Nicolas Winding Refn's "Copenhagen Cowboy" is a nice redundancy

When Nicolas Winding Refn made the leap from theatrical films to streaming series for the first time, he followed in the oversized footsteps of his indulgent predecessors: he went a long way. “Too Old To Die Young,” his 2019 Prime Video original, isn’t just 13 hours long; that's three hours longer than the 10-hour season he was supposed to shoot. Like David Lynch returning to "Twin Peaks", Refn was initially hooked by the prospect of telling a story that unfolded over whatever length of time he felt was sufficient, but (also like Lynch) the Danish provocateur was even more enthralled by the way whose streaming has reshaped the former. He believed that young audiences saw the Internet "as a kind of coexistence – as if it was a beam around them in which they moved back and forth", and he made his first television show to be consumed in the same way. Watch the 13 hours, start to finish, or just pick up in the middle – like everyone who reviewed its Cannes premiere was compelled to do – and stop it whenever you want.

"Enjoy the experience," Refn said in 2019. "Thirteen hours is a long time in someone's life."

"Too Old To Die Young" didn't exactly take the world by storm. While Prime Video doesn't release viewing stats, the company hasn't picked up any additional episodes either (and the announcement prompted more expectant shrugs than scorned outrage). Still, Refn's interest in streaming itself — exploring how audience experience could and should affect their choices as a writer and director — was thrilling. Rather than simply bloat a two-hour story into an eight-hour limited series (or cash in on a paycheck at the height of cutting-edge TV content), Refn wanted to tailor his craft specifically for streaming. Art mediums! What a concept!

Unfortunately, "Copenhagen Cowboy" is a step backwards. Not only does Refn's new Netflix series check all of the author's signature boxes – searing neon light, near-silent protagonist, synth-heavy Cliff Martinez score – while revisiting the plots, scenes and even shots of its feature films (“Only God Forgives” and “The Neon Demon” seem particularly consequent), but it is so slow to develop, so obtuse and open, the first season does not feel like a season at all; it feels like a pilot. Refn didn't create a series that fans can jump in and out of, he created one that doesn't even kick off until we've spent six hours of a blurry, idea-generating setup. This is not the job of someone who looks to the future, but of someone who repeats the mistakes of the past - sometimes on purpose, sometimes not.

Meet Miu (Angela Bundalovic). Quiet with a boyish pixie cut and big staring eyes that understandably see everything, Miu is first portrayed as little more than a reckless "investment." Rosella (Dragana Milutinovic) "paid a lot of money" for Miu to come live with her, hoping she would help the older woman get pregnant. Miu is special, we're told, because she brings good luck, but people who believe in her supernatural aura aren't exactly trustworthy. Rosella is a cruel and desperate woman, who cuts and sells locks of Miu's hair to equally desperate "friends". Later, she reneges on an already lopsided deal by threatening to have Miu kicked out. Oh, and she lives in a house full of sex slaves, owned and traded by her brother, Andres (Ramadan Huseini).

Is Miu really gifted or does she just accept an assumption that protects her? The question persists involuntarily for the first few hours, as Miu moves through space in silence, speaking only when explicitly asked to do so (and sometimes not even then). Refn said this series was her "version of a superhero show," making Miu her de facto superhero, but that's not how she reads without outside context. Refn's hovering camera captures Miu discovering her captors and doing what she can to survive. She spots Rosella's husband raping one of the female hostages (or one of "Andres' dolls", as they are called). She learns a secret about Andres' 18-year-old daughter. As ...