My films are like Christmas: you can't wait to open it.

Host: The room was dim, the flickering light of an old film projector casting shadows across the walls. The air smelled of buttered popcorn and the faint tinge of dust. Jack sat back in the old, worn armchair, his grey eyes fixed on the screen, the images dancing in the dark like memories. Jeeny leaned against the frame of the doorway, arms crossed, her deep brown eyes focused on him, waiting for his reaction.

Jeeny: “Nicolas Winding Refn once said, ‘My films are like Christmas: you can't wait to open it.’”

Jack: His eyebrow arched, lips curling in a mix of skepticism and curiosity. “So, what, you think film is some sort of gift? Something you can’t wait to unwrap?”

Jeeny: She stepped into the room, her eyes never leaving his. “Not just a gift, Jack. A revelation. Refn makes films that demand to be felt, not just watched. The anticipation is part of it—the way you wait to see what’s inside, how everything builds until it explodes in a way you weren’t expecting.”

Jack: He leaned forward, hands on his knees, his voice dry. “It sounds like a marketing gimmick, Jeeny. Christmas? The comparison doesn’t make any sense. Films aren’t wrapped in shiny paper. They don’t come with ribbons and bows. You’re supposed to analyze, understand them, not just sit there and wait for something to happen.”

Jeeny: Her lips curved into a faint smile, as though she was playing along with his cynicism. “But don’t you see? The joy of opening a gift is not about knowing exactly what’s inside. It’s about the feeling of expectation, the thrill of discovery. Refn’s films don’t give you everything immediately—they build, layer by layer, until the moment of revelation.”

Jack: He frowned, his voice turning more critical. “And what if that build-up is just empty? What if it’s all style and no substance? I’ve seen plenty of films where the hype doesn’t match the payoff. It’s all just flash, no real depth. Christmas morning is great, but what if the gift inside isn’t really what you wanted?”

Jeeny: She tilted her head slightly, a flicker of understanding in her eyes. “But sometimes, it’s not about getting what you expect. It’s about the experience of the moment. Refn’s films are full of symbolism, emotion, and energy. They might not give you an easy answer, but they make you feel something you can’t forget. That’s what makes them like Christmas—it’s about that moment of excitement, of being swept away.”

Jack: He leaned back in his chair, still skeptical, but his expression softened. “I get what you're saying. But emotion and anticipation only carry you so far. In the end, if there’s no real substance to back it up, you’re left with nothing but a hollow experience. I want films that give me something to grasp, something I can hold on to.”

Jeeny: “And maybe that’s why Refn’s films don’t give you that immediate satisfaction. They make you wait, make you sit with the discomfort, the unanswered questions. Because sometimes, it’s the unresolved that stays with you the longest. The gift isn’t just in the reveal—it’s in the journey to get there.”

Host: The projector hummed softly in the background, the sound of its gears turning steady and familiar. Jack stared at the screen for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the armrest of his chair. Jeeny stood in the doorway, her eyes now calm, as though she could see beyond the film to something more profound.

Jack: “So you’re saying it’s not about understanding the film right away, but about sitting with it, letting it unfold on its own terms?”

Jeeny: “Exactly. The magic of a Refn film, or any art for that matter, is that it doesn’t hand you the answers. You have to discover them for yourself. That’s where the real joy lies—the anticipation, the mystery, the unwrapping of it all.”

Jack: He looked back at the screen, a small, thoughtful silence filling the space between them. “I guess in that sense, it’s kind of like life. You can’t always know what’s coming, but you still have to be present to open the gift when it does.”

Jeeny: She smiled, softly, the warmth of her voice almost tangible. “Exactly. Sometimes, the waiting is just as important as the reveal. It’s all part of the experience, part of the gift.”

Host: The light flickered as the film continued to play, the room now quiet, save for the steady hum of the projector. Jack and Jeeny sat side by side, no longer debating but sharing the moment—waiting together, as the images on the screen slowly, beautifully, unraveled their mysteries.

The End.