When paedophilia hits the screen it is usually in the context of a lapsing offender (The Woodsman) or brutal child molestation (Sleepers). Rarely do the tables get turned, a tantalising proposition that director David Slade has used to spin audiences so hard it leaves them numb. Hard Candy is a vicious film; it’s violent, unrepentant, savage and, at times, excruciating. You’d be hard pressed to take your eyes off the screen. With splashy visual styling, the film seduces audiences into Hayley’s world, a fourteen year old girl who’s made an internet date with Jeff. They meet on safe ground, a café, and they share their common interests. Soon Hayley invites herself back to his place, his studio.

Jeff is a photographer and by now, warning bells are sounding loud and hard, particularly when she warns the older man (he’s thirty) that she’s insane, while pouring them each a drink. As the situation spirals out of control, Slade’s use of mixed media, jumpy cameras, slick transitions, irregular patina, hue and textures build a very unsettling picture. He has given them language befitting David Mamet – Hayley is absurdly mature yet utterly convincing thanks to Page’s scorching performance. It throws off our expectation, teasing one possibility after another in a high-morality tale of revenge and justice that charts unanticipated territory.

There are flaws – occasional lapses in design and pace pull the film’s punch while some of the more dogmatic speeches are difficult to swallow. Yet they’re minor digressions in an otherwise powerhouse production. Hard Candy travels to terrifying places that people seldom visit willingly. It mainlines the worst kind of horror. It’s balls-out filmmaking that grips like a bulldog clip.

// COLIN FRASER