Nicolas Winding Ref’s Copenhagen Cowboy employs the filmmaker’s trademark visual and aesthetic style in a stunning and evocative manner, all while transplanting them into a serialized format. It’s a work that is more interested in creating mood and atmosphere; the plot becomes secondary in Refn’s desire to help us settle into a more contemplative headspace through the measured pacing, the time to breath and ruminate during conversations, and the rhythms of the score – paired with the shifting neon hues that draw us deeper into the atmosphere. Angela Bundalovic’s performance as Miu is outstanding, impassive and silent for so much of the series, yet conveying incredible emotion with the shift of her eyes or a turn of her head. Refn’s focus on mood is helped by the very slow reveal of his protagonist’s history, her abilities, and her eventual plans. And for those with patience enough to engage with the story that is being presented here, there’s something endlessly compelling about the way Miu attempts to protect and avenge those who are being exploited by the powerful in a system that provides few options to the undocumented, women, and immigrants. In a work that uses the exploitation of others as its inciting incident, it’s refreshing so see that Refn doesn’t shoot these scenes exploitively, or for the audience’s visual pleasure or gratification. At the same time, the skewering of male bravado and narcissism is sharp, pointed, and so accurate. This blending of the supernatural mystery and the crime thriller, alongside philosophical ruminations on exploitation, vengeance and justice, and the fragile egos of men is a unique and singular viewing experience.