This multi-stranded comedy drama is the perfect antidote for those who felt they were drowning in molasses while sitting through two hours of Love Actually.

It's not set in the cosy middle class world of comfortably bo-ho London but a grimily desperate Ireland - not the natural habitat of Grants and Firths.

Where Richard Curtis's chattering cast curse to hilarious effect, the protagonists in this earthy yarn would require a lorryload of soap to wash their mouths out.

The action loosely follows the story of John (Murphy) and his estranged girlfriend Deidre (MacDonald), who has now taken up with a married bank manager.

Drifting in and out are a crew of colourful characters ranging from John's sexually frustrated pal Oscar (David Wilmot) to Meaney's fame-lusting cop with a side interest in Celtic mysticism.

Shirley Henderson puts in a winning turn as Deidre's man-hating sister Sally, who's blessed with a moustache that's "not quite in the Burt Reynolds league".

The most high-profile star here is Farrell, who's returned to his roots to play a tattooed Irish version of Trainspotting's Begby.

Although essentially occupying a support role, he electrifies every time he's on screen delivering dialogue courtesy of the Blarney Stone... but with a literal punchline.

Once you've acclimatised yourself to the blue patter - Mr Sweary must have had a big hand in the script - the characters really bloom and breathe.

There's some rich comic moments, especially John and Oscar's foray to a singles night of predatory spinsters swathed in gold lame.

But perhaps the high points are the moments of pure poignancy - one scene involving the excellent Henderson and her mum is worthy of vintage Mike Leigh.

It's the sort of film that could have gone horribly wrong, but the first-rate performances and lilting articulacy of the dialogue make it a surprise triumph.

Tim Evans