Starring Eddie Marsan, Martin Compston, and Gemma Arterton. Rated 14A. Opens Friday, August 20, at the Cinemark Tinseltown

If you’re a fan of Michael Mann’s iconic crime thriller Heat—and if you’re not, you should probably reassess your entire life and start over—you’ll recall that stunning opening sequence in which the thieves orchestrate an armoured-truck heist with military precision. Indie Brit flick The Disappearance of Alice Creed doesn’t exactly have L.A.–style heavy-metal weaponry, but it’s got a righteously killer opener, just with a couple of ordinary-looking chaps buying duct tape.

Actually, those first transfixing minutes are an excellent example of how a sneaky soundtrack, obsessive camera work, and no dialogue whatsoever can effectively screw with one’s tiny, susceptible brain, personally speaking. Well, besides duct tape the two blokes also buy rope, drills, locks, and wall soundproofing. They line a van with plastic sheeting. We know what they’re doing—the film’s title gives that away—and it feels menacing and exhilarating.

So, what happens after Vic and Danny snatch rich-girl Alice and hold her for ransom? Everything and nothing. Newbie feature-film director-writer J Blakeson has loaded his sometimes nasty, sometimes gripping, generally entertaining little kidnapping thriller with secrets and lies, twists and power flips, but it’s not quite as unexpected or original or necessary as he intended.

Given that this three-actor piece exists mostly within a claustrophobic abandoned apartment, it doesn’t hurt that Blakeson snagged talented actors who were keenly into it, handcuffs, hypodermic needles, and all. The great Eddie Marsan, who has graced shiny Hollywood blockbusters but is most memorable as the enraged driving instructor in Happy-Go-Lucky, is particularly good as intense, neurotic top-dog Vic, partnered with possible dimwit Danny (Martin Compston). And Gemma Arterton, recently pouting in Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, proves one can act with conviction while tied to a bed. In the end, though, it might take more than a suitcase of money to fill Alice’s shallow spots.