It's odd that an ostensible ballet movie should be exhilarating, but there you go. Of course, Black Swan is many things, but it's not always just a ballet movie. If The Wrestler, the previous film from this film's director, Darren Aronofsky, is a film set in the world of wrestling while not being an in-depth portrayal of its ins and outs, so it goes for Black Swan and ballet. What beauties and wonders there are to behold in this film, a propulsive descent into madness that ranks as Aronofsky's finest film, thanks in no small part to an excellent and dazzling lead performance from Natalie Portman.
Portman's real-life career could easily mirror that of the lead character in Black Swan, Nina Sayers. Sayers is a young ingenue at a nameless but highly prestigious ballet company in New York City, and it's implied at the beginning of the film that she's been toiling in the background for a long time while being exceptional in her technical proficiency. Lucky for her that the director of the ballet, Thomas, is opening the new season with a production of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake, the dark fairy tale where a beautiful, virginal princess is turned into a swan and watches as her beloved prince is seduced by a black swan. Nina can perform the White Swan in her sleep, but can she pull off the role of the Black Swan? Can she push aside her innocence while maintaining her perfectionist streak? What's with the new girl in the company, who not only kind of looks like her but appears to be flirting with her or trying to sabotage her? And what are those scratches on her shoulder that keep getting worse and worse?
The theme of questioning reality has been predominant in film for many years, but there's almost been an explosion of it in 2010, what with such notable films as Shutter Island and Inception (though this one, of course, has no role for Leonardo DiCaprio). There's something much different about Black Swan, a movie that manages to be consistently daring and shocking, while never straying from the little details and clues that are very clear to see, if you're looking for them. Of course, the whole point of the film is misdirection and Aronofsky, through his fluid direction and subtly fast pace, is able to obfuscate what's going on. This is not meant as a criticism, but more proof that the marriage of director and story are better here than anything else Aronofsky's done.
Unlike The Wrestler, Black Swan never stops moving, just like Nina in her climactic spin around the stage before her Black Swan falls to her death. In the moment, nothing really falls apart, because you're so caught up in Nina's struggle. She's fighting most against herself and her mind, but she fights with her mother (Barbara Hershey), a stage mother to end stage mothers. Nina's mother gave up her career to be the mother of a great ballet dancer, and her desperation has frayed her very face and her patience to their edges. All around Nina infuse her with fear and paranoia. What's her mother really want? What does Thomas want, a great performance on the stage or a great performance in bed? Who is Lily (Mila Kunis) and why is she trying to destroy her chances at fame? At all turns, Nina is beset upon by her own weaknesses, but in attempting to overcome them, she destroys herself.
You have seen Natalie Portman before, but you have never seen her like this. I don't know what I was expecting from this film, but for some reason, I was truly blown away by her galvanic, go-for-broke acting here. Letting every minute feeling wash over her face and register in every pore, Portman is honest, open, and frightening as someone who just wants to be perfect. Hershey, Kunis, and Vincent Cassel (as the ballet company director) are all fine here, but it's Portman's show and Aronofsky does her every possible favor by having her appear on screen for just about every single second. We're never away from Nina; even if she's not literally on screen, chances are that what we're seeing is through her point of view.
Black Swan has its roots in the arthouse, but it also has roots in pulp fiction, in horror, in B-movie trash. The word lurid is an appropriate one to describe this film, but it's a compliment. Black Swan is a boiling brew of every horror-movie trope, every portrait-of-an-artist cliche, and Aronofsky revels in every possible outcome. For some people, Black Swan is not going to work. I can see that. Some people are going to come to geek out at watching two beautiful young women have sex (and those people, in that specific scene, will probably not be disappointed), and some people are going to expect an austere ballet movie. Black Swan, like all great movies, asks you to submit to its pleasures almost instantaneously. There's not a point halfway through where you'll realize you're hooked; you'll probably know from the beginning, even if you're not as in love with the film as I was. Black Swan is a fascinating, absorbing, and thrilling ride, and one of the very best films of 2010.
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