James Joyce and Nora Barnacle were a couple for the ages; he the struggling young writer and she the chambermaid who became his muse. They met in 1904 when Joyce was still some time away from recognition as one of the greatest writers of the 20th century and Barnacle was a newcomer to Dublin, having fled Galway to avoid being forced into the convent. The attraction was instantaneous, the fiery and very physical relationship-mined by Joyce for some of the more graphic parts of his classics-both a boon and a bane for the both of them.

It's about time someone made a movie about the two of them, and Pat Murphy finally has. Starring Ewan McGregor (who also had a hand in producing) and Susan Lynch (best known over here for her riveting turn as a raven-haired punk psychopath in the television show Cracker), Nora is based on Brenda Maddox's widely acclaimed biography, a tome that set about correcting the one-sided view of Barnacle-the model for Molly Bloom in Ulysses-as someone less important than she actually was to Joyce's life and work. Although it's far from perfect-Ewan McGregor is miscast for one thing-it provides a mostly fascinating chronicle of their lives together.

Beginning with their meeting on Nassau Street near Finn's Hotel, where Joyce and his buddies drank and Barnacle worked, the film quickly announces its intentions: Barnacle-at the very early stages of their prim turn-of-the-century relationship-unbuttons Joyce's fly in an alley and reaches inside. Strong-minded, willful, intelligent and overtly sexual-that is the picture of Nora that Murphy and co-writer Gerard Stembridge want to put across, and thanks to Lynch's fierce screen presence they pull it off. (Ever since seeing Lynch in Cracker I've wondered why she's not been in more movies; perhaps that will now change.)

Much of the film takes place in Trieste where Joyce had secured a teaching position and Nora followed. Insanely jealous, constantly broke and given to drinking bouts that would make much larger men blanche, Joyce does not seem to have been the greatest of catches; one of the pleasant surprises of the film is that when he behaves like a shit, Nora lets him know about it, and "great writer" be damned. Indeed, in many ways, they were not the best match. But in one way-on the sexual front-they were ideal. The film captures the pure physicality of their relationship in a refreshingly frank way, and the scenes of them enacting their passion for one another rank as some of the best in the film (despite some lame dialogue the leads are forced to utter on some of these occasions).

While Lynch steals the show-appropriately enough as the film is about her character-McGregor seems far too pretty and, frankly, weak, to carry off the role of Joyce (yes, Joyce was frail in his later years but he couldn't have been THAT frail as a young man). You half expect Nora to deal him a near-fatal blow during one of their frequent rows. While it's more than a small caveat, it doesn't sink the film. Nora remains a seriously intentioned, beautifully shot and almost entirely worthy addition to the many works devoted to these two very memorable people.