Premiering at the Cannes Film Festival two months ago, Nicolas Winding Refn’s Her Private Hell represents the Danish filmmaker’s return to the big screen after a ten-year detour developing streaming series for Amazon Prime and Netflix. Fortunately or unfortunately, he picks up right where he left off. His latest cinematic provocation plays like a woozy mashup of his Muay Thai saga Only God Forgives from 2013 and haute couture horror vision The Neon Demon from 2016. While those two movies weren’t the masterpieces Refn likely thinks they are, they at least had coherent storylines and tangible motivations to rise above their pretentious trappings. Even though it runs shy of two hours, Her Private Hell will test the patience of many going into the theater unacquainted with Refn’s lugubrious pacing and laconic characters.
The film opens on an impossibly foggy cityscape, settling at the street level of the neon-spined Tower Hotel, as the young actress Elle (Sophie Thatcher) enters its decadent lobby. There she meets Hunter (Kristine Froseth), a showbiz hopeful who says she lost her luggage upon arriving to the mist-muddled metropolis. Elle takes her in and introduces Hunter to Dominique (Havana Rose Liu), the seductive stepmom who’s slithered her way into the heart of Elle’s dad Johnny Thunders (Dougray Scott). Elsewhere in the dystopian cityscape is the soigné soldier Private K (Charles Melton), traveling storefronts and pounding the pavement to look for his recently missing daughter. Tenuously uniting their stories is the presence of a serial killer known as “Leatherman”, a shadowy figure who’s been dispatching young women in gratuitously violent fashion ever since the supernatural haze engulfed their town.
While Refn’s works are far from narratively complex, Her Private Hell is his most intentionally bifurcated, split unevenly between psychosexual giallo fairytale and Yakuza revenge thriller. If he had committed to one of those two disparate genre fascinations, it’s possible the film could’ve worked, as the two distinct partitions have glimmers of hope in scenes that work on their own terms. A Rear Window-esque sequence, where Elle and Hunter watch helplessly from across the street as Leatherman claims a victim in her hotel room, tracks the same bead of tension Brian De Palma learned studying Alfred Hitchcock. Further cementing the connection is ravishing corresponding music from longtime De Palma collaborator Pino Donaggio, who delivers a riveting Bernard Herrmann-inspired score that’s one of the year’s finest.
The moments we spent with Private K, as he makes his way pursuing leads through the criminal underworld, tend to get redundant but happen upon their own moments of brilliance. Her Private Hell‘s best scene is a bravura fight setpiece that starts with K in an antique store surrounded by henchmen, gradually working its way out through an alley and finishing on the city streets. But when it comes time to intertwine Elle and K’s stories in a meaningful way, Refn comes up woefully short. The screenplay from Refn and co-writer Esti Giordani can’t justify why these characters would even meet in the first place, much less dedicate so much time to K without developing his character. The tense relationship between Elle and Dominique is the closest thing the movie has in terms of emotional connection, but their scenes of histrionic conflict don’t bring out the best in the performances by Sophie Thatcher and Havana Rose Liu.
In addition to Refn’s obsession with garish lighting — fittingly, this film is being distributed by NEON — and tight leather, Her Private Hell is also preoccupied with the mommy issues and bruised masculinity that Refn has more productively investigated before. More specifically, he returns to psychoanalytical symbolism regarding hands, foreshadowed by a glass sculpture in establishing shots of the city and paid off during the gauzy climax. 15 years after the release of his breathtaking breakout Drive, that thriller’s stylishly stellar interplay of film noir and car-centric action now registers as more of a happy accident than an announcement of Nicolas Winding Refn as a top-tier talent. At this point, it barely feels like he’s making movies for anyone besides himself, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he has difficulty finding funding for whatever private hells he comes up with in the future.
Score – 2.5/5
New movies coming this weekend:
Premiering in theaters is Spider-Man: Brand New Day, a superhero sequel starring Tom Holland and Zendaya, which picks up after the events of No Way Home where the world has forgotten Peter Parker exists, finding him anonymously protecting New York City as the hero Spider-Man.
Also playing in theaters is I Want Your Sex, a comedic erotic thriller starring Olivia Wilde and Cooper Hoffman, which follows a naïve young man who becomes the new assistant and muse for a renowned and provocative artist.
Streaming on Amazon Prime is The Devil’s Mouth, a survival thriller starring Kathryn Newton and Lana Condor, concerning a group of college friends’ Thailand adventure that turns deadly when they become trapped in submerged caves with a dangerous predator.