Ray Winstone is improbably cast as a small-town West Country solicitor investigating the death of his beloved daughter, who died of a drug overdose during her first year at Salisbury University. Shot in long takes with extended interior monologues, this modest film fails as either a psychological study of grief or as a thriller (we expect Winstone to duff up the malefactors, but he doesn't even get to deliver his catchphrase, "You're out of fuckin' order!").