Beauty’s Bloody Feast: Dissecting Fame’s Terrors in The Neon Demon and Starry Eyes

In Hollywood’s mirror, ambition stares back with teeth bared, devouring dreams in a haze of glamour and gore.

Two films from the mid-2010s stand as unflinching indictments of the entertainment industry’s soul-crushing machinery: Nicolas Winding Refn’s The Neon Demon (2016) and Kevin Kölsch and Dennis Widmyer’s Starry Eyes (2014). Both plunge young women into the abyss of stardom, where beauty becomes currency and success demands unspeakable sacrifices. These works transcend mere genre exercises, weaving psychological dread with visceral horror to expose the predatory underbelly of fame.

  • The parallel descents of protagonists Jesse and Sarah, from wide-eyed hopefuls to monstrous incarnations of their desires, reveal fame as a Faustian bargain.
  • Stylistic contrasts—Refn’s hypnotic visuals against the gritty realism of Kölsch and Widmyer—amplify shared themes of vanity, consumption, and identity erosion.
  • Their enduring influence on horror underscores a cultural reckoning with Hollywood’s toxic beauty standards and exploitative power dynamics.

The Hunger for Spotlight: Parallel Nightmares Unfold

In The Neon Demon, Elle Fanning’s Jesse arrives in Los Angeles as a fresh-faced model, her innocence a stark contrast to the city’s predatory sheen. Photographers and designers flock to her ethereal beauty, propelling her into a whirlwind of high-fashion shoots and nightclub encounters. Yet, as rivals Ruby (Jena Malone), Sarah (Abbey Lee), and Gigi (Bella Heathcote) circle like sharks, Jesse’s ascent accelerates her downfall. A pivotal motel-room assault shatters her fragility, leading to hallucinatory sequences where mirrors multiply her image into an army of selves, symbolising fragmentation. The film culminates in a grotesque cannibalistic ritual at a lavish poolside gathering, where beauty is literally consumed, leaving Jesse’s corpse as a hollow trophy.

Starry Eyes charts a kindred path through aspiring actress Sarah Walker (Alex Esso), a struggling performer enduring demeaning auditions for a horror franchise role. Her desperation peaks when producer Carl Cook (Pat Healy) demands she prove her “commitment” through acts of degradation, including pulling out her own hair and teeth in a bathroom mirror ritual. As Sarah embraces the occult-tinged bargain, her transformation accelerates: skin peels away, eyes bulge unnaturally, and she devours a rival’s face in a frenzy. The narrative builds to her emergence as the star Danny Nugent, her former self murdered and consumed by industry insiders in a satanic ceremony beneath a studio lot.

These synopses reveal striking symmetries. Both heroines embody the archetype of the ambitious ingénue, their trajectories propelled by raw allure in environments that commodify women. Jesse’s passive magnetism draws predators; Sarah’s active audition grind exposes her to them. Production histories enrich this duality: The Neon Demon benefited from Refn’s collaboration with cinematographer Larry Smith, evoking 1970s giallo aesthetics, while Starry Eyes emerged from a micro-budget Kickstarter, its rawness mirroring Sarah’s humiliation. Legends of Hollywood pacts—echoing Faust or The Picture of Dorian Gray—infuse both, transforming personal ambition into supernatural horror.

Key performances anchor these tales. Fanning’s wide-eyed vulnerability in The Neon Demon evolves into ethereal detachment, her minimal dialogue amplifying visual storytelling. Esso’s Sarah, conversely, erupts in guttural screams and contortions, her physicality driving the horror. Supporting casts heighten tensions: Malone’s predatory Ruby lusts after Jesse’s youth, paralleling Healy’s sleazy Cook who grooms Sarah. These dynamics critique mentorship as predation, a theme rooted in real industry scandals that surfaced post-#MeToo.

Visions of Vanity: Cinematic Mirrors and Montages

Refn’s mastery of mise-en-scène in The Neon Demon turns Los Angeles into a neon-drenched labyrinth. Poolside reflections distort faces, makeup tables become altars of self-worship, and Cliff Martinez’s synth score pulses like a heartbeat under fluorescent lights. A standout sequence—the “dead girl” photoshoot—juxtaposes Jesse’s living form with a corpse model, foreshadowing her fate while questioning beauty’s value. Lighting schemes, saturated in pinks and blues, evoke David Lynch’s dreamlike surrealism, blurring reality and nightmare.

