Iconic director Nicolas Winding Refn took a decade-long hiatus from filmmaking, viewing Her Private Hell as his cinematic resurrection. Sparked by a literal experience where he died and was brought back to life, Refn has handcrafted a movie fully immersed in atmosphere and spectacle. That’s right: Her Private Hell totally rules. Part giallo slasher, part twisty sci-fi fantasy, part wildly inventive drama, the genre-defying feat purposely dodges many typical moviemaking trappings. It’s a structural nightmare, the plot feels bafflingly scatterbrained, and the abstract nature is purposely difficult to penetrate by design. But this horror-infused fairy tale rides high on stunning visuals, and it’s stitched together by a mesmerizing, operatic score from maestro Pino Donaggio (Carrie, Seed of Chucky, and so many more). With Charles Melton and Sophie Thatcher leading the ensemble cast, Refn’s Her Private Hell tears through the chest of genre tradition to unearth the sparkling guts inside.
The plot, as it can best be described on a surface level, is roughly as follows: an eerie mist begins its crawl over a sprawling, futuristic version of Tokyo. It empties out the streets, and spreads in the cracks of buildings. With its arrival comes a sort of local urban legend, the dangerous killer, Leatherman, known for abducting women and violently murdering those who encounter him. This mist ties two seemingly disparate plotlines together. First, there’s Elle (Thatcher), a struggling starlet hopeful that filming a strange sci-fi movie can help repair her relationship with former lover-turned-stepmother, Dominique (Havana Rose Liu); running in a compelling parallel to Elle’s story, Private K (Melton), an American soldier, desperately searches for a way to reach his daughter, once snatched by the dastardly Leatherman.
If this sounds like surrealistic overload, it certainly is. Viewing this film on purely a surface level would probably lead to disappointment, as Refn remains far more interested in a cerebral, vibe-driven experience that sears into one’s retinas rather than a traditional narrative of any kind. Characters will not have realistic reactions to insane situations, nor can a traditional logic be applied to the manner in which the more difficult elements play out. None of these plot specifics really matter anyway in a film so heavy on misty atmosphere; still, they build to a tearjerking crescendo of beauty during a gripping finale. This is one unforgettable journey to hell, and Refn’s showy style will help guide you through.
From the second Elle steps into the doors of the impossibly high, neon-lit Tower Hotel, the massive scale of the production design etches out the locale into a personality all its own. The bright visual aesthetic and color palette of Elle’s initial piece of the story makes a clever juxtaposition against the darker, moodier segments featuring K. K’s portion is colder, and more rigid. Likewise, where Elle’s are often dialogue-driven, K’s are dipped in revenge, then seeped in brutality. The parallels are just as interesting, with the constant presence of smoky strangeness enveloping them. My favorite sequence in the film somehow mashes together both K and Elle against a flashy club-style sequence bursting with stylish excess.
It does admittedly take awhile for K to show up, and the film may have been more audience-accessible had it chosen to strictly focus on one extreme or the other. Yet, this intriguing yin-yang makes Her Private Hell a wholly unique venture. Melton’s K is undeniably the movie’s breakout character, driven by passion and purpose to satisfy a building bloodlust. The undeniable moments of eye candy emphasize Melton’s physique and feel indulgent in a way that actually works. The minimal dialogue allows Melton to do some serious pouty lips and posing, drenching the character in melancholic purpose even when he’s only tertiary to the unfolding mayhem of the Tower Hotel. Thatcher is equally great in a different way—the first half finds her much more composed, while the back half allows her true intentions and emotions to emerge. She gets an excellent chase sequence that could not be more opposite to how a horror director would typically depict or choreograph.
Vital ingredients to the package come baked within Elle’s portion. This includes new actress, Hunter (Kristine Froseth), who Elle takes under her wing despite Hunter appearing to be a vapid socialite; Elle’s weirdly flamboyant father, Johnny (Dougray Scott); and seductive connection, Nico (Diego Calva). It’s Liu’s turn as Dominique that leaves the biggest impression here, as her dynamic with Elle constantly shifts. Their relationship is as close to a real one as the movie is willing to develop for Elle, who often comes across as unlikable. The transitions into K’s part of the story are frequently seamless, and eventually culminate in the movie’s dazzling closing images.
The soap opera melodrama of Elle’s portion is tied to K’s brutal encounters by Pino Donaggio’s riveting orchestrations. Even for those who hate the film, there can be no denying the power of this score, a perfect, almost hypnotic ode to old Hollywood that understands the sci-fi strangeness of the script by Refn and co-writer Esti Giordani. That seamlessness extends all the way down to every finer detail in Her Private Hell. Fully filmed in chronological order, Refn has allowed quite a bit of improvisation and interpretation during filming. The end result speaks for itself, and feels destined for cult classic status. Hell can wait, but Her Private Hell truly must be seen to believed.
Get lost in Her Private Hell, in theaters Friday, July 24th.
