More than 3,000 people have died in the conflagration in Northern Ireland. The modern-and bloodiest-phase of the "troubles" can be said to have begun on January 30, 1972, the day that has come to be known as "Bloody Sunday."

The Bloody Sunday Enquiry, which heard 434 days of evidence into the events of that day when it closed on 24 November 2004, is still to report its findings (8 November 2005), but director Paul Greengrass's view is clear: British soldiers shot dead 13 unarmed civilians taking part in an anti-internment civil rights march in Derry, Northern Ireland.

The immediate result was a huge increase in membership in the IRA and the beginning of a civil war that is yet to resolve itself (witness last week's suspension of Northern Ireland's power-sharing legislature by the British government).

Greengrass has opted for an ultra-realistic approach to the day's events, shooting with handheld cameras placed so much in the middle of things that the cameras themselves almost become individual characters in the unfolding horror. Greengrass follows idealistic civil rights leader Ivan Cooper (James Nesbitt), a member of the legislature, as he deals with the demands of his constituents while preparing for the march early Sunday morning. Cutting between the British paramilitary officers putting the final touches on their determined plan to quash the demonstration and the hurried preparations of the other protestors, Greengrass creates a palpable tension right from the opening frames.

As the march goes ahead, the tension only increases, despite our knowledge of the outcome. That the British fired first has been well established, but it's the backroom maneuvering that fascinates: the British spin doctors that start the disinformation campaign before the bodies are even cold; the same-day internal inquiry that has one soldier saying he fired 22 rounds and his superior asking, "How could you have fired 22 rounds when that is more than we issued you?" The overall effect is chilling and heartbreaking by turns.

Greengrass has been painstaking in his desire to maintain fidelity to the truth, going so far as to use actual participants in the original march as extras and relying on testimony culled from the various inquiries over the decades. His decision to end scenes abruptly with a quick fade to black is initially jarring but serves to reinforce the reality of the situation by leaving the viewer as discombobulated at times as the characters in the film.

Never has U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday," which plays over the closing credits, had so much power.