Gunned down in 1996 for threatening to expose key players in Dublin's heroin trade, the true story of dogged journalist Veronica Guerin makes for cheap theatrics in the hands of thrills-and-spills producer Jerry Bruckheimer, and director Joel Schumacher.
With her combination of steely jaw and china doll vulnerability, Cate Blanchett is a perfect choice for the title role - unfortunately there's nary a moment between posturing when you get to see what really made the woman tick.
We follow Guerin through the mean streets of Dublin, where children play with discarded drugs paraphernalia; a sight that moves her to ditch her human interest remit and "really make a difference".
She quickly sets about exploiting small-time hood John Traynor (Ciarán Hinds) to expose Drug-Runner-In-Chief John Gilligan (Gerard McSorley), but her in-your-face approach inevitably puts her, and her family, in the line of fire. All at once this exposes a weak spot in the script which fails to give a compelling answer to the question: why was Guerin willing to put her loved ones at risk?
There are hints at her naiveté, and she speaks of her moral outrage. There's also a scene where her young son (Simon O'Driscoll) calls out to his mother's image on the side of a bus draws her as a fame hound. The root of Guerin's obsession remains sketchy, so her death lacks resonance.
That doesn't stop Schumacher making an ungainly lunge at the heartstrings. Demonstrating the worst kind of Hollywood pageantry, his camera lingers on Guerin's bullet-ridden body while the orchestra swells - giving way to a Celtic dirge as news of the murder is broken to her next-of-kin.
Although effective in conjuring up the sights and sounds of Dublin's crooked alleys, and benefiting from a distinct rough-edged charm, "Veronica Guerin" ultimately descends into the kind of tabloid sensationalism surely not befitting the no-nonsense journalist.
Veronica Guerin (2003)