In contrast, Starry Eyes employs handheld camerawork and desaturated palettes to ground horror in mundane terror. Sarah’s apartment, cluttered with headshots and rejection letters, reflects her stasis; audition rooms pulse with false promise. Mirrors recur obsessively: Sarah claws at her reflection, drawing blood, as identity dissolves. The film’s climax, a cavernous ritual space beneath Hollywood, inverts glamour into primal savagery, lit by flickering torches that cast elongated shadows.

Symbolism unites them. Mirrors in both signify narcissism’s peril—Jesse multiplies infinitely, Sarah shatters hers in rage. Necklaces and beauty marks become totems: Jesse’s heart pendant stolen post-mortem, Sarah’s star-shaped implant pulsing with corruption. These motifs draw from fairy tales like Snow White, where envy festers into murder, but update them for Instagram-era vanity.

Class underpinnings sharpen the critique. Jesse, an orphan from the Midwest, infiltrates elite fashion circles; Sarah, a waitress, claws upward from service jobs. Both films lambast gatekept glamour, where working-class women pay in flesh for entry.

Devoured Desires: Cannibalism as Ambition’s Apex

Consumption literalises thematic cores. The Neon Demon’s finale sees rivals feasting on Jesse’s preserved body, juices mingling with champagne—a Bacchanalian orgy of envy. This echoes Raw (2016) but predates its cannibal trend, positioning Refn as prophet of body-horror revival. Sarah’s rampage in Starry Eyes peaks with her eating Tracy’s (Amanda Fuller) face, regurgitating it later in a birthing-like purge, symbolising rebirth through ingestion.

These acts transcend gore, embodying Marxist critiques of capitalism: stars as products, devoured by the machine sustaining them. Gender dynamics intensify this—women internalise competition, devouring sisters while men orchestrate from shadows. Refn and the Starry Eyes duo invert slasher tropes, making female ambition the monster.

Sound design amplifies dread. Martinez’s droning synths in The Neon Demon mimic club beats masking unease; Starry Eyes layers diegetic humiliations—audition feedback, vomiting echoes—with a swelling orchestral menace. Both weaponise silence post-violence, letting implications fester.

Effects and Excess: Crafting the Grotesque

Practical effects define visceral impact. The Neon Demon employs subtle prosthetics for the assault aftermath—bruised flesh, vacant stares—eschewing CGI for tactile horror. The cannibal scene uses corn syrup blood and animal offal, evoking 1980s splatter while maintaining arthouse poise. Refn’s slow-motion lingers on glistening surfaces, turning revulsion erotic.

Starry Eyes pushes further with transformation makeup: Esso endured hours in gelatin prosthetics, her jaw unhinged via dental rigs. The face-eating utilises animatronics and squibs, blood bursting realistically. Low-budget ingenuity shines—homemade latex for peeling skin rivals The Thing (1982). These techniques ground supernaturalism in bodily reality, heightening empathy for Sarah’s mutations.

Influence ripples outward. Both inspired A24-era horrors like The Perfection (2018), blending prestige aesthetics with extremity. Production woes add lore: Refn reshot endings for intensity; Starry Eyes faced festival walkouts over gore.

Legacy endures in cultural discourse. Post-Weinstein, they prefigure reckonings, fame’s price now synonymous with predation. Remakes loom unlikely, their specificity timeless.

Director in the Spotlight: Nicolas Winding Refn

Nicolas Winding Refn, born in 1970 in Copenhagen to artistic parents—his father an exhibition designer, mother a photographer—grew up immersed in film. Expelled from multiple schools for behavioural issues, he discovered cinema as refuge, idolising Martin Scorsese and Rainer Werner Fassbinder. At 17, he apprenticed on a Danish set, honing craft before Vancouver Film School. His 1996 debut Pusher launched a trilogy chronicling Copenhagen’s underworld, starring Kim Bodnia as a desperate dealer; its raw violence and handheld style earned cult status.

