Refn Dives Into His Private Hell at Cannes
Nicolas Winding Refn’s Cannes out-of-competition feature Her Private Hell unfolds as a lush, David Lynch–on–acid fever dream: opulent sets, eye-make-uped actresses posed like fashion models, a haunting score by Pino Donaggio, and a Leather Man nightmare. But the film has little to no coherent story, instead stacking Lynchian atmosphere, lurid imagery, and recycled Refn motifs into a disjointed experience that feels more like art-trash than cinema. The review praises craftsmanship and mood but condemns the lack of narrative clarity, suggesting Refn’s best work remains Drive and the Pusher trilogy rather than this self-indulgent experiment. The director’s Cannes remarks about a near-death experience add mystique but do not redeem the movie.
