of nothing. It is stripped back so much in terms of narrative and action as to become something unlikeable and obnoxious. Scenes of D working at her desk or the two artists lying together on a bed, drag on forever without a cut. It is a style of realism that is painfully accurate of real life. But watching the small moments of a human life (doing the dishes, arguments over breakfast) hardly make for compelling viewing. Exhibition would have made a killer short.

There are some lovely touches throughout. The cinematography, as is always the case with Hogg, is like a breath of fresh air. London is captured in crisp, pastel shades and the sparsely decorated house the two artist’s share is utilised in genius ways. It is a character in its own right. Regular collaborator Tom Hiddelston pops up as the real estate agent in a couple of beautifully judged and cringe inducing moments.

As a filmmaker Joanna Hogg does silence and space so effectively. In Exhibition it’s simply a case of a little too much of both.