A travesty and one reason why Hollywood shouldn't be let within a million miles of a story like that of Veronica Guerin, the Irish journalist whose stories in the press about Dublin drug barons lead to her murder in 1996. Guerin may not have been a very likable person, journalists seldom are, and it could be said that her reckless style of reporting didn't just put her own life at risk but that of her family as well, (she never courted anonymity). But equally it could be said she was one of the bravest of contemporary writers who did her best, in the only way she knew how, to put right the wrongs she encountered in Irish society. She moved in a violent, shadowy world and there is no doubt her story could have made a pertinent, realistic and moving drama. But this isn't it.<br /><br />This is Hollywood's idea of 'realism' which, as we all know, has absolutely nothing to do with 'truth'. There is not a single moment in this dire film that rings true; everything is exaggerated. No New York crack den can be as bad as the Dublin flats where young kids are injecting themselves with heroin like some drug-fueled pubescent orgy; (outside there is a playground littered with syringes). Of course, this just might have been believable or at least acceptable if the tone of the film weren't so self-congratulatory.<br /><br />But then are you surprised when you see that the producer is Jerry Bruckheimer, (there is a lot of action), or the director is Joel Schumacher, hardly known for his subtlety in the past or for making films of a 'crusading' nature. Worst of all, the film has the only bad performance I've seen from Cate Blanchett as Guerin. I've always thought great actresses, (and I believe Blanchett is a great actress), could redeem anything but given the dreadful dialogue she has to say and the fact that Schumacher's direction is so ham-fisted she was always fighting a losing battle.<br /><br />So has the film got anything going for it, beyond a story that in itself is of interest? Well, hardly, although I admit the Irish actor Gerard McSorley's performance as John Gilligan, the man who supposedly ordered Veronica's murder, gives it a momentary kick, not because his character rings truer than anyone else's but because McSorley makes Gilligan such a monster he actually makes him entertaining which, of course, is the one thing this film should never be. Best you just avoid it.