Margaret Qualley is magnetic – mischievous, manipulative, maddening as Trish, a young American who wants only one thing: to return to the United States from a forced exile in Nicaragua in Claire Denis’ film adaptation of Denis Johnson’s novel, THE STARS AT NOON.

Penniless and without passport, she has all but abandoned her journalistic aspirations, prostituting herself in order to survive.

Into her orbit comes Daniel, a young English businessman, played with aloof anaemia by Joe Alwyn. A fifty buck fuck burgeons into a bonkathon and flourishes into a relationship fraught with foreign intrigue.

It’s a romance that appears reassuring and sincere, but in fact navigates between lies and obfuscation, and director Denis seems to dwell on the obfuscation idea, muddying motives and narratives, leaning into the languid to the point of being becalmed.

To call THE STARS AT NOON a slow burn is an understatement – it feels like its shot in slow motion. It’s as languorous as the sex that the two leads engage in. It may well hold the record for the slowest car chase in movies.

The clandestine shenanigans of Costa Ricans and the CIA, corrupt governments and rigged elections are given background status short shrift to between the sheets meets and greets. The pace is misplaced and slides into frustrating tedium, stalls then crawls to its tragic denouement.

Score by Tindersticks is interesting, intrusive and imposing, a counter intuitive counterpoint to genre spy stories and with little reference to the geo-ethnics of the location(although the bar scenes have a nifty Latin riff), it’s more of a bluesy neo noir vibe.

On the heels of Both Sides of the Blade, THE STARS AT NOON is a disappointment, yet the quality of Qualley’s characterisation and screen charisma warrants a watch. A star at noon, a star at night, a career destined to always burn bright.