Friends of the naive Manhattan waitress Frances McCullen (Chloë Grace Moretz) endearingly refer to her as “chewing gum” on the grounds that she is loyal and will “stick around”. Unfortunately, the French piano teacher to whom she returns a lost handbag, Greta Hideg (Isabelle Huppert), is made of stronger stuff. Not psychologically, for she’s a few notes short of a chord; but physically, for she affixes herself to Greta’s side to the point of stalking.

Call the cops, advises her flatmate Erica (Maika Monroe). Ignore her, advises said cops. But being a goody-two-shoes with “mommy issues” – her mother died and her relationship with her father (Colm Feore) is distant, both geographically and emotionally – Frances volunteers her number, returns Greta’s calls and (ironically) agrees to help pick a stray from the local pound. A decision which comes back to bite her on the bum when she discovers a stash of handbags similar to the one she returned; on the back of each a Post-it Note with a different name and number.

There’s no faulting the performances, particularly Isabelle Huppert who switches from charming and vulnerable to chilling and villainous at the drop of a needle on her favourite piano solo: Liebestraum No. 3 by Frank Liszt. The translation of which, “love dream”, is in stark contrast to the hate-filled hell into which Frances descends. It’s just that the initial trust is unearned and, at times, the dialogue looks better on paper than it sounds. As a result, believability goes out the dog flap!

Still, there’s enough of a sting in the tail to quicken the pulse. The lead performances hold the attention throughout (including a fleeting cameo by Stephen Rea as a dick for hire – private detective, that is). And with a running time of just over an hour and a half, it’s far from the title of director Neil Jordan’s Oscar-winning drama of 1992: The Crying Game.

Director: Neil Jordan
Writers: Ray Wright (screenplay by), Neil Jordan (screenplay by)
Stars: Isabelle Huppert, Chloë Grace Moretz, Maika Monroe
Peter Callaghan