There are some effectively nasty kills (this is no PG-13 reboot) and Green’s visual eye often results in some impressive imagery but both the look of the film and the script feel confused. Green can’t seem to decide whether he wants it to be gritty and lo-fi or slick and cinematic and so ends up awkwardly between the two, anything resembling an atmosphere sorely missing.

It has none of the brilliance and insight of Emma Cline’s 2016 novel The Girls, on roughly the same subject.

Final Score puts a cheeky British spin on the set-up.

There’s definite fun to be had here and franchise fans will surely appreciate both Black’s nods to the past and his plan for the future but there’s something forgettable about its freneticism, and I struggle to imagine in 31 years if it will be thought of at all.

The film concludes in a minor key, and unresolved: always smart, amusing and engaging.