Lamentable in script, performance and execution, this misbegotten attempt to bring the mentality of an American slasher movie to the archetypically British set-up of a Miss Marple or Midsomer Murders provides thin gruel for fans of either genre.
Leading the apathy, Jaime Winstone plays (or at least takes top billing as) the eponymous part-time sleuth and full-time stoner who becomes convinced that her new neighbours – the smarmy Gammons (Rupert Evans and Kate Magowan) and their weird teenage kids (Gwyneth Keyworth and Will Payne) - are behind a spate of disappearances around her leafy village.
Of course, nobody believes her. But of course, she’s right.
Where Elfie actually gets her Miss Marple mojo is a mystery in itself. She doesn’t even have access to the most essential investigative tool of the 21st century: the internet.
For that she relies upon her pothead friend and secret admirer Dylan (Barnard, the only cast member who appears to be trying).
Together they discover that the Gammons are cannibals who have been gobbling up small communities all over the world.
But as the body count rises, the biggest conundrum here is not how they’ve been getting away with it, but who this sorry mishmash is supposed to be aimed at.
Starting out in the style of a lame after-school TV mystery (only with more spliffing up and fruitier language) and descending into an increasingly nasty and predictable splatterfest, Elfie Hopkins sits between more stools than a lazy dung beetle.
There isn’t a convincing line, character or scene in the whole, shoddily assembled charade. And, generally caught somewhere between Caernarfon and Karachi, the less said about the Welsh accents the better.
But at least some people have a go. Even daddy Winstone has a crack as the local, doom-mongering butcher.
Not so his ‘am-I-bovvered’ daughter, who simply sticks to her native London tones while stomping around with a face like a smacked backside.
You’d think that as producer of this potentially franchisable tosh, big Ray might have had a word. Sadly not.
Ah well - you Winstone, you lose some.