Movie Review: HER PRIVATE HELL

By ABBIE BERNSTEIN / Staff Writer

Posted: July 22nd, 2026 / 01:50 AM

Rating: R
Stars: Sophie Thatcher, Charles Melton, Havana Rose Liu, Kristine Froseth, Dougray Scott, Diego Calva, Shioli Kutsuna, Aoi Yamada
Writers: Nicolas Winding Refn & Esti Giordani, story by Nicolas Winding Refn
Director: Nicolas Winding Refn
Distributor: Neon
Release Date: July 24, 2026

HER PRIVATE HELL is technically a horror/fantasy movie. After all, it has a serial killer who may be the Devil, with a mist and electronic glitching that heralds his arrival. Not only that, but it has Japanese fox spirits – kitsune, though that word is never used – in the forms of beautiful young women (Shioli Kutsuna, Aoi Yamada) serving as a kind of Greek chorus.

While sometimes bloody, HER PRIVATE HELL is not at all scary. It’s not discernible whether inciting fear was one of the goals of director Nicolas Winding Refn, who crafted the film’s story and co-wrote the screenplay with Esti Giordani. Refn is going for style above all here, and the look of HER PRIVATE HELL is unfailingly elegant and eye-catching.

But Refn also evidently wants the movie to be an emotional experience. It definitely is for its characters but is perhaps less so for much of the audience.

There are two stories going on in HER PRIVATE HELL. We open in a futuristic-looking city, where the Tower Hotel stretches upward into the clouds. Actor Elle (Sophie Thatcher) has a suite here, with a closet full of drop-dead designs.

Elle’s father is the powerful filmmaker Johnny Thunder (Dougray Scott). Elle has agreed to make a movie with him, only to have him disappoint her by saying he’s stepping away from the project so that Elle and her stepmother Dominique (Havana Rose Liu) can repair their complicated relationship.

Adding to the mix is gorgeous but socially off-key starlet Hunter (Kristine Froseth), who winds up crashing in Elle’s digs and borrowing a lot of her clothing.

Before leaving, Johnny tells his mostly young female cast, including Elle and Hunter, the legend of the Leather Man. He was a father whose search for his missing daughter has turned him murderous, killing young women for not being the child he seeks. Leather Man wears diamond-studded gloves and the only way to kill him is by cutting off his hands.

Strangely, this does not appear to be the plot of the sci-fi thriller Elle and Co. are making.

Meanwhile, Elle is having dreams or visions of Private K (Charles Melton), a GI in postwar Japan who believes that his own young daughter has been taken by the Leather Man. His quest has him stirring up both the local police and the yakuza.

Thatcher and Liu are both terrific. The cinematography, production design, costumes and makeup are all stunning.

But this summation of the plot probably does not do justice to the artifice of HER PRIVATE HELL. For those into visually mesmerizing concepts, it may be fulfilling. Others will find it tone-deaf both metaphorically and dialectically (The Leather Man? Really?), with characters that never resonate, even when they have intricate back stories.

It’s a lot easier to understand what Refn is attempting by reading the production notes and/or interviews with the filmmaker. However, this should not be necessary to determine what a film aims to accomplish, let alone whether it succeeds in its ambitions.

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