Let’s get this straight: Nicolas Winding Refn’s Her Private Hell will drive some people mad with confusion, frustration, and even narcolepsy. Others will watch it with adoring eyes and a knowing smile.

Let’s get one thing straight from the outset: Nicolas Winding Refn’s Her Private Hell will drive some viewers mad with confusion, frustration, and even narcolepsy. Others will watch it with adoring eyes and a knowing, indulgent smile.

We are now a long way from Refn’s earlier filmography, where the likes of the Pusher trilogy, Bronson, and Drive mesmerised audiences—whether through the gritty street rawness of Pusher, Tom Hardy’s ferocious performance in Bronson, or the sleek cinematic brilliance of Drive. It was always going to be difficult to replicate the meteoric impact of those early career highlights, which may explain why the Danish auteur transitioned into a far more experimental and playful phase.

Audiences constantly expect him to catch that same lightning in a bottle again. But Refn simply isn’t interested in repeating himself, and Her Private Hell is very much a film crafted strictly for the purists.

Moving Beyond The Neon Demon

Many commentators have highlighted Her Private Hell as Refn’s first feature film since 2016’s The Neon Demon. However, that narrative conveniently ignores the two major television projects he helmed in the interim: Amazon’s Too Old to Die Young and, most notably, Netflix’s Copenhagen Cowboy.

Those two series serve as the true scaffolding behind this new feature. It inherits the glacial, uncompromising pace of Too Old to Die Young and the quiet, nonsensical, color-saturated weirdness of Copenhagen Cowboy. Viewers who watched and enjoyed those series will feel far more comfortable here—they know precisely what they are getting themselves into. In hindsight, Only God Forgives and The Neon Demon were merely early markers for where Refn was heading all along.

So, What Is It All About?

Many viewers will inevitably ask what on earth is going on, and they have every right to – because the narrative feels disjointed, to put it mildly.

The film centres on Elle (Sophie Thatcher), who emerges from a thick neon mist into a quiet hotel. There, she encounters Hunter (Kristine Froseth), who is fleeing the same eerie mist following rumours of a killer known as ‘The Leather Man’. As hotels go, staff are practically non-existent; the entire setting feels vacant and surreal; are we in a dream?!

Elle’s father, Johnny Thunder (a standout name played with flair by Dougray Scott), enters the picture alongside her stepmother, Dominique (Havanna Rose Liu, recently seen in the excellent Lurker). The two women share an immediate friction over the fact that they are practically the same age. As Johnny rattles on with a ominous story about The Leather Man, Elle and Hunter witness the killer slaughtering someone in an adjacent room.

And then, all of a sudden, the narrative teleports to outer space – a trippy one too!

This space sequence – which one might deduce is part of a film within a film that the characters are shooting together – is likely where many cinema-goers will throw up their hands. Dressed in outfits resembling vintage Star Trek costumes on acid and coated in glitter, it feels so far out that taking the narrative seriously becomes a challenge.

Following this sequence, we meet Private K (Charles Melton), a father searching for his missing daughter. After witnessing The Leather Man commit another murder, Private K embarks on a violent rampage of his own—though whether his crusade is entirely necessary remains up for debate.

There are some genuinely gnarly fight sequences, and the climax goes completely bananas. Regrettably, by that point, many in the audience may have passed the threshold of caring. That pains me to admit, because as a longtime admirer of Refn’s craft, the prospect of a new feature was undeniably exciting.

Stage-Like Visuals and Breathtaking Cinematography

The physical environment here is lightyears away from the smoggy, streetlit cityscapes of Drive. Instead, the set design feels akin to an avant-garde theatrical stage – albeit one supported by a massive lighting budget. While the physical spaces look intentionally artificial, they remain awash in Refn’s signature palette of neon pinks, blues, and reds.

Director of Photography Magnus Nordenhof Jønck provides the film’s most arresting feature. Having previously collaborated with Refn on Copenhagen Cowboy (which makes a hell of a lot sense!), Jønck brings an impressive pedigree spanning grounded Danish realism (A War, A Hijacking, The Investigation) to this hyper-stylised world-building.

Jønck’s camera moves with deliberate, balletic composure. Frames are constructed with rigid symmetry, staging set-pieces like theatrical aplomb rather than standard cinematic coverage. Thick, atmospheric fog is woven through saturated planes of green and gold, transforming interior spaces into spatial puzzles reminiscent of Twin Peaks’ Red Room. Rather than relying on rapid editing during action beats, Jønck allows the camera to linger, turning brutal brawls into hypnotic dances.

If there is one saving grace to Her Private Hell, it is Jønck’s striking visual contribution. Yet visual splendour alone cannot easily sustain a 110-minute runtime.

The Score: Pino Donaggio’s Melancholic Operatics

Central to the film’s atmospheric mood is the score by legendary Italian composer Pino Donaggio. Famous for his iconic collaborations with Brian De Palma (Carrie, Dressed to Kill) and Nicolas Roeg (Don’t Look Now), Donaggio replaces the propulsive electro-synth that defined Drive with something far more operatic.

Refn noted in a recent interview that “many of the composers I wanted to work with were dead”, which gives a clear indication of the classical approach taken here. Anyone anticipating the return of electropop bangers like Kavinsky’s ‘Nightcall’ will be disappointed, though Julian Winding’s track ‘Dolce Mio’ on the soundtrack offers the closest approximation. Hearing that track over the closing credits almost stings as a reminder of what could have been.

Donaggio’s score operates like a classical fairytale motif twisted through a modern nightmare. Indeed, Her Private Hell is explicitly framed as a dark fairytale—with a subtle tip of the hat to Hans Christian Andersen right at the start.

Final Verdict

Ultimately, Her Private Hell will disappoint many fans and infuriate casual viewers. Those discovering Refn’s work for the first time without having seen his recent television series will likely be left bewildered.

Despite a strong cast, gorgeous lighting, and a fascinating score, the project frequently feels less like a cohesive narrative feature and more like an experimental theatre piece or art installation. Perhaps repeat viewings might allow some to discover a hidden masterpiece beneath the neon mist, but for most, returning to this film would feel like their own private hell.

Her Private Hell is out in cinemas now in the UK – go see it to make your own judgement!