If cinema were a drug, Hollywood would be the dodgy manufacturers who dilute the good stuff with inferior formulas (i.e. rom-coms) containing potentially lethal ingredients (i.e. Katherine Heigl). Every once in a while, however, they tease us cinema junkies with a clean-cut piece of entertainment that delivers an invigorating and engaging high with no nasty side effects. A film like Limitless, for example.

Adapted by Leslie Dixon from Alan Glynn’s 2001 novel The Dark Fields, Limitless revolves around a black-market pill that instantaneously unlocks the full potential of the user’s brain, effectively making their IQ higher than that of Albert Einstein and Stephen Hawking combined. Codenamed NTZ, this wonder drug is what transforms Eddie (Bradley Cooper; The A-Team) from a deadbeat novelist — who has yet to scribe a single word — into a virtuoso writer, musician, politician, socialite and stockbroker. Almost overnight, Eddie gets back with his ex-girlfriend Lindy (Abbie Cornish; Bright Star) and lands a life-changing meeting with energy mogul Carl (Robert De Niro; Little Fockers). But as he soon realises, the higher the climb, the harder the fall.

Witty without being silly, smart without being dreary: Limitless is essentially what happens when you mix the razzmatazz of The Mask with the wry intelligence of Wall Street. It sounds ridiculous, yet it works ridiculously well. Director Neil Burger (2006’s The Illusionist) shows the kind of stylistic flair that one would usually associate with modern auteurs such as Edgar Wright (Scott Pilgrim vs. The World) or Michel Gondry (Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind), using dazzling camera tricks and editing effects to put the audience firmly in Eddie’s drugged-up shoes. In a lesser film, this would have resulted in a severe case of style over substance, yet Dixon’s screenplay takes the simple “be careful what you wish for” premise and evolves it with a number thrilling and unexpected scenarios. The only thing more impressive than the film’s ingenuity is the confidence of Burger’s execution.

Leading man Bradley Cooper, who I admit I’ve been dismissing as a slightly less irritating Matthew McConaughey since his star making role in The Hangover, doesn’t put a foot wrong as rock-star Eddie (although his down-on-his-luck Eddie could use some work). Somehow, Cooper takes a self-centred and debauched character and turns him into a likeable, sympathetic protagonist. Eddie doesn’t deserve success — especially given the way he uses it — yet Cooper’s undeniable chemistry with the camera makes us glad to see him have it. Oh, and Robert DeNiro, it’s nice to see you acting again and not selecting roles based on the size of the paycheck. Keep it up.

It must be said that Limitless isn’t flawless. Characterisation among supporting roles is slight – particularly Abbie Cornish’s Lindy, one of two female characters with dialogue beyond sexual groans – and the final 15 minutes isn’t nearly as strong as the first 90. It’s during the last reel that Eddie’s formerly insightful voiceover is used to hastily tie-up narrative loose ends, while the once dynamic and striking cinematography by Jo Willems begins to wane. The film’s epilogue is also overly incredulous and immoral, as although Dixon thankfully sidesteps typical Hollywood sentimentality, it feels as if he didn’t quite know how to pull the plug with as much conviction as he powered it up.

Still, Limitless remains an electrifying whirlwind of a film that, like the performance-enhancing drug at the centre of all the drama, will have you yearning for more. Finally, 2011 offers up a mainstream movie worth getting excited about.

Follow the author Anders Wotzke on Twitter.