Film Review: Black Swan

Darren Aronofsky, director of Requiem for a Dream, has been flying under the radar for some time now; while his films have been critically lauded (let's not mention The Fountain...) and are met with a passionate cult following, Aronofsky has yet to receive serious recognition along the award circuit. All of that is about to change with the virtuosic and daring Black Swan, Aronofsky's genre masterpiece that is this year's most thrilling trip to the theater. This is top-tier filmmaking, and narrowly beats out Social Network and Blue Valentine (my review for the latter film, including thoughts on the silly NC-17 drama, will be up soon) as my favorite film of 2010. It's flawed perfection, a type of imperfect filmmaking steeped in something vital that most films miss.

Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is a seasoned ballerina, meticulously trained and living with her overbearing mother on the Upper West Side (Barbara Hershey, channeling Carrie's Piper Laurie in a role deserving of a Best Supporting Actress nomination). When ballet director Thomas (Vincent Cassel, chillingly) replaces aged prima ballerina Beth (a crazed Winona Ryder), Nina goes in for the role of the Swan Queen; however, Thomas is unsure of Nina's ability to play the sexual Black Swan in the ballet's dual role. As Nina becomes obsessed with the role, and with new soloist Lily (Mila Kunis, showing devious sexuality and playful spunk) as a potential rival, her perception on reality becomes maddeningly unhinged.

Calling Black Swan an emotional roller coaster, a true tour de force, is an absolute understatement. This film puts its audience through the wringer, squeezing out every last emotion. When the lights went up in my theater, I was sweating, with my heart pounding, my head reeling. It's like nothing else in movie theaters right now, as Aronofsky has blended a madcap selection of B-rate genre melodrama, absurd horror, tight psychological thriller, and art house character study. It's a bizarre mixture, and with a less skilled director the entire film would have been a laughable farce (many in my showing still found elements to be unintentionally hilarious; I was always too disturbed to see the humor in such moments). Instead, Aronofsky's gifted hands make the story intensely terrifying and wholly enthralling.

While the entire ensemble cast is solid, no amount of praise heaped on Natalie Portman would do her justice. Portman's portrayal of Nina is the singular performance of the year, and probably of Portman's career. Portman sheds every inhibition, and her passionate, high-wire performance lights the screen on fire; she's taut, nuanced, extreme, and unbridled. This is what an Oscar performance looks like. Beyond losing 20 pounds for the role and training extensively in ballet (she took ballet as a child, but quit in her teens), Portman transformed her physical presence, but also delivered a transformative moment in her career; any preconceived notions about Portman's talents have clearly been stripped away. You can't take your eyes away from her, as Portman has never looked for gorgeous, helpless, or terrifying. This is one of the few times where a movie star has made me completely forget that they are not wholly the character in the film. Portman is perfection, and deserves every award headed her way.

Aronofsky's visionary style gives the film a realistic grit, and yet still lets the film shine with radiant beauty and seduction, centered around a fetishized depiction of ballet. As a director, Aronofsky is not only a gifted storyteller, but also devotes himself fully to his aesthetic. Many go-for-broke visual motifs exist; I can see where some wouldn't buy into Aronofsky's methods, but I was eating up every crazed detail he threw before my eyes. Working with the swirling cameras of cinematographer Matthew Libatique, Aronofsky paints a frenzied picture of Nina's downward spiral into insanity. Clint Mansell, using motifs from Tchaikovsky's original Swan Lake score, crafts brilliantly unsettling and beautifully atmospheric music to match; Mansell not only breathes new life into the ballet's tunes that have permeated pop culture, but also adds new and haunting meaning to the lush music of Swan Lake. Pushing the boundary between reality and mad hallucinations, an endless onslaught of rich cinema is born.

Black Swan is a companion piece of sorts to Aronofsky's The Wrestler, both depicting the self-destruction of an artist-athlete. Here, Aronofsky raises the stakes, presenting Nina as a woman hellbent on finding true artistic perfection, a woman who will net nothing get in the way of her dreams. It's an obsessive, ugly portrait; cracking open Nina's psyche gives the gorgeous dance sequences a disturbing pall. With Black Swan, Aronofsky has found his own perfection. This is a new type of dance film, a piece that surpasses simply its genre. Black Swan gave me everything I could ever ask for. It's bravura, no-holds-barred, unmissable filmmaking on every level. This won't be everyone's cup of tea, but Aronofsky should be applauded for creating such a unique, challenging, and visceral experience. It's a bizarre tale, one that might be too dark and twisted for the Academy; however, this should be one of the biggest names come Oscar night. Black Swan will carry you away in its dark, dizzying fever-dream, grabbing you by the soul and not letting go until it has completed its exhausting journey. Just try not to let the film, or Portman's searing facial expressions, haunt you. A+