Danish director Jesper Isaksen follows in the footsteps of his mentor, Nicolas Winding Refn, to create his own dark thriller in Victim of Love. Charly (Rudi Køhnke) is posted up in a hotel called The Majestic in Copenhagen. He is looking for his American girlfriend, Amy, who disappeared under questionable circumstances at this same hotel. Not finding any clues, he goes to the hotel bar for a drink. He is approached there by the beautiful and stylish young receptionist in black club gear named Felicija (Siff Andersson). She playfully asks him to follow her, and he does, becoming distracted from his investigation. Felicija leads him to a club, and then down a rabbit hole of a dark, surreal nightmare. Booze and drugs do not help, and he loses track of what is real and what’s hallucinatory. Charly is wildly out of place in his Hawaiian flower shirt, but he stays to hang out with Felicija.  

Soon enough, he’s alone with her, and there are more drugs and sex. She’s dominant, choking him while in the act. Felicija is a force of nature. Later, Charly has a dream of Felicija being murdered in a BDSM ritual, and wakes in a fright. One wonders if Charly’s search would be more productive if he dialed back the drinking, drugs, and sex with leather-clad party girls. It’s clear from Charly’s glassy eyes that critical thinking is not his top priority on this trip. The next night, he is back at the bar, listening to jokes from the bartender, Frederick (Paw Tendrup). Frederick sends him to a club where he meets a stripper named Chloe (Sabrina Ferguen). He is talking to her in a private room when he experiences a strange, violent episode and flees. Next up is drunken karaoke in another bar. Charly seems to have a demon following him, or he is a demon, a shadowy punisher-masked figure that lurks in the darkest corners of his mind.  Is Charly’s destiny to find Amy? Is he really even looking? Is any of this real? 

“… his American girlfriend disappeared under questionable circumstances …”

Cinematographer Mathias Tegtmeier paints Charly as the only focus in a small circle of dim neon light with shadows reaching for him. The full immersion experience extends into the soundtrack. A heavy synth soundscape is every bit as much of a factor as the cinematography. Charly is surrounded by darkness, literally, figuratively, and sonically. Like Refn, Isaken layers the film in Lynchian tones and sound effects rising and falling like waves. This film is all about aesthetics and atmosphere, overriding considerations like coherent plot or continuity. Isaksen crafts a dark, rich, and dreamlike environment, trapping Charly in an unexpected ordeal. Victim of Love has dialogue in both Danish and English, lending to the overall strangeness in the texture of the film. Køhnke brings a dark intensity to the role of Charly. This film’s style owes much to Only God Forgives, Refn’s 2013 film starring Ryan Gosling. There is also a hint of body horror around the edges, reminiscent of David Cronenberg’s work. 

Victim of Love is a distinctive mood, long on atmosphere, but short on concrete clarifications. As such, whether a viewer enjoys it or not will depend on how much tolerance one has for ambiguity and the inscrutable arthouse cinema vibe. Isaksen perhaps tried too hard to find the intersection between Refn, Lynch, and Cronenberg. This film is a glossy, high-quality imitation, but it needs more original substance. 

Learn more at the official Victim of Love website.