The Neon Demon (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2016)

On the face of it, Winding Refn should be on safer ground here than with his last outings with the subject of the fashion industry: it's very much a case of shooting fish in a barrel. Indeed, the first half of the film manages a fitting and hypnotic air of dislocation and insanity as a hopelessly naive teenage model new to L.A. has to ride the vitriol of rivals who are instantly threatened by her flavour-of-the-month status. But the story paints itself into a corner before too long, and all of the director's hyperstylisation can't paper over the thinness of the story as it turns to ludicrous horror excess. It's a lot like Black Swan and has almost all the same faults.
Ironically, this means that Winding Refn ends up proving yet again that he's as much guilty of gloss over content as the world he's purporting to attack, and you have to remind yourself how once upon a time, before Hollywood, he actually created characters and scenarios that you could give a shit about.

5/10