Omagh

In August 1998 a bomb in the Northern Ireland town of Omagh tore a town apart and killed 29 people. It was an event which shocked Britain, and this powerful and poignant dramatisation brings it all vividly to life in a way that is difficult to erase from the mind.

The depiction of the build-up to the bombing, and the explosion itself, is so realistic that it is easy to think: this is how it was.

Of course, this isn't how it was. It's a drama. A re-creation. None of us watching at home can ever understand exactly how it was. But this film's opening 20 minutes are so convincing that we will feel that we do.

The images, with their shaky hand-held camera-work and newsreel feel, make it seem as if we are watching the real events. But the difference is that we know. We are aware what is about to happen. As the maroon Vauxhall with a deadly cargo makes its way into the town, it is hard not to experience a rising feeling of dread. As the car is slotted into a parking space on a street filled with shoppers, my heart was actually starting to pound.

The explosion, when it comes, is shattering; the aftermath bloody and distressing. People lie injured and dying on the street, while others scream and search feverishly for loved ones. These scenes are a massive and brilliantly realised piece of staging.

But this drama is not just the story of the Omagh bomb, planted by the Real IRA. It is the story of a family, and a father, Michael Gallagher, whose 21-yearold son, Aiden, died in the blast. A quiet, ordinary man, Michael emerges as the unlikely spokesperson for the grieving families who want the bombers caught. Gerard McSorley - a native of Omagh himself - gives an extraordinary performance as a man driven to get justice.

The script, by Paul Greengrass and Guy Hibbert, is excellent, the filming is gritty and the result is an unforgettable piece of TV.