Polarizing Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn returns to the silver screen with The Neon Demon, a gruesome, meandering ditty about the dark underbelly of being a model in Los Angeles. A terrific Elle Fanning acts as Refn's muse here, starring as a 16-year-old named Jesse who's just arrived in town and taken up residence in a seedy Pasadena motel. The doe-eyed youngster is the picture of virginal beauty, and she soon befriends some ravenous industry vets who fawn over her natural gifts: Genial makeup artist Ruby (Jena Malone) and her aging (i.e., nearing mid-twenties) model cohorts Gigi (Bella Heathcote) and Sarah (Abbey Lee) become her new acquaintances. Meanwhile, Jesse's jaw-dropping looks attract the attention of every person she encounters, including a modelling agent (Christina Hendricks) who offers her a lucrative deal and an introverted young photographer (Karl Glusman) who falls for her. Also, Keanu Reeves shows up as the dodgy motel manager, for some reason.
At first quiet and awkward, Jesse begins to realize the power that her beauty represents. At an audition, Sarah is spurned by a mustachioed parody of a fashion designer (Alessandro Nivola), who instead takes an immediate interest in the ingénue. The audition turns out to be for a massive fashion show, an event that forces an enraged Gigi to play second fiddle to Jesse. Ruby is next in line to be wronged by her, but the details of that incident will be spared. Even the names of these people are inconsequential, though, as they're more like construction-paper cutouts of movie characters than a living, breathing part of the story. After Jesse has a sort of religious experience during a fashion show -- one that involves floating neon triangles and her own reflection -- she descends into total narcissism and becomes indistinguishable from the rest of the characters. Soon, the intense jealousy of those whom she's leapfrogged threatens to end her career.
Ugly imagery or even outright brutality have never bothered this reviewer, but when they're used as a substitute for narrative, they become hollow shocks. This was perhaps the largest problem that many had with Refn's last effort, 2013's Only God Forgives, and The Neon Demon definitely treads in that movie's footsteps. This time out, we're treated to cannibalism, murder, necrophilia, and rape -- all horrors whose existence is never justified by the world that Refn has built. The script (co-written by Refn, Mary Laws, and Polly Stenham) creates archetypal characters who elicit no emotional response, either positive or negative, from the audience. When there are no stakes, how can acts of brutality have any payoff or any grander meaning than just being splatters of blood? For all of the ultra-violent eccentricities on display, this self-proclaimed "fetish filmmaker" is more likely to bore and disillusion his viewers than offend anyone. This is pretention and poor writing dressed up as art-house cinema.
The Neon Demon seems satisfied with delivering platitudes like "people are narcissistic!" and "the modelling world is messed up!" via blunt-force trauma. Refn doesn't even attempt to question what compels the human brain to seek satisfaction, what motivates any of his characters, or what anyone is even supposed to think after viewing his film -- besides marveling at how pretty it looks. To his credit, it is a joy to look at: Refn and cinematographer Natasha Braier overload the frame with purple and red textures, striking Californian scenery, and gorgeous wide-angle shots. Braier gyrates between experimental visuals, minimalist photoshoot sets, and nightclubs filled with pulsing strobe lights, always returning to tight close-ups of the beautiful lead actresses. And frequent Refn collaborator Cliff Martinez spins another perfectly attuned electronic soundtrack.
But the juxtaposition of The Neon Demon's reprehensible characters (term used loosely) with its overwhelming exquisiteness isn't enough to make it an affecting picture. A line of dialogue boasts that beauty "isn't everything, it's the only thing," and unfortunately, Mr. Refn has allowed this mentality to undermine his filmmaking. The Neon Demon is too feeble to be satire, too self-serious to be a dark comedy, and somehow too visually pleasing to be completely ignored. Refn believes that his style can stand in for substance, and while some viewers might agree with him, most of us can only hope that this technically gifted director will eventually collaborate with a screenwriter who has something meaningful to say. But as it stands right now, he is doomed to keep making insipid pictures that only his devoted fan base will bite on.