Ultimately, Verity is just plain fun. It's bloody, but not so bloody that it would be too much for those wary of horror movies; it has some very spicy scenes, but they never feel gratuitous. It's unlikely to be the best thing anyone's seen this year, but it nevertheless proves that an on-screen adaptation of a dark romance novel one might pick up in an airport (an actual joke in the movie) doesn't have to be a cringe-filled, smutty nightmare.

Verity is a ludicrous psycho-thriller as cold and tart as the wine cocktail that should come free with every ticket. It’s also a film whose enjoyably contrived pleasures, like those of its source material, hinge upon the fact that people are eager for any excuse to look down on a successful woman.

While Verity is ultimately too dull to truly provoke, Hathaway is sharp enough to cut through the mediocre muck surrounding her, giving her sections of the film a winningly wicked wink. She’s reason enough to see the film, even if the rest of it leaves a lot to be desired.

As CoHo adaptations go, it's definitely leading the pack, but it frustratingly stops just shy of plunging into the true darkness that Verity herself ominously warns us about from the very beginning.

Hathaway’s performance comes deliciously to life, delivering a diva turn with hilarious, icy line readings akin to her The Devil Wears Prada co-star Meryl Streep’s iconic characterization of Miranda Priestly.