"Neon Demon" Lights Up The Art Of Cinema

In the vicious cycle of envy and vanity, which came first? Are people vain because others envy them, or are people envious because of vanity's perceived benefits? This is a question, along with many others, raised by the colorful and controversial thriller "The Neon Demon." The film gives new meaning to keeping up appearances, diabolically satirizing the byproducts of modeling (most pointedly, body image) with razor-like precision. It's a story that's been told many times before -- a young woman, Jessie, moves to L.A. to follow her dreams and discovers their true cost -- but it's never been told quite like this. Fueled by lurid psychology and hauntingly poetic imagery, "The Neon Demon" is a beautiful movie about the ugliness of human nature.

The film's numerous artistic merits place its director, Nicolas Winding Refn, on par with other modern auteurs like Darren Aronofsky, Brian De Palma, and David Lynch. Refn paints "Demon" with a sumptuous visual palette that you literally can't look away from, even during the opening and closing credits. The uses of light and color are exquisite, ranging from near-blinding saturation in scenes where all eyes are on Jessie, to ethereal disorientation in scenes where your own eyes struggle to process the muted frames. These techniques illustrate the moods of the film and the desires of its characters above and beyond other cinematic endeavors in recent memory. In addition, the movie's sublime, immersive soundtrack was provided by composer Cliff Martinez (who contributed an equally stellar score for Refn's 2011 hit "Drive"). The images and the music are effectively paired as the heartbeat and pulse of the story, seamlessly thrusting forward all of its nonverbal tension. Not since Air's compositions for 2000's "The Virgin Suicides" has a contemporary film score felt so vivid and essential. I wouldn't be surprised if the movie garners several technical nominations when award season rolls around, particularly in the art direction, cinematography, and sound categories.

Despite all of its gorgeous trappings, "Demon" would be an empty exercise without key players to carry out its destiny. At only 18 years old, lead actress Elle Fanning is wise enough beyond her years to capture Jessie's tragic allure and aloof naïveté but still remain sympathetic. Her formidable ability to communicate so much range and depth with glances and facial expressions, especially during the photo shoots, is almost intimidating. After roles in 2011's "Super 8" and 2014's "Maleficent," Fanning's first foray into a more mature and demanding role is breathtakingly honest and vulnerable work to rival any other actress in-the-making. Casting a bigger name in the role would have defeated the purpose of the character: witnessing the birth of an ingenue and beholding her ascent.

The other actresses, Bella Heathcote and Abbey Lee, bring an icy edge to their parts as established models who are threatened by Jessie's instant success. Their competitive streak suggests the "dangerous blonde" motif of which film noir was so fond, but they take it to the next level with intentional self-awareness. There are no bimbo models to be found here; instead, these shrewd, calculating femme fatales are in control and will stop at nothing to stay that way. Meanwhile, the cast's secret weapon is Jena Malone, who plays makeup artist Ruby with a calm, confident presence that belies her task to deliver some of the movie's biggest surprises. Her chillingly downplayed scenes in front of mirrors, as she slowly touches up her assorted tones and shades, are a twisted version of donning armor in the battle against her own insecurities and the judgments of the world at large.

Rounding out the cast are stars like Christina Hendricks (from AMC's critically acclaimed series "Mad Men") and the one and only Keanu Reeves, but their screen time is limited to a small handful of scenes that still manage to pack a wallop. Hendricks only appears in one extended sequence as an agent at Jessie's modeling agency, and while it would have been nice to see her do more, she adequately provides a brief voice of reason. This agent may be a corporate woman who prioritizes the business, but at least outwardly, she still has values and hasn't lost her way like the others. At the same time, less of Reeves would have been welcome. His motel owner character is thoroughly despicable and involved in some truly unfortunate scenarios, performed convincingly enough to make you forget his typically laughable "whoa..." demeanor. 

These two people are joined by others who glide in and out of the scenery with little fanfare -- a well-meaning suitor, an unyielding photographer, a pretentious designer. It's not lazy or shallow writing; they all act as placeholders who are deliberately treated as disposable on Jessie's misguided path to stardom. Their minimal involvement also establishes a predominantly female perspective among the main characters, which is authenticated by the participation of Refn's co-writers Mary Laws and Polly Stenham. "Demon" could pass the infamous Bechdel test; its women don't talk about men as much as other depictions of models have done. Rather, they understand the elusive power that they hold and consider it their currency. By dissecting that sway in their industry and in society, the film offers some profound insights about the undue pressures that are forced on women. I stop short of calling the movie feminist empowerment, but it's certainly a provocative cautionary tale that feels especially timely in the wake of unrelentingly vacuous "celebrities" on social media.

The disturbing final act, though undeniably hard to watch, resonates beyond just mere shock value. Audiences will undoubtedly find it divisive (about a dozen people walked out of the screening I attended), but it's a barometer for how much they really "get" what the filmmakers are trying to accomplish. Sure, the closing scenes could have easily been depicted with a little more restraint, but it just furthers the study in contrasts that the film was presenting all along (albeit more graphically). It's only then that "Demon" begins to approach the gratuitous and the grotesque, even dipping a toe into them, but the movie never fully submerges into exploitation because it's grounded in its message. 

There is no actual demon to speak of, neon or otherwise, except for the one that humanity has made. Our collective fixation on beauty and perfection -- our obsession with them and elevation of them -- is a doomed pursuit, most clearly evidenced by the erotically-charged centerpiece of the film. As Jessie prepares to walk the runway as the final model (the highest honor) in her very first fashion show, she is confronted by a vision and a deep awareness of her potential. All she has to do is surrender to the false idolatry of self above others. In that defining moment, who among us would truly be able to resist such primal temptation? We have all been that demon, and new monsters are created every day when we allow ourselves to focus on the trivial, the material, and the external.

A title like "The Neon Demon" sums up the film perfectly: a brilliantly brutal metaphor about the corruptive and consumptive nature of fame, as well as the desperate lengths that people are willing to go for even the most fleeting taste. Icarus lost his wings by flying too close to the sun, and the same can be said about young angels who stand too close to the spotlight.