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The only people who use the word "sorted" in clubs these days are undercover policemen. Which is ironic, as there isn't a single copper to be seen in Alexander Jovy's club-based thriller - - yet this clumsy plot hole is only one of many in this enthusiastic debut.

It sees young, northern lawyer Carl (Matthew Rhys) travelling down to London to investigate his brother's narcotics-related demise, only to become dragged into the dark, hedonistic world of the capital's club scene. Cue cod scenes of a `secret' drugs factory with rows of neatly labelled bottles, and CG-induced `trippy' effects.

The main problem is an inconsistent tone. Sorted sets itself up as a kind of raver's Get Carter, then dissolves into sub-Human Traffic comedy. The result's about as enjoyable as an aspirin sandwich.