Extra in every way except the one that counts would be an objectively fair assessment of the otherwise really damn good Promising Young Woman, nominated for five awards including Best Picture at 93rd Oscars in a fortnight's time. This rape revenge black comedy thriller marks the first feature film from actress-turned-season two Killing Eve showrunner Emerald Fennell.

And I'm not kidding about it being extra, it is so extra. From the visual stylings wrapping it in the garish imagery of Snapchat filters and hot pink plastique, to its hot crystal pop soundtrack, to the costuming which is so paintedly as if by way of a graphic novel brought to life, it chronicles the exploits of the almost menacingly against type Carey Mulligan's Cassie. By day she's the surly barista of a candy floss cookie cutter coffee house, but by night she's an avenging angel all unto herself.

The first movie in history to make insightful discussion of One Night in Paris, everything about Promising Young Woman is awesome, it's extra as hell... and it's awesome. Right up until it isn't, and you'll know the exact point if you see it yourself, and you should, don't get me wrong, but it's the point at which I said, at which just about everyone I've met who's also had the pleasure of seeing it has said, and likely everyone you meet who sees it will say, "I just wish it was more..."

It's in playing its ultimate hand that Promising Young Woman draws that line in the sand at which at least partial audiences may not want to step over. As it happens I'm one of them. I think the final 20 minutes or so of Promising Young Woman undermine the previous entirety of an otherwise outstanding movie. They rob it of all thematic strength and the ending is a cop out. Pun absolutely intended. A contrary point to an aggressively made statement by a blinder of a biting black comedy thriller from a first time female filmmaker. That's where the Promising Young Woman ceases being promising: when she's extra, right up until she's not.