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Tui Mitcham, a pregnant 12-year-old, goes missing after being saved from an aborted suicide attempt in a lake.

No, that wasn’t a pun.

Thus begins Jane Campion’s terrific six-part miniseries “Top Of The Lake,” centering around the violent, incestuous, quirky, substance-abusing, tattooed, unshaven, unkempt, flagellating — and sometimes hilarious — characters of Paradise, New Zealand.

Despite the fact that the series swipes liberally from “The Killing,” with a dose of “Twin Peaks,” and a big, badass dash of “Breaking Bad” thrown in, it’s still very unique in its own brilliantly unconventional way.

Paradise, in Southern New Zealand, looks like paradise well enough, but it’s anything but idyllic. Hiding (sometimes) are the characters who live in this very remote town run by Matt Mitcham (Peter Mullan), a very scary drug lord with three grown, dangerous, tattooed sons and one daughter, little Tui (Jacqueline Joe), the missing pregnant girl.

While on leave from her job and in Paradise to visit her dying mother, police officer Robin Griffin (“Mad Men” star Elisabeth Moss) — who is trained to work with kids — is asked by local cops to step in and investigate Tui’s disappearance. The local police department is a bastion of hard-drinking misogynists who show her zero respect.

OK, so you think you’ve got the set-up, right? Young female cop returns to her hometown, encounters male prejudice, overcomes it, solves the case and the males are left quaking in her wake.

Wrong. This six-part series is so layered and unexpected that nothing follows a tried-and-true formula.

But back to little Tui who, in Monday’s premiere, refuses to give up the name of the man who impregnated her. She will only write the name on a sheet of paper, at Griffin’s urging — but the name she writes is “no one.”

After being taken back home to her father’s house (against Griffin’s wishes), dad Matt tells Tui she did a good thing by saying nothing to the cops. Does that mean that he’s fathered her baby?

Into the mix and onto the lakeside comes a group of angry, emotionally wounded, middle-aged hippie ladies who are followers of a chain-smoking, growling guru (Holly Hunter), who claims to be dead. Or something. The sometimes-naked, often overweight ladies try to raise their empowered voices against Mitcham — but he quickly shuts them up.

In the meantime, Tui runs away from home on her horse and takes shelter with the ladies — but, by morning, she’s missing.

When Griffin investigates the Mitcham house and confronts Tui’s dad, he goes ballistic. “No one loves Tui like I do. No one!” he yells. Remember that Tui wrote “no one” in response to the question: “Who did this to you?”

Trust me, it’s not that simple.

This is great TV.