THE PERFECT STORM

THE PERFECT STORM

Directed by Wolfgang Pedersen. Starring George Clooney, Mark Wahlberg, William Fichtner, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio

Arguably the definitive highlight of this season's blockbuster bonanza, with gigantic crowd-pleasing appeal and ecstatic audience approval Stateside, Perfect Storm renders a (loosely based on fact) account of the last few days aboard the sword-fishing vessel The Andrea Gail, before its crew found themselves in the middle of a meteorogical nightmare.

It's essentially one of these time-honoured 'Nature strikes! Marvel at its omnipotent power!' disaster-flicks in the style of Volcano or Twister, and while its script, plot and acting are every bit as threadbare as this implies, the film's more visceral moments are worth sticking around for if you're of a patient disposition.

Rugged, gnarled, old sea-dog Captain Tyne (Clooney, having sprouted a stubbly grey beard and a wardrobe that wouldn't raise eyebrows in Howth's fishier watering-holes) and his merry troupe of similarly salty sea-dogs bid their loving fish-wives goodbye and set sail in search of "a shit load of fish" (Clooney's phrase). They have, sadly, reckoned without the three hurricanes which are about to collide and cause a massive orgy of special-effects overkill, as well as killing the whole crew by way of an additional bonus.

En route, there's bucketloads of male bonding and a variety of shifting character dynamics (they squabble, they end up having to save one another, they become best buddies) - but it's all just a prelude to the catastrophe at the flick's centre, which comes as a mighty relief when it eventually appears.

The initial set-up is achingly laborious - it's a good half-an-hour before they've even left dry land - but once Perfect Storm reaches the midway point and lets a barrage of crashing waves loose upon its unfortunate protagonists, it becomes a visceral thrill-ride of appreciable impact.

The effects are just about enough to justify the wait: seasoned critics tend to become immune or hostile to this kind of thing, and I wouldn't say I was anywhere near the edge of my proverbial seat, but nor was I inclined to dash for the exits at maximum speed.

You would be well advised to leave your brain in the foyer beforehand, and you wouldn't dream of looking at the cast on an empty stomach - but within the obvious generic confines of the disaster-flick, Perfect Storm whiles away the time acceptably if less-than-thrillingly.

A must for genre enthusiasts (anybody?) and an optional diversion for everyone else.