The Neon Denom or How To Get Away With Cliché.

Following the success of Goslings' electro odyssey in Drive, Refn decided to strike back. Only this time around, the victim of his art is none other than the ever elegant, ever virgin suicide-esque, Elle Fanning. Caught in a pool full of skinny, plastic model sharks (wink wink Abbey Lee), Elle's character is in for a hell of a ride in the hellish City of Angels. Visually slayin' each and every scene and acoustically exciting (Sia's original track currently on repeat), the Neon Denom is deliciously appealing to the intellectual movie buff eye more than the brain, often reminiscent of Kubrick and Lynchian art. However, this is not a movie to watch in the cinema or at home. It can only be appreciated in the surroundings of minimal art walls (hello Moma) otherwise it is doomed to leave you guessing why the fuck you spent your Saturday night witnessing a plot deprived movie about robotic models feeding off each others' beauty (literally there is cannibal moments throughout). Kudos to the styling choices and makeup, for the category afficionados there is a lot to take in and on occasion vomit out. ;)

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