OBSESSED (12A).

Thriller. Idris Elba, Ali Larter, Beyonce Knowles, Bruce McGill, Jerry O’Connell, Christine Lahti, Matthew Humphreys. Director: Steve Shill.

MORE than 20 years after Glenn Close boiled Michael Douglas’s bunny, another sexually aggressive blonde vixen sinks her polished nails into a happily married man in Obsessed.

Only here, with it being the morally upright 21st century, the husband rejects the amorous advances – but suffers nonetheless.

British television director Steven Shill, who jumpstarted his career on EastEnders, Casualty and The Bill, makes his feature-film debut with a script by David Loughery that plunders merrily from Fatal Attraction and The Hand That Rocks The Cradle.

Were it not for the casting of pop superstar Beyonce Knowles (also credited as an executive producer) as the wife who decides to fight for her man, literally, rather than lose him, this schlock probably would have headed straight to DVD.

An opening montage of Derek Charles (Elba), beautiful wife Sharon (Knowles) and young son Kyle moving into their new home handily signposts the entire finale with lingering shots of locations and dangerously-placed furniture.

Derek is a recently promoted executive vice-president at Gage Bendix, who is poised to land the biggest account in the LA finance company’s history.

Everyone loves him including his boss Joe Gage (McGill), skirt-chasing colleague Ben (O’Connell) and stereotypically gay personal assistant Patrick (Humphreys), who will disclose all of the office gossip over a couple of Cosmopolitans after work.

Trouble comes a-slinking into the building in the form of secretary Lisa (Heroes star Larter), who wears a killer pair of black and red heels.

“She’s a new temp,” Derek tells his friend. “I think you mean temp-tress!” swoons Ben.

Lisa quickly sets her sights on Derek and refuses to take no for an answer, taking her pursuit of her boss to dangerous extremes.

Obsessed is a generic thriller, enlivened by a hysterical final act.

When Larter isn't rubbing herself up against her male co-star or parading around in the office car park in her skimpy underwear, she doesn’t wildly overplay her home-wrecker’s psychosis, leaving the loud theatrics to Knowles.

A largely ineffectual Elba, whose character is apparently a titan of industry, shows surprisingly little commonsense under pressure and leaves the women to sort it out among themselves in the most dignified way possible: a protracted cat fight complete with hair-pulling, kicks to the face and Beyonce promising, “I’m gonna wipe the floor with you - who’s screaming now?”

Us, with laughter.