Necrophilia. Yeah, they went there. And they went there hardcore, not just hinting or suggesting but actually showing somebody getting’ down with a corpse. Well, my day is made; how about yours? Would you be surprised if I told you that wasn’t the worst thing in this film? Yup, we got a serious winner here.
Welcome to Pretention (population: Hollywood plus you, Elle Fanning). Don’t sweat it; every serious artist visits eventually, but only a few truly make homes here. Try not to linger. In the meantime, let’s examine the wrong turn that got you there – this hypnotic and shallow reflection on the frog-eat-frog world of modeling, The Neon Demon.
It bothers me how close this title is to one that rhymes – like Nemon Demon or Neon Deion (already taken) – yes, bad titling is one of my pet peeves, but actually relevant here as The Neon Demon is all about aesthetics, and the aesthetically displeasing title underscores the failure of the artist to create an effective message thereof, dig? To me, it’s like labelling a photo of a gorgeous actress: “Beuty.”
So much is wrong with The Neon Demon, it’s hard to know where to begin. Perhaps at the opening shot where li’l orphan hayseed Jesse (Fanning) appears as a corpse having had her throat slit during a Gatsby party of some sort. Hmmm, is this a flash forward or just foreshadowing? Gonna guess foreshadowing because this murder scene is too bizarre. YES! I’m right. And yeah, linger on that shot. Zoom in. Zoom out. Dialogue schmialogue, this is art! I make beauty! Yeah, cut to cryptic triangles. What does it mean? It doesn’t matter; they’ll eat that shit up at Cannes.
Jesse is presented as the very personification of innocent beauty itself; for this picture to work on any level, you kind of have to agree with that thought. Ummm, yeah, Elle Fanning is pretty and all. But the epitome of pure honest beauty? C’mon. You can see her dark roots in every shot. Hardly matters. Point is her beauty by itself drives whatever small amount of action the film has to offer. With the gravitational pull of Venus, Jesse attracts everybody to her yard from her first encounter with make-up artist, Ruby (Jena Malone), to her entranced new photographer (Desmond Harrington), to the mountain lion in her El Lay apartment.
Yes, a mountain lion. When you’re beautiful, everybody wants a piece of you … even a mountain lion. Or cougar, or jaguar, or puma, or wildcat. BTW, have you ever considered the term “mountain lion?” It’s not a lion. It’s not even from the same continent. It’s from the cat family, sure, but we don’t call a poodle an “urban wolf,” now, do we? One little modifier is all you need? Don’t even get me started on “sea lions.” From now on, I think I’m going to call mountain lions “land lobsters.” Why not? Makes as much sense to me as “mountain lions,” “northern ocelots,” or “four-legged spiders.”
Did I mention Keanu Reeves is the motel manager for the mountain lion scene? Whoa. He wants a piece, too, but only in her dreams. I think. It’s confusing when reality presents a woman opening the door to her apartment and finding a land lobster.
Long story short, Jesse has the tool to make it all the way to the top, whatever that means. This tool is the only plot The Neon Demon has to offer. Nicolas Winding Refn, who you might remember as stylish director of the vastly overrated Drive, is lecturing us about beauty, but in the dullest 
way possible. Is beauty a beast? It doesn’t matter; all that matters is beauty. That’s the worst message I’ve heard in a month. If true beauty is all there is and it can’t be manufactured, why bother living? What motivates anyone to do anything?
Boy, they’ll call anything a thriller these days. I suppose there was one scene with knives, but wow, thrilling? Hardly. The Neon Demon is the kind of film that makes you long for sitcoms and American trash. As a piece of art, it is 100% style over substance, promoted by the kind of cinephile who flat-out refuses to see Back to the Future or Raiders of the Lost Ark. It has the unusual combination of being both shallow and self-important at the same time, which makes it laughable. One day, you’re going to agree with me on Refn; until that day, I don’t need any more of his films.
There once was a model named Jesse
Who’s beauty made everything messy
Her “friends,” all jealous
Went far beyond zealous
But it’s the director who needs to confess-y
Rated R, 117 Minutes
D: Nicolas Winding Refn, who still operates with an abbreviation for a surname, huh? Or perhaps that is some sort of title designation, like “M.D.” or “S.J.” as in “Nicolas Winding, REFN.”
W: Nicolas Winding Refn and Mary Laws & Polly Stenham
Genre: Beauty is exactly skin deep
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Fashionistas
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Substance “abusers”
