The Neon Demon

Any image Nicolas Winding Refn captures here would easily slip into those pretty filmography montages that pop up on YouTube. The Neon Demon might be a gorgeous thing but like its stunning stars that stroll through the impressive sets it's ultimately empty. If all style and no substance was the ambition here then Refn could consider his latest a success but in bullying its easy message so heavy-handedly he comes undone.

In an eye-catching turn, Elle Fanning is Jesse, a shy and naive sixteen-year-old orphan who has arrived in LA looking to make it as a model. With a handful of stylish pictures shot by friend Dean (Karl Glusman, Love), she's signed to Christina Hendricks' agency who sets her up with a famous photographer (but advises her to lie about her age). She quickly becomes hot commodity, putting the reconstructed noses of established models – Bella Heathcote and Abbey Lee – out of joint...

A poke in the eye of the modelling industry, the Drive director gets in its sights its superficiality, cruelty and the insatiable hunger for youth and beauty, which it devours before spitting it back up. But the target is an easy one and the attack is one the nose. "Beauty isn't everything… it's the only thing," says Alessandro Nivola's particularly slimy designer. "Once you hit twenty-one in this industry you're irrelevant," says a frustrated model approaching old age (younger than twenty-four). Watching Jesse's ingénue navigate these shark-infested waters should be engaging but her character doesn't have enough meat on her bones to pull the narrative on. Despite a strong performance from Fanning, there's a real disconnect between her plight and audience sympathy.

But the striking style keeps one watching. A Lynchian vibe matched by Kubrickian framing, The Neon Demon is a squirmy, itchy watch as Refn drops us into this otherworldly universe where everything is normal but isn't. The cool visuals are backed by music that's designed to disorientate – a pounding soundtrack (Cliff Martinez's harsh electro and pummelling trance) can come out of nowhere and then just as suddenly drops out, leaving one on edge as it pulls and pushes at individual scenes. The dialogue is deliberately stilted too, like it's filtered through a dream - that half second pause between a question and the answer and the slow movements of the actors. Then there's the really weird stuff, like the puma that turns up in Jesse's seedy motel room, Keanu Reeves’ oddball (rapist?) motel manager, and Jena Malone’s makeup artist who… well, best keep that one a secret.

It will make for a snazzy trailer and its images will dominate that future YouTube compilation but the narrative shortcomings will stop The Neon Demon being embraced like Refn's Drive was.