'Munich': the Best Steven Spielberg Film of All Time?

Turns out he is.

Munich is the fact-based story of a squad of Mossad hitmen, led by Australian actor Eric Bana's German-Israeli Avner Kaufman, given the task of assassinating the Palestenian terrorists responsible for the murder of eleven Israeli athletes during the 1972 Munich Olympics. On paper, it's a straightforward thriller come men-on-a-mission movie; it even begins as such. But Munich is deceptive - it has an agenda that only reveals itself once the film's drawn you in. What starts as a run-of-the-mill, no-nonsense spy thriller descends into something much deeper. And much, much darker.

The tone of Munich is unlike any other Spielberg film except for, curiously, blockbuster War of the Worlds (made back-to-back with Munich), a film with an equally grim and defeatist attitude. Even those films where Spielberg appeared to explore a dark side, such as the sci-fi noir Minority Report, WW2 epic Empire of the Sun or, most obviously of all, holocaust drama Schindler's List, were all ultimately uplifted by an overpowering feeling of hope.

Not in Munich. The bouts of playful, childish comedy, present at times even in Schindler's List, are absent, replaced by a humour so black it's almost invisible to the naked eye. What's more, any optimism gives way to an increasing feeling of helplessness and constant reminders that revenge creates revenge, violence leads to violence, and the idea that terrorist networks are not easily conquerable but almost infinite, continuously regenerating.

And if you're at the very least hoping for last minute, Oskar Schindler-style redemption, then, unfortunately, you've caught Spielberg on a bad day. Not even the lead character, so often an archetypal, regular Joe in the 'Berg's movies, can lay claim to any. Avner Kaufman isn't your usual Spielberg anchor. This man is a murderer. He kills elderly men without question. He shoots a young boy in the head when he threatens to raise an alarm. He even - shock horror - seeks to cheat on his wife.

As Avner, Eric Bana is simply incredible, subtly embarking on a journey from bright-eyed jingoist to a disturbed, soulless figure used - and used up - by a country that senselessly wants revenge for attacks on its people, at the cost of its people themselves. His support is as flawless - Spielberg has always had an eye for casting the right people, whether huge stars or little-known character actors, in fitting roles, and Munich is an ideal example. Kaufman's hit squad is an eclectic dream team of world cinema performers - English Daniel Craig, Irish Ciaran Hinds, German Hanns Zischler, French Mathieu Kassovitz and Antipodean Geoffrey Rush as their leader - with supporting roles filled out by the likes of Ayelet Zurer, Mathieu Amalric and Moritz Bleibtreu.

The cosmopolitan cast are complemented by Munich's globetrotting sensibility - we're propelled all over the world, visiting Tel Aviv, Rome, Paris, Athens, Amsterdam, London, New York, Munich of course - and even more so by its mish-mash of film styles. For a '70s-set film about shady government wranglings, Munich inevitably takes most of its inspiration from the paranoid thrillers of New Hollywood; you can see Alan J Pakula's Paranoia trilogy and Sydney Pollack's Three Days of the Condor in the skewed camera angles, shadowy informants and cold, imposing urban settings. Stylistically, Munich also owes a debt to the cool naturalism of 1960s European cinema, with other scenes - the Mossad assault on an enemy compound in Beirut, in particular - employing a documentary-style realism which was, in 2005, a growing obsession for Western cinema, while the tense assassination sequences can only be described as Hitchcockian (albeit with violent denouements Hitchcock could only have dreamed of).

Hitchcock is, clearly, a familiar influence for all of Spielberg's films, but, elsewhere, the look and feel of Munich is entirely new for the director. It's refreshing to see a filmmaker who could, understandably so by now, be settling into old habits instead of completely reworking his style from the ground up, but it's even more compelling to see Spielberg explore a side of himself nobody knew he had, to embrace the darkness so willingly.

His A.I. adopted a similarly gloomy approach but the director was hindered by something that has now regrettably become one of his trademarks: the ill-fitting 'happy' ending. Munich doesn't make the same mistake, its very last scene offering little hope, or even any real closure, Rush's grumpily avuncular Ephraim refusing Avner's invitation for them to "break bread" together, at last revealing his true nature as as much of a multi-faceted leech as Avner's uncaring government. Still, it's another moment previous that sticks longer in the memory.

With Avner having quit his post as Mossad agent, one of the film's most lasting images is that of the former assassin, exhausted, empty, detached, bathed in a bleached out glow of light, waiting to be debriefed. The room is empty, all except for Ephraim working at a battered old tape recorder. You can't help but feel that Avner expected a shower of glory upon the completion of his mission, a display of immense gratitude from his adored homeland. Instead, there is a creeping realisation that a task that at first seemed so noble ultimately meant nothing. The final, devastating blow, for us and for Avner, are the passing words spoken by the amused Israeli general fleetingly sent to thank Avner for years of gruelling work: "That's it. There is no medal or anything!" Amongst all the bloodshed, the shootings, bombings and mutilations, this quiet, sober scene is perhaps Munich's most unforgettable.

Forget for the moment Schindler's List, Close Encounters, Jaws or any of the countless, child-friendly blockbusters Steven Spielberg has made over his career - if you're looking for Spielberg's masterpiece, an example of cinematic perfection and his opus, this is it. This is his most complete film; not marred by a sickly, child-friendly approach like E.T. or spoiled by an abrupt, jarringly 'happy' ending as in Minority Report or Saving Private Ryan - Munich has a cynical, paranoid heart through and through, from violent beginning to disheartening end. It takes no prisoners, relentlessly painting the world as a place not bound by morals but by opportunism, a place ruled by the selfish and the power-hungry. That Spielberg takes this approach with Munich makes his film all the more bold and daring. It was also unquestionably the right thing to do - correctly portraying the war between Palestine and Israel and, on a more global scale, the conflict between East and West, as so pointlessly, relentlessly destructive is much more appropriate than to simply sugar-coat the truth.

If you don't appreciate quality acting, outstanding cinematography or some genuinely nail-biting set-pieces, then this is still easily one of the deepest, most debate-inducing films of the last decade. It's the most thought-provoking film made by Spielberg yet and will be the cause of countless arguments and discussions regardless of whether you like the film or not. If you haven't seen it, do so now. If you've seen it before and didn't quite manage to absorb it all the first time, or simply found it lacklustre, as some did on its release, give it another try - you might come to agree that this little-seen and little-recognised revenge thriller is the best film of Steven Spielberg's career.