This is, somehow, just the setup of Calibre. Bad decisions stack up like bloodstained Jenga blocks.

The two modes of masculinity clash in the aftermath, making each attempt at a cover-up more and more disastrous. This is where you really start to see the differences between mild-mannered, passive Vaughn and his reckless, randy chum. His distraught father becomes aggressive and, panicking, they shoot him too. But in the meantime a dopey sprog wandered into the rifle sights, and he ends up with a bullet in his head, just off-centre. Hungover, they blunder through the dense woodland, eventually stumbling on a noble beast. The morning after, the two set out in pursuit of deer. They’re the only hunters there alien visitants to a tightknit enclave stewarded by Logan (Tony Curran), a community-minded older fella who immediately cosies up to Marcus and his big-business contacts. We get the sense of a rural community being leapfrogged by modern developments and bled dry by competition, including a near-ish hunting lodge that has lured away the typical trigger-happy tourists like Vaughn and Marcus. Things start well enough – beer and banter with a couple of local girls at a rustic lodge (despite some surly warnings from the regular clientele).

The pair is introduced without much fanfare, but it’s clear from the off that they have a longstanding friendship, even though the perceptive screenplay (also by Palmer) sketches their innate differences quickly and clearly. His bestie, Marcus (Martin McCann), is a freewheeling coked-up city-boy. One of them, Vaughn (Jack Lowden), is engaged and a dad-to-be, about to exchange his freedom for responsibility. There’s no need for a séance to summon evil in the Scottish Highlands, where two Edinburgh urbanites have planned a hunting expedition as a farewell to their carefree youth.

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