The moment this film started I should have switched off, due to the cringe-worthy acting on display. I'm surprised there wasn't a little man in a prompter's box feeding the lines to the actors, it really was that reminiscent of amateur dramatics at the village hall. I sincerely hope none of these actors will include Candlestick in his or her CV as they all deliver shocking performances, complete with 2-second pauses before the next line is due.
The premise doesn't really work either, mainly due to the fact that parts which are meant to be out of earshot of the other characters would never be out of earshot in a tiny London loft apartment like this (note to director/writer; loft apartments are ALL ONE SPACE - you can't just go upstairs and have a private conversation as the people in the living room ARE RIGHT BELOW YOU!) The behaviour of the characters is ridiculous, as is their way of talking to each other.
Written as a 30-minute TV play by people who knew what they were doing (for instance, the team behind Inside No 9), this could have worked quite well. But stretched out over 82 minutes it has little to redeem it. Even the music is so reminiscent of Psycho that it had me humming that movie's signature theme long after I forgot the misery of sitting through this pile of refuse.
As a final note, and to show how little care went into making this film, there is a tiny bit part at the end played by someone with an American accent in a role where the character would be extremely unlikely to have an American accent. It distracts the viewer from the final scene and only serves to put the final nail in the coffin of one of the worst films I've ever seen.
