Perhaps it's a mark of what an instant classic Paul Thomas Anderson's psychodrama is that it feels as if it was actually released yonks ago - in fact, it was February, yet it's already a part of cinema history. For my money - and cash is what Blood really boils down to - it's the finest film of the last year at least. It's fabulously cracked, bristlingly ambitious, exciting, unnerving and, often, very funny.

That's partly due to the script: loosely ripped from the start of Upton Sinclair's 1927 novel Oil!. But it's also shot and paced with such confidence (think of the last two scenes, of the cut to the Brahms-soundtracked end credits) that it takes your breath away.

It's also, lest we forget, a whole lot to do with Daniel Day-Lewis's barnstorming, award-hoovering turn as psychotic prospector Daniel Plainview. Paul Dano, too, is greasily brilliant as egoist priest Eli Sunday.

For me, though, it's Jonny Greenwood's score - those huge beepy glissandos driving the action, deepening the mystery, amplifying the awful promise of the title - that turns this great movie into a masterpiece.