Few people realise that the original script for Pretty Woman had Vivian and Kit as crack whores, Edward as a cold hearted sociopath, a freezing winter setting, and a real slap in the face downer of an ending.

25 years later comes this, a film that feels like the gritty, luck-has-run-out drama that Pretty Woman could have been – if someone hadn't decided to turn it into a sassy, albeit brilliant, romantic comedy.

Tangerine is the story of one evening in the life of a pair of LA transgender sex workers. One has recently been released from jail, only to be told by the other that her pimp boyfriend has slept with another prostitute while she's been away. As she sets out to find the treacherous girl, an Armenian cab driver – an apparently regular customer – starts involving himself in the unfolding events.

The film was shot (and is set on) Christmas Eve, but this is Los Angeles, so there is no snow, no frost, not even any rain. Instead, there is low-hanging winter sun, the kind that bathes everything in a HD-like glow which makes the city look almost beautiful. It's not beautiful though; it's noisy, seedy, and oppressive.

Yet for all that there is an edgy visual poetry to the action, much of which revolves around the intersection of Santa Monica Blvd and Highland Ave where few tourists ever venture – an intersection which, incidentally, has not been altered or modified for the sake of drama in the slightest.

Although ostensibly a dark drama, this is at times a very funny film. The climax in particular echoes the best of Mike Leigh, and one wonders if the director used improvisation to draw out the sharp, true to life script.

Sad, heart-warming and performed with immense feeling, this has to be one of the most interesting films of the year.