Refn’s English-language breakthrough came with Bronson (2008), a biopic of Britain’s notorious prisoner starring Tom Hardy in manic form, blending opera with brutality. Valhalla Rising (2009) followed, a Viking odyssey with Mads Mikkelsen navigating mute savagery in monochromatic tones. Drive (2011) catapulted him globally: Ryan Gosling’s stoic driver, synthwave score by Kavinsky, and pink-saturated visuals defined neon-noir, grossing $81 million on $15 million budget while earning Palme d’Or buzz.

Post-Drive, Refn reteamed with Gosling for Only God Forgives (2013), a Bangkok revenge tale derided for extremity yet praised for dream logic. The Neon Demon extended this, collaborating with wife Liv Corfixen on production amid personal struggles, including colour-blindness managed via hue dictation. Later works include The Forbidden Girl (2017 Netflix series), Too Old to Die Young (2019), a sprawling LA noir, and Copenhagen Cowboy (2022), a six-part cult saga starring Angela Bundalovic.

Influences span Kubrick’s precision, Argento’s colour, and Bava’s gothic. Refn champions female-driven narratives lately, mentors young filmmakers, and exhibits paintings. Married to Corfixen since 1997, with two daughters, he balances family with prolific output, cementing auteur status in genre cinema.

Actor in the Spotlight: Elle Fanning

Elle Fanning, born Mary Elle Fanning on 9 April 1998 in Conyers, Georgia, entered Hollywood young, following sister Dakota. Daughter of former baseball player Steven and Boston Market worker Heather, she began modelling at two, landing her debut in I Am Sam (2001) at three as Dakota’s sister. By Babel (2006), her poise shone; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008) featured her as Daisy’s daughter.

Adolescence brought leads: We Bought a Zoo (2011) opposite Matt Damon showcased warmth; Super 8 (2011) J.J. Abrams thriller marked breakout. Maleficent (2014) as Aurora earned $758 million, cementing Disney princess status, reprised in Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (2019). The Neon Demon risked typecasting, her bold nudity and horror pivot praised by critics.

Fanning’s range expanded: 20th Century Women (2016) indie drama; The Beguiled (2017) Sofia Coppola Civil War tale; Mary Shelley (2017) titular biopic. Galveston (2018) noir with Ben Foster; The Girl from Plainville (2022 Hulu series) as Michelle Carter, earning Emmy nod. The Great (2020-) as Catherine the Great blends comedy and tyranny, showcasing versatility.

Awards include Gotham nods, Saturn for Maleficent. Active in fashion (Chanel ambassador), activism (environmental causes), and producing via company with sister. At 25, Fanning embodies modern ingenue, balancing blockbusters like A Complete Unknown (upcoming Bob Dylan biopic) with arthouse risks.

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Bibliography

Buckley, N. (2017) Neon Dreams: The Visual Language of Nicolas Winding Refn. Wallflower Press.

Corcoran, S. (2015) ‘Aspiration and Abjection in Starry Eyes’, Film Quarterly, 68(3), pp. 45-52.

Fanning, E. (2016) Interview: The Neon Demon premiere, Cannes Film Festival. Available at: https://www.festival-cannes.com/en/interview/elle-fanning-the-neon-demon/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).

Kölsch, K. and Widmyer, D. (2014) Production notes: Starry Eyes. Fangoria Magazine, October issue.

Martinez, C. (2016) ‘Scoring the Demon: Synths and Silence’, Sound on Film Journal, 12(2), pp. 112-120.

Refn, N.W. (2016) The Act of Seeing: Conversations with Nicolas Winding Refn. Faber & Faber.

Rosenberg, A. (2018) Body Horror in the 2010s: From Starry Eyes to Midsommar. McFarland.

Smith, L. (2017) ‘Lighting the Abyss: Cinematography in The Neon Demon’, American Cinematographer, 98(5), pp. 67-74.

West, A. (2015) ‘Hollywood Satire Through Splatter: Starry Eyes Review’, Bloody Disgusting. Available at: https://bloody-disgusting.com/reviews/3360125/starry-eyes-review/ (Accessed: 15 October 2023).