The British Board of Film Classification's information for this unashamedly old-fashioned thriller (from the 1964 novel by Patricia Highsmith) warns of "scenes of smoking", and they're not kidding. In one sequence, Viggo Mortensen actually appears to fall asleep with a still-burning ciggie between his lips, and not a line of dialogue is delivered unassisted by nicotine plumes. Mortensen plays Chester MacFarland, charismatic high-lifer holidaying in Greece with his glamorous wife Colette (Kirsten Dunst), who strikes up a friendship with ragamuffin tour guide Rydal (Oscar Isaac). Rydal is on the make, a discontented American abroad who appears to harbour Ripley-esque designs on a better life. So when Chester's past comes back to haunt him in unexpectedly violent fashion, Rydal spies an opening. But is the young man motivated by love for money? Or for Colette? And how far are either of the MacFarlands to be trusted?

This directorial debut from writer Hossein Amini is a handsomely mounted if somewhat slight affair, beautifully photographed by Marcel Zyskind, gorgeously dressed by Steven Noble, and well played by the central trio, whose shifting motivations and increasingly paranoid allegiances remain a matter of intrigue. While the scenery is eye-catching, it's the faces you watch (even when hidden by hats and shades) as these believably flawed and finely drawn characters collapse and fall into a hellish underworld of their own making.