Christopher Rhoten
At this point, Nicolas Winding Refn needs no introduction, but you may have forgotten about him for a while. Denmark’s most famous provocateur first hit the scene thirty years ago with 1996’s Pusher, though it would be over a decade until he broke into the mainstream. 2008’s Bronson and 2009’s Valhalla Rising both marked a shift to the mythic as Refn concluded that plain old reality had been captured often enough, and though “success” in anything is a difficult term to define, 2011’s Drive seems to have been the commercial peak. The film captured arthouse and mainstream taste alike, netting Refn Best Director at Cannes and remaining the highest-grossing film of his career.
Things would come tumbling down with 2013’s Only God Forgives, a Freudian Bangkok action thriller with little action or thrills, and 2016’s cannibalistic horror flick The Neon Demon, a freak-out so bizarre that it remains one of the most controversial films of the 21st century. Refn would disappear from the silver screen, spending the next decade making long-form television for Amazon Prime and Netflix. From a distance, it’s a career that seems to have hit a brick wall and changed course for the worse.
Refn has always been an artist’s artist, an iconoclast stubbornly maintaining that doing whatever you want is far more important than making money or maintaining a reputation. In fact, the filmmaker continues to embrace the idea that all press is good press, even if it involves accusations of pretension, misanthropy, misogyny, or simply criticism of making bad movies. Only God Forgives was a dour misfire, but pushing back against the bandwagon demanding another Drive was pretty baller on paper—and despite all of the controversy, the now decade-old Neon Demon is arguably Refn’s best, having aged spectacularly as a fierce precursor to films like The Substance and culture’s current obsession with beauty and ‘looksmaxxing.’
Rather than being run out of Hollywood, Refn’s transition to TV was less an attempt to secure funding and more a search for creative control. His “thirteen-hour movies” may be an acquired taste, to say the least, but the freedom of streaming allowed him to push his vision to the absolute max: Copenhagen Cowboy was disposable but refreshingly silly supernatural fun, and the Miles Teller-starring Too Old to Die Young is the strangest, most brazen crime drama neo-noir neo-western satirical surrealist thriller ever made…and the only one. Refn has also spent his recent years frequently collaborating with video game developer Hideo Kojima, lending his likeness to the role of Heartman in the Death Stranding series, advancing the arts in another medium.
Which brings us to Her Private Hell. Refn is finally back on the big screen with a brand new “thriller,” starring Yellowjackets’ Sophie Thatcher and Riverdale star Charles Melton. The trailer, which you can watch below, was released on Monday ahead of its premiere at Cannes later in the day. Though brief, it’s a tease that treads familiar ground: statuesque models stare into space, a stoic hero flexes his jaw, violence brews—and, of course, all the color.
Despite so many familiar visuals and motifs, there seem to be some new ideas. Refn’s first film in a decade has been described as both a giallo homage and a slasher, and NEON’s synopsis promises a truly unusual, juxtaposed odyssey within this Blade Runner-esque cityscape: “As a strange mist engulfs a futuristic metropolis and unleashes an elusive, deadly presence, a troubled young woman sets out in search of her father. During this quest, her fate crosses that of an American GI engaged in a desperate journey to snatch his daughter from Hell.” Sure, why not? Did Refn dream this one up on the astral plane?
Well, maybe.
Refn shared after the screening Monday night that he’d actually died for twenty minutes back in 2023 before being resuscitated, and that being brought back to life “like Frankenstein” has only inspired him to take more risks. He also gave an impassioned speech that ended with a call for cinema itself to be resurrected, saying that the only thing capable of bringing people together in this fractured political climate is going to the movies. Regardless of your thoughts on the art itself (coming together to avoid Refn projects seems to unite people just as often), it’s nice to see the auteur back in his bag at Cannes, the debut home for all of his recent work, still doing his very specific thing all these years later with more fire than ever.
Should I mention that people already hate this film? The screening reportedly had an unusually high number of walkouts, as some are already de rigueur for the back third of Refn’s career. Her Private Hell promises a blend of camp and horror that isn’t usually up my alley, but I remain intrigued. For some, the trailer will be further proof that the director lost his mind a long time ago; for others, it will do exactly the same, except that’s a good thing. In either case, the paradoxical appeal of a Heartman joint is that you always have a pretty good idea of what you’re going to get, which is something totally and completely out of this world.
Her Private Hell opens in theaters July 24th.
