★★☆☆☆

Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest film Her Private Hell doubles down on his signature style of experimental filmmaking, crafting a film baptized in psychologically unmoored execution.

Her Private Hell is an overworked, abstract piece of concept filmmaking that swings big but ultimately fails to hit.

“An overworked, abstract piece of concept filmmaking that swings big but ultimately fails to hit.”

The first act is dull and not particularly engaging. The simplistic concept could have been introduced with far more precision and urgency.

Instead of simply establishing the characters for who they are—rich and famous from different walks of life, including an influencer, a nepo baby, and her best friend turned stepmother—the film spends too much time overcomplicating its setup.

The script, which Refn co-wrote with Esti Giordani, feels overworked and cluttered. Beneath all of its excess lies a fairly standard family drama, presented as something much grander than it actually is.

Even the characters are built up unnecessarily. Elle’s father is a rich and powerful man, one who is famous and bizarre beyond simply being obsessed with beautiful people and beautiful things.

As if being wealthy, famous, and having a wife closer to his daughter’s age doesn’t already make the point, the film insists on turning it into an elaborate cinematic buildup.

Refn and Giordani then introduce the masked killer, The Leatherman, creating an underlying storyline that functions more as a metaphorical extension of the character arc than as something that genuinely adds to the narrative. It feels like a basic concept dressed up as auteur cinema.

Coming from a director with Refn’s background, the film could have gone either way. It would have been far more engaging and distinctly crafted had it leaned closer to Drive rather than pushing even further beyond Only God Forgives in its pursuit of artistic auteur filmmaking.

Magnus Nordenhof Jønck’s cinematography is interesting, to say the least. He carefully selects his lighting and compositions to create illuminating images that offer insight into the world Refn is trying to build.

There are several beautifully executed sequences, particularly those where the backgrounds remain simple and the characters become the focus. The camera is allowed to capture both the performances and the emotional divide without the gawky, mist-filled visuals that often look cheap and distracting.

“The camera is allowed to capture both the performances and the emotional divide without the gawky, mist-filled visuals.”

While the production design and world-building largely don’t work, there are moments that feel genuinely vibrant and blissful. Unfortunately, the majority of the film is bogged down by cheap-looking mist effects and a futuristic neon atmosphere that comes across as grungy rather than tasteful.

The visuals end up feeling overcompensating instead of simply allowing the story to remain engaging.

Refn’s vision lacks depth. He takes a straightforward concept and attempts to over-stylize it, turning a simple story about a daughter whose father is only present when it’s convenient for him into something unnecessarily elaborate.

She has a rich and powerful father and the privileges of being a nepo baby. The world is at her fingertips, yet none of it matters because, at her core, she feels unloved. He gives her everything except the one thing she truly wants—his time.

It’s a simple family drama that lacks depth, meaningful character growth, and genuine emotional development. Rather than trusting that premise, the film relies on subplots and distorted visuals to elevate a concept that has potential but rests on a weak and unsubstantial script.

Pino Donaggio’s score often feels designed to distract the viewer and reinforce the film’s sense of artistic exploration rather than complement what is actually happening on screen.

The fight sequence between Agent K and the gangsters features one of the most bizarre musical choices in the film. The score is so mismatched that it stops feeling experimental and instead becomes pure overkill. It tries so hard to be artistically authentic that it ultimately collapses under its own ambition.

“The score tries so hard to be artistically authentic that it ultimately collapses under its own ambition.”

Sophie Thatcher’s performance is the film’s saving grace. She carries the weight of the entire production with remarkable balance, capturing a daughter desperate for love with genuine emotional conviction.

She convincingly portrays both the confident pop star seemingly on top of the world and the vulnerable young woman longing to be loved by both her father and her stepmother, whose shared history proves to be far more complicated than it first appears. In many ways, she captures the emotional core of the film through her performance.

Her Private Hell is a bizarre exploration of style that never sticks the landing. The script is muddled and overcomplicates a simple concept with unnecessary subplots.

It ultimately feels like a less visually engaging, less entertaining, and more convoluted version of Sucker Punch—a film that overworks a straightforward concept in an effort to create something profound, when simplicity would have served it far better.

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