Authentic unawareness, a genuine ingenue, immediacy pressurizing the social with vindictive amorous jealousies she neither comprehends nor contemplates, august angelic agency, harpies heaven sent, an agonizing struggle having hawkishly conditioned their credence, as innocence mingles with disillusion, naivety nascently nocturnalized.
A young model whose natural beauty crushes her competitors suddenly reaches the heights they seek, forever and ever, without even having coquettishly furrowed, finding herself virulently enveloped in invariable viscosity shortly thereafter.
Unapologetically resigned.
To psychotic desire.
The Neon Demon starkly examines discourses of purity with venomous brevity and blunt exactitude.
Mortality.
Ostentation.
The hypnotic hallucinations impress as does the soundtrack and the scenes at the hotel (music by Cliff Martinez).
Director Nicolas Winding Refn pays homage to Stanley Kubrick and David Lynch and at times seems as if he may possess a similar sense of maniacal eccentricity.
The Neon Demon's hit and miss though, some scenes pulling you into a dark carnal frothing extremity which skilfully blends the opulent and the oblivious, others just sort of hangin' out and dipsy-doodling like those you often find in generic horror.
Perhaps this approach is meant to reflect young Jesse's (Elle Fanning) shock, the uplifting yet haunting psychosocial affects of elegant effortless ascendence.
A larger budget may answer this question, one which gives Refn more time to cohesively structure a sustained chaotic incrimination, a more visceral sense of bleak wanton menace, like that which you often find in both Kubrick and Lynch's darker texts.
Wave upon wave.
Liked Jena Malone's (Ruby) performance.
Jubilance.
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