she desires his company for walks (apparently) and his conversation (bafflingly), though it’s unclear how much she desires his body. She certainly resents his constant requests for a blow-job on the drive home from the airport. He offers her something different from the two marriages that lie behind her. He desires her, particularly for the blow-jobs, and is willing to part with a chunk of his income to keep her and them on tap.

At one point She declares that ‘Prostitution is degrading for everyone.’, but barring this there is little interrogation of the explicit power dynamic of their relationship. Instead, their conversations frequently glide around the question of She’s feminism, where it can exist within their relationship, or any relationship. She attends a group, who He mockingly referswhat is at base a coming of age story, albeit one swerved by supernatural intervention and corrupted by far more worldly horrors. Resetting the Swedish tale in some remote Scottish community is a brilliant move from Thorne, retaining the isolated otherworldliness that director Tomas Alfredson captured so perfectly in the first film version.

Thorne shifts the balance of the story slightly, favouring scenes of systemic bullying and cruelty that place 12-year old Oskar at the bottom of an unscalable social tree, as well as the family pressures which leave him almost dangerously volatile and vulnerable. Oskar’s aggressors are seen within the context of cycles of abuse, the bullied side-kick of the bully, himself bullied by an older brother. Oskar is a link in a chain that’s being stretched to