‘Anatomically correct blow up sex doll’ and ‘heart rending tearjerker’ aren’t usually phrases that appear in the same sentence. This film, however, somehow manages to seamlessly entwine the two and sit them together as naturally as emos and Twilight.

Ah, the cinema; the student’s official alternative to getting completely smashed all the time. For those of you waking up on the floor fully-clothed with chips and cheese all round your mouth, (only to be told that in a few hours you will be repeating the experience), you might just consider attempting to persuade your mates with these great cinemas and offers instead. Just make sure you don’t see Requiem for a Dream. It’s not hangover material.

It is said that Bill Murray likes to sneak up behind strangers in New York, whisper, “Guess who?” and, when they turn around, tell them: “I’m Bill Murray. No one will ever believe you.” This would not be funny in a club, in Sainsbury’s or on campus, nor is it a good way to meet strangers.

Cheesier than cheddar, the old ballet-meets-hip hop story is given a new edge on the sparkling London backdrop. Granted, it’s not quite as glamorous as the Step-Up franchise, but a subtle British influence, (from Union Jack t-shirts to the music featured), adds a certain charm.

It reminded me of Brick in that she spends most of the film finding things out. Just going door to door, piecing stuff together. The gruff, mumbling neighbours she demands information from have an untrustworthy air about them, but despite feeling like a borderline horror, it’s more of a slow-moving dramatic detective movie. There isn’t really anything like it.