There will be Blood

Comparisons with Orson Welles's Citizen Kane are inevitable. Both films dissect the lives of charismatic trailblazers, who are corrupted by power and greed; both films are galvanised by a visionary filmmaker at the helm. Technically, Anderson's film takes the breath away, establishing a mood of grim foreboding with a largely dialogue-free 15-minute salvo that melds Radiohead guitarist Jonny Greenwood's avant-garde electronic score with Robert Elswit's sweeping cinematography. Every frame is meticulously crafted, and in the eye of this storm is Day-Lewis, bristling with malice.

The London-born actor, famed for immersing himself in roles, is a shoo-in for the Academy Award: his portrayal of a ruthless, ambitious and spiritually bankrupt oilman at the turn of the 20th century is spellbinding. We cannot tear our eyes from him as he hauls his battered body out of an oil well, or rages against a world which has the temerity to throw obstacles in his path. "I have a competition in me, I want no one else to succeed," he growls. "Sometimes I look at people and I see nothing worth liking." He could be talking to his reflection.

The film opens in 1898 with Daniel Plainview (Day-Lewis) digging into the warm earth, and almost meeting a horrific fate. Grit and determination see him through to 1911, by which time he has accumulated a modest fortune draining the land dry of black gold. A tip-off leads Daniel and his ten-year-old son H.W. (Dillon Freasier) to a rural community in the thrall of charismatic preacher Eli Sunday (Paul Dano).

Daniel establishes one of his rigs and taps into a huge underground reserve of oil, which he hopes to sell via an ambitious pipeline across the state. But the tug of war between business and the church threatens the entire enterprise, pitting Daniel against an increasingly evangelical Eli in a battle for the residents' hearts and minds.

At 158 minutes, Anderson's savage and unremittingly bleak film is a test of the audience's mettle, offering no escape from Plainview's annihilation of anyone who threatens his ascent. The title couldn't be more apt. Blood flows freely during the virtuoso opening chapters, but this is a mere smattering next to the melodramatic denouement, when all of the pent-up tension ignites an unintentionally funny explosion of violence. Dano's supporting turn, as a man of God guilty of vanity and pride, is one hallelujah shy of caricature and the sudden arrival of a fallen apple from the Plainview family tree - "I'm Henry Plainview, your brother from another mother" - beggars belief. But as long as Day-Lewis is on screen, spitting venom, Anderson's epic glisters.