Collette delivers one of the best performances of her already impressive career in Glassland.

Like the emotional equivalent of a massage with a sandpaper loofah, the film leaves you feeling raw and tender, thanks particularly to the knockout performances from the small cast, especially Collette.

It’s a film of few frills or flourishes, which never tries to dress up its subject or soften its blows. Yet in its rage and its pain, in the wire-brush scrub it gives to the movies’ woozily romantic notions of alcoholism, Glassland feels wholly honest and true.

Ends up an impressive addiction drama. Stay with it and it’ll stay with you.

Before anyone has even said anything, the economy of Barrett as a storyteller is abundantly clear.