Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon

If you ever find yourself wandering the humid, neon-slicked streets of New Orleans at 3:00 AM, you’ll realize the city doesn’t just feel different—it feels like it’s vibrating. That’s the exact frequency Ana Lily Amirpour tunes into with Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon. It’s a film that tastes like a blue raspberry slushie spiked with something slightly illegal, and frankly, I’m shocked more people aren’t screaming about it from their balconies.

I watched this while sitting on a very uncomfortable floor cushion because I’d just moved apartments, and the lack of furniture actually felt appropriate for a movie about a girl who owns nothing but a straightjacket and a singular, devastating stare. There is a specific kind of magic in finding a film that feels like a secret, and this one has "future cult classic" written all over its sweat-drenched walls.

A Different Kind of Girl Power

We meet our protagonist, Mona Lisa Lee, played with a haunting, quiet intensity by Jeon Jong-seo, as she’s literally breaking out of her skin—or at least out of a high-security asylum. She doesn’t talk much, but she has the power to control people’s bodies with her mind. If she looks at you, you’re her puppet. It’s a premise that could easily slide into a generic X-Men knockoff, but Amirpour is far too cool for that. Instead of saving the world, Mona Lisa just wants some snacks and a place to exist.

Then enters Kate Hudson as Bonnie Belle, a pole dancer and single mom who realizes that a girl with "the stare" is the ultimate business partner. I’ll go out on a limb here: Kate Hudson’s performance as a trashy, opportunistic New Orleans grifter is the most electric work she’s done in twenty years. She’s not "the gold-hearted stripper" trope; she’s a chaotic, selfish, and deeply relatable mess. Watching her use Mona Lisa to "withdraw" money from ATMs is both hilarious and deeply uncomfortable. Their chemistry is the engine of the film, a warped mother-daughter-manager dynamic that feels entirely fresh in an era of sanitized female friendships on screen.

Neon Noir and Sonic Landscapes

Visually, this movie is a feast of high-contrast calories. Cinematographer Pawel Pogorzelski—the guy who made the bright sunlight of Midsommar feel terrifying—does the opposite here. He makes the pitch-black New Orleans nights feel like a psychedelic playground. The camera follows Mona Lisa through the French Quarter with a floaty, detached curiosity. Every frame is saturated in electric blues and hot pinks, reflecting off the damp pavement and the greasy chrome of the cars.

And we have to talk about the sound. The score by Daniele Luppi is a heavy, rhythmic beast that keeps your pulse up even when the plot slows down to watch a character eat a piece of pizza. It’s a "vibe movie" in the truest sense. It’s basically a superhero movie for people who think Marvel movies are as exciting as watching beige paint dry. Amirpour understands that in a post-saturation world, we don't need another CGI sky-beam; we need to feel the humidity and the bass of a passing car.

Why This Movie Is Currently Hiding

Despite being a Venice Film Festival premiere, Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon seemed to vanish into the streaming ether almost immediately upon release in 2022. Why? Part of it is the "Amirpour Brand"—she makes films that are a bit too weird for the mainstream but a bit too pulpy for the high-brow art house crowd. It’s a movie that belongs in the cracks between genres.

Also, released in the wake of the pandemic, smaller indie films like this were often dumped onto VOD with about as much fanfare as a new brand of paper towels. It’s a casualty of the streaming era’s "content" obsession, where legitimate artistic voices get buried under a mountain of algorithm-friendly trash. But that’s why we’re here at Popcornizer. This film is a reminder that there is still original, vibrant storytelling happening outside the franchise machine.

Ed Skrein also turns in a surprisingly sweet performance as Fuzz, a drug-dealing DJ with a massive "Eat Me" tattoo on his neck. In any other movie, he’d be a villain or a punchline. Here, he’s one of the few people who actually treats Mona Lisa like a human being. It’s these small, subverted expectations that make the film stick in your brain long after the credits roll.

Mona Lisa and the Blood Moon is a stylish, gritty fairy tale that succeeds because it never tries to be anything other than exactly what it is. It’s a sensory-driven escape into a world of miscreants and misfits, anchored by a stellar performance from Jeon Jong-seo. If you’re tired of the same three plot structures being recycled every weekend, give this one a look. Just, you know, try not to look her in the eye.