Just watched this. There will be spoilers.
I sought this film out after seeing Bob Chipman sing such high praises a year ago. I trust this critic immensely and my thirst for good horror is relentless even in the face of serial disappointment.
And I was disappointed. I hate saying this.
Stylistically, this was a beautiful film. OMG. The grit and grime of impoverished Los Angeles contrasted with the radiance of high concept fashion is heartbreaking to the point of nausea. The aching dissonance between who you are and who you want to be has to be way over-magnified in tinsel town.
Think of all the hopefuls who struck out with nothing, hoping to breach the chasm between a grim present and a lavish future, only to be worn down, their time run out, the dream slipping through their fingers. Think of the lifers who clung on just past their expiration and watched as new blood continuously flowed in, reincarnations of their former selves; energetic, vital, and unknowing.
Now imagine how little it would take to convince such people to convert from prey to predator in a few quick, selfish, easy choices; to recoup their losses by sinking their teeth into those who were lucky enough to avoid the mistakes and disappointment with which they themselves have now made uneasy peace.
It’s one of the oldest stories in our culture. Maybe you’ve even done it to others and you’re not even 30 years old yet; talked shit about someone younger, prettier, smarter, richer, more successful, etc. Tried to hold them back in some way, or just briefly thought about it.
Thematically, it’s nothing new; a common, obvious metaphor presented literally.
Maybe whoever wrote the above synopsis on Amazon thought they were being slick, but it gives everything away. The whole story is right there.
Before I go further, I have to come clean about what bothered me most about this film, and it was the fact that Nicolas Winding Refn’s name and initials are everywhere. Like, WOW we fucking GET it. You made this whole movie. I was so put off by the in-your-face labelling, as if he himself were some kind of fashion designer.
But then… why not? Maybe this was intentional and I’m not giving the director credit for self-awareness. (I haven’t seen any of his other movies, so I can’t say.)
A fashion designer opens a scene in a diner with a booming delivery of Shakespeare’s “Once more unto the breach”, explaining to a couple models that performing comes naturally to him because he’s a creator. So all art is basically the same and he’s great at all of it.
I hope NWR isn’t actually this narcissistic but after reading his Wikipedia entry, I’ve not been dissuaded. What is it with Danish directors? [side-eyes Lars Von Trier]
The conversation turns to the models, one of whom is the lead character. The gist is, they’re all lucky they’re beautiful, because they have no talents otherwise.
Our lead, Jesse, had admitted as much in an earlier scene to her photographer/date. Her honesty and pragmatism were endearing; she wasn’t looking for sympathy for being beautiful – she just needed to make money.
But something changed during this designer’s show. The envy of those around her is transformed from threat to vindication. Eat it, bitches, is the appropriate sentiment. And you feel like it’s well deserved on Jesse’s part even though she’s done nothing but show up for the slaughter.
I was put on edge with dread for her once it came out that she was barely sixteen years old. That je ne sais quoi all her photographers and talent scouts go on about is obviously her youth. She’s an orphan child left alone in big dark rooms with strange men or out in the open with other viciously competitive models.
Literally everyone she meets in this story is a predator. No exceptions. From the first friend she made in town – the photographer/date she turns against at the end of the diner scene – to her obviously rotten landlord, everyone’s out to get her. They all just have very different ways of pursuing their prey.
And of course the worst of these is the one Jesse trusts enough to call for help. This was probably the most surprising twist in this story, and what makes it worse is that I should’ve seen it coming because it’s the oldest play in the book. There were red flags on this character, but if you were in Jesse’s position, it would be extremely hard to refuse a friendly hand when you so badly need one. Especially if you had no idea of the depths of depravity lurking under the skin of Jena Malone’s soft-spoken Ruby.
On the other hand, there’s Keanu Reeves’ character. If it weren’t for his A-list face he’d have been completely unrecognizable here. I mean, his voice was totally different and he looked ten or fifteen pounds heavier. His character was worse than garbage and wore it on his sleeve. He played it well. I was really hoping Hank the landlord would meet with a violent end.
And that brings me back to Refn. Was it cathartic for him to cast Reeves in the role of a monstrous secondary character? A wildly successful actor over 50 still seen as a sex symbol, relegated in this film to the sleaziness of an opportunistic child predator. Does that not serve to remind everyone that Mr. Silver Screen is subject to the whims of average-looking directors? Was it any different when the aforementioned designer put his former favorite model in smudged, ugly makeup for the runway while setting her young new rival in a position to upstage her?
I think there’s a parallel. I’m choosing to believe it was intentional.
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