Why is Bruce Payne given top billing over Yancy Butler, when she's more well known and her character is centered? What is with Payne's hair in this movie, resembling a Ken doll? Why was the opening scene, poorly shot and uninformative as it's interspersed with the opening credits, deemed necessary? We're quickly given background information on each character, but this rather comes across as the type of film in which such exposition is an intended substitute for lacking (though not absent) plot as action and violence ensues for which any sense of narrative is mostly just a perfunctory vehicle. Thusly straightforward in introducing the characters, why does this actively feign subtlety in regards to one? Suspension of disbelief is an inherent requirement for engaging with any work of fiction, and little threatens it more than an unwieldy kluge of presuppositions and conceits that viewers must accept as the basis for a story. 'Ravager' rides a line in the first third of its length just to get us to the bulk of the film to come.
If one can accept the set-up at face value, and look past those rough edges, this is modestly enjoyable. It also, however, never really achieves any particular heights that could help to elevate it to another level. Ostensibly sci-fi horror, the latter element is largely more suggested or thematic than it is actual, until the last twenty minutes or so; beyond the first third even the former is pushed aside as 'Ravager' becomes, for a fair portion of its length, a quiet, pensive, almost existential exploration of bleak desperation. There's nothing inherently wrong with such an approach, and in fact I like it on paper - but the feature is also unfortunately generally much too heavy-handed to completely sell itself. Shaky cam, "'Star Trek' shimmies," dialogue, scene writing, characterizations, direction, and editing - pretty much every aspect of the production is bereft of the nuance, the delicate touch, that would make the dramatic weight and the violent horror both more impactful. This is subsequently felt as well in the cast's performances; there are at least a few recognizable names or faces here of known skill, but in this case their acting comes off as dulled, forced, less than natural. In the inelegance of the presentation, 'Ravager' rather impresses as what could theoretically be a standalone TV movie set in the universe of some expansive sci-fi series, including the establishment of several Big Ideas the series might explore, only without identifying insignia and with more abject violence.
The production design and art direction are quite fine generally; costume design, hair and makeup, blood and gore, and props all look good. In terms of post-production visuals it's clear that the budget was devoted mostly to exterior shots of the ship. That's not a bad place for resources to go, yet would that more had also been devoted to active CGI elements like fire (you'll know it when you see it). I think cast and crew alike performed admirably, and filmmaker James D. Deck's writing and direction are technically sound - only, the picture has two left feet (they're both on backwards), and nothing of import seems especially polished. What we have, then, is an awkward assemblage for exposition that leads to a story built on some good, worthy ideas, yet those ideas are overabundant here and don't necessarily fit together well in the same feature. Taken together with the overall lack of finesse, 'Ravager' ultimately does provide suitable entertainment, in my opinion, though it's not of a majorly robust level. With more mindfulness (and perhaps a larger budget that would have allowed more time and opportunity to get it right) this could have been noticeably better. Still, it's not half bad; recommendable mostly for fans of the cast, this is a passable genre flick for a lazy day.
