Rich bitch Antonia Dyer's heroin habit has led her into a dangerous world where crime and punishment easily become confused. The audience, too: Ackland's Insp Stringer of the the Yard, a bent copper struggling with incestuous desires and imminent retirement, seems more like a decent actor who's wandered into the wrong thriller. Bike messenger Mike is so infatuated with Antonia he'll pick up smack at 3 am on her whim, but Howell is so inexpressive his behaviour might as well be motivated by suicidal impulses. Antonia fits Hurley like 'that dress', but despite her plummy, punky credentials, she can do little to humanise a Sloane who spends most of her time lolling in silk lingerie, burning tin foil. The handling is clumsy, the moralising dire, and gestures towards genre movie-making are laughable.