No one can accuse Nicholas Winding Ref’n of keeping thing simple.
Directed by Ref’n, Her Private Hell takes place in a futuristic metropolis and tells the story of Elle (Sophie Thatcher), the daughter of the mysterious businessman, Johnny Thunder (Dougray Scott). Struggling with her father’s recent marriage to her friend, Dominque (Havana Rose Liu), Elle attempts to avoid a deadly and elusive entity. At the same time, her journey is mysteriously woven together with that of an American GI who’s willing to go to hell and back to rescue his daughter
In Private Hell, Ref’n unleashes his most wild sensibilities. Though always known for pushing cinematic boundaries, Private Hell truly gives him the opportunity to lean into his unique style of visual storytelling in an almost unhinged manner. As a result, the film feels like a leap forward (and backward) for the famed director.
It’s worth noting that much of the film is absolutely stunning cinematically. Every shot of Private Hell feels meticulously crafted to tell its own story. Built upon a palette that bleeds between deep crimson reds and bright neon colours, the film looks gorgeous from the opening frame to the final credits. In fact, one could easily argue that Hell feels like an alternative cousin to Blade Runner, visually painting a futuristic world that’s mysteriously ominous to the eyes. (However, while Blade Runner bathed itself in shadows, Hell burns with far brighter hues for the most part.) Ref’n has always been a masterful visual storyteller and Private Hell feels like it could be the next evolution for the director.
However, the strength of Ref’n’s cinematic sensibilities can come at a cost.
By leaning into his visual presentation, Ref’n’s narrative clarity disappears into the background. Lines between narratives are intentionally blurred to the point that the film becomes extremely difficult to follow. For some fans, the film may feel like a delightful dream that weaves its stories together into a rich tapestry of chaos. However, for the average viewer,Private Hell is almost unintelligible, immersing the viewer with metaphorical monsters and madness.
And admittedly, that realization becomes really disappointing as Private Hell appears to have so much to say. Elle’s journey into darkness carries shades of an empowerment narrative in the wake of sexual assault. (This also includes the family drama between herself and Dominique, a trio that create a compelling exploration of the psychological damage that happens in the aftermath of that form of abuse.) What’s more, Melton’s Private K fights for his daughter with passion but seems to emotionally evolve as the film develops. Each of these stories seems like an opportunity to say something powerful… yet each feels like it’s been missed.
Performances within the film are also strong amidst the film’s campy tone. As Elle, Sophie Thatcher feels as though she’s confidently stepped out of 1960s B-level science fiction. Havana Rose Liu continues a remarkable year of diverse performances with some deliciously malicious work as Dominique. And Charles Melton storms around the scenery with a strange mix of ferocity and kindness. Every member of the cast understand the assignment, capturing Ref’n’s bizarre intentions with the proper level of silliness and heartbreak.
Even so, none of these things are able to salvage a story that becomes increasingly incoherent. As Ref’n gives himself more freedom to embrace his personal style, Private Hell simply cannot hold its narrative together. As a result, every attempted narrative loses its way, stumbling in front of one another in ways that make them difficult to penetrate.
In short, Her Private Hell is very pretty… but also very, very messy.
Ref’n undoubtedly has his fans and certainly has films to his credit that are well worth celebrating. (Personally, I’m a huge admirer of his work in Drive.) But bluntly, Her Private Hell does not have the cohesiveness or accessibility to become one of those films of his that will likely be remembered fondly.
Her Private Hell is available in theatres on Friday, July 24th, 2026.