Her Private Hell (Pino Donaggio)

What is it?

Her Private Hell (2026) is Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn’s latest “trip” of a film – a spacey story about a woman looking for her father, and a man looking for his daughter, as the city they live in is shrouded in a mysterious mist. It premiered out-of-competition in Cannes on May 18, 2026, to mixed reviews.

While I haven’t yet been able to see it (except for a festival screening now in August, the wide  Norwegian premiere isn’t until November 30^th), our colleagues at Montages have, and describe the film thusly: “Personal films can be so many things, and in Her Private Hell it is not obvious what [Refn] wants to tell us or why it springs from a near-death experience – but there is no doubt that the film could only have had the same effect if it had been made at this point in his career. After a couple of solid defeats, Refn would have been better served by making something for Drive fans, but instead he goes into full kamikaze mode with his toughest and most eccentric film since Only God Forgives.”

Regardless of the film’s merits, it does – at the very least – provide ample space for music. With his deep passion for Brian De Palma’s filmography, it is not surprising that Refn sought out De Palma’s musical alibi for this project, veteran Italian composer Pino Donaggio (b. 1941), who somehow manages to churn out one of the best works of his entire career late in life.

How is it?

Our friends at Montages also described the film “as a 2-hour music video for Donaggio’s music”. Which is why the score has so many self-sufficient qualities, perfectly able to stand on its own – almost like a concert work in its tone and structure. It’s also a throwback to the type of darkly romantic, sensually beautiful music that the composer used to write with regular intervals in the 70s and 80s, both for De Palma and beyond.

At the center of the score is a sumptously rich, bittersweet theme, heavy on aching strings with plenty of shameless portamento fluidity – think Carrie, Dressed to Kill or La Monaca di Monza, for example (in tracks such as «Touch of Beauty», «Beautiful People», «Dreaming of Daddy» or «Ecstasy» with its haunting female vocalise). Another central component is the dense brass and string clusters, as so often in Donaggio’s music inspired by the great Bernard Herrmann («The Arrival», «Revenge Wears Leather» or «Fists of Fury», for example) – chromatic clusters that are abrubtly cut off, and then re-started in a slightly different key.

It is a testament to Refn’s liberal musical direction that’s he’s given Donaggio carte blanche to delve into a pastiche of his own mysterioso thriller sound, without any need to update it with contemporary tropes. Donaggio, meanwhile, is impressively capable to tap into his old self. That’s not a given when you’re in your 80s, and your style and approach may have changed multiple times over the years.

But let’s not forget that Donaggio was always a very eclectic composer, equally able to emulate concurrent synth and pop sounds as he was traditional symphonic landscapes. This is on proud display in the amusing track «Retro Beauty (Jukebox)», with its loungey, dulcimer-led elegance. Brings to mind the composer’s scores for films like Morte in Vaticano, L’Attenzione or Hotel Colonial.

The only downside, really, and what shaves off a star in the rating, is the album’s poor presentation. At more than 90 minutes, it’s too long – and heavy suspense tracks that border on 10 minutes («House of Horror» and «Don’t Bring a Knife to an Axe Fight») are a bit of a slog to get through. Meanwhile, Julian Winding’s synthwave tracks (that are funky and delightful in their own way) are better served at the end rather than interspersed throughout Donaggio’s music. So prepare for a little bit of whittling to get the maximum listening flow.

This most excellent score either becomes Donaggio’s final opus magnum, or – let’s hope so – a kick-off point for a late-career blooming if other visionary directors dare to pick up where Refn left off.