“How easily one thing grows into another,” sings abandoned Ariadne on her desert island before the advent of Bacchus quells her morbidity and rekindles her lust for life. In Richard Strauss’s Ariadne auf Naxos, all sorts of things have convincingly to change shapes and swap places for the opera to soar: comedy and tragedy, of course, but also fidelity and frivolity, heroism and slapstick, the lyrical and the louche.

Anyone who’s ever been to a movie set can’t help but struggle to reconcile the utter dismembered chaos of these workplaces with the smooth joined-up pseudo reality of the finished screen product. This jaunty, knowing third feature from Jane Schoenbrun – in which the teen slasher genre more or less eats itself – half-wants us to believe that the tortured film production process flows backwards. That is, the movie comes first.