Its hard to know what to say about this film. Putting my love of the Patrick O’ Brien novel series to one side, I felt very sorry for those in the audience who hadn’t read them. These books are mainly renowned for great plots and being madly arcane (in a good way) about the technicalities of your regular 19th century 3 decker square-rigger. Don’t know your mizzen from your topgallant? Or your spanker from your kedge? Well avast ye, mateys. We got a lubber aboard.

It’s understandable if its appeal seems a little, well, aloof. However, serious efforts have been made to make it a little broader, by stitching together this salty yarn from the favourite bits from all twenty books, and unfurling Russell Crowe. He plays RN Capt. Jack Aubrey, the devil-may-care commander of the HMS Surprise in this cannon ‘n sea spray film.

It depicts the little HMS Surprise pitted against the vastly superior Archeon, a French frigate of (then) Death Star proportions all up and down the high seas. From Brazil, to Gallapagos, through the doldrums into the South Seas, across the Roaring Forties (aaaaaar) and through the Cape, there’s a raft of oceanic knowledge to be gained from the beautifully filmed shots alone, with only a touch of subtly spliced background CGI.

Aubrey, warlike, and absolute ruler of his wooden domain, dishes bellicose ire, sage judgement and seamanship in equal measure in his multiple roles as tactician, magistrate and gnarly sea dog.

He is accompanied by the rather effete Maturin –played by Paul Bettany – the cello-playing ship’s doctor and botanist (whose print identity as a single-minded, machiavellian hard-as-nails spy for the Brits is incomprehensibly wasted).

In the prose, their evening duets of viola and cello highlight the crucial differences that make them such an effective team: Aubrey- war mongered, Maturin the humanist (and deadly spy). But here in the film, it just looks a bit twee, as if back in those days they had nothing better to do without a pack of Rizlas and Sky Box Office.

Again, the drunken witty repartee at the Captain’s table that always forces Aubrey to display his legendary crap sense of humour appears stilted and false on screen, and you feel like you have suddenly arrived at a dinner party at the Naval Club.

But, the film is redeemed by superlative action. Lots of it in fact, smashing through wood, rope, flesh and limb with broadside after broadside of grape and roundshot at close quarters. There’s some obligatory naval surgery and a lot of blood, smoke and disembodied howls in quick succession.

It’s a good facsimile of the sheer fucking horror and confusion of hurling lumps of metal between two flimsy wooden craft -in the middle of nowhere- that O’ Brien described so well. Just when you think you know what’s going on, screen left explodes in a hail of splinters and rigging and screen right is covered in screaming men.

Most ‘boaty’ bits and technical jargon can be gleaned from the context, and in many ways the director should get some praise for playing to both galleries. The film depicts the sweaty, salty bowels of a British warship very well too: the cramped conditions, the seasickness, the livestock etc. Gags: few and far between but well received. Love interest and whalebone corsets: none.

My honest opinion would be to promise yourself to read Master and Commander (a good start) either before or after renting/seeing this film to concrete your understanding. It is worth sticking with – When Patrick O’ Brien died, the Telegraph dedicated a full double page to his obituary, which launched him rapidly into a whirlwind posthumous fame/discovery thing. Russell Crowe will be very lucky to receive similar treatment.

words: Rufus Sanders