DJ Frankie Wilde (Kaye) rules the Ibiza club scene, the self-described "Imelda Marcos of the flip-flop world", treated like a god by his adoring fans as he indulges in the drugged-out highlife. His promoter Max (Wilmot) is making a fortune off him; his trampy wife Sonya (Magowan) parties harder than he does. Then Frankie discovers that he's losing his hearing, and his life implodes. Nobody wants a deaf DJ. But what else can he do with his life?

Filming in mock-doc style, Dowse takes us on an epic journey to hell and back, with a constant bone-dry sense of humour that's more chilling than funny. He's knowingly skewering club culture--decadent excess, mindless bandwagoning, soul-sucking commercialism--so ruthlessly real that it's both funny and horrific at the same time. But there's a lot more going on; at its heart this is a provocative voyage into a troubled soul seeking redemption, companionship and meaning in a life that's seductively, blindingly vacuous.

Kaye seems completely consumed by this character--he oozes from his pores! And it's an extremely brave performance as he scrapes the depths of hopelessness and then deftly avoids cheesy sentimentality as it turns more buoyant. Of the supporting cast, Wilmot registers strongest with his smarmy, greedy promoter--especially in the film's astonishing final act. And Batarda is subtly sexy, sweet and sparky as the woman who finally connects with Frankie.

Dowse maintains a darkly vicious but affectionate tone throughout. About halfway in we start to worry that he doesn't have a point--the film seems to be sinking into comical-gruesome despair as the humour evaporates. Then the story shifts, and as the film is reborn into something much more powerful, we begin to see and feel everything in an intimate and engaging way. A real stunner.