The opening scenes of Camping Trip, though brief, play out like a punch. Stark aerial views of cities deserted epitomise the horrified, worldwide shock as nightmare became reality, and the future paused in bleak uncertainty. Accentuating this, the haunting, empty tones of a cello.

This introduction sets a precedent for what’s to follow; music as a tool for emphasis utilised to the full and surrendered largely to the strings, there being few instruments as capable of marking out and expressing emotional extremes. I mean, where would Jaws and Psycho be without them? Alongside the remote, dramatic landscape this means at no point does the suspenseful grip loosen on the viewer; it’s there from the first.

It’s the summer of 2020, and the end of the first lockdown. Two couples; Enzo, Polly (Leonardo Fuica, Caitlin Cameron), Coco and Ace (Hannah Forest Briand, Alex Gravenstein) take off on a camping trip into the wide blue yonder; the calm tranquillity of a deserted, tree-encircled lake in the middle of nowhere the perfect metaphor for the release from endless months of forced confinement. Don’t get too comfy though folks, because all good things must come to an end.

Enter trouble, in the shape of a troubled-looking official guy (Ben Pelletier), who’s in a rush and on a mission. Picking his way haltingly through the woods, he hides a shed load of cash in one of the camper’s tents before scuttling off to a nearby dock (from whence the campers recently left for the day), and pacing about, clearly waiting for something. This turns out to be Orick (Michael D’Amico) and Billy (Jonathan Vanderzon), a classic villainous duo of gruff big guy and little ratty sidekick.

Frustrated when the results of their rendezvous with official guy (who we discover is a doctor) are less than satisfactory, they deal with him as all good villains do. Graphic, intense focus and impressive special effects lend an uncomfortable level of brutal realism to this scene; however the pair, unmoved, need to find the hidden cash and have no idea where it is. Clearly it’s just a matter of time before happy campers and bad dudes cross paths; given the underlying theme it’s hard to miss the symbolism of the malignant invading the lives of the unsuspecting.

Spoilers making for a pointless review, I won’t reveal anything else about the plot of Camping Trip itself, except while you may think you’ve seen this scenario before there’s plenty of surprises within, and the camerawork takes things on a different journey in itself. Real thought’s been put into breaking away from the typical; exceptional use of slow motion being one example. You’ll know it when you find it; startling, unexpected, and hikes the tension into the stratosphere.

The unsettling quality evoked in the bloodier scenes by way of slightly lengthier shots than we’ve come to expect gives those scenes a real edge, though it took a bit of thinking on my part to nail exactly what it was. Clever. The stunning location, like the music, is taken full advantage of; it’s not only made for the storyline, but turns up the contrast when things go wrong; beauty and the beast, a lost utopia.

Edge-of-the-seat stuff that twists familiar themes into dark, unmissable shapes. After watching Camping Trip you’ll never go camping again.