Legends of the Fall celebrates being hairy, wearing necklaces fashioned from bear claws, and marrying whomever happens to work at your farm on Sunday afternoons. It is about men--not John Gray men, but Ernest Hemingway men, outdoor fellas who sleep with an elephant gun and maybe kiss it goodnight.

Alfred (Aidan Quinn), the eldest son of Colonel Ludlow (Anthony Hopkins), does not live up to these preconceptions of manhood, and so, after being verbally emasculated by his father once too often, he migrates from the family ranch to a big, bad city, where he immediately finds employ as a government foil. Susannah (Ormond), a prism of lust inclined to rotate between the trio of Ludlow siblings, chooses Alfred last, natch, and only then, we suspect, so that she may remain umbilical to Tristan (Pitt), the crackpot hunter-gatherer.

I mock it now, yet Legends of the Fall fulfilled certain male escapist desires then. And, as the youngest of three brothers, I identified--albeit verrry superficially--with the Samuel-Tristan-Alfred dynamic. John Toll's achingly beautiful vistas, scored to some of James Horner's stronger compositions, remain a treat, and director Edward Zwick's experiments in montage, though not entirely successful, are still a source of interest. Lastly, Ormond, too delicate, perhaps, to ever have stood a chance at leading lady status, deserves belated praise for turning a total cipher of a character into a convincingly tragic homewrecker.

Legends of the Fall was among the earliest wave of DVDs released by Columbia Tri-Star, before they began a regular practice of supplementing their discs. Due to its presumed home video longevity, the studio has seen fit to reissue it as a Special Edition. Letterboxed at 1.85:1 and enhanced for 16x9 televisions, the image is rich and eye-popping--a fine showcase for Toll's Academy Award-winning cinematography, although its detail is strangely inconsistent in the final reel. The Dolby Digital 5.1 audio is not on a par with the video transfer: I felt that dialogue was too low and that the war scenes, besides being overly loud in comparison, lacked precision. Horner's music sounds good, however, both incorporated into the action and isolated on a separate 5.1 track.

Zwick and Pitt contribute humorous commentary to the proceedings, while Toll and production designer Lilly Kilvert record a sonorous commentary of their own. (Geek that I am, I was actually looking forward to all the alienating technical details Toll could provide but never did.) Pitt is his typical cheerfully smartass self, and Zwick's affection for the material is apparent from the outset, not to mention contageous. Zwick's oration is optional when viewing the deleted scenes section, three fascinating outtakes (in non-anamorphic widescreen) that were nevertheless justifiably excised, in my humble opinion. Zwick and Kilvert also narrate a brisk featurette on the production design, one of two accessible via animated menus. (The other is strictly PR fluff.) "Talent Files", notes, and seven trailers (two for Legends of the Fall, plus Seven Years In Tibet, The Devil's Own, A River Runs Through It, The Mask of Zorro, and Bram Stoker's Dracula) carry this SE off into the sunset.-Bill Chambers

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