Visions of cinema's past and future collide in Nicolas Winding Refn's latest project, a hypnotic return to feature filmmaking that feels like a direct challenge to conventional storytelling at this year's Cannes Film Festival.
Three years after a serious heart condition that left him clinically dead for 20 minutes, Nicolas Winding Refn brings Her Private Hell to the festival outside the official competition. The movie marks his first directorial effort since 2016's The Neon Demon and stands apart from many entries that lean on familiar franchises or digital recreations of long-deceased stars.
While the French festival has historically embraced innovative voices, this year's selection leaves Refn's boundary-pushing work on the sidelines in favor of more traditional fare.
Comparisons to last year's Resurrection by Bi Gan come naturally, as both films function more as waking dreams than conventional entertainments. The real standout remains composer Pino Donaggio's sweeping, emotionally charged score, which gives structure to Refn's dense visuals in the same way music elevated silent-era classics and the experimental works of Powell and Pressburger.
Set in an exaggerated futuristic Japanese metropolis, the story follows actress Elle (Sophie Thatcher) as she prepares to star in a project alongside rising influencer Hunter (Kristine Froseth). Their dynamic echoes the psychological intensity of Ingmar Bergman's Persona, with themes of identity and fixation running throughout.
Complications arise when Hunter encounters Dominique (Havana Rose Liu), Elle's former partner now married to her father. A murder witnessed in a nearby tower introduces the Leather Man legend, a red-eyed demon seeking to replace his lost daughter, while American soldier Private K (Charles Melton) arrives on a separate quest for justice.
The narrative jumps between the main storyline and a high-energy space-opera sequence reminiscent of Refn's long-rumored Barbarella remake. Private K's arc feels disconnected yet thematically linked, suggesting that justice and paternal figures can manifest through sheer will in this stylized eastern setting.
The film offers no tidy resolutions, instead delivering a series of satisfying visual and auditory cues that linger in the mind like a powerful ASMR session. The cast embraces this freedom, delivering performances that operate on a purely intuitive level.
Critics may label the approach pretentious, yet it revives a spirit once celebrated in films like Luis Buñuel's That Obscure Object of Desire. In an era where bold formal experiments face pushback, Her Private Hell dares viewers to embrace its sensory world or step away entirely.
The 109-minute feature ultimately forces a choice: surrender to its dreamlike logic or reject it outright.