Horror films are most often examined in terms of commonly shared generic characteristics, as ahistorical, as cult objects, or conversely, as art cinema, and, even more rarely, as a form that “registers most brutally the legacies of history” to invite thinking on and through the body and the violence. 1 This chapter on Arturo Ripstein’s Profundo carmesí (Deep Crimson [1996]) is a reconsideration of the film’s engagement with time, sensation, and the horrific. Gilles Deleuze’s discussion of naturalism is central to my consideration of Ripstein’s film, as an expression of extreme violence, deformation, degradation, and entropy in its encounter between predator and prey. 2