Michael Shannon plays a hard-working guy plagued by apocalyptic visions in Take Shelter. (Mongrel Media/Sony Pictures Classics)

As we tumble towards 2012, there's no lack of apocalyptic visions on the big screen. Take Shelter presents the end of a world on a smaller scale. Michael Shannon plays Curtis, a hard-working family man trying to provide for his wife Samantha and his hearing-impaired daughter Hannah.

In another installment of recession cinema, times are tough and Curtis is caught in a squeeze. He's juggling bills, including an expensive medical treatment for his daughter, while Samantha pines for a vacation.

Curtis is a simple honest man. He's Hank Hill come to life - tall, strong and stoic. By day he works at a sand and gravel company. But he's haunted, his hollow eyes plagued by visions of The End. Nightmares are constant. He sees visions of murderous neighbours stealing his child. Standing in his backyard he looks to the sky heavy with storm clouds. In his visions, the rain comes down as a viscous liquid, perhaps the source of the spreading madness.

In reality, Curtis's sleepless nights are taking their toll. He's wetting the bed, increasing his medication to avoid the night terrors, but they keep coming. The family dog goes feral. The sky is filled with another dark cloud, this time a shifting ink blot of a murder of crows, eerie and unsettling. And so this modern-day Noah starts building his ark: In this case, an expanded storm shelter built into his backyard.

Curtis's solution is to build a bomb shelter. (Mongrel Media/Sony Pictures Classics)

Jeff Nichols is the director stirring this pot of paranoia and there's a little of himself in the tale. Flush with the success of his first film and recently married, Nichols began stressing out about holding it all together. From the stress came the seed for the screenplay Nichols wrote.

Part of what sets Take Shelter apart is the real-world basis for the father's fears. Curtis comes from a family with a heavy history. His mother was diagnosed as a paranoid schizophrenic. Curtis even pays her visit, digging around on when she first felt things change. Even through her own cloud of confusion, the mother can sense her son is struggling. But when she ask if he's OK, the only response is "Yeah I'm fine."

The tension in Take Shelter is twofold, Curtis can feel the storm approaching, but whether it's an omen or sign of his own psychosis, no one can say. That Nichols never quite answers the question adds to the atmosphere. As the delusions increase, we're never quite sure what's real.

This type of high-wire act wouldn't be possible without a grounded performance and that's where Michael Shannon comes in. The big man's craggy face is like a young Christopher Walken, distinctive and memorable. Often we witness him in a quiet struggle, fighting the demons inside. Forced to confront his fears, the big man's voice cracks, squeaking out a pitiful "I can't."

Although the final (needless) scene unravels Nichol's careful storytelling, Take Shelter remains a rewarding look at disasters both external and internal.

RATING: Four terrifying twisters out of five.