"Totally off the boil"? "Completely cuckoo"? "Slick with blood and glitter paint"? "Descent into supermodel hell"? Count me in! The few formal reviews published so far have been similarly enticing, with Variety's Owen Gleiberman stating in his altogether mixed assessment: "Beauty mingles with mangled flesh, and each fastidiously slick image seems to have come out of Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me or The Shining or a very sick version of a Calvin Klein commercial." Telegraph critic Robbie Collin, meanwhile, called it "depraved" (and not necessarily in a bad way).
For all I know, The Neon Demon will enrage me just as much as it did that Spanish heckler, but I'm all right with that. As much as Refn's last film Only God Forgives confounded me and occasionally tested my patience, there are moments and scenes (particularly one scene) that have burrowed themselves deeply into my psyche. Refn imbued that film with a dreamlike, often nightmarish, quality that I haven't managed to completely shake, and I'll take that feeling over the dispensable buzz of a serviceable-but-unimaginative crowd-pleaser like The Conjuring any day of the week. The horror genre is supposed to be transgressive, and we need more movies like The Neon Demon -- hecklers be damned.
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