‘Her Private Hell’: Nicolas Winding Refn’s Strange Hallucination Composes Brilliantly Shallow Neon Dreamscapes

Alci Rengifo

There was a time in the mid to late aughts when Nicolas Winding Refn represented a mood or, as they say, a vibe. More than plots, what garnered attention was his sheer style. Rich, at times brutally slow shots, would suddenly lead to extreme violence. Soundtracks became vital soundscapes for the images. Yet, style can only go so far. After a decade, during which Refn mostly dabbled in trying out streaming shows, the Danish enfant terrible returns with “Her Private Hell.” To discuss this film is to mainly talk about images. Has Refn reached the point of not caring at all for a coherent narrative? Here, a brilliant stylist engages in pure indulgence, with flickers of an engaging story fighting to emerge. 

The plot, or semblances of one, opens in some kind of futuristic city lit in neon (like nearly everything in a Refn film). Elle (Sophie Thatcher), decked in glittery makeup, arrives at the Tower Hotel to meet Hunter (Kristine Froseth), an apparent influencer who will co-star with Elle in some kind of movie. As a strange mist engulfs the city, we learn Elle is also searching for her father, a mysterious, dark man named Johnny Thunders (Dougray Scott). We also meet Dominique (Havana Rose Liu), Elle’s stepmother, who Hunter notices seems so young to be a stepmother. For Refn, it’s convenient since all three get to pose and look glamorous. There is also chatter about Leather Man, a mystery killer roaming about who wears… leather. Refn then cuts to what seems to be hell, which really looks like a misty Asian city, where American GI Private K (Charles Melton), hunts for the killer who disappeared his young daughter. This killer is the previously mentioned Leather Man. Taking down the murderer is the only chance Private K has to see his daughter again.

The style Refn established in his best work such as the “Pusher” trilogy, the acclaimed “Drive” and divisive “Only God Forgives,” has the kind of lasting appeal where film students keep trying to emulate it. Those works also had actual stories, especially “Drive” with Ryan Gosling as a stunt driver sinking deep into the L.A. criminal underworld. The famous city’s streets become haunted terrains framed by an engrossing synth pop score. Refn’s last feature, 2016’s “The Neon Demon,” went off the rails but still provided some memorably surreal imagery critiquing contemporary beauty standards. The dialogue in all these films tends to be sparse, because Refn loves to indulge in the way someone’s face looks when framed within a gorgeous composition. He likes to let the camera float and move in a way meant to hypnotize rather than just entertain. The experiment cracks with “Her Private Hell,” where entire sections feel like they would be at home running on a loop inside a museum gallery. 

At the same time, when the film almost works it can be quite engaging. Had Refn dumped the odd storyline involving Elle, Hunter and Dominique, he could have stayed with the narrative about Private K hunting down the Leather Man. These sections have a hallucinatory noir feel as Private K wanders the city, dark figures emerging out of smoky corners and local gangsters getting into bloody brawls. He receives cryptic clues from Ms. T (Shioli Kutsuna). In classic Refn fashion, the cops are corrupt and one of them, Hayashi (Hidetoshi Nishijima), eventually whips a splayed Private K with a belt to get revenge for a dead crooked officer. This section is still a pure dreamlike puzzle, but easier to follow. Refn then pulls off one of those wild narrative flips similar to David Lynch’s “Lost Highway,” where without any coherent explanation Private K emerges into a nightclub through smoke and lights in the era of the girls we met earlier. We still haven’t touched on the girls also at one point being inside a spaceship that crash lands and how this connects to a comic book Private K was reading in hell.

The rest of the film does feel like an off the rails attempt at playing with Lynchian dream logic. If you simply stop following the “story,” you can drink in the shots composed by cinematographer Magnus Nordenhof Jønck where gorgeous faces tilt before moody skylines. Figures in a nightclub look eerie amid the flashing lights. One particularly excellent shot Elle gives the illusion her face is changing along with the club’s strobe lights. Reds and blues mesh with Refn’s beloved neon textures. Pino Donaggio’s score is an orchestral soundscape that can be quite evocative. Then we are left with the bizarre, scattered dialogue about Elle resenting her stepmother in an erotic standoff. Random characters appear like Nico (Diego Calva), a bad boy in leather who knows Johnny Thunders yet has slept with Dominique. Hell will eventually merge (or something) with this timeline, complete with plenty of mist, Private K standing like a statue in leather and staring while the Leather Man appears out of nowhere. Elle also gets to wield a cool-looking axe. So, Nicolas Winding Refn returns with his visual style intact, impressive in its set-ups, but leaving us with nothing but pretty pictures. Of course, what makes him a rebel is that he doesn’t care if we get into it, because someone else surely will. Still, we can only hope this is just a warm up.

“Her Private Hell” releases July 24 in theaters nationwide